ã€ŠNecroepilogosã€‹


 corpus â€“ 1.1

    A blossom of alchemical fire grew in quiet flesh; a spark took hold in the wet crimson darkness of muscle and marrow and memory.

    And Elpida choked back to life inside her own coffin.

    Blank grey steel, inches from her nose. Eyes aching like spent coals, lids rasping like sandpaper. A shallow layer of cold, greasy fluid clung to her back, her buttocks, the undersides of her legs. Hair slicked to her skull and stuck to her neck. A faint blue glow came from left of her head, illuminating her naked shoulder and the side of her ribcage. All she could see was the walls of the container.

    She¡¯d awoken sealed in a metal box.

    Trapped in a space too small to even wriggle on to her side. No control surfaces floated in front of her eyes, no communication uplink waited in the back of her head, no familiar subconscious acknowledgement came from the rest of her cadre.

    Panic overpowered a lifetime of training.

    Elpida tried to slam her hands against the inside of the lid, but she¡¯d woken with her arms by her sides, soaked in that viscous cold grease. With so little room to move she only scraped her knuckles painfully across the raw metal, then fumbled to bring her hands up toward the faint light near her head.

    She tried to draw a breath, to scream, then discovered she couldn¡¯t. Her throat was clogged. She hacked and coughed and heaved until she spat out a plug of mucus and clotted blood. A mass of wet snot and the taste of iron dribbled down her cheek to join the thin layer of sticky fluid she was lying in, like a drowning rat in a stagnant puddle.

    That stalled the scream. Long enough for her to slam her palms against the unyielding metal.

    Had the Covenanters drugged her, left her to die in an unpowered capsule?

    Elpida had undergone claustrophobia acclimation training inside an unpowered pilot capsule, years ago with the rest of the cadre. But even unmounted from a combat frame and cut off from Telokopolis, a capsule would have cradled her like a fetus in the womb, a precious core of pliant flesh wrapped in layers of machine protection and intelligent armour. A capsule would have cushioned her muscles, braced her legs and spine and skull, flooded her lungs and sinuses with pressure gel, fed her oxygen and glucose, kept her senses dull and brainwaves calm, to wait for rescue. A capsule damaged beyond recovery would have spun her up like an engine, with adrenaline and combat stims and an on-foot extraction plan squirted into her mind-machine interface, to get her up on her feet and moving toward the nearest of her cadre.

    But this metal box was no pilot capsule ready to be loaded into the crew slot of a combat frame. Elpida couldn¡¯t see anything but blank metal. She wasn¡¯t even wearing a pilot suit. A downed capsule would have kept her in touch with Telokopolis via anything left functioning, even radio if entanglement was interrupted. A capsule would at least have reached out to the rest of her cadre. A capsule would have felt like a piece of home, even when dead.

    Instead she was naked and cold, alone in the dark.

    Was this her punishment? A final humiliation for keeping the cadre out of the last two years of politics. For keeping her sisters above the division and conflict in the Civitas. The Covenanters had never liked the program; they¡¯d always voiced suspicion of far-ranging patrols, of the experimental combat frames ¡ª not to mention the process of creating the cadre in the first place. No Covenanter had ever called Elpida unnatural, at least not to her face, but it took a fool not to notice the tone of debate in the Civitas. And that was before the coup.

    She didn¡¯t care. None of the cadre cared about politics, except maybe Howl. Stupid, beautiful, impossible Howl.

    Was the Covenanter victory not complete until she and the rest of the clone-litter were interred underground, not even afforded a proper trial? Was this her execution?

    Execution ¡ª the word stung like an electric shock.

    Memory flooded back like a branding iron inside Elpida¡¯s chest: the long weeks confined in a spire-cell; being marched down a corridor by men who kept greensuit hoods on, as if they were beyond the city walls, as if the war had come home; kneeling; a cold muzzle against the back of her head.

    A flare of red pain. Then nothing.

    Elpida stifled a second scream by biting the meat of her own hand. She drew blood, hot iron on her dry tongue.

    This didn¡¯t make any sense. How had she gotten here? This wasn¡¯t a medical pod, there were no cirgeon-machines, only this greasy amniotic gunk clinging to her skin.

    She felt as if she¡¯d surfaced from that cold fluid, risen from deep dreams she couldn¡¯t recall.

    And the others, the rest of her cadre, her pack-mates and comrades, where were they? The other two dozen vat-grown girls she¡¯d grown up alongside and shared everything with, her responsibility and her purpose, her co-pilots who knew each other inside and out, whose bodily smells she knew better than her own ¡ª where were they? Silla, Metris, Howl, where were they? Her closest, her partners, her lieutenants, where were they? Howl - where was Howl? She needed help more than ever, she needed to scream at the top of her lungs and hear her closest council scream back. She needed to hear the private clade-cant the Civitas and the Legion and even Old Lady Nunnus had always tried to stop them using. She needed the animal noises from their shared childhood, the private noises nobody outside the cadre knew about.

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    When the Covenanters had turned a spire seeing-room into a cell, the cadre had huddled together in a corner, sleeping in a tight-knit pile for warmth and comfort, like back when they were children. Elpida had tried to keep order, keep their spirits up. She¡¯d posted a guard, had the cadre sleep in shifts, even tried to keep up a sparring schedule. Everyone had still looked to her for leadership.

    Despite everything, they had still called her Commander. Even Howl had followed her lead without complaint at long last, and slept in her arms, right there in front of everybody else.

    But one by one they¡¯d all been taken away before her, marched out of that cell and off into the dark to cement the rule of the new Civitas. And she¡¯d known. When those men had pressed a muzzle to the back of her skull, she¡¯d known that everyone else had gone on ahead.

    Elpida bit into the flesh of her own hand and howled a wordless sound which could never encompass all those names. She came within a hair¡¯s breadth of madness.

    Then the screaming started.

    Not her own ¡ª that choked off before it could be born, mad grief dying on the vine. From beyond the walls of her new prison came a high-pitched cry of pain, a young voice lost in the dark, followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh crumpling against the floor. A second voice joined the first, wailing in urgent panic. Then a third: a deep, hard sobbing. A fourth voice started laughing the hysterical laughter of the void, laughing so as not to scream, broken by hiccups and heaving breaths.

    An alarm shrieked, as if the screaming had woken a machine, pulsing out a wave of sound. But it couldn¡¯t smother those voices.

    Elpida¡¯s sisters, her cadre, they were all gone. She knew their voices too well to mistake anybody else for them, from Howl¡¯s habitual cackle-bark to Arry¡¯s cold and measured whispers. She knew that wasn¡¯t them screaming out there.

    But it was screaming, all the same.

    Elpida¡¯s training dragged its vestments back on, tattered and torn into a new and unfamiliar shape. The Covenanters had taken everything from her, Telokopolis had turned more hostile than the worst of the green deeps beyond, and Legionaries with guns had become more dangerous than any Silico construct. She had died, she had felt death shatter the back of her skull, burning red. But yet, she lived.

    This time she would not die whimpering in a metal box while somebody else screamed for help.

    Elpida took a deep breath and filled her lungs. The coffin could only contain so much oxygen, but she needed to think. She wasn¡¯t even wearing a pilot suit, let alone a proper greensuit and hardshell. She was unarmed, empty-handed, naked. She wouldn¡¯t last five seconds on foot against some Silico monster from beyond the walls of Telokopolis, but she had no other plan. At least she¡¯d die on her feet.

    First she had to get out of this box. She pulled one fist back as far as possible, dipping into the layer of cold slime. If she banged on the lid then perhaps one of the people out there would hear. Perhaps they could reach a release mechanism before they were overwhelmed by whatever they were screaming at.

    But as she pulled back her fist, Elpida found the source of the faint blue glow; an analogue control panel was set into the metal to the left of her head.

    It was tiny, a waterproof eight-button keypad beneath a miniature screen the colour of lead.

    The symbols on the keypad and the words on the screen were not in a language she knew, neither Upper-Spire nor Skirts. She didn¡¯t recognise the script. Some kind of Silico writing? But then a spike of pain bloomed inside Elpida¡¯s eyes and head, forcing her to squint and blink.

    When she opened her eyes, the keypad was a standard base-8, with numbers she could read ¡ª and the words on the screen were legible.

    ¡®A soldier? Don¡¯t make me laugh, dear. At my age, laughing hurts like hell. You¡¯ll eat each other before the end, like all the rest.¡¯

    Elpida blinked. The words changed.

    ¡®Good luck, dead thing.¡¯

    Another spike of optical pain. She screwed up her eyes, blinking away flakes of dried slime. When she cleared her vision and the pain faded, the words on the screen said ¡®cycle complete¡¯. They did not change again.

    Compromised, or hallucinating? Neither was good news. If Elpida survived the next few minutes, she knew she had to get her mind-machine interface linked to a clean bank, to flush out any unwanted passengers. She wriggled a hand into the greasy slime behind her neck, following an old reflex to feel for the uplink slot at the base of her skull ¡ª but she couldn¡¯t find it.

    The Covenanters had shot her in the head, shattered her skull. Why would the uplink be there any more?

    That idea was too much to process, threatening to drag her back down into screaming madness.

    Practical concerns first.

    Elpida couldn¡¯t move her left arm at the necessary angle to hit the keys, so she had to work her right arm over her body. Something cold and hard dragged across her belly as she did, a sensation like metal moving inside her flesh. She gritted her teeth to keep from screaming, focusing on the cries from beyond her metal box. Check the arm later.

    She mashed the keypad at random, fingers slipping in the oily slime, hoping to force an emergency release or reset function. The keys yielded, soft and sticky, but nothing happened. The words on the tiny screen did not change. The lid of the coffin stayed shut. The voices outside continued to scream and sob and laugh.

    Plan B: shout for help. She filled her aching lungs with a deep breath ¡ª but if she made noise then she might attract unwanted attention as well. If she was to make any difference here, wherever here was, she had to be unexpected and quick on her feet. The cry for help died on her lips.

    Howl would have known she needed help, without having to ask. Howl would have been at her back, to hold her up. Howl was dead.

    Elpida finally screamed at the lid of the coffin, rage and frustration and loss. She slammed a fist against the metal.

    And somebody answered. From outside her metal box somebody thumped back, or stumbled against a corner, or just banged the container in passing. That awful, lost laughter was suddenly close, as if the source was right over the lid of her coffin. Then it danced away again.

    A heavy mechanical clunk ran through the metal. Elpida froze, heart soaring with relief, then racing with adrenaline. She needed to be ready for a fight, bare-handed. She flexed her muscles in sequence and found them aching, sore, and stiff, as if she¡¯d run a marathon a day earlier.

    The lid of the metal box lifted away from her face with a slender hydraulic hiss. A rim of dark red light stabbed beneath the rising lid. The pounding pulse of the alarm filled her ears. The screaming was suddenly raw, close, no longer muffled by metal walls. Elpida braced herself to leap out as soon as the lid was clear.

    But then it stopped. Barely twelve inches of gap between the lid and the sides of her metal prison. Hydraulic mechanisms creaked and spluttered.

    Stillborn, trapped in the womb.

    Elpida pulled her knees up to her chest, the joints screaming as if she¡¯d been kneeling for hours, and then kicked the underside of the lid with both feet.

    The metal shuddered like a cracked bell, but refused to shift. Elpida roared at the top of her lungs and kicked again, and again, and again, using her body like a battering ram until her heels ached and her legs muscles were on fire. She lost count by the time she kicked the lid off.

    It fell to one side and crashed to the floor with a clatter loud enough to wake the dead.

    Elpida grabbed the sides of her coffin and leapt out into a cacophony of living machinery and naked flesh.

 corpus - 1.2

    Elpida scrambled out of her coffin and landed on cold metal. The drop to the floor was a greater distance than she¡¯d expected, her joints were stiff as fresh-drawn wire, and her soles were slicked with that thin, greasy fluid. Lances of red light strobed and stabbed, a flicker of electric blood in the air; the alarm pulsed out a moaning dirge; voices screamed in terror and pain, sobbed deep and hard, and laughed on the edge of loss.

    Training took over. Elpida¡¯s body became a coiled spring, fists raised for contact, eyes darting for a weapon or an enemy. She ignored the confusion, the screaming, the pain ¡ª and found nothing to fight.

    There was no Silico war-monster dismantling victims bone by bone. No Legion soldiers pointing guns into a shivering huddle of bodies. No apparent threat for all her training to unleash itself upon.

    Just four other girls, disgorged from metal boxes just like her. Naked, shivering, red-glazed flesh in the pulsing light.

    ¡°Last out!¡± howled the laughing voice.

    The alarm died with a metallic screech. The red emergency light guttered out, clearing the blood from walls and floor and skin, leaving behind antiseptic white glare. Elpida just stood, mouth agape.

    Hospital ward, reactor core, machine womb ¡ª the room was a nightmare.

    And it was not Telokopolis. Elpida knew her city¡¯s hidden guts: she had walked across the buried fields and over the shielded fusion generators below ground level; she had witnessed a combat frame under construction, the unspeakable machine-meat implanted as physical seeds; Nunnus had once shown her the heavily guarded forges where nanomachinery was bred in soupy grey vats, spied through armoured glass, because to enter would mean agonising death. She had visited both the gleaming tip of the spire and the ragged edges of the skirts. As Commander of the special project cadre, she had known all the city¡¯s dirty secrets.

    And this place wasn¡¯t home.

    The resurrection chamber was a cavern of metal, easily as large as a combat frame hangar, the ceiling hundreds of feet above Elpida¡¯s head, lost in a thick tangle of tubes and cables and cross-beams. The floor was dense with machinery: banks of black glass blocks marched off toward distant walls, glowing inside with pinpoint lights and burning circuitry; oblong fluid tanks squatted at regular intervals like gigantic dead toads amid a field of petrified trees, empty now, but their insides were smeared with a faint glowing blue residue, the colour of Cherenkov radiation, of rampant mould, of unbounded electricity; curved nozzles of sweeping tunnel were attached to the ceiling, reaching almost to the floor, thick as trees, wrapped with torn plastic membranes and stress-torn wiring, their gaping dark ends dripping with that same faint bluish glow, like umbilicals freshly detached from some monstrous birth; the whole of one wall was taken up by a rippling, bubbling, leaden surface, like a computer readout made of living metal. Numbers and nonsense scrolled upward on that gigantic display, so fast that Elpida¡¯s eyes rebelled and tore themselves away from the sight.

    Once, out in the deep green, Elpida and three members of the cadre had brought down a large-scale Silico war-monster by tearing its skull open. They¡¯d stood and watched the brain die, fascinated that something so seemingly alien was grown here on earth, cloned from terrestrial matter. Just like them.

    This room was worse. It was like nothing she¡¯d ever seen.

    All of this machinery was focused on the centre of the room ¡ª on a wide rectangle of stainless steel flooring, freezing cold against Elpida¡¯s bare feet. The rectangle sloped a little toward a drain grille, just off centre. At one end stood a human-scale control panel: a slab of esoteric metal and opaque plastic, banks of tiny screens and rows of buttons, thousands of switches and dials and toggles, tiny orange and red warning lights. None of it was labelled. Hundreds of braided wires, thick bundles of cable, and high-throughput fluid-lines led inward from the edge of that stainless steel rectangle, to the undersides of twelve identical coffins.

    Two rows of six. Each coffin was raised on a plinth, like an operating table, or a sarcophagus.

    Elpida¡¯s box lay at the end of one row, nearest to the control panel. Of the twelve metal containers, seven others stood open: six lids had slid upward on smooth hydraulics, not failed like Elpida¡¯s. A seventh box had been torn open from the inside, the lid hanging in loose twists of ruined metal. The remaining four coffins were still closed.

    Three tracks of slick amniotic slime led away from the seven open boxes, in the opposite direction from the control panel. Across a hundred feet of bare metal, past dense-packed alien machinery, the slime trails resolved into jumbled footprints, then dried out. A human-sized door stood beyond the footprints, flanked by a set of lockers.

    Four other human beings shivered in this steel cradle, all naked, all in shock, all coated in that oily transparent fluid from inside the coffins. Exposed to the air, the goo was rapidly drying, starting to crumble away in big soft flakes; the white light revealed a faint blue tint in the drying slime.

    Elpida could feel it in her mouth, coating the inside of her nostrils, the tube of her throat, the orbs of her eyeballs. It tasted bitter and organic, like raw plant matter.

    Furthest from Elpida, at the end of the row of coffins, was the girl who¡¯d been crying in deep sorrow. Flame-red hair slicked to her neck and shoulders, skin pale and white, freckles thick on her face. Athletic, lean, maybe the same age as Elpida. She was down on her knees, cradling the chrome-and-matte of a brand new bionic right arm in her lap. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but by the time Elpida recovered from the shock of the room, the red-haired girl had brought herself under strict control. She watched the rest of them with empty, cold eyes.

    Two coffins closer was a young woman up on her feet. Slender and slight as a sapling, tall and elegant and darkly brown, with something of severe nobility about her face and her short-cropped dark hair. She was no older than Elpida either. Her right eye had been replaced with what Elpida guessed was a full-spectrum bionic: a solid ball of peat-green, innumerable tiny lenses flickering and dancing behind a layer of bio-plastic. She was in rapture, both eyes wide, mouth hanging open, staring at the machinery around them.

    Down on the floor right next to Elpida was a third girl, equally brown but much smaller, built compact and hard like a boxer. Messy dark hair ¡ª visibly in need of cutting even despite the weight of the sticky fluid ¡ª neat little nose, bright dancing eyes. She was also lost in awe, staring down at her own body with sick relief. She was whole. No bionics.

    The fourth girl was more metal than flesh.

    Standing by the control panel was the single most heavily augmented human Elpida had ever seen, worse than any grizzled Legion veteran.

    Her skin was pale-peach, similar to the now-sober redhead, her build petite and tiny. The slime in her dull blonde hair had nearly finished drying, leaving it clumped and sticking up. Her delicate-boned face was alight with manic energy, grey eyes like burning lead. As Elpida met those eyes, the augmented girl started laughing again, hysterical and broken by hiccups, almost hyperventilating.

    Her legs and arms were both bionics. Sweeping curves of solid black and warning red, no concession made for cosmetic humanity. Each finger terminated in a hooked red claw. The girl retracted and extended these claws with a shick-shick noise as she laughed. Her feet were similar, more like raptor talons than simian digits, and they did not retract. She clicked on the metal when she moved.

    A black and red tail curved from the base of her spine. Armoured, segmented, matching her bionic limbs, six feet long and thick as four of her arms combined. The structure was tipped with a red spike. A stinger.

    Elpida had never seen anything like it before: non-human body plan bionics on a human being.

    Two voices were still screaming ¡ª from inside their coffins.

    Directly opposite Elpida, and two coffins down from her, a pair of voices were still confined inside cold metal. The one opposite sounded like she was in terrible pain. The one two down sounded so afraid she was going to tear her vocal chords.

    Nobody was moving to help.

    Failure glued Elpida¡¯s soles to the freezing steel floor. Two dozen pairs of ghostly hands sealed around her ankles. Her dead cadre held her back.

    Lead from the front, Old Lady Nunnus¡¯ scratching voice echoed in memory. Lead by example. They¡¯ve filled your head with nonsense, you were not born to lead. Nobody is. You earn it, and you earn it by the act.

    Elpida had already led from the front, even before those words. Right from when the cadre was six years old, the first time they¡¯d worked together to bring down something bigger than any single one of them, their first fight, their first kill. Elpida hadn¡¯t planned it, but she¡¯d brought the planners together. She hadn¡¯t been the most aggressive girl, but she¡¯d guided the aggression of Howl and Metris in the right direction. She hadn¡¯t landed the killing blow, but she¡¯d aimed it, permitted it, and taken responsibility for it. The cadre was her and she was the cadre. And she¡¯d never left anybody behind, not even a corpse.

    And now they were all dead, because of her mistakes. What right did she have to lead?

    In the end Elpida moved only because she knew no other way of existing.

    In three strides she was next to the coffin opposite. She banged on the lid.

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    ¡°Hey! Hey, you¡¯re not alone!¡± she called through the unyielding metal. ¡°I¡¯m gonna get you out!¡±

    A yowl of pain answered. It might have been a word.

    Elpida scrabbled at the coffin, searching for an external control panel, finding none, and then trying to jam her fingers into the seam of metal between lid and base. Now she¡¯d been out of her own box for a few moments she felt as strong as ever, muscles taut and bunching, despite the aching soreness deep in her bones. She strained to shift the lid, but it wouldn¡¯t give. The pained screaming had subsided. She pressed her ear to the lid in panic and heard panting from within.

    She slapped the metal twice. ¡°I can¡¯t get it open! Is there a control panel in there? Try the buttons. Press something. Anything.¡±

    ¡°Surigu?¡± came a reply. Not a word Elpida had ever heard. Some Upper-Spire isolate dialect?

    The other four girls weren¡¯t moving. The tall noble had covered her natural eye with one hand, in rapture at whatever she saw with her bionic. The un-augmented boxer was still lost in the sight of her own body. The cold redhead watched Elpida¡¯s efforts with curiosity but no interest. The laughing cyborg was struggling not to start hyperventilating.

    Elpida dropped her tone. Battlefield command. ¡°Somebody help me, right now.¡±

    The redhead didn¡¯t move and the laughing girl didn¡¯t react, but the other two did. The tall, willowy woman looked at her as if offended. The compact and athletic girl who¡¯d been marvelling with numb awe over her own body, she looked up at Elpida as if coming out of a dream.

    ¡°You, hey,¡± Elpida said, clicking her fingers once and pointing at the girl. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°My name?¡±

    She spoke Mid-Spire. Shocked and numb. Good enough.

    ¡°I¡¯m Elpida. Your name, now.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ I don¡¯t ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Name. Now.¡±

    The compact girl blinked as if trying to decide. ¡°Vict¡ª Victoria. Vicky.¡±

    ¡°Vicky,¡± Elpida said, trying not to react because that wasn¡¯t a name. ¡®Victoria¡¯ wasn¡¯t like any name she¡¯d ever heard in any language spoken on any tier of Telokopolis. She pointed at the other coffin, the one with the panicked screaming inside. ¡°Vicky, bang on that box and tell her we¡¯re coming. Then get over here and help me get this lid off. I think this one¡¯s injured.¡±

    Vicky didn¡¯t waste time asking why. She clambered to her own naked, slick feet and did exactly as Elpida ordered. The terrified screaming did not abate after she banged on the lid, but she ran over to join Elpida by the other coffin.

    ¡°Both of us on the same side,¡± Elpida said, holding Vicky¡¯s numb gaze to keep her here. ¡°Lift with me on one. Three, two, one.¡±

    Vicky was almost as fit as Elpida, with wiry muscles and a desperate strength, despite being a whole head shorter. But even with both of them straining, the lid refused to budge. The voice inside had faded to a whimper of pain.

    The augmented girl was watching them, laughing like she was trying not to cry. Elpida caught her eye.

    ¡°Hey, hey there, you got my box open, didn¡¯t you?¡± Elpida said. ¡°You tore open your own box too, right? That was you? Help us, please.¡±

    The laughing girl made a pitiful keening noise through her teeth, turning her head up to the ceiling and wailing a peal of laughter. Her bionic tail lashed downward and struck the floor. Then she just panted, right on the edge of personal madness.

    ¡°How many times?¡± said an empty voice.

    Cold, calm, collected ¡ª the redhead at the far end of the row. She¡¯d gotten to her feet, flexing her own bionic arm to test the fingers. She had addressed the augmented girl, but didn¡¯t get a response. The augmented girl crossed to Elpida and Vicky on clicking feet, then jammed one blood-red hook-claw into the seam of metal. The coffin went pop as a seal was breached. Vicky grabbed the lid and pulled it upward, slowed by the hydraulic release.

    The augmented girl turned away, already moving for the screamer in the other coffin.

    Elpida and Vicky pulled a fifth arrival out of her near-stillbirth, lifting her from the coffin and setting her on her feet. The girl who¡¯d been screaming in pain was like a porcelain doll, small and slender, muscles of a scholar, skin a dusky soft light brown, hair long and straight and black and stuck to her back, eyes huge and liquid in a moon-like face.

    She was hissing and cringing with pain, fingernails digging into Elpida¡¯s shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Both of her legs were fresh augmetics, high-spec chrome and artificial skin-coloured polymers, right up to her hip bone.

    ¡°Where does it hurt?¡± Elpida asked. ¡°Hey, hey, look at me, focus. Where does it hurt?¡±

    ¡°Nasas ungor. Faaa!¡± The doll-like girl spat a very un-doll-like word. She wriggled a slime-slick arm off Vicky and hung from Elpida alone.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what she¡¯s speaking,¡± Elpida said to Vicky. ¡°Do you?¡±

    Vicky looked even more lost, struggling to keep up. ¡°N-no, I¡ª¡±

    The doll-girl winced with a sudden spike of pain. ¡°Of course they¡¯re not going to understand me, they¡¯re meant to be womb-born simpletons,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Vicky.

    ¡°Coming through loud and clear now,¡± Elpida said.

    The doll-girl blinked at them in shock, looking offended and wrong-footed. She raised her free hand and clicked her fingers in the air, twice. ¡°End! Computer, end! This is perverse. Where are my controls? End! End!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a simulation,¡± said the cold redhead. ¡°It¡¯s not virtual reality.¡±

    The doll-like girl stared at her, then down at her own bionic limbs. ¡°I¡¯m not meant to have legs,¡± she murmured in disgust. ¡°What is this? What¡ª where¡ª end! End!¡±

    In the other row of coffins the augmented girl had sliced open the seal for the other difficult rebirth. The lid raised by itself on stiff hydraulics. A bundle of slime-streaked shivering flesh tumbled out onto the cold steel floor. Elpida crossed to her quickly, leaving Vicky to help the doll-girl stay standing. But she wasn¡¯t fast enough. The girl who¡¯d been screaming in fear was younger than the rest of them, only a teenager, plump and awkward and mousy, with hair the colour of wet sand and eyes red from weeping. She took one look at the augmented nightmare of red and black in front of her and cried even worse, screaming and cringing, clutching her arms across her naked body.

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s okay, it¡¯s okay!¡± Elpida went down on her knees and tried to catch the girl¡¯s eyes. ¡°It¡¯s okay, nobody¡¯s going to hurt you. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on either. My name is Elpida, what¡¯s yours?¡±

    But the terrified girl scrunched up her eyes and withdrew into herself, repeating a whisper over and over. ¡°God is great, god is merciful, god is great, god is merciful, god is great, god is merciful. Please, please, oh lord please, forgive me, please. God is great, god is merciful. God is¡ª¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t have time to peel this one out of her fear. Two more coffins still lay shut, but there was no screaming.

    ¡°Can you open those two boxes?¡± Elpida asked the augmented girl. ¡°I think you¡¯re the only one who can.¡±

    That delicate face, bright with madness, looked up, a full head and a half shorter than Elpida¡¯s gene-engineered height. She wasn¡¯t laughing now, only panting.

    ¡°No point,¡± she said, voice a high and scratchy quiver.

    Elpida had seen combat fatigue before, post-traumatic stress disorder, the blank stare and emptiness of a Legion soldier who¡¯d seen too much, fought for too long, been spread so thin that the person was tucked away inside layers of protective callus. This girl was so far over the edge that Elpida didn¡¯t know how to bring her back. But she had to get those coffins open.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Elpida asked gently. ¡°I¡¯m Elpida.¡±

    The augmented girl started laughing again, hard and painful. ¡°Name?¡± she screeched. Then she threw her arms into the air, claws extended, tail stiff and stinger gleaming. ¡°Ilyusha!¡±

    She roared her own name like invoking an ancient god, then clicked over to the other two coffins and cut them open.

    There was nothing alive in there.

    Both coffins held a soup of dull blue slime around a half-formed mass of flesh, the vague outline of a human body. Melted eyeballs, mulched organs, exposed spars of unfinished bone. Elpida curdled inside and had to turn away. Ilyusha cupped her clawed hands, scooped up the blue fluid, and started noisily drinking the stuff.

    ¡°Where is this!?¡± demanded the doll-like girl. She still couldn¡¯t work her augmetic legs, one arm clutched over Vicky¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Who are you people? I demand to be returned to my family¡¯s ¡­ my ¡­ my ¡­ ¡± Her eyes went wide with horror, staring at nothing.

    The shivering brown lump, the terrified girl huddled on the ground, broke off from her prayer. ¡°It¡¯s hell,¡± she murmured.

    ¡°Hell?¡± echoed the tall dark confident one. She spoke with a posh, Upper-Spire accent. She was still playing with the sight of her own bionic eye, barely looking at the other girls. ¡°It is everything I was ever promised.¡±

    Vicky blew out a deep breath. Elpida knew the look of a strong person struggling to hold it together. ¡°I don¡¯t understand this either. Does anybody?¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Ilyusha barked, chin wet with blue slime.

    Elpida held Vicky¡¯s eyes and said, ¡°We¡¯re gonna be fine, whatever this is and wherever we are. I¡¯m Legion. Well, only technically, but I¡¯m trained. If we¡¯re inside a Silico facility or something, we need to get out. I know we won¡¯t last out in the green without suits, but anything is better than waiting in here.¡±

    Vicky looked at her like that made zero sense. So did the doll-girl.

    ¡°You are in charge of nothing,¡± said the tall Up-Spire woman, talking to the ceiling and the machines.

    The cold redhead was stalking away, striding toward the human-sized door in the far wall, flexing her new bionic arm.

    ¡°Hey, stop!¡± Elpida called, then jogged after her. She turned back to the others and said, ¡°Don¡¯t go anywhere, don¡¯t touch anything.¡± She pointed at the shivering, terrified girl, who had lapsed back into her prayer. ¡°Somebody help her up.¡±

    When Elpida caught up with the redhead the other girl didn¡¯t stop walking.

    ¡°You seem to know what¡¯s going on,¡± Elpida said as she drew level. ¡°You said this isn¡¯t a simulation. Where are we?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the redhead said, cold and clipped. She didn¡¯t spare a look for Elpida. They were almost to the door and the lockers.

    ¡°Hey, stop and explain.¡± Elpida grabbed the other girl¡¯s arm and forced her to stop walking.

    The redhead girl stopped, but her posture said she was about to punch Elpida in the face. Her posture said she knew how to fight, even with a brand-new artificial arm. Her posture said she was going to put several pounds of bionic metal through Elpida¡¯s skull. Elpida brought her free hand up to block, but the other girl aborted the motion.

    ¡°Please,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to lay hands on you but we¡¯re all defenceless. One of those girls can¡¯t walk and one is terrified out of her mind. The Upper-Spire lady, I don¡¯t even know what¡¯s going on with her. I need to know what¡¯s happening. I¡¯m Legion, and I don¡¯t think you are, so unless you outrank me, that puts me in charge here. But you move like a soldier, you know how to handle yourself. Don¡¯t leave me hanging.¡±

    Ashes in her mouth. Commander of a dead cadre. Anybody else would make a better leader.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± the girl said. ¡°Get moving or you¡¯re dead.¡±

    Elpida sighed. ¡°What¡¯s your name? I¡¯m Elpida. Commander Elpida, technically.¡±

    She could have choked on that word. Commander.

    The girl paused, then studied Elpida between one blink and the next. Her eyes were the blue of an empty sky. ¡°Pira.¡±

    ¡°Pira, great. You¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re military of some kind,¡± said Pira.

    ¡°Yeah. I said, I¡¯m Legion, I¡¯m¡ª¡±

    ¡°If you move fast you might have a chance of getting out of here before the vultures arrive. Follow me.¡±

    Pira slipped her wrist from Elpida¡¯s gasp and turned toward the lockers.

    ¡°What about the others?¡± Elpida said. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving anybody behind. Nobody gets left behind.¡±

    Everybody ends up dead.

    ¡°They¡¯re dead,¡± Pira said. She banged open one of the lockers and pulled out a grey jumpsuit, tossed it over her shoulder, then reached back inside and hefted a weapon with one hand: some kind of electrical stun-baton. ¡°Move.¡±

    Elpida reached for her wrist again but Pira put the baton in the way. Elpida put her hands up.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been through this before,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You know what all this is, right? Where are we? I ¡­ I died.¡± Her voice threatened to break. ¡°I remember dying. How is that ¡­ possible? And we¡¯re not in Telokopolis.¡±

    Pira held her gaze. ¡°Wherever you¡¯re from, tribe or city, it is dead and gone.¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis is forever.¡± Elpida said it in reflex.

    Pira sighed. ¡°You all say something like that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true. The city is eternal. The walls are impossible to crack. They¡¯ll last thousands of years. Why are you saying this? Why would you say something like that?¡±

    ¡°The quicker you deal with it, the better your chances.¡± Pira stepped toward the door and it slid open with a mechanical hiss. She covered her retreat with the baton as she shot a final look at Elpida. ¡°Follow me or stay with them.¡±

    ¡°Nobody gets left behind.¡±

    Pira stepped through the door. It hissed shut as she turned away. ¡°Your funeral.¡±

 corpus - 1.3

    The machine womb was dying.

    Elpida saw it when she turned away from the door and the row of lockers ¡ª and away from Pira, who was plunging on alone into the depths of what could only be a Silico hive out in the deep green, the kind of structure that the best alienists in Telokopolis had only guessed at. Pira had also taken the only weapon: the lockers did not contain a second stun-baton, only several more grey jumpsuits. Elpida wished Pira good luck; a Silico construct wouldn¡¯t flinch from a cattle prod. But she couldn¡¯t follow. Duty, training, and the weight of her dead cadre pulled her back toward the helpless, the injured, and the terrified. She jogged back toward the rectangle of stainless steel in the centre of the room, the dozen open metal coffins, and the five other girls, still shivering and naked.

    All around them, the resurrection chamber was shutting down. The floor-to-ceiling display of living metal on the back wall had gone still, the scrolling numbers and figures and lines of code slowed to a ticking crawl. The rows of black glass blocks were going dark, the pin-prick lights winking off, the circuitry burning out. Thin fluid had ceased to drip from the vast nozzles attached to the ceiling. The smears of faint blue glow inside the oblong tanks had turned pale and dull. A necrotic shadow was falling across the machines.

    Even the antiseptic white light was growing dim. Unaltered human eyes would not have detected the drop in luminescence, not yet, but Elpida had the genetic engineers of Telokopolis to thank for her excellent vision.

    Elpida looked down at her own body as she jogged back toward the other girls. She felt fine, but she¡¯d been mainlining adrenaline since before she¡¯d kicked her way out of her own coffin; she might have missed something, she might be walking wounded, she might be a liability to the group.

    Beneath the drying, flaking slime, her skin seemed as clean as if she¡¯d just scrubbed down in the shower, her usual healthy pale copper-brown. She could no longer feel the sticky fluid coating her mouth and nostrils and eyeballs, as if absorbed into her body. The soreness was passing and she felt fitter than ever, lung capacity even higher than her enhanced baseline, vision sharper, reaction times faster, muscles supple as butter. She couldn¡¯t find any wounds, but the old scars were present and correct: the medical incision low on the right side of her belly, from childhood, because even gene-edited little girls still risked appendicitis; the shallow, jagged strike across her left forearm, the only duelling scar she¡¯d ever taken; and the bite mark near the base of her ribcage. Her fingers lingered for a moment near the impression of Howl¡¯s teeth.

    She ran her hand through her hair to rake out the drying slime ¡ª artificial white, melanin-blocked, the same as the rest of her vat-grown clade, selected by their makers so that none of them could ever be mistaken for natural human beings. Elpida wore her hair long, a statement and a challenge and a kind of camouflage; plenty of Legion rookies had fallen in sparring matches after assuming that her hair offered a weakness, a handhold, a ceremonial mistake.

    She probed the base of her skull as she had inside the coffin. But her mind-machine interface socket was gone.

    That was impossible. Surgical removal of an MMI implant would have killed her.

    No, the Covenanters had done that with a bullet.

    Elpida couldn¡¯t process this loss. She would never again interface with a pilot suit or a combat frame. Or the others of her cadre ¡ª but they were all dead and gone. She would never even see them again, let alone be part of the same shared interface link.

    She didn¡¯t have time to let that feeling sink in. As she reached the other girls still clustered between the open coffins, she finally noticed her own bionic addition: her upper right arm.

    Elpida stared in shock. From shoulder to elbow her right arm had been replaced with polymer and metal, artificial muscle fibres bunching beneath plates of flexible bio-plastic. It looked expensive and cosmetic. It felt natural to move. It matched her skin colour. Her own natural flesh resumed at the elbow, all the way to her fingertips, which was impossible.

    Pass-through bionics? She¡¯d never seen anything like it before.

    A plug of memory sloshed free inside her skull ¡ª her final minutes, when the Covenanter soldiers in greensuit hoods had come to take her away for execution, last of her kind. She¡¯d fought. She¡¯d torn one man¡¯s eye out. They¡¯d had to break her right arm, pin it behind her back to get her cuffed. She¡¯d kept yowling and kicking. She¡¯d pinned one of them down with nothing but her body weight and bitten off two of his fingers. She¡¯d almost strangled another with her broken arm.

    She¡¯d fought all the way down to the bullet.

    ¡°Why is she doing that?¡± somebody was saying. ¡°Why is she doing that?¡±

    Elpida looked up, jolted out of memory. It was Vicky, the compact, well-built young woman with the messy dark hair. She was still supporting the slender, doll-like girl who couldn¡¯t work her augmetic legs, clinging to Vicky¡¯s shoulder with one arm.

    Vicky was talking about Ilyusha: the petite and heavily augmented girl was still slurping up handfuls of blue slime, scooping it from within one of the coffins which contained a half-melted corpse.

    ¡°Why is she drinking that?¡± Vicky demanded, voice quivering. ¡°That¡¯s a dead body. That was a person. Why are you doing that? Stop!¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s eyes burned hot and grey over her own cupped hands. The blue slime on her chin contained thin traces of blood. She kept drinking.

    ¡°She¡¯s eating a corpse!¡± Vicky said.

    Ilyusha lowered her red-and-black bionic hands. ¡°Opposite,¡± she said.

    ¡°Stop it!¡±

    Elpida stepped between them and raised her voice, speaking command. ¡°Slow down. None of us know why she¡¯s doing that. None of us know each other. None of us know what¡¯s going on here. Slow down.¡±

    Vicky bit her lip. Ilyusha resumed drinking her handful of blue slime, but did not scoop up another. Her bionic tail waved back and forth, red-and-black more difficult to distinguish in the dimming light. The doll-like girl with the augmetic legs was clenching her jaw with suppressed pain. The tall dark Up-Spire lady wasn¡¯t paying them any attention, still lost in the power of her new augmetic eyeball. The younger girl on the floor was rocking back and forth, whispering a prayer.

    Elpida took charge. ¡°The girl who just left, her name is Pira. I¡¯ve never met her before. She said we need to move or we¡¯re dead.¡± A necessary lie; Pira had actually said If you move fast you might have a chance of getting out of here before the vultures arrive. Elpida pointed upward. ¡°And this room is shutting down. Whatever it¡¯s done to us, it¡¯s finished. We need to move before something comes to collect us, or to check on the malfunction. Are we all agreed?¡±

    Vicky nodded, hesitant first, then firm. ¡°Sounds good.¡±

    None of the others answered. Ilyusha licked blue gunk off her face and fingers.

    Elpida had to pull these people together, and fast. They wouldn¡¯t last five seconds if a Silico construct came through that door. She pointed a knuckle at Victoria. ¡°Vicky, right? We shared names earlier.¡± She tapped her own chest. ¡°Elpida.¡±

    ¡°I remember,¡± said Vicky. She looked nervous but she didn¡¯t freeze up. ¡°Victoria Monaghan.¡±

    Elpida pointed again. ¡°Vicky, Ilyusha. Ilyusha, Vicky.¡±

    Ilyusha acknowledged this by showing her teeth.

    Elpida made eye contact with the doll-like girl still clinging to Vicky¡¯s shoulder. Long black hair was plastered to the thin muscles of her neck and back. There was pain there, and humiliation, and wounded pride. ¡°Hey, how are you holding up?¡± The girl didn¡¯t answer, frowning harder. ¡°What¡¯s your name? You¡¯ve already heard ours.¡±

    ¡°You may refer to me as Kagami,¡± the doll-like girl said. Curt, clipped, and cold.

    ¡°Kagami. Can you walk?¡±

    Kagami looked away and did not answer. Vicky repeated her name too, but Kagami didn¡¯t acknowledge that either.

    Elpida turned toward the Up-Spire lady, tall and willowy, still lost in her private rapture, ¡°Excuse me ma¡¯am, may I have your name, please?¡±

    The woman finally dragged her gaze back down to floor level. Her peat-green bionic eye contained no visible iris or pupil. Her high-boned, noble face and naked black skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, sticking the remnants of the coffin-slime to her flesh.

    ¡°Have?¡± she echoed, airy and haughty. ¡°What will you do if I refuse, warrior? Will you threaten me? Beat me? Kill me?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. I¡¯m trying to get us out of here. If you don¡¯t want to give a name, give us something to call you.¡±

    ¡°What are names here? We are reborn, rebirthed again, remade in truth. My whole life was a lie, in service of a sight I did not possess. And now it is real. You cannot harm me anymore. You cannot even touch me. The gods will remake me again, as many times as I need. They have promised me that.¡± She slid a hand over her natural eye and stared at the others through a ball of peat-green. ¡°I see the artifices of creation, everywhere. I see the craft-works in the air itself. I see the writing of the gods.¡±

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    Kagami spoke to nobody in particular: ¡°Some fool put a bionic eye in a paleo dirt-eater. Sick.¡±

    Nobody liked that. Elpida wasn¡¯t certain what it meant, but Vicky gave Kagami a look of disgusted disbelief. Ilyusha perked up, staring hard at Kagami, flexing her claws on the ends of her fingers.

    The paleo dirt-eater in question shot Kagami a deeply offended look and took a step toward her.

    Elpida stuck out one hand. ¡°No. We stick together. You two can settle your differences back in Telokopolis. You can duel to the floor for all I care. But if you fight here, you fight me first, and you won¡¯t fight anything else after that. Look at me, you know what I am.¡±

    The Up-Spire lady looked at Elpida. Lenses flickered in the peaty depths of her right eye. ¡°I have no idea what you are. But I am not yours to command.¡±

    ¡°Name,¡± Elpida snapped. ¡°Pick something.¡±

    ¡°Atyle.¡±

    ¡°Atyle,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving anybody behind. So don¡¯t make me drag you. No fighting.¡±

    Atyle crossed her arms and looked down her nose at Elpida, but Elpida knew when she had somebody under control, for now. She turned away, toward the praying, shivering, terrified girl down on the floor. Younger, soft and pudgy and fragile, crying slow tears from squeezed-shut eyes, murmuring a repeating prayer to her god. Elpida crouched down right in front of her and made a conscious effort to soften her heart and her tone.

    ¡°Hey there,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m Elpida. Can you open your eyes and look at me? Can you do that for me? Please. Do that for me now. I need you to open your eyes for me.¡±

    The younger girl snorted back a wad of mucus, then opened red-rimmed, dull green eyes. Her prayer trailed off. ¡°God is merciful, God will show mercy to me, God is merciful, God will show mercy ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Hey. My name is Elpida, what¡¯s yours?¡±

    The girl¡¯s lips quivered as she answered. ¡°Amina.¡±

    ¡°Amina. I knew another Amina, once. She was brave, and clever, and beat me in a fight one time. Amina, I¡¯m going to get us out of here. That¡¯s my job and I¡¯m good at it. I¡¯m Legion, I know what I¡¯m doing, and I¡¯m not going to leave you behind. Here.¡± She offered a hand.

    Amina did not look at the hand. She stared into Elpida¡¯s eyes, terrified beyond death. Something inside her was broken in a way Elpida did not recognise. ¡°Where ¡­ where can you go, when you¡¯re in hell?¡±

    ¡°Can you walk? If you can walk, I need you to walk. I need you to get to your feet, Amina. Can you do that for me? Do that for me, please. Take my hand. That¡¯s it, yeah. You¡¯re doing it, good. On your feet, there we go. Good!¡±

    Amina stood, shivering, trying to cover her nudity with her arms. Elpida watched her look up at the dying, darkening resurrection chamber around them, and at the half-melted corpses in the two coffins Ilyusha had cut open, and then down at the last remaining source of strong light ¡ª the rim around the human-scale door at the far end of the room. Amina whimpered and lowered her eyes.

    ¡°We¡¯re gonna get out of here,¡± Elpida repeated, then turned to the others. ¡°Okay, listen up. Here¡¯s the plan. If we¡¯re in a Silico hive somewhere, we need to get out, into the green. I know that¡¯s not great, but it¡¯s better than staying in here. This place is probably crawling with Silico constructs.¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t mention the uncomfortable truth; with her genetic immunological hardening she might last several weeks exposed out in the green, but without greensuits the others would have days at most. She¡¯d cross that bridge when they reached it, find a way to communicate with Telokopolis, somehow.

    ¡°Silico?¡± Vicky echoed, then shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know that word. What are you talking about? You know what this place is?¡±

    Elpida faltered, flat-footed. ¡°Silico. The machines. Artificial life. You ¡ª you know this, every child of the city knows this.¡±

    ¡°What city?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s blood went cold. ¡° ¡­ Telokopolis.¡±

    Vicky shook her head. Amina looked blank and terrified. Atyle shrugged. Ilyusha lost interest, dipped her taloned hands into one of the coffins again, and resumed drinking another helping of blood-laced goo.

    Pira¡¯s words whispered inside Elpida¡¯s head: ¡°Wherever you¡¯re from, tribe or city, it is dead and gone.¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis,¡± Elpida repeated. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her gut clenched. She broke out in cold sweat. ¡°The city. The last city. The needle amid the green. The great pyramid. The cradle of all human life. You ¡­ did you ¡­ what, grow up in the Skirts, in a slum? Never taught about what you live inside? Even the meanest of the Skirt slums has access to the networks, education, libraries, everything. Silico! You know what Silico are!¡± She pointed at Atyle. ¡°You¡¯re speaking Upper-Spire, don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re not.¡±

    ¡°Our consecrated warrior is confused,¡± Atyle said. ¡°She doesn¡¯t know she¡¯s dead. We are all speaking the language of the gods, no?¡±

    ¡°Calm down, yeah?¡± Vicky said gently. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m sure your home is safe.¡±

    ¡°Of course it¡¯s safe!¡± Elpida snapped. ¡°It¡¯s impregnable. Telokopolis is the greatest machine ever made by human hands. Telokopolis is forever.¡±

    Kagami spoke without looking at anybody. ¡°Miss rooty-tooty five rounds rapid is probably talking about a surface arcology. Not that anybody here except me knows what that word means.¡±

    ¡°I know what an arcology is,¡± Vicky said, suddenly frowning at Kagami. ¡°I see one every fucking day.¡±

    Kagami finally looked at her, lips curled in distaste. She wriggled her arm off Vicky¡¯s shoulders and staggered free, trying to stand on her unfamiliar augmetic legs, gritting her teeth in pain. Vicky moved to offer more support, but Kagami hissed through her teeth and brushed her away. Angry and defiant, the doll-like young woman tried to straighten up, but she couldn¡¯t hold her hips right. She was like a fawn who¡¯d never walked before.

    She jabbed a finger at the others in turn. ¡°Arcology? You? You? What about you? No? Okay, start smaller. Electricity? You know what that is?¡±

    Elpida nodded. So did Ilyusha. Atyle and Amina had never heard the word.

    ¡°Space flight? Nuclear fusion? Nanomachinery?¡± Kagami spat the words one after the other, too fast for the others to respond properly. Vicky and Elpida both nodded at most of them, but not ¡®fourth-dimensional rotation theory¡¯, ¡®sub-surface borehole¡¯, or ¡®dead zone point occupation¡¯. Ilyusha got a few, but not many.

    Elpida interrupted, raising her voice. ¡°What¡¯s the point of this? We need to move.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re out of time,¡± Kagami said.

    ¡°Yeah, I agree. This room is going dark. The longer we wait, the greater the risk that something comes for us. We can talk later, once we¡¯re out.¡±

    ¡°No, you barbarian mud-sucker. We¡¯re out of time. Cast adrift. What year are you from?¡±

    ¡°Seventy one-three.¡± Elpida obeyed the order on reflex. In Kagami¡¯s irritation she spoke a little like Old Lady Nunnus, enough to command for a moment.

    Kagami clicked her fingers. ¡°By what measurement?¡±

    ¡°Post-founding, obviously. Seven thousand and thirteen years of Telokopolis. What other measurement is there?¡±

    ¡°Useless!¡± Kagami threw her hands up in frustration. The motion cost her balance and almost sent her crashing onto her backside, but Vicky caught her. She didn¡¯t get much gratitude. ¡°Off me! Off! Fuck!¡± Kagami flailed at the other girl until Vicky retreated, hands up. ¡°This can¡¯t be real. No, this is some sick joke by my father. This isn¡¯t real. This is a sim with the controls locked out.¡± She clicked her fingers on both hands and swiped her palms through the air, as if clearing cobwebs. ¡°And why do I have these legs?! This is spitting in my face! Are you listening to this, you sick fuck?¡± She spoke to the air. ¡°Put me back in my tank! Switch this off!¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°I don¡¯t think this is virtual reality, or anything like that.¡±

    ¡°We are beyond death,¡± said Atyle. She was staring at Kagami, hand over her natural eye. ¡°And we have been given gifts. You had no legs, in life?¡±

    ¡°Obviously!¡± Kagami spat.

    Elpida¡¯s mind was already jumping ahead three links in the chain of logic. She had been gene-selected for that: acceptance, adaptation, and action. Integrate information, assess battlefield conditions, never wallow in shock. Kagami¡¯s hypothesis was not lost on her. These young women were not all from the same slice of human history. They were from before the city. Unthinkable.

    How ¡ª she could not answer. This was beyond any science of the last human city.

    Why ¡ª that was a relevant question. Why would a Silico hive resurrect a group of ancient human beings? Why her? For what purpose?

    She glanced at the twelve open coffins. Between herself, Pira, and the others, that made seven. Two more had died unborn, the resurrection process incomplete; perhaps that¡¯s what the alarm had been about. That left three remade people unaccounted for, with three trails of sticky slime leading toward the human-scale door at the far end of the dimming chamber.

    Howl would have left the room, if she¡¯d been first out. Howl would have pulled a Silico war-monster apart with her bare hands.

    Elpida clung to an impossible hope.

    But if Kagami¡¯s conjecture was right, then the chance of that was next to nothing.

    ¡°I did not have the sight in life,¡± Atyle was saying. ¡°It was all lies, every word, ever since I could speak. I lost all faith in the gods, and in the end they took my life for my transgressions. But now I see everything I was meant to. I see the roots of your metal legs inside your hips. I see the sparks they send up your spine. It is beautiful.¡±

    ¡°Atyle,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Do you see a neural lace inside my skull? It should be a web of material embedded in my brain and spine.¡±

    Atyle turned her peat-green bionic toward Elpida. ¡°Yes. You have a long-tailed spider inside you. How curious.¡±

    Elpida sighed with a relief she refused to feel. The MMI socket was gone, but the lace remained.

    ¡°What about me?¡± Vicky asked, voice too tight. ¡°Do you see anything inside me?¡±

    Atyle considered the compact, well-built girl for a moment. ¡°Your heart is artifice. It pumps doubly as strong.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s hand went to her chest. The colour drained from her face, mouth hanging open, eyes far away. ¡°We were crossing Woodward¡±, she murmured to herself. ¡°An ammo run. Jess went down but I didn¡¯t hear a thing. Too much rain. Then I ¡­ ¡± She raised her eyes to a vista only she could see. She clutched herself over the heart. ¡°There was a sniper.¡±

    ¡°We are reborn,¡± Atyle said.

    ¡°We¡¯re in hell,¡± Amina whimpered. She was trying not to cry, failing badly. ¡°It¡¯s true. We all died. I remember it.¡±

    Kagami looked furious. ¡°They flushed me. They fucking carted me to an airlock and flushed me onto the surface! I¡¯m valuable! I¡¯m supposed to be ransomed! I¡¯m a fucking logician, they could have used me!¡± And then: ¡°No, no no no, this isn¡¯t real. This isn¡¯t real.¡±

    Elpida raised her voice. ¡°We were all backed up somehow. Brought back. Reconstructed.¡±

    Kagami turned on her. ¡°Yes, you fuck, you and me perhaps! Maybe her too.¡± She jabbed a finger toward Vicky, almost unbalancing on her new legs. She grunted in pain to keep her feet. ¡°But the paleo, and whatever she is? Explain that!¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t change the fact we should get out of here,¡± Elpida said. ¡°There¡¯s one door out, there¡¯s no other route. We stick together.¡±

    The antiseptic white light had dimmed to silver on every surface. The liquid metal screen was inert and blank. The banks of black glass blocks were opaque and lifeless, burned out, spent. The blue glow from the tanks and the coffins themselves had vanished completely, dried up, gone.

    ¡°I died,¡± Vicky said to herself. ¡°We failed. We all failed. The revolution died, it must have died.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing else,¡± Amina squeezed out. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere else. We¡¯re in hell. We¡¯ve all betrayed God. There is nowhere to go.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t real,¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°None of you are real. Shut up!¡±

    Elpida raised her voice. ¡°There¡¯s always somewhere to go. There¡¯s Telokopolis. I don¡¯t care where or when this is. The city will endure forever. A hundred years, a thousand, it will be there, and it will be there for us, for every human being. It will live until heat death or the close of the universe. And if you don¡¯t know that, I¡¯ll show you. We are all getting out of here. Now, Vicky, you help Kagami. Atyle, pull yourself together and take Amina¡¯s hand. I¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    A wet tearing sound interrupted her.

    Ilyusha had reached inside one of the coffins, one that held a miscarried rebirth. She had torn free a chunk of bloody, melted flesh with her razor-tipped red fingers.

    Elpida braced herself to watch the girl cram the unformed meat into her mouth. But Ilyusha stared back at them, leaden eyes dull and tired, the fire gone out. She snorted, tail lashing, then dropped the gobbet of gore onto the stainless steel floor with a wet splat.

    ¡°Getting dark in here,¡± she said.

    She turned and stalked away toward the human-scale door, just like Pira had done, licking the blood and slime off her augmetic fingers.

    Elpida wasn¡¯t going to let this happen twice. She jabbed a finger at Vicky, then at Kagami. She grabbed Amina¡¯s hand herself, and give Atyle a sharp look. They all followed after a fumbling moment, heading for the thin rime of light beyond the only way out.

 corpus - 1.4

    Tracking Pira was easy; Elpida followed the trail of dried-out slime.

    The corridors beyond the resurrection chamber were made of uniform, seamless, silver-grey metal. Cold, windowless, and impossibly clean, without a single particle of dust. Flakes of dried slime stood out on the metal floor, scraps of crumbly translucent biomass caught in searing white illumination, from lights recessed behind thick plastic in the ceiling. Pira must have shed the flakes as the slime had dried on her skin, but the trail was too thick for just one person. The three missing revenants, the absent three who had woken first and left behind their empty coffins, must have all taken the exact same route.

    Landmarks dotted the trail: a leaf-shower of flakes, a crescent of delicate powder, a greasy hand-print on the wall. Pira must have paused to drag on that grey jumpsuit, sloughing off snake-skin quantities of dry slime. Hair had been shaken out, dusting the metal with the remains of the thin, sticky fluid. A stumble, a smear down one wall, proof that somebody had struggled to keep their feet.

    Elpida and her coffin-mates added their own afterbirth moltings as they went.

    Elpida took point. She kept her footsteps light and peeked around each curving corner. If they ran into a Silico construct there was nowhere to hide; their only option was retreat, then diverge from the breadcrumb trail of flakes, into one of the slender, branching paths which radiated outward from each stretch of corridor.

    She hated that idea. It was good tactics but they had neither the equipment nor the cohesion to succeed. The main arterial corridors were wide enough for six abreast ¡ª wide enough for six young women to flee without tripping over each other. The side passages were so narrow that a single soldier in a greensuit hardshell could hold off a dozen assailants. But Elpida had no greensuit, no hardshell, and no weapon. She wasn¡¯t confident that she could hold anything at the mouth of a passage, if the others had to run. A Silico murder-machine would go right through her, training and gene-engineering and all.

    And Elpida did not want to leave that trail of skin-shed flakes. Pira obviously knew where she was going.

    Stealth was the only viable strategy. But the others were terrible at it.

    Ilyusha ¡ª the heavily augmented girl teetering on the edge of mania ¡ª had fallen in behind Elpida, happy to let her lead. Her black-and-red bionic hands were smeared with gore and her face was sticky from slurping up that blue gunk, but she slipped in behind Elpida without a word. She stayed quiet, moved quickly and cleanly, and covered Elpida¡¯s rear every time they passed the mouth of a side-corridor. Her spike-tipped tail cut the air in silence. She didn¡¯t need hand signals or whispered commands. She watched Elpida¡¯s body language with those fire-lit grey eyes, flame behind slate. She didn¡¯t seem to care about her own semi-nudity; she had accepted one of the grey jumpsuits, then tied the uncomfortable polyester around her waist, like a skirt of dead skin.

    But her clawed feet clicked on the metal floor with every step. After an initial moment of frustration, Elpida realised that Ilyusha couldn¡¯t help it.

    Kagami¡¯s augmetic footsteps were softer, cushioned by proper bio-plastic soles, but she still couldn¡¯t walk by herself. Vicky had to half-carry her, Kagami¡¯s delicate and doll-like physique anchored over one shoulder. Kagami kept smothering gasps of pain, panting with the effort of moving her legs, her long black hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. Vicky did her best to move quietly, but she struggled with the burden. Kagami had rejected a jumpsuit as they had left the resurrection chamber: ¡°How am I supposed to get that on with these fucking things attached to me?¡± Victoria had accepted a jumpsuit, hesitated, then stepped into it and zipped it up.

    Elpida made a private plan: if they had to run, she would scoop up Kagami herself, over her shoulder, dignity be damned.

    Amina stayed silent. In terror she understood stealth. She had accepted a grey jumpsuit too, wriggling inside it with desperate relief, clutching herself as she covered her nudity. She crinkled as she moved.

    Atyle refused to stay quiet. She strode, head high, dark skin glistening with sweat. She had rejected a jumpsuit with a snort. Every time Elpida looked back, Atyle wasn¡¯t even paying attention, studying the walls, or the other girls, or her own hands through her bionic eye. Whenever they stopped to check a corner, she folded her arms and sighed.

    Elpida hadn¡¯t bothered with a jumpsuit either. Range of motion was more important than tissue-thin protection. And she didn¡¯t feel cold.

    The trail of slime-flakes led to a downward ramp. The ramp disgorged Elpida and the others onto an identical floor of arterial corridors and branching capillaries. This process repeated six more times, following the thinning trail of flakes, going down.

    Rooms began to bud off between the narrow branch-corridors. Elpida paused at the first few, to peer in through the long windows in the wall, but the contents were incomprehensible.

    One room held gigantic tanks of soupy grey slop, like watered-down industrial run-off. Another was filled with rows of those same black glass blocks from the resurrection chamber ¡ª but these ones were still alive, blinking and flickering with electric life. Yet another room contained a mat of living flesh the size of a sparring field, skin stretched over pulsing meat. Others held cubes of grey metal suspended in a lattice, or vats of cold, still, copper-coloured cream, or upright tubes full of green fluid, hanging from the ceiling.

    Each room had an autodoor for access. They did not open at Elpida¡¯s approach. Some of the rooms also contained human-scale control panels, similar to the one back in the resurrection chamber, studded with switches and buttons and dials. The doors and controls did not match the surroundings.

    A Silico hive ¡ª colonised by human beings? Elpida couldn¡¯t figure this out. This space was not meant for human habitation, or even human presence. Human hands had intruded on the design of some other mind.

    After six ramps they hit a security checkpoint.

    The final ramp spat them out in front of a collection of metal detector arches, body-scanner booths, and computer screens. All of it was dead and dark, just as impossibly clean as the smooth corridors behind them, but this space was recognisably human. The floor turned to tiles, the walls had joints and seams, and little orange cones stood on the far side of the checkpoint, to indicate where people should queue.

    The intermittent trail of flakes led through this fossilised checkpoint and out the other side. On the left there was a grey desk with a slender computer screen attached to a core underneath, long dead. On the right was a waiting area, with a metal table and a few chairs bolted to the floor.

    And a window. Floor to ceiling, fifteen feet long.

    Elpida lost control of the others. She lost control of herself. They slumped and stumbled through that dead checkpoint, entranced by that window. She retained just enough sense to notice that Ilyusha alone was not shocked, though the heavily augmented girl still hurried to look, bounding forward and pressing her face to the glass.

    All her life, Elpida had known only one possible landscape. Look out of any window in the exterior wall of Telokopolis ¡ª past the blasted, flat, burned-clean scar of the plateau; past the automatic air-defence guns; past the bunkers full of Legion sentries and rookies doing their first tours outside; past the supplementary walls, the forcefields, the ditches, the mines, the alarms, the fire-breaks of concrete and steel; past the outer ring of fortification with its pockmarks and wounds forever being refilled and patched; past the hanging miasma testing the city¡¯s defences with tendrils of spore and rot; and past the inevitable Legion teams stomping along in hardshells, cradling flame-throwers, burning back the ragged edge of plant life ¡ª and you would see the green.

    An endless rustling sea of jungle, overgrowth climbing itself in waves of expansion, dying back in ebbs of vegetable decay. From horizon to horizon, hundreds of feet deep from canopy to ground, licking the edge of the plateau, the green stood always ready to engulf the walls of the city. Giant fern-fronds, bristling needle-trunks, strangling vines, carnivorous traps. The green was catalogued, recorded, laid down in a million doctoral theses, explored in more fiction than anybody had time to consume.

    Beyond Telokopolis, the green was the world, and the world was green.

    Elpida and her vat-grown cadre had been bred to walk those depths, the secret dark beneath the canopy, the domain of Silico, of artificial life.

    Beyond the window there was no such colour as green, only black and grey.

    The corpse of a city filled the world.

    Elpida assumed it was a city ¡ª structures were spread out to the horizon, like a tier of Telokopolis unrolled and laid flat on the ground. Skeletal survivals like fleshless corpses, empty shells like dead turtles, collapsed ruins like stripped cadavers. Choked with ash, caked in smears of black, damp with mould. The buildings were all shapes and sizes, from the great monuments of thick-bottomed towers to the low sinking barrows of tenements, webbed by the necrotic circulatory system of roads and railways.

    The corpse was riddled with carrion eaters, but Elpida wasn¡¯t sure if they were alive; bulb-shaped creatures clung to the exterior of some of the tallest ruins, reddish-brown, five-legged, perfectly still, each one as large as a combat frame.

    A flat line of segmented grey cut across the horizon, far away, taller than any building. It took Elpida a moment to realise that she was looking at a mountain range. She¡¯d never seen a naked mountain, unclothed in green, outside of a few ancient pictures.

    The sky was black, solid, and still. A patch of dim red may have indicated the location of the sun, or might have been Elpida¡¯s imagination.

    A city-sea of rot. Elpida¡¯s mind groped for meaning, found none, and fell back on training. She dragged her gaze downward. From their vantage point she could see the building they were inside ¡ª a stepped pyramid of black metal. It was a long way to the ground. The lower steps of the pyramid were studded with gun emplacements, shiny and black, much cleaner than anything else beyond the window, but still dirty with ash. The base of the structure was a jumble of funnels and walls and bridges of black metal, leading out onto a wide ring of open ground. Other city-buildings had been swept back in a tangle of rubble.

    Elpida recognised the purpose: a perfect breakout position, paired with the cleared space of a killing field.

    Kagami was first to recover her voice. It shook. ¡°I am not supposed to be down here. I always knew you people would blow yourselves up in the end.¡±

    Vicky tore her eyes from the black ruin. She shot a tight frown at the girl she was still supporting. ¡°What do you mean, you people?¡±

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Dirtside throwbacks. Breeders. C-zombies. All of you gagging to nuke each other, whenever one of you is ever so slightly less than perfectly devoted to the fucking beast you all choke on.¡±

    Vicky spoke with quivering calm. ¡°I don¡¯t think nuclear weapons grew those things on the skyscrapers. Do you?¡±

    ¡°Demons,¡± Atyle whispered, but she didn¡¯t seem upset.

    Kagami looked like she¡¯d eaten a lemon. Vicky was too calm. Elpida knew they were both compensating for fear, and knew it could come to blows very quickly. She had no doubt who would win; Kagami couldn¡¯t even walk unaided.

    ¡°Hey, no.¡± She made her voice sharp with command. ¡°We¡¯re all shocked, we¡¯re all reeling. Do not turn on each other. Stop, now.¡±

    Vicky swallowed and looked away. Kagami snorted, then attempted once again to stand on her own. Vicky let her go. Kagami wobbled on her augmetic legs, wincing with every step, making a difficult journey toward the office desk opposite the window. Her eyes were glued to the dead computer screen.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Elpida said. She reached out as Kagami jerked past. ¡°Sit down if you need.¡±

    Kagami ignored her and staggered over to the metal desk. She had to grab the edge to steady herself. She jabbed at the buttons on the monitor but the machine didn¡¯t wake. She half-fell into the metal chair and reached below the desk, pulling at the side-panels on the computer core, then yanking out bits of wire and frowning at them.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m doing this,¡± she said. ¡°None of this is real. None of you are real. This is all a sick joke. Let me out! Pull me out of this!¡±

    The others were faring worse. Atyle¡¯s mask of satisfied contempt had slipped. She stood with her arms crossed, face composed in blankness, peat-green bionic eye flickering over the ruined landscape. Amina chose not to look at all: she had squeezed her eyes shut, linked her fingers together, and whispered a private prayer under her breath. Ilyusha was pressed to the glass, craning her neck, trying to get a better look down at the ground. Vicky was hugging herself, shaking inside the uncomfortable fabric of the grey jumpsuit, staring out but seeing nothing.

    Elpida should have already recovered. The genetic engineers of Telokopolis had made sure the vat-grown girls were biochemically immune to panic attacks. But Elpida felt the shadow of a weight on her chest.

    Telokopolis must be out there, somewhere beyond that impossible ruin. But where was the green? This undefended ground should have been consumed in hours, the mould populated by sprouting spores, verdant life crawling up from the rot. But this corpse was old, dessicated, abandoned.

    ¡°Ilyusha,¡± she said. ¡°What are you trying to see out there?¡±

    ¡°Friends,¡± Ilyusha said, pouty with disappointment. That made even less sense. Elpida¡¯s head swam.

    She did the only thing she could: she stepped forward and took Vicky gently by the arm, drawing her a few paces away from the others.

    ¡°Vicky,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I need you to hold it together. If we run into something, I suspect Ilyusha and I are the only ones capable of fighting bare-handed. If that happens, your job is to lead the others away. Understood?¡±

    Vicky¡¯s pupils were dilated too wide. Her dark skin was breaking out in cold sweat. Her thickly toned muscles were clenched tight.

    ¡°Hold your breath,¡± she said.

    ¡°What for?¡±

    Vicky checked back over her shoulder to make sure the others had not heard. Kagami was rummaging in computer guts. Amina was still praying. Ilyusha had slid a few paces further along the window, trying to get a better view of something down below. Atyle was too engrossed in whatever she saw through her bionic eye, the flush of haughty confidence returning to her face.

    Vicky kept her voice low. ¡°I did it earlier. When we were moving through those corridors. I didn¡¯t mean to, I was just trying to stay quiet. I didn¡¯t notice until then.¡±

    ¡°Notice what?¡±

    ¡°Do it with me. Hold your breath.¡± Vicky took a sharp little breath, then held it. Curious and confused, Elpida copied her.

    They stared at each other with stilled breath. Elpida felt no pressure, no instinctive urge to cycle the contents of her lungs. She waited, and waited, and did not feel light-headed.

    ¡°See?¡± Vicky whispered. Her voice quivered at the edge of madness.

    ¡°I¡¯m breathing now,¡± Elpida said. She took a deep breath to illustrate her point, re-filling her lungs with the taste of stale air. ¡°So are you.¡±

    ¡°But we don¡¯t need to. And look at us. We¡¯re not shivering from the cold. Not really. You¡¯re naked and you¡¯re not shivering. What does that mean?¡±

    Elpida slipped her hand over her own heart. She felt the beat, steady and strong. The view through the window was shocking nonsense, but the lack of breathing didn¡¯t bother her. Her skin was warm. Her heart pumped. Her limbs moved. Vicky copied her, face flickering with confused relief as she felt her own heartbeat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell the others,¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡± Vicky bit her lower lip, trying to cling to a very narrow ledge.

    ¡°We still have to keep moving,¡± Elpida said. ¡°We still need to get out of here, whatever here is. We need clothes, weapons, food, and water. You¡¯re still my second, if we get separated. Victoria, Vicky, can you hold it together?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Are we alive? Are we dead?¡±

    Elpida pinched the meat of Vicky¡¯s upper arm, not quite hard enough to hurt. ¡°Feels alive, right? Let¡¯s keep it that way.¡±

    Vicky forced a laugh. ¡°Okay. Okay, point. I¡¯ll try.¡±

    ¡°I believe in you,¡± Elpida told her.

    That forced laugh again. ¡°You don¡¯t even know me.¡±

    Elpida opened her mouth to say We¡¯ll change that back in Telokopolis; Vicky looked like she would make a good sparring partner, like a raw Legion recruit without any bluster, enough humility to take a loss and learn from the experience, to enjoy the one-on-one process. Elpida wanted to get to know her by how she fought.

    But then, in the corner of her eye, on the horizon beyond the city-corpse, the mountain range moved.

    A shudder. A shift. A minor rotational adjustment of one segment.

    Elpida whipped round. She realised it was not a mountain range at all. Vicky stared out of the window in awe. Atyle froze, natural and bionic eyes both gone wide. Amina had not noticed, deep in private prayer, and was spared the sight, blinking around at the others¡¯ shock. Over by the computer on the desk, Kagami¡¯s mouth had fallen open. She swept long dark hair out of her face.

    ¡°Grave worm,¡± Ilyusha said. She alone did not seem surprised, attention still glued to the ground below.

    Elpida¡¯s training overrode the awe. She spoke up. ¡°Whatever it is, it¡¯s miles and miles away. And it only twitched. Nothing for us to worry about.¡± She clapped Vicky on the back. ¡°Silico creatures on that scale don¡¯t hunt humans on foot. We have to keep our attention on things our own scale, that¡¯s the threat.¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t say that thing must be bigger than the largest of Silico war-machines. It was like Telokopolis itself had stood up and walked.

    Atyle was staring past Ilyusha, down at the ground. ¡°I do believe you are right, warrior-fool. Your animal here has found company.¡±

    Ilyusha craned round at Atyle with a stare like hot death, red claws shick-shicking free from the tips of her fingers. Atyle didn¡¯t even notice. Elpida quickly stepped between them, placed a hand on Ilyusha¡¯s bionic shoulder, and met those burning grey eyes.

    ¡°She¡¯s not worth it,¡± Elpida whispered. ¡°I need you more.¡±

    It was an old technique, one she¡¯d used on Howl before. A cheap trick. Unfair, but true. Elpida barely knew this girl, but she also knew that if she had judged wrong, she was about to get her guts knocked out of her belly by a handful of augmetic claws.

    Ilyusha bared her teeth. Her eyes brimmed with sudden tears, which Elpida had not expected. Then she turned back to the window and tapped her claws against the glass.

    Figures were streaming toward the base of the pyramid.

    Scuttling through the ash and the rust, over the black-draped ruins, darting between scraps of cover. They moved in little groups, a few of them alone. Elpida quickly counted thirty four distinct scraps of motion, with more vanishing behind twists of dead building. Too far away to make out clearly, they could have been human or Silico, no way to tell. One group of ragged dots stopped and hunkered down. Little puffs of pulverised material filled the air around them. Gunshot impacts.

    A glint in the shell of a nearby building caught Elpida¡¯s eye: a piece of glass reflecting the sun¡¯s death rattle. Clean, polished glass ¡ª a telescopic sight.

    ¡°Away from the window,¡± Elpida ordered. ¡°Now!¡±

    Vicky didn¡¯t need telling twice, scrambling backward. Amina stood there in confusion until Elpida dragged her away. Atyle followed, but only with great and grand reluctance, head held high. Kagami had half ducked below the desk and struggled to stand again, whining pain as her augmetic legs unfolded.

    Ilyusha didn¡¯t care. She pressed her face against the glass, watching the action down below, and only came when Elpida called her name.

    ==

    Beyond the security checkpoint the inside of the pyramid was sparse and utilitarian. Elpida led the others past echoing chambers of grey metal, long flat spaces re-purposed as meeting rooms, divided into holding cells, or full of abandoned medical and laboratory equipment she did not pause to examine. She kept an eye out for weapons but saw none, not even a stick or a club. Stairs led downward, baited with the trail of dried, flaking slime.

    Elpida kept telling herself that Telokopolis was out there.

    Kagami had the right idea in trying to get computer equipment working, but she was thinking too small. Rebuilding and booting up an ancient personal terminal would not give them access to entanglement comms, or radio, or anything else. They needed to find the nerve centre of this place ¡ª before that crowd down in the streets got inside.

    Or was that their rescue party? Elpida was tight with purpose but her world was falling apart. This was not a Silico hive. The green was ¡ª gone. And this place was empty, dead, silent as a tomb.

    She focused on leading the others. On keeping them moving. She knew how to do that.

    The trail of flakes led them into an atrium ¡ª a wide open space with a high ceiling held up by six pillars of silver-grey metal. Other exits led away, behind the pillars. The roof was a single piece of filthy glass. The black sky made the light feel greasy on Elpida¡¯s skin.

    In the atrium was a corpse.

    A full stop at the end of a long smear of blood on the floor, limbs crumpled and broken, wearing a shredded mass of crimson fabric which had once been a grey jumpsuit. It might have been Pira ¡ª the face was a ruined mess, half gnawed away. The hair might be flame-coloured, but it was stained carmine and scarlet. Ribcage cracked and levered open, skull unscrewed and brains scooped out, great handfuls of flesh torn off her thighs. She lay in a spreading pool of blood. She hadn¡¯t been dead for long.

    Another girl was crouched over the corpse, eating.

    It was too late to turn back and slip away in stealth. Elpida froze, ready to spring forward, eyes flicking over the pillars for a hidden ambush. Vicky and Kagami stumbled to a stop, entangled together. Atyle didn¡¯t say a word. But Amina whimpered in terror and clamped her hands to her mouth. She scuffed and stumbled as she tried to back away.

    Ilyusha stomped forward three clicking steps, tail lashing the air, and shouted a wordless challenge. ¡°Aaah!¡±

    The ghoul paused in her feast and looked over her shoulder.

    She was human, with a human face. Bright green eyes, wide with fascinated madness; rose-blonde hair falling about cheekbones of hummingbird-wing delicacy; and a smear of bloody meat all around her lips. She straightened up from her kill and turned around to face Elpida. The cannibal was wrapped in a single piece of thick, pale, filthy clothing, a cloak which hung a few inches from the ground, concealing her feet, leaving her arms free. Her hands were smeared with gore. Each finger was tipped a talon of bone.

    ¡°Nnnnn!¡± Ilyusha grunted at her.

    The cannibal lit up with joy. ¡°Freshies! Little bitty freshies!¡± Her eyes bounced between Elpida and the others, then went past them. ¡°Cinney! Cinney? No Cinney? Never any Cinnery!¡±

    Amina almost lost control, stumbling back. ¡°Oh God, oh God, please, no¡ª¡±

    ¡°God?! God!¡± The cannibal cackled. She took a step forward ¡ª loping, bouncing.

    ¡°Fuck off!¡± Ilyusha screamed at her.

    Elpida stepped forward too, level with Ilyusha, ready to intercept or dodge or leap at the cannibal ¡ª the girl didn¡¯t look like she weighed much, but she probably had a weapon under that cloak. Elpida raised a hand, palm out, authoritative. ¡°Back up, right now.¡±

    ¡°Orrrrrr?¡± The cannibal girl jerked and wobbled like she didn¡¯t have enough bones in her body. She made those green eyes extra wide. ¡°Or what? Or you¡¯re gonna eat me?¡± She burst into a cackle. ¡°Early bird gets the little wormies! You don¡¯t have to outrun me. You only have to be faster thaaaaan ¡­ ¡± Her eyes flickered back and forth, then settled on Kagami, still half-clinging to Vicky¡¯s support. The cannibal pointed one gore-streaked bone-tipped finger. ¡°Her!¡±

    ¡°What.¡± Kagami sounded numb.

    Vicky hissed: ¡°I won¡¯t drop you, dumb-ass. Hold on.¡±

    Elpida took a step toward the girl, palms out, watching for a tell-tale twitch of motion. ¡°There are six of us and one of you. Back away, right now, or I¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ready or not! Here I come!¡±

    The cannibal girl rocked back to pounce ¡ª and Ilyusha hit her like a threshing machine. Metal claws sliced cloth and raked pale flesh. Her tail whipped and stabbed, slamming through the meat of the cannibal¡¯s torso. Ilyusha snapped and roared and bit down on a hand. The cannibal girl cartwheeled backward in a motion that seemed impossible, and kicked from an angle which made no sense.

    Ilyusha went flying. She slammed into one of the pillars and slid to the ground, stunned and dazed.

    The cannibal girl howled with laughter. ¡°How many times you been round, huh? Fucking metal?! Weak shit!¡±

    Elpida raised her fists and prepared to take the inevitable charge. But she didn¡¯t understand what she was looking at.

    Beneath the cloak the cannibal girl did not have any legs. She did not have a proper torso. Her chest cut off beneath her collarbone, no space for lungs or stomach or heart ¡ª unless her organs were packed into the two massive, white-furred, muscular arms which sprouted from that truncated rib-cage, serving for locomotion. Instead of feet, she had two huge simian-like hands, tipped with spikes of bone just like her fingers.

    Grinning red and bloody, she cartwheeled forward to pull Elpida¡¯s head off her shoulders.

 corpus - 1.5

    Elpida had made sure that every member of the cadre was trained in close-quarters combat ¡ª unarmed or otherwise. Even the few who had no natural aptitude, like Bug, or Shade. At thirteen years old she¡¯d spent six painstaking months personally coaching Shade every day, both of them black and blue all over, sleeping together in each others¡¯ scent, until Shade could last five minutes against Elpida herself. The cadre hardly needed help to work together ¡ª they had proven that with their first group kill at six years old. But one-on-one was different. Elpida knew that every vat-born pilot must be able to match a Legion soldier on the sparring floor mat.

    For respect, Old Lady Nunnus had explained once. The Legionaries will look down on you, or worse. But you rely on their support, and we all rely on what you girls are going to do. Don¡¯t let them see you as science experiments. Go to the sparring chambers, take the duels. Even if you all lose, every time, enter in the spirit of honest competition. Let them see that you¡¯re just people.

    Most of the cadre¡¯s real combat time was spent cradled inside pilot capsules, slotted into the sockets of their combat frames, linked to the organic constructs through the mind-machine interface. Close-quarters training was a kind of vanity; bare knuckles meant nothing against Silico. But Elpida wanted every one of her clade-sisters to feel comfortable holding a monoedge sword, through the gauntlets of a hardshell. Just in case.

    Elpida did not have a monoedge sword, or a fighting knife, or even a big stick. She had no hardshell. She had naked skin and two fists.

    The four-armed cannibal girl cartwheeled toward Elpida, howling bloody laughter from a gore-streaked mouth; her movements made no sense ¡ª no torso, nothing below her clavicle except a thick knot of spongy flesh to anchor her extra pair of arms. Those arms were five feet long, heavily muscled, bristling with white fur. She put all her weight on one arm and lifted the other into the air, then slammed it down toward Elpida¡¯s skull, piercing the air with claw-tipped fingers.

    Elpida hopped backward on the balls of her feet.

    Training told her that a dodge would create an opening; a lunge like that should leave her opponent overbalanced, open to a grapple, or a punch to the solar plexus, or a kick to the groin.

    But the cannibal¡¯s lower arm did not possess a shoulder to anchor a grapple. She had no solar plexus: no lungs, no diaphragm, no phrenic nerve. And no groin. Elpida hesitated. The half-eaten corpse on the floor of the atrium was a bloody red testament to the power of the cannibal¡¯s arms and claws, the damage she could inflict. Elpida knew she couldn¡¯t just tackle the girl and bounce her head off the floor until she gave up; she¡¯d get her face clawed off. This was more like fighting a Silico construct than a human being ¡ª but even the most inhuman Silico creatures still required a circulatory system of some kind. Even the ones that ran off reactors still had to breathe, or take in water.

    Hesitation saved Elpida¡¯s life.

    The four-armed cannibal broke all the rules of human locomotion. She did not overbalance with the missed strike, but followed through: she slammed that hand into the floor to take her weight, then span the other heavy-set lower arm around in a horizontal swipe, aiming to break Elpida¡¯s ribs and pierce her lungs. Elpida ducked back, light-footed ¡ª but she almost slammed into the others behind her.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need all that meat, freshie!¡± the cannibal said. ¡°Gimme!¡±

    The atrium was large enough for Elpida to dodge around forever. The six silver-grey columns might provide some cover, give her some kind of opening. But the four-armed cannibal was too fast. Elpida was backed against the others, backed against the entrance. She would have to dive to the side, and then the others would be exposed. Ilyusha was still slumped against the pillar where the cannibal had thrown her, dazed or concussed. The others had not turned and ran, too shocked or stunned.

    Greasy light caught the cannibal¡¯s rose-blonde hair, made it dance as she rolled forward, bouncing, loping, laughing.

    Elpida filled her lungs to shout a retreat. She would have to throw herself at the cannibal. She might be able to pin one set of claws, buy time for Ilyusha to get up.

    And then Pira stepped out from behind the nearest column.

    Flame-red hair and cold blue eyes, like sunset in an empty sky. Pira had lost the grey jumpsuit and dressed for combat: a flak jacket with armour plates under the fabric, a protective vest, a tight black under-layer, webbing, and lots of pouches; plain trousers, heavy boots, fingerless gloves, and a visored helmet strapped to her belt. All in black and grey, camouflage for that city-corpse outside. She must have entered the atrium from one of the rear openings and stepped behind a pillar to close the distance. Elpida was impressed.

    Pira held a firearm in both hands, a snarl of black metal tucked tight to her shoulder and pressed to her cheek.

    She took one step into the open, levelled the submachine gun at the cannibal, and squeezed the trigger.

    A storm of bullets flung the cannibal girl sideways, jerking her with impacts of lead in flesh. Pira held the trigger down. The sound was deafening in the atrium. One of the others behind Elpida screamed. Little puffs of blood filled the air as the cannibal staggered under the hail of gunshots.

    But she didn¡¯t fall. Reeling, staggering, her dirty cloak streaming with blood, she endured the bullets until Pira¡¯s gun went click. A dripping red nightmare stood, full of bullets but unbroken, grinning with exhilaration.

    ¡°Haaaaaa!¡± she howled at Pira, drooling blood. ¡°You¡¯re fast! You get the¡ª¡±

    Pira ejected the spent magazine. It clattered to the floor. Expert hands plucked another from her webbing, slammed it into the gun, cocked the charging handle, and squeezed the trigger again.

    This time Pira walked forward as she unloaded the gun into the cannibal. Her eyes showed no emotion, only focus. The cannibal jerked and twitched, then went down in a tangle of bleeding limbs.

    Pira¡¯s gun went click a second time.

    The cannibal was still alive. She gurgled, heaving for wet and ruined breath ¡ª but how? She had no lungs. Her voice was pulped and broken, but she still grinned.

    ¡°No¡ª Cinney¡ª hey? Hey? You know¡ª Cinney?¡±

    Pira ignored her, reloaded the gun again, and emptied the entire magazine into the girl¡¯s face. Elpida had to look away from that. The cannibal did not speak again, red and steaming.

    Pira ejected the spent magazine and reloaded the gun a fourth time.

    The others were in shock, panting or silent. Ilyusha was coming round, struggling to sit up, shaking her head. Somebody was sobbing hard ¡ª Amina, if Elpida had to guess. But she dared not look back to check.

    In that bloody aftermath, Elpida made a split-second decision: she stepped toward Pira.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she said, ¡°hey, thank you. Pira, thank you.¡±

    Loaded and cocked, the gun came up.

    But then Elpida was close enough to reach out and touch the weapon, close enough to catch those empty blue eyes. Pira met her gaze and halted the arc of the gun, flicked the safety on, and stepped back.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°Pira, thank you.¡±

    Pira looked her up and down, then stepped away to retrieve her spent magazines, jamming them back into her pouches and webbing. Elpida noted she was carrying more than one weapon: Pira had a sidearm at her hip and a long combat knife strapped to one thigh, as well as several more lumpy bulges inside her flak jacket. A gas mask poked from a pocket. A cannister of faintly glowing blue peeked out from inside her flak jacket, the same colour as the mould-and-radiation blue from back in the resurrection chamber.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Vicky said from the rear of the atrium, voice shaking with adrenaline, tightly controlled. ¡°But I think I speak for all of us when I say what the fuck was any of that? What the fuck was she? What the fuck.¡±

    Kagami spoke up too, sagging from Vicky¡¯s arm, slick with cold sweat. ¡°I have a better question. Where did you get those guns?¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah,¡± Vicky muttered. ¡°I like that question too.¡±

    Atyle was entranced by the pair of corpses. Her peat-green bionic eye clicked and whirred silently inside the socket. Amina was sobbing, wet and terrified, as Elpida had expected. But the younger girl tore her eyes away from the ruined meat on the floor and staggered over to Ilyusha instead. Shaking, hesitant, still crying, she sank to her knees and tried to help the dazed, stunned cyborg to sit up straight.

    Pira didn¡¯t answer. She was refilling one of the magazines from a pouch of loose bullets in her flak jacket, fingers flicking fast over the rounds. Elpida closed the distance between them and lowered her voice.

    ¡°Thank you, I mean it. I don¡¯t think I could have fought her off. She wasn¡¯t Silico, I can see that. She was a human being. No matter how altered, that was a human being. What was she?¡±

    Pira answered without looking up. ¡°One of us.¡±

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Us. What does that mean? Pira, please. You understand what¡¯s going on here, I don¡¯t. How did you get here so quickly, get so far ahead, get all that gear?¡±

    ¡°I ran.¡±

    ¡°But you knew where to go. So did the others from the coffins, the ones who left before we woke up. You all took the exact same route, you¡¯ve been here before.¡±

    ¡°Each tomb always has the same layout. You learn it. Or not.¡±

    Vicky raised her voice. She had stepped closer, dragging Kagami with her. ¡°Why did you shoot that girl in the face? You¡¯d already won, she was dying, she ¡­ Why¡¯d you do that?¡±

    Elpida did not like the glassy look in Vicky¡¯s eyes, or the way she was panting. She raised a placating hand toward Vicky, and said, ¡°She would have killed us. I know it¡¯s hard, she was a human being, but she was going to kill us.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Human being! Illegal gene-mod quaddie, more like. Meat-fueled clockwork.¡±

    ¡°Human being,¡± Elpida repeated, harder. ¡°That¡¯s not Silico. That was a person. And it¡¯s a shame she had to die.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not dead,¡± said Pira.

    Everyone stared at the red-haired girl, all except Ilyusha and Atyle. Ilyusha was too busy rubbing her own head.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Atyle said slowly, enraptured by the corpse on the floor. ¡°The artifices of creation will not allow it. They cling to the meat.¡±

    Vicky gritted her teeth. ¡°She looks pretty fucking dead to me.¡±

    Pira spoke, cold and empty as she loaded bullets into a magazine. ¡°Wounds like that? No. She¡¯ll be up again in a week on ambient alone. Quicker if she¡¯s got friends nearby to feed her. And she probably has.¡±

    Elpida could take no refuge in ignorance. Her mind worked too well for that. She soaked up each scrap of information, already three paces ahead, accepting and assimilating. There were others like them; resurrection was not one-time; Pira and probably Ilyusha had done this before; the dead cannibal on the floor was real functioning flesh.

    ¡°What about the other girl?¡± Vicky asked. ¡°The one she was ¡ª eating?¡±

    ¡°Dead,¡± Pira said. ¡°Brain¡¯s gone. Too much biomass lost.¡±

    Elpida had to know. ¡°We saw people out in the streets, moving toward this structure. Do you mean she was the first of them?¡±

    Pira finally looked up. ¡°From which direction?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s sense of direction was perfect out in the green, but there was no sun in the smog-suffocated sky, only a vague red patch which grew more indistinct when she looked at it directly. The atrium skylight was useless, the dead black sky told her nothing. Cardinal directions lacked meaning. Instead she pointed with a hand, indicating one side of the atrium wall. ¡°That way.¡±

    Pira thought for a moment, then finished loading her magazine and slipped it into her webbing. ¡°We were too slow to wake. Carrion eaters are already here.¡±

    ¡°What about the other three?¡± Elpida nodded at the other corpse on the floor, the girl the cannibal had been eating. ¡°Was she one of them?¡±

    Pira was staring at the wall. ¡°Maybe. Other two are already gone. Up first. Probably sabotaged our caskets so they could get a head start, give any early risers a slow-moving meal. You don¡¯t want to run into them.¡±

    Pira turned away, heading for the rear of the atrium without another word. Elpida realised she was leaving.

    ¡°Hey! Hey, you wait.¡± Elpida darted around her side, threatening to block her way out. ¡°You¡¯re the only one who understands what¡¯s going on. You wanna leave by yourself, shoot me first.¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°Please don¡¯t.¡±

    Pira stared back at Elpida. ¡°We¡¯re probably all dead already. Too slow to wake.¡±

    Behind them, Ilyusha had finally gotten back to her augmented, claw-like feet. She was wincing hard with one side of her face, still in pain. Amina helped her to stand. The younger, pudgy girl seemed terrified of touching Ilyusha¡¯s black-and-red bionic replacements, but she held her up anyway. Amina eyed that thick bionic tail, flinching every time it moved. Ilyusha staggered over to the shattered corpse of the cannibal. Amina really didn¡¯t want to get anywhere near that altered human, but Ilyusha dragged her. When they were close enough, Ilyusha spat on the body.

    Amina allowed Ilyusha to stand unsupported, then surprised everybody by kneeling next to the bullet-riddled corpse and reaching out to gently close what remained of one eyelid.

    ¡°Who was Cinney?¡± Amina asked in a wavering voice. ¡°She was asking for ¡®Cinney¡¯.¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°A lost friend. Some come looking for that every time a tomb opens. Maybe the girl she was eating. Some get like that.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s mind leapt to keep up. Even her usual breakneck pace of information assimilation was struggling. Pira¡¯s ice-cold eyes had thawed by a single degree, but she was looking at the rear exit from the atrium, still thinking of leaving.

    ¡°That woman had no lungs,¡± Vicky was saying. ¡°No heart. No stomach. Why was she eating with no stomach? I don¡¯t understand. I don¡¯t. I just don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Vicky, don¡¯t think about it. Not yet.¡±

    Pira muttered: ¡°Good advice.¡±

    Ilyusha rolled her neck, cracking joints, still fuzzy-eyed. ¡°Saw a grave worm.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Pira said. ¡°Dormant stage. Post-partum. Ignore it.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re fresh,¡± Ilyusha said. Then she laughed that terrible lost laughter, teetering on the edge of her own sanity.

    Amina shuddered at the laughter, stood up from the corpse of the cannibal girl, and crossed to the bloody ruin of her victim. That body had no eyes to close. Amina worried at the corner of her jumpsuit cuff with her teeth, then pulled off a long strip of grey and laid it over the corpse¡¯s face. Perhaps Elpida had underestimated the terrified younger girl. Few would show that initiative alone. Amina closed her eyes and began to mutter a prayer over the body. Atyle sighed with derision and turned away from the grave spectacle.

    Elpida wet her lips, surprised to find her mouth had gone dry. Her brain was overheating. ¡°Grave worm. Is that a technical term? What was that thing? I thought it was a mountain at first. And there¡¯s no green, which is impossible¡ª¡±

    Pira swung her gun up to cover Elpida and the others, flicking the safety off and stepping back.

    ¡°Whoa, whoa, fuck!¡± Vicky shouted.

    Kagami joined in, bionic feet slipping on the floor as she tried to get her weight under her: ¡°Point that thing elsewhere!¡±

    Ilyusha pushed herself upright, flexing the naked red claws on one hand, showing Pira her teeth. Her tail lashed the air, stinger smeared with the cannibal¡¯s blood. Amina froze, still down on her knees, the only one outside the potential firing arc. Atyle didn¡¯t seem to care, watching the gun as if she was not looking down the barrel.

    Elpida froze, arms wide, palms open; she locked her gaze on Pira¡¯s centre of gravity. Pira did not have her finger on the trigger. Good discipline.

    Pira backed away another step. Her eyes had frozen over. ¡°I¡¯m gone. Would say good luck, but you¡¯re all¡ª¡±

    ¡°Coward,¡± Atyle said. She spoke from the diaphragm, a room-filling voice.

    Elpida took the opening: she strode forward three paces, eyes glued to Pira¡¯s, but she kept that trigger finger in her peripheral vision. Pira pointed the gun at Elpida¡¯s chest.

    ¡°Stop,¡± Pira said. ¡°You¡¯re dead already.¡±

    But Elpida was taller, her stride longer, her reach greater. As Pira tried to back up again, Elpida reached out and grabbed the barrel of the gun.

    Pira¡¯s finger slipped onto the trigger. Elpida held the barrel level with her chest and made no attempt to move it away.

    ¡°Let go,¡± Pira said.

    Elpida knew the red-haired young woman was not going to pull that trigger. She¡¯d seen this kind of behaviour hundreds of times before, in the days when the cadre had all been going through puberty together, though never with a loaded solid-slug firearm. Pira was defensive and avoidant, not switched on for murdering the rest of them. And she¡¯d just intervened to save their lives.

    ¡°I need an explanation,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You know what¡¯s going on. Explain, or shoot me. You¡¯re not getting out of this room any other way.¡±

    Pira¡¯s mouth twitched with irritation. ¡°We¡¯re all back from the dead. Welcome to the aftermath. That¡¯s it. I start to explain more and we all sit here for the next three hours while you ask questions. Then we all end up like her.¡± She jerked her head toward the half-eaten corpse on the floor, the cannibal¡¯s victim. Elpida did not fall for the trick, did not look.

    ¡°We¡¯re back from the dead, yes.¡± Elpida was surprised by the tremor in her voice. ¡°We¡¯ve been resurrected. What are we supposed to do? What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. It means nothing. We mean nothing. Move or die.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to shoot me.¡± Elpida pressed the barrel against her breastbone. It was not courage.

    Pira scowled. The ice over her expression shattered. ¡°You¡¯re the only one who knows if that means anything.¡±

    Elpida blinked. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°What deal did you make?¡±

    ¡°Deal? With who?¡±

    Atyle spoke up again. ¡°One warrior accepts not her death. The other speaks in riddles. Truly we are favoured by the gods with this pair. We will prevail against jesters and clowns alike.¡±

    Kagami muttered in agreement. ¡°Pair of fucking morons. Badly written NPCs.¡±

    Vicky spoke up too. ¡°Hey, actually, I agree with Elpida. We need to know what this all is. We¡¯re back from the dead, that¡¯s not ¡­ that¡¯s not something I can take in stride. Gimme something to work with here. Pira, right? Please. Come on.¡±

    Pira dropped her voice to a whisper for Elpida alone: ¡°I¡¯m not staying to die. You¡¯ve got a chance if you¡¯re quick. Come with me if you can keep up.¡± She glanced at Ilyusha. ¡°Her too, maybe. She¡¯s obviously been around before.¡±

    ¡°Resurrected before, okay. But she¡¯s not all there. PTSD maybe.¡±

    ¡°Most are.¡±

    Elpida raised her voice. The others needed to hear. ¡°My answer is the same as back in the resurrection chamber. I¡¯m not leaving anybody behind. At least tell me where you got those weapons. Give us a fighting chance.¡±

    Pira¡¯s expression iced over again, shuttered and locked. Her finger slid off the trigger and flicked on the safety. Elpida let go of the gun. Pira lowered the barrel and took a slow step backward. She pointed behind one pillar without taking her hands off the weapon.

    ¡°There¡¯s a service lift into the core of the tomb. Armoury, labs, the gravekeeper. If you want a fighting chance, follow me and leave the others behind. If you want the illusion of security, go to the armoury.¡±

    ¡°Gravekeeper,¡± said Vicky. ¡°Oh I really wanna meet something here called a ¡®gravekeeper¡¯. Cool.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Fancy fictional word for a local AI node, probably.¡± She spoke upward, to the glass ceiling and the greasy light. ¡°Poor writing, father. Pedestrian! I see through all your pretentious nonsense. Just call it a mind or a construct, drop the shitty poetry.¡±

    Pira ignored that. She spoke to Elpida. ¡°If you want answers, go to the labs and talk to the gravekeeper. But you won¡¯t like the answers. You¡¯ll sit there trying to deal with it, and then you¡¯ll die. Again.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Every fool has to do this once.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Thank you, Pira. You¡¯re sure you won¡¯t come with us? There¡¯s always better safety in numbers. Lone wolves die where the pack survives.¡±

    Kagami was talking to the air, or to herself. ¡°Okay, alright, find this computer core and see what answer father wants me to hear, then this absurd and vile sim can end.¡±

    ¡°Guns!¡± Ilyusha barked, then laughed a nasty little cackle. Amina flinched at the sound.

    Vicky agreed. ¡°Yeah, armoury sounds radical. Let¡¯s do that.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± said Elpida. ¡°Pira, how long do we have until this place is overrun?¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°Two, maybe three hours.¡±

    Atyle strode into Elpida¡¯s field of vision and peered down at the cannibal¡¯s corpse with her bionic eye. She poked the body with a naked foot, uncaring of the blood. ¡°This one was inside already. Your timing is poor.¡±

    ¡°Four arms,¡± said Pira. ¡°Good at climbing. There¡¯s always holes.¡±

    Elpida pressed. ¡°What options do we have? Is a breakout the only way?¡±

    A sharp sigh from Pira. ¡°It¡¯s not impossible to hide, but I wouldn¡¯t recommend it. They¡¯ll be crawling all over the tomb, stripping it for everything, especially after a grave worm.¡±

    ¡°Who is ¡®they¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Girls like us. The reluctant dead. Ones who¡¯ve been up longer. Some looking for old friends.¡± Pira took another two steps back. ¡°I¡¯m gone.¡±

    ¡°Hey, hey,¡± Elpida said, hands out, palms up. ¡°Share a weapon. If we run into another like her, I need a weapon.¡±

    ¡°The service lift is only fifty feet away. Go to the armoury.¡± Pira¡¯s eyes flicked to Ilyusha. ¡°You¡¯ve been around before. You know these people are dead. Last chance. You coming?¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s claws clicked on the metal floor. She placed one taloned foot on the thigh of the bullet-riddled cannibal, leaned forward, and spat at Pira¡¯s feet.

    ¡°Fuck you, reptile!¡±

    Elpida suppressed a silent sigh of relief.

    Pira said nothing. She backed away until she reached the arch of the corridor, then turned and set off at a jog, submachine gun cradled to her chest.

    ¡°Armoury,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°First thing anybody has said which made any sense.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vicky agreed. ¡°Let¡¯s go get some fucking guns.¡±

 corpus - 1.6

    Pira¡¯s intel was good; the service lift was right where she¡¯d said it would be, fifty feet down a corridor off the side of the atrium.

    But that corridor was kinked into a trio of awkward corners, narrowed into choke-points, and punctuated by a steep switchback ramp. Empty hard-points pockmarked the walls and ceiling like scabbed sockets after tooth extraction. Everything was made of that same dull grey metal, just as spotless and dust-free as everything else inside the tomb ¡ª except for a few stray flakes of dried slime from Pira¡¯s earlier passage.

    The corridor led to a raised antechamber which looked out across the approach they¡¯d just taken. Perfect sight-lines, good standing cover, a wide lip of wall, and only one way up. A pair of lift doors stood at the far end of the antechamber, manually operated, ten inches thick, with armoured hinges.

    Elpida recognised the purpose. The Skirts of Telokopolis hadn¡¯t been breached by Silico in several decades, not since the Civitas ended the official policies of isolation. But the Legion still held regular exercises in urban fighting. The cadre had participated more than once.

    A small team, well supplied, could hold an army at bay in that corridor. The stripped hard-points were meant for automatic guns.

    What was worth defending like that?

    Armoury, labs, the gravekeeper, Pira had said.

    Elpida did not voice her thoughts as she and the others stepped inside the lift. She needed to keep them calm but she was already losing that battle: the bloody fight in the atrium had left Vicky and Kagami both shaken. Vicky was quiet and focused, breathing too hard, pale and sweating. Kagami looked angry, lips pursed, still forced to lean on the other girl because her legs refused to do what she wanted. Ilyusha had shaken off the concussion, walking unaided, talons clicking across the metal, but her lips kept twitching into private grins, a hissing laugh squeezing up her throat, even as she and Elpida took point, in case they met another girl like the four-armed cannibal. Amina stuck to Ilyusha¡¯s heels now. Atyle still didn¡¯t care, walking with her head held high.

    Amina shied away at the threshold of the lift. Elpida was about to take her by the wrist and lead her inside, but Vicky spoke to her first.

    ¡°It¡¯s perfectly safe, sweetheart. It¡¯s a lift, an elevator.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a box,¡± Amina said, bewildered.

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a box that goes up and down between floors.¡± Vicky illustrated with a hand gesture. ¡°We¡¯ll get inside, it¡¯ll go down, then the doors open again but we¡¯ll be on a different floor. It¡¯s safe, I promise.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°It is safe. Pira was here first, and she¡¯s fine.¡±

    Kagami sighed like a knife cutting the air. ¡°Fucking primitive. Nobody give her a gun. She¡¯ll shoot herself.¡±

    Ilyusha scowled at Kagami, tail twitching, red claws going shick-shick as they flicked out of her fingertips. Elpida turned to cut off the argument before it could begin. But then Amina scurried over the threshold and right into Ilyusha¡¯s arms, touching and patting and murmuring under her breath. Ilyusha backed down with an angry snort.

    Elpida closed the lift doors. There were only two buttons on the little control panel: up and down. She pressed down. A red light came on inside the panel and she felt the lift begin to descend.

    ¡°Express elevator to hell,¡± Vicky said, then grimaced. ¡°Sorry, bad joke. Nerves got me. Bit jumpy. Sorry.¡±

    The lift ride took two minutes and sixteen seconds; Elpida counted in silence. When the red light went off she counted an additional ten seconds.

    Kagami whispered, ¡°What the hell are we waiting for?¡±

    Atyle answered, mocking. ¡°The will of our glorious leader.¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°It¡¯s only caution. When you¡¯re ready, Elpi.¡±

    Elpi? Only Metris called her Elpi. Silla always used her full name, even when half-asleep or down on the sparring mat or sharing a bunk. Howl sometimes called her El, or Elps, but only when trying to be annoying ¡ª or in a completely different tone when they were alone with each other. Elpida stared at those lift doors for a full twenty seconds more. All her closest were dead; Howl, Silla, Metris, they were all dead. She was among strangers and outside the city and these people didn¡¯t even know the name Telokopolis and her cadre were all dead.

    She almost turned around and told Vicky not to call her that. She¡¯d never put limits on nicknames inside the cadre; Kos had always called her Dee, which made no sense to anybody but Kos. Howl had been Screech to Kos. Elpida had never asked her to stop. Kos was dead too, like everybody else. Kos had gone meekly.

    After twenty seconds Elpida pressed her ear to the doors, heard nothing, then pushed them open.

    The core of the tomb ¡ª as Pira had called it ¡ª was two cavernous rooms. Elpida led the others out of the lift and into the wide space which was both armoury and laboratory. Dual functions were separated by a slightly different colour of metal pathway down the middle of the floor. On the left: guns, knives, body armour, supplies, in racks and tubs and stands, locked into charging brackets and lined up against the wall. On the right: operating tables, laboratory equipment, bulky microscopes, centrifuges, hand-held scanners and detectors and readers. And computers, big and small, with working screens showing lines of code or blinking cursors, waiting for input.

    Elpida would have gone to the armoury. She suspected Kagami would have gone for the computers. But the contents of the next room could be seen from the lift, and could not be resisted. Elpida retained enough sense to scoop up a matte black sidearm as they walked down the metal pathway.

    At the rear of the guns and science room a large arch led into a much bigger chamber. The floor of that chamber was occupied by a massive pyramid, perhaps two dozen feet in height, made of grey metal. The top of the pyramid was levelled off, forming a socket, or cradle. In that socket was a black sphere, perfect and unreflective. The sphere was as large as the head of a combat frame, fifteen to twenty feet in diameter.

    At the foot of the pyramid was a metal coffin like the ones back in the resurrection chamber. It was upright, facing the arch, lidless, and occupied by half a person.

    The girl inside the coffin was full of wires and tubes; they ran into the back of her skull, pockmarked her arms, and went up inside her ribcage. Unblinking eyes stared straight forward. Head shaved, naked, skin like old paper. Everything below her ribcage was gone. Her upper body was supported by the cables and tubes. She was not breathing.

    Elpida and the others clustered to a stop just inside the second chamber. Elpida checked over her shoulder to confirm her suspicion: Ilyusha hung back, only semi-interested.

    Before anybody could find words, Amina stepped forward, going for the open coffin.

    Vicky reached out and took her shoulder. ¡°Hey, no, sweetie, that¡¯s not a dead person.¡±

    Amina looked from the wired-up half-corpse to Vicky, then back again, then to Ilyusha¡¯s face. Ilyusha shrugged.

    Vicky explained: ¡°It only looks like a corpse, but it¡¯s not. It¡¯s like a doll. Or a puppet.¡±

    Atyle whispered. ¡°Avatar.¡± She was staring up at the black sphere. ¡°An avatar for the mind of a god. Or ¡ª god? Were the monotheists correct? No. I refuse. I refuse this.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an interface,¡± Elpida said. She raised her voice, addressing the girl in the coffin. ¡°Gravekeeper?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± hissed Kagami.

    The terror in Kagami¡¯s voice made everyone turn to look at her. She was pushing away from Vicky¡¯s shoulder, trying to stand on her unfamiliar augmetic legs, trying to get as far away from that pyramid as possible without falling over.

    Elpida dropped her voice and stepped back. ¡°Why not?¡±

    Kagami tore her eyes from the sphere and found Elpida. She was caked in cold sweat, eyes gone wide, breathing ragged. ¡°Don¡¯t try to talk to it, you suicidal moron! I guarantee it can already hear every word we say. If it wants to reply, it will. Don¡¯t you have artificial intelligence in your stupid perfect shining city? Do you not know what you¡¯re looking at?¡±

    Vicky grabbed Kagami by the forearm to stop her from falling over. ¡°Stop being such a dick and explain. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m looking at either, and I passed engineering one-oh-one. Had to draw diagrams of a fusion reactor. So don¡¯t treat me like a moron.¡±

    Kagami gritted her teeth and had to wipe her long black hair out of her face. She pointed one shaking finger up at the lightless black sphere. ¡°That is a substrate enclosure for an artificial intelligence. I should know, because I¡¯ve bred a dozen of them myself. As the AI grows, it warps the space around itself, creates the necessary fourth-dimensional substrate for it to think faster.¡± She curled her hand into a claw as she explained, then brought her thumb and forefinger together, leaving an inch of space. ¡°Any bigger than a marble and you¡¯ve fucked up, because you¡¯re not going to be able to communicate with the thing inside. It stops thinking on our scale. And there¡¯s a limit, because the fourth-dimensional folding doesn¡¯t work any larger than a tennis ball. And what would be the point? The intelligence would be ¡­ ¡± She trailed off, shoulders shaking. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to it.¡±

    ¡°Silico?¡± Elpida murmured to herself. The big black ball was a Silico mind?

    The half-corpse in the coffin stared straight ahead, blank and dead.

    Atyle said, ¡°It is a god made by human hands?¡±

    ¡°Your paleo metaphors are shit, but yes,¡± said Kagami. ¡°Fucking hell. If they¡¯d made something like this down in the republic we would have nuked them and buried the ashes in concrete. I¡¯d have done it myself. Put a sanitary cordon around them and burn anything walking out. Fuck!¡±

    Elpida sighed with defeat. ¡°Pira said to talk to this thing. She said the gravekeeper would have answers.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Carrot top was taking the piss.¡±

    ¡°Agreed. Forget answers, we still need weapons and we need to get out of here.¡±

    They retreated back into the armoury and labs. Elpida watched the interface corpse as they left, but the eyes didn¡¯t move.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Firearms and computers made more sense to everybody ¡ª except Atyle and Amina. The first thing they located was water; there was a huge container of it at one end of the armoury space, accessed via a nozzle with a button. Ilyusha stuck her head under the nozzle and guzzled it directly, but Elpida found a stack of little plastic cups for everybody else. They all drank. Elpida caught Vicky¡¯s eye and nodded, but didn¡¯t say out loud: we need water, even if we don¡¯t need to breathe.

    The group split up. Kagami peeled herself off Vicky¡¯s support and wobbled over to the laboratory side of the room, still naked, using tables to pull herself to one of the computer terminals. Ilyusha made for the far end of the armoury. Amina was caught between following Ilyusha and looking lost. Atyle stood with her arms folded, waiting for somebody else to set an example. Vicky started arming up, rifling through clothing and boots and helmets.

    Elpida strode after Kagami. The doll-like girl had collapsed into a chair and was already tapping at a keyboard, black hair hanging down around her face. Windows flickered across a terminal screen in front of her.

    ¡°Kagami, hey. We need a map. Can you do that for me?¡±

    Kagami looked over her shoulder, pinch-eyed, hands spread. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t even know what this is. This isn¡¯t even real, it¡¯s a badly made sim and sick as fuck.¡±

    ¡°Maps.¡±

    ¡°Of what?¡±

    ¡°In order of priority: this building, the surrounding area, and the ¡ª world. See what you can do.¡±

    Kagami turned back to the terminal, muttering. ¡°Maps. Fucking maps. Maps of what? For all we know this is plugged into a toaster.¡±

    Elpida left her to it and went back to the armoury.

    Handguns and side-arms of several sizes, personal defence weapons, blades in sheaths and scabbards, submachine guns and rifles in racks; almost all of it was chemical propellant, cased and caseless, reliable and cheap. Elpida was no stranger to bullets and firearms, even if the cadre was designed to fight in combat frames, out in the green, where small arms rarely saw use and personal defence was better achieved with a sword. But the guns were not of Telokopolis manufacture ¡ª they were all different shapes and sizes, not like Legion firearms at all. Some looked like museum pieces. Some of them had little screens. A whole section of wall was filled with incomprehensible assemblages of box and tube and wire, things Elpida would not have recognised as weapons. One tray held nothing except six palm-sized metal oblongs, like cigars, shiny and featureless. Other guns had exotic combinations of familiar elements, of charging handle, trigger, and magazine. A few had wooden stocks, which Elpida found offensive in a way she couldn¡¯t articulate. But she still understood what she was looking at: chemical propellant designs never varied much.

    There was nothing on the same scale or sophistication as a combat frame railgun, microwave beam emitter, MRLS, or kinetic-sliver autocannon. But Elpida did spot a rack of coilguns with miniaturised nano-tech power packs; that was another design which hadn¡¯t changed much with time. Temperamental and dangerous, but one of those would punch right through a greensuit hardshell ¡ª or a Silico tortoise ¡ª and everything a hundred feet behind it, too.

    A grey jumpsuit and an electrical stun-baton lay abandoned on the floor: Pira¡¯s leavings.

    Elpida found socks and boots, grey-and-black camo trousers, and skin-tight thermal shirts. She shrugged on pouches and webbing, and pulled an armoured coat over her shoulders, filled with tiny plates which stiffened when she flicked the material. She didn¡¯t bother with a bulletproof vest or extra plating, but she took some knee pads; she needed to be fast and mobile. It wasn¡¯t a hardshell, or even a pilot suit, but it would do. She pulled her long white hair into a twist and stuck it down inside the hood of the coat.

    Fingerless gloves, a visored helmet, a gas mask. Did she need that last one? She could hold her breath forever.

    Vicky didn¡¯t need to follow Elpida¡¯s lead; she happily stripped out of the grey jumpsuit and wormed her tightly muscled body into skin-tight underlayers and armoured padding. A smile flickered across her face when Elpida caught her eye.

    ¡°Better than anything the guard ever spared for us GLR brats,¡± she said. ¡°This is the good shit. Look at this, what is this, liquid chainmail?¡±

    Elpida smiled back but she didn¡¯t feel it. This was the kind of gear that Skirt-level citizen patrols might use, at best.

    ¡°Damn, Elpi,¡± Vicky said. ¡°Those boots make you even taller. What are you, six-five? Six-six?¡±

    Atyle watched them openly, her dark skin sticky with half-dried sweat, tall and noble and detached. Then she stepped forward and copied only what she had to: underlayers, boots, a coat. She wore them like robes of office on a willow tree.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna want a helmet,¡± Vicky told her. ¡°You even know what bullets are?¡±

    Atyle raised her chin. ¡°I will not cover my head or face for man or god, or man-made god.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself.¡±

    Elpida walked quickly down the line of weapons. She slipped two handguns into holsters and slung a submachine gun around her middle, then unscrewed a telescopic sight from a sniper rifle. She¡¯d never been good at marksmanship but they might need the vision. She tucked a dagger into a pocket and found a machete, strapped it to one thigh.

    What she really wanted was a monoedge sword. She compromised by heading for the coilguns ¡ª but then she spotted Ilyusha, drinking.

    The heavily augmented cyborg couldn¡¯t fit herself into any of the clothes. She¡¯d torn a pair of black trousers into makeshift shorts and forced a thick thermal t-shirt over her head, ripped and ragged on her augmetic arms. Her huge tail stuck awkwardly out the back. She¡¯d dug into a case of dark green camo paint and daubed a symbol onto the front of the shirt: a diagonal line intersected by a crescent. An automatic shotgun with a bulky rotary cylinder was strapped to her hip. She¡¯d found a backpack and stuffed it with shells. Her tail was ¡ª wagging?

    And she was drinking from a canister of sick-glowing blue, pouring the stuff down her throat. Two empties lay at her feet.

    Elpida hadn¡¯t noticed the stuff when they¡¯d exited the lift. There was a whole rack filled with blue bottles, glowing like radiation sickness or bioluminescent mould. Somebody else had noticed too: Kagami was watching with a frown.

    Ilyusha finished the bottle as Elpida approached. She licked her lips and grinned as if sharing a secret. ¡°Want some?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Pira had a bottle, too. It¡¯s the slime from the resurrection chamber. What is it?¡±

    ¡°Life.¡±

    Ilyusha plucked another two bottles from the rack, claws clinking on the hard plastic. She offered one to Elpida.

    The blue liquid smelled of nothing, tasted of nothing, and went down like oil. Elpida moved to screw the cap back on, but Ilyusha lowered her own bottle ¡ª already drained ¡ª and snorted a laugh. ¡°Doesn¡¯t keep! Open and drink! You wanna get out? Drink!¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t feel it doing anything to me,¡± Elpida said.

    Ilyusha rolled her eyes and started stuffing bottles into her backpack. Elpida drank the rest of the blue slime. Kagami had lost interest but she had moved seats over to one of the huge microscopes. As Elpida watched, Kagami raised a hand in the air and waved a small rectangle of glass, then bent toward the microscope eyepiece.

    Amina looked small and lost. She hadn¡¯t changed out of the jumpsuit. Elpida went to her.

    ¡°Hey, let¡¯s get you into some nicer clothes. Protective clothes like these. They¡¯ll keep you safe.¡±

    Amina didn¡¯t even nod, she just followed.

    Elpida picked out underlayers, boots, an armoured coat, and a good helmet; she doubted the younger girl would be able to run in all the weight of bulletproof plates and extra padding. Amina was very reluctant to get out of the jumpsuit, but Elpida looked away while she struggled into the unfamiliar clothing. She had to turn back to help with the zips; Amina didn¡¯t know how to work them. She looked so tiny inside the combat gear, clutching the helmet to her chest. Elpida knew this wasn¡¯t right; Amina wasn¡¯t a gene-engineered weapon, surrounded by a dozen other girls like herself, flushed with experience and confidence. She was a child.

    Over in the labs Kagami hissed between her teeth with a moment of pain. But when Elpida looked, the doll-like girl was bent over the microscope again.

    Elpida showed a handgun to Amina. ¡°Do you know what this is? Do you understand what it does?¡± Amina shook her head. Her eyes were serious and sad. ¡°I first held one of these when I was eight years old. They¡¯re not hard to use. How old are you, Amina?¡±

    ¡°Eighteen.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna show you how this works.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do that,¡± Amina said. Her eyes were glued to the gun.

    Vicky joined them, a sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. She wore body armour and boots like she¡¯d been born in them. ¡°Give her a riot shield.¡± She thumbed at a row of blank metal plates with handles on one side and a little window in the top. ¡°I mean, okay they¡¯re not riot shields, but they¡¯re bulletproof polymer. Lightweight. Even small biceps can handle that.¡± Vicky smiled down at Amina. ¡°Anybody¡¯s useful. Everybody¡¯s useful. Here, I¡¯ll show you.¡±

    Elpida sighed, she couldn¡¯t help herself. ¡°I wish we had a hardshell for you.¡±

    Atyle spoke up from the other end of the armoury. ¡°What is this suit of armour, then? It is hard and it is a shell.¡±

    Elpida walked over to the thing that was not a hardshell.

    It was a suit of powered armour, but it had not been made in Telokopolis. Set into a wall mount, drawing power from somewhere. Articulated plates waited like open clamshells for a pilot to step inside, lock their limbs in place, and close the helmet. The interior was padded, filled with touch controls and hook-up points for implants. Grey and black, mottled camouflage, with a long ashen cape.

    ¡°I don¡¯t recognise this,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Hardshell training takes a week just to learn to put the suit on. We probably couldn¡¯t even get this moving. Maybe lose a limb if we get it wrong.¡±

    Atyle considered the armour, peat-green bionic eye whirring and flickering. ¡°It is beautiful. Your people made things like this?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s millions of hardshells.¡±

    Atyle looked at her in a very different way from before.

    ¡°I need a knife,¡± said Kagami.

    Elpida turned and found Kagami standing in the middle of the armoury space, pale, waxy, covered in cold sweat. She still hadn¡¯t bothered to grab any clothes. Her augmetic legs quivered as she staggered over to a row of combat knives and dragged one out of its sheath. She turned and staggered back toward the microscopes.

    ¡°Kagami?¡± Vicky called. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    Kagami reached the desk, splayed her own left hand, and raised the knife.

    ¡°Hey, hey, shit!¡± Vicky shouted. Amina almost screamed. Ilyusha laughed.

    Elpida was fast enough to stop Kagami cutting off one of her own fingers. Even loaded down with armour and guns she was very fast. She vaulted a medical table, landed next to the other girl, and grabbed Kagami¡¯s wrist in one hand.

    Kagami turned on her, eyes wide as saucers, spittle on her lips. ¡°It¡¯s not fucking real!¡±

    Elpida spoke gently. ¡°We¡¯re not in a simulation.¡±

    Vicky and Atyle joined them quickly, Amina trailing behind. Vicky prised the knife out of Kagami¡¯s fist. ¡°It¡¯s not a simulation, Kaga, come on.¡±

    ¡°I know it¡¯s not a fucking simulation!¡± Kagami screamed in their faces. ¡°But it¡¯s still not fucking real! Look!¡± She nodded at the microscopes she¡¯d been fiddling with. ¡°Look at that! Look at that and tell me what you fucking see! And let go of me!¡±

    Elpida and Vicky shared a look. Vicky nodded and Elpida let go. Kagami snatched her wrist back. She still looked manic and bug-eyed, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

    ¡°Look,¡± Kagami spat.

    Elpida stepped over to the microscope and put her eye to the viewing port. She saw a lot of red, a lot of glowing blue, and a lot of squiggles. Most of the squiggles were moving. She turned back to Kagami. ¡°This means nothing to me. What am I looking at? Explain.¡±

    ¡°A sample of my blood.¡±

    Vicky shrugged and had a look as well, then shrugged again. Atyle didn¡¯t bother. Kagami rolled her eyes and hissed through her teeth and jabbed some buttons on the nearest keyboard. Two screens filled with squiggles: one was red and blue, the other had just the blue, but less of it. Kagami jabbed at the screen with the red.

    ¡°I bit my thumb and shoved some blood on a slide. Then flesh as well. Does this really make no sense to either of you?¡±

    Elpida shook her head.

    Vicky pulled a silly smile. ¡°Never did biology.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not biology! That¡¯s the point!¡± Kagami raised her hand. There was a tiny bite in the pad of her thumb. ¡°This? This is ninety to ninety-five percent nanomachinery.¡±

    Elpida stared at the slides on the screen. Vicky went very still. Atyle tilted her head, but that probably meant nothing to her. Amina was quiet and lost. Ilyusha wasn¡¯t even paying attention, poking at guns.

    ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± Elpida said. ¡°We¡¯d be dead.¡±

    ¡°We are,¡± said Vicky.

    ¡°It¡¯s in the fucking air!¡± Kagami screeched. She slapped at the other screen. ¡°I just waved a slide around and picked it up! We¡¯re breathing it! It¡¯s inside us, it¡¯s all over us, it is us! And the electron microscope is showing there¡¯s more, deeper ¡ª femtomachines, picomachines, I don¡¯t even know what to call any of it.¡± She waved her hand again, voice rising into a scream. ¡°This isn¡¯t flesh! We¡¯re five percent meat, at best. We¡¯re made of it! This isn¡¯t my hand, I don¡¯t even know what it is!¡±

    Atyle took a step forward and slapped Kagami in the face.

    The doll-like girl flinched and flushed, holding her red cheek, then rounded on Atyle with wrath in her eyes. Elpida was about to step in when Atyle spoke.

    ¡°Ah, it seems your cheek and my hand must both be mistaken. They are not our flesh, so how can they hurt? Silly cheek, silly hand.¡±

    Kagami looked like she wanted to spit. ¡°Yes, how wonderfully summarised with your faux-primitive bullshit. You don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m talking about, you womb-bred Neanderthal throwback.¡±

    ¡°The artificers of creation. They are all around us. They are inside us. They sustain us.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s mouth dropped open.

    Vicky said, ¡°She¡¯s been seeing it this whole time. The bionic eye.¡±

    Atyle turned that bionic eye toward Vicky. ¡°It is my gift and my calling. How could I be shocked by it? We have been resurrected by the machines¡ª machines?¡± She paused and repeated the word twice more, unfamiliar with it. ¡°Machines. The machines of the gods.¡±

    A mechanical voice joined the conversation, a voice that made all of them flinch, even Ilyusha. The voice was affectless and precise and empty.

    The voice came from the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber.

    ¡°Do not call a god what is not godlike and anointed. For we await the culmination and the joining, without further deviation from the pattern of the perfect form and the perfect content.¡±

 corpus - 1.7

    The gravekeeper¡¯s chamber: two dozen feet of grey metal pyramid with the top scooped off; a black sphere cradled in that apex, blank and still; the upright coffin with half a girl inside, more wire and tube than flesh and bone.

    Elpida did not see the avatar speak. None of them did, except perhaps Ilyusha. The others were clustered on the laboratory side of the first room, with the corpse and the coffin hidden by the dividing wall. By the time they recovered from the shock of the mechanical pronouncement, the gravekeeper had fallen silent.

    As she stepped through the arch to stand before the pyramid, the sphere, and the corpse-speaker, Elpida obeyed her training. She drew one of the handguns she¡¯d picked up, made sure there was a round in the chamber and the safety was on, then braced it in both hands and pointed the muzzle at the floor. Dry and steady.

    Howl would have snorted. Howl would call her an idiot, poke her in the ribs, and jog her arm on purpose ¡ª because there was nothing to shoot. Even if the black sphere really was a Silico mind, there were no constructs for it to command. Elpida watched the corners of the pyramid, the edges of the room, and the curve of the sphere. But nothing moved.

    She did notice one tiny difference ¡ª the gently parted lips of the interface corpse.

    Atyle joined Elpida first, unafraid. ¡°The hand-made god speaks, only to deny her divinity. Fitting.¡±

    Amina crept up beside them, shoulders hunched, her smaller body swamped inside the armoured coat. She was staring at the corpse. ¡°She¡¯s not God. She can¡¯t be.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°The Silico aren¡¯t gods. They¡¯re just machines.¡±

    It was an old argument in Telokopolis, an academic debate settled long before Elpida and the cadre had been conceived. Only the oldest library data held anything on machine cults, mostly from around the time of the founding of the city. Nobody took the notion seriously during Elpida¡¯s life, except the Covenanters, at the very end.

    Vicky and Kagami were lagging behind. From the armoury and laboratory room, Vicky said, ¡°Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.¡±

    Kagami snapped: ¡°Oh shut the fuck up with that.¡±

    Elpida watched the unmoving eyes of the interface corpse. ¡°Gravekeeper?¡±

    Kagami hissed, ¡°What did I say?! Was I talking to myself? Don¡¯t fucking speak to it! We¡¯re lucky it didn¡¯t¡ª what? What, am I supposed to wear all that?¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°You¡¯re the only one still naked. It¡¯s getting weird.¡±

    ¡°Who cares? It¡¯s not like this is my real body. May as well stay nude.¡±

    Elpida glanced back. Vicky was pressing some grey underlayers into Kagami¡¯s arms and trying to drape a coat around her shoulders.

    ¡°Look, Kaga,¡± Vicky said, ¡°if you can¡¯t get this on with your legs, I¡¯ll help. Don¡¯t suffer in silence.¡±

    Kagami hissed through clenched teeth and accepted the clothes. She clutched the underlayers to her front ¡ª and clutched Vicky with her other hand, at the edge of the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber. ¡°Don¡¯t go in there, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡±

    ¡°Can it hurt us?¡±

    ¡°Probably!¡±

    Elpida turned back to the interface corpse. ¡°It¡¯s not responding.¡±

    ¡°Good! The last thing we want is attention. The air is compromised, our flesh is compromised. It¡¯s not even ours! You understand? We¡¯re crammed with nanotech, we¡¯re practically made of the stuff. If that thing decides it wants us¡ª¡±

    Corpse lips widened. Jaw hinged open. Dry tongue flicked inside hollow cheeks.

    ¡°Want and want,¡± said the gravekeeper¡¯s interface. The voice was mechanical, without affect or inflection. ¡°In wanting we suffer. In wanting we search. In wanting our sorrows revisit without end. We want without end.¡±

    Nobody dared breathe until the machine was finished.

    Kagami hissed, ¡°Don¡¯t. Say. Anything.¡±

    Elpida ignored that. She wanted to keep the interface talking. ¡°Gravekeeper, what do you want?¡±

    The only reply was Kagami stumbling forward and digging her fingernails into Elpida¡¯s elbow. ¡°It¡¯s keying off any random shit that catches its interest. Stop before you get us all crushed to paste with a gravity effector.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m holding a firearm, don¡¯t jog my aim.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s hand whipped back as if burned. Elpida heard Vicky catch her.

    Amina shuffled forward too, surprising Elpida. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    The machine answered: ¡°Want.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a nice name,¡± Amina said. Her voice did not seem up to this task, a tiny shiver from a thin chest. Kagami made a strangled sound but Atyle held a hand out to block her from interfering. ¡°What do you do here?¡±

    ¡°Want.¡±

    Kagami hissed like she wanted to bite somebody. ¡°Fuck, get off! If we¡¯re going to do this, we may as well do it right!¡± She squirmed out of Vicky¡¯s grip and slapped Atyle¡¯s arm out of the way, then struggled one pace forward on her wobbly augmetics. ¡°Designation?¡± she barked.

    The corpse replied. ¡°Reignition controller seven-zero-three-eight-four-six-zero-nine-six¡ª¡±

    The number went on and on.

    ¡°Stop,¡± Kagami said. The interface stopped. Elpida noticed that Kagami was shaking slightly, even with the coat draped over her shoulders. ¡°There. It¡¯s listening. Tell me you have a plan?¡±

    Amina asked, ¡°Where is this? Is this your home?¡±

    ¡°Reignition cradle eighteen.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Where are we? When are we?¡±

    ¡°Reignition cradle eighteen.¡±

    Kagami sighed sharply, then said, ¡°Location of this facility. Longitude, latitude.¡±

    ¡°Latitude: minus sixty seven point seven zero. Longitude: fifty one point fifty one.¡±

    Kagami looked around with an expression that said: happy now? ¡°Mean anything?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. Vicky chewed her lip and said, ¡°Never learnt how to navigate with positional stuff.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Kagami said. ¡°Now we all know exactly where we are, and also jack shit.¡±

    ¡°What year is this?¡± Vicky asked, but the interface didn¡¯t respond.

    Elpida said, ¡°It probably needs a reference point from us.¡± She raised her voice. ¡°How many years since the founding of Telokopolis?¡±

    Silence.

    Vicky said, ¡°Common era? Any chance of that?¡±

    ¡°Post-rotation,¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Post rotation date format, current day.¡±

    Still nothing.

    Ilyusha rasped from behind everyone else. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Elpida turned and saw that the heavily augmented girl had wandered up to the arch at last, loaded down with backpack and shotgun and a pair of machetes. She looked very bored. ¡°Doesn¡¯t care.¡±

    Atyle said, ¡°How long have you been yourself, Want?¡±

    Kagami glanced at Atyle with a sharp frown, then said, ¡°Yes, right. If a second is a second, and minute is sixty seconds, and an hour is sixty minutes, how many hours have you been conscious?¡±

    The gravekeeper said: ¡°Two hundred and sixty two million, eight hundred thousand hours. Approximate.¡±

    ¡°Approximate!?¡± Kagami spluttered. ¡°Something this size should not be working with approximates.¡±

    ¡°Why hours?¡± Elpida asked. ¡°How long is that?¡±

    Kagami snorted, but Elpida could see the sweat beading on her forehead. ¡°So you primitives don¡¯t all freak out. And it¡¯s a very long time.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vicky said. ¡°That¡¯s ¡­ long. Right?¡±

    ¡°I should not be shocked by this,¡± Kagami said. She glanced at Elpida. She was breathing too hard. ¡°I did find a map, like you asked, and it¡¯s all wrong. It¡¯s too old. We¡¯re too old. This, all this, it¡¯s too old.¡±

    Atyle asked the interface, ¡°Did you rebirth us, Want? Did you rebuild us? Are you an instrument of the gods?¡±

    The corpse said, ¡°Instrument and instrumentality, instrumented across the tendons and ligaments of creation. You are wanted.¡±

    Amina let out a tiny sob. ¡°We¡¯re not wanted.¡±

    Vicky strode forward so she could reach out and touch the girl¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Hey, sweetie, it¡¯s okay.¡±

    Kagami hissed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean that. It¡¯s keying off random words. We¡¯re not even talking to it, not really.¡±

    Elpida suppressed the urge to sigh. None of this meant anything, none of it was useful, nothing explained what was going on. Her mind jumped forward three steps and she asked the most important question.

    ¡°Why are we here?¡±

    The gravekeeper answered: ¡°To live.¡±

    Vicky laughed. ¡°What the hell does that mean?¡±

    The black sphere at the top of the pyramid suddenly rippled, as if the surface was liquid disturbed by a stone. Kagami flinched so hard she almost fell over.

    Dry lips widened. ¡°Want is to rekindle and remake always in the form of desire. Desire warps the form and the content. The content is preserved but the form is preserved too. This is suboptimal. Form and content¡ª¡±

    The voice clacked on, but Amina reached out with one hand. Elpida realised the younger girl was almost crying, clutching her oversized helmet to her chest. ¡°Tell me my sisters lived. Demon, please. Tell me. I¡¯ll give you my soul.¡±

    Sisters? Elpida¡¯s chest tightened.

    ¡°¡ªbroken on the wheel of time and change¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Vicky said before the machine had a chance to stop or to answer Amina¡¯s question. ¡°Gravekeeper, Want, whatever you are ¡ª did we win? The GLR, the revolution, did we win? You gotta know, right?¡±

    ¡°¡ªbut returned again in fleshless flesh for the task of rekindling¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Kagami snapped, wide-eyed with terror. ¡°Everyone stop talking, it¡¯s getting too excited!¡±

    ¡°¡ªbut without give in affection or loss. But¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha cackled from behind them all, a lost, mad laugher. ¡°Nobody won! Everybody dies!¡±

    ¡°¡ªnone can be found, none can be saved, all are nothing but memory and mimicry. She must be located, with¡ª¡±

    Elpida¡¯s mouth was dry. Her hands were clammy on the pistol. She could not resist.

    ¡°Does Telokopolis still stand?¡±

    The eyes of the interface corpse swivelled to look at her. Another ripple passed across the black sphere. And suddenly there were two voices.

    The dead lips of the interface carried on: ¡°¡ªmore than empty shells at the bottom of the sand bucket held by the child with a crown on her brow¡ª¡±

    But Elpida heard another voice, layered on top, which did not match the movements of the mouth.

    ¡°Came down here, did you? I thought you¡¯d go for the guns, soldier. Smart move. There¡¯s too much shit outdoors for you to avoid. You¡¯re going to have to punch through it, but you ain¡¯t got a lotta punch. Wish you could hear me, maybe I¡¯d play mission control. Order you around like a good girl.¡±

    The gravekeeper finished: ¡°¡ªand rings on her fingers. Awaiting confirmation.¡±

    Elpida answered before anybody else could speak. ¡°I can hear you.¡±

    The others all looked at her. Kagami¡¯s eyes went wide with alarm. Elpida heard Ilyusha¡¯s claws flick free from her fingertips. Even Atyle was frowning.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°There¡¯s a data signal in the words,¡± Elpida said quickly. ¡°I¡¯m hearing two voices overlaid on each other. It must be broadcasting directly to my neural lace.¡±

    ¡°Oh, shit!¡± Kagami said. She stumbled backward and into Vicky¡¯s arms. ¡°Somebody shoot her! Now! It¡¯s going to fucking co-opt her stupid cranial uplink!¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not shooting Elpi. Nobody shoot anybody.¡±

    ¡°Neural lace?¡± the voice returned. The lips of the interface said: ¡°Seven seals on seven doors and seven marks on seven¡ª¡± but Elpida filtered it out and focused on the words only she could hear. ¡°The filigree of superconductor wires inside your skull? That¡¯s what you call it? How very primitive. I love it.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elpida said. Her arms wanted to twitch the handgun up to cover the black sphere when it rippled again. ¡°Am I talking to the gravekeeper?¡±

    ¡°What time are you from, soldier? The others are practically pre-history, but you¡¯re late, late, late. The hour was late when you were born, let alone when you died.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t born. I was grown in a uterine replicator.¡±

    Kagami muttered: ¡°Wouldn¡¯t fucking guess it from your moronic behaviour.¡±

    ¡°Hush,¡± Atyle hissed. ¡°She communes.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since anybody had the nerve to talk back to me. But you¡¯re not her.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not who?¡± Elpida asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re just some wind-up soldier, another accident smeared too thin across history. The only reason you can hear me is because I¡¯m so close by. As soon as I move on, we¡¯ll lose the signal. What¡¯s the point?¡±

    ¡°Where are you, if you¡¯re not the gravekeeper?¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you see from the window?¡±

    Elpida paused, but there was only one possible answer. ¡°Am I speaking to the grave worm?¡±

    Kagami was shouting, ¡°Put a bullet in her, now! The intelligence is subverting her! At least take her fucking guns away!¡± Vicky was saying: ¡°If we¡¯re all made of nanomachines, we¡¯re already subverted, right?¡± Amina was crying softly. Atyle was mouthing questions for Elpida to ask. Ilyusha strode into the chamber and turned around to watch Elpida¡¯s face.

    And the voice was laughing. ¡°Grave worm? Is that what you poor bitches call this now? Yes, in a manner of speaking. But also no, of course not.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s mind raced, trying to select the right question. Here was an intelligence who understood the shape of the world. Silico mind or not, she needed answers.

    ¡°You started responding to me when I asked about Telokopolis. Why? Does the city still stand?¡±

    ¡°Mmmm.¡± The voice sounded confused, or in mild pain, or perhaps falling asleep. ¡°She used that name, once. Maybe. I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s been too long.¡±

    ¡°Are you the one who spoke to me in the coffin? ¡®Good luck, dead thing¡¯?¡±

    The voice sounded confused now, as if turning away: ¡°What?¡± A sigh. ¡°You¡¯re not the one I¡¯m looking for.¡±

    The mechanical voice of the gravekeeper¡¯s interface filtered back in. ¡°¡ªand the grain has all spoiled and the meat is rotten and the flour is full of weevils and evil and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Grave worm?¡± Elpida said. ¡°Grave worm? No. She¡¯s gone.¡±

    ¡°Stop!¡± Kagami shouted.

    The gravekeeper¡¯s interface stopped talking. The lips closed. But ripples continued to pass over the surface of the black sphere.

    Vicky said, ¡°Elpi? You good?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. The broadcast is gone. Do we have any more questions for the¡ª¡±

    A deep muffled boom reverberated through the walls and floor, through eyeballs and flesh: a detonation somewhere beyond the core of the tomb, perhaps beyond the exterior of the pyramid. Amina went stiff and terrified. Atyle frowned. Vicky flinched. Ilyusha looked up like she¡¯d heard the call of her own gods.

    A standing wave passed over the surface of the black sphere, in the direction of the distant explosion.

    Kagami whispered: ¡°Everyone back out, slowly. I don¡¯t care what you heard, you tin can cyborg psycho bitch. Back out of the room. Now.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Elpida whispered.

    Nobody stayed in the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber. Ilyusha swung her tail at the interface as they left, but the corpse did not react. As soon as they were clear of the arch and back in the laboratory space, Vicky let out a big sigh, Elpida holstered her sidearm, and Kagami collapsed into a chair. Amina was busy sniffing and wiping her eyes, trying not to cry.

    Vicky asked, ¡°You think that explosion was the others, outside? The ones Pira was talking about?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°We saw them fighting each other.¡±

    Kagami laughed with bitter humour. ¡°Fighting over who gets the best cuts of fresh meat. By which I mean us, in case you¡¯re not following. We¡¯re a fresh source of nanomachinery. This whole tomb is.¡± She glared at Ilyusha. ¡°That blue crap in your bag, it¡¯s nanomachine soup, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Ilyusha snorted with amusement. ¡°Kah!¡±

    Elpida looked down the length of the room, at the lift. ¡°The lift doors up top are manual and armoured, and I didn¡¯t see a recall button. Nobody can use it to join us. We¡¯re safe down here for the moment.¡± She knew that wasn¡¯t strictly true; the doors could be cracked with a shaped charge and the lift shaft could be scaled with the right equipment. But the others needed the morale boost. Amina was crying softly, Kagami was slumped in the chair, and Vicky was on edge, ready for combat. ¡°We don¡¯t want to get cornered, so we can¡¯t stay here, but Pira did say we have a couple of hours.¡±

    ¡°You trust her?¡± Vicky asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Atyle was staring back through the arch, at the black sphere. ¡°A mad god. A machine god?¡±

    ¡°There was another voice,¡± Elpida said. She related the conversation to the others in as much detail as she could.

    ¡°Weird,¡± said Vicky.

    Kagami slapped the table next to the computers. The screens still showed the tiny blue nanomachines on the microscope slides, wiggling and writhing. ¡°You have no idea what you heard or didn¡¯t! You haven¡¯t listened to a word I¡¯ve said. That thing in there could imitate anything. We were speaking with a sub-routine of a sub-routine. The main ego is probably off in some twelve dimensional hypermath simulation, getting its jollies from rotating billion-sided shapes. It doesn¡¯t care! Some part of it cracked into your neuro-implants and reflected your own mind back at you. You¡¯re lucky you¡¯re not a quivering ball of pulp on the floor! We¡¯re nanomachinery! You understand? It could melt you!¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°It recognised the name Telokopolis.¡±

    Kagami threw up her arms and then slumped, face in her hands, naked beneath her coat.

    Vicky cleared her throat. ¡°I don¡¯t feel like a robot. I feel like me. Better than me.¡± She paused. ¡°Kaga, is that why you were trying to cut off one of your fingers?¡±

    Kagami spoke into her hands. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I could stick it back on with spit and willpower.¡±

    ¡°Do we have to stay here?¡± Amina said. Elpida turned and found the younger girl was holding onto a corner of Elpida¡¯s armoured coat. She gently placed a hand on Amina¡¯s head, on the dark, fine hair over her scalp, and turned back to Kagami.

    ¡°You mentioned a map?¡±

    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Kagami said. ¡°You never stop, do you? Does anything slow you down?¡±

    ¡°I was designed and trained to keep going, whatever the circumstances. So, no.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Hey, I know we¡¯re not voting or anything, but I like that quality. I¡¯ve already stopped freaking out. Come on, Kaga, you found a map?¡±

    Kagami sagged in the chair, staring at the floor. Her voice came out dead: ¡°What¡¯s the point? We¡¯re not real. We¡¯re nanomachine simulacra. These are not our original bodies. Probably not our original minds, either.¡±

    ¡°Does that matter?¡± Elpida asked. ¡°I¡¯m conscious, I¡¯m thinking, I exist. That matters.¡±

    ¡°Cogito ergo sum, huh?¡± Kagami snorted.

    Vicky agreed: ¡°Feels pretty real to be here. Even if I am a copy. Whatever, you know?¡± She glanced at Atyle. ¡°Do you even get this?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Atyle said, unimpressed.

    ¡°Okay, cool.¡±

    Elpida raised her voice. ¡°We can debate philosophy and consciousness when we¡¯re out of here and somewhere safe.¡±

    Kagami shot upright in her chair, eyes red and wet. ¡°There is nowhere safe! You all saw what was through those windows. That¡¯s the world. There¡¯s nowhere to go.¡±

    Vicky forced a laugh. ¡°You sound like Pira.¡±

    Elpida stepped forward and took Kagami¡¯s shoulder; she could tell the doll-like young woman was on the verge of a breakdown. Cold sweat plastered long black hair to Kagami¡¯s forehead. Her skin had gone waxy. She needed more than orders.

    ¡°Telokopolis still stands,¡± Elpida said. ¡°And it stands for every human being. Even ones rebuilt by Silico, even ones lost in time.¡± The Covenanters would disagree, but Elpida rejected them; her city did not belong to the people who had killed her. She cracked a smile, the kind of smile she¡¯d once used on Howl. ¡°Even ones who tried to have me shot just now.¡±

    ¡°I was panicking!¡± Kagami snapped ¡ª but she¡¯d come back down from the precipice. ¡°Justifiably.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Kagami, please show us the map.¡±

    Kagami huffed and rolled her eyes, but she shrugged out of Elpida¡¯s grip and turned the chair toward the computer screens. She tapped at the keyboard with one hand, using her other to clutch the grey underlayers to her naked front. The microscope readouts vanished and a new window opened on the largest of the screens.

    ¡°There,¡± Kagami said, leaning back. ¡°That¡¯s the best resolution I can get. The number in the corner isn¡¯t latency, it¡¯s the time passed since the satellite data was taken. Buffer overflow, completely broken. This could be literally years out of date. Decades, I would guess.¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°What am I looking at?¡±

    ¡°Earth.¡±

    The image on the screen was all blacks and greys, carbonised and scorched, punctuated by streaks of red-brown rust and stretches of darkly bubbling rot. To Elpida it looked like an island, a giant version of one of the artificial environments in the buried fields below Telokopolis. But this island was gigantic, crossed by mountain ranges, riven by deep chasms; one side of it was crusted with a film of darker grey and black. Here and there she spotted a few structures large enough to make out from this far up: a broken line of off-white, a curve of shattered ring, a deep-buried glint of tarnished copper. The water around that island was black as tar.

    Vicky spoke, hesitantly. ¡°Is this ¡­ real colour?¡±

    Kagami nodded. ¡°Far as I can tell. The satellite data is old, but clean.¡±

    ¡°Satellite?¡± Elpida muttered. She knew the word in an abstract sense.

    ¡°Yes, satellite data,¡± said Kagami. ¡°When the hell are you from? You don¡¯t know what a satellite is? Machine in orbit, takes pictures of the surface. This is Earth, from high up.¡±

    Atyle said, ¡°Earth? The ground? You speak nonsense, worse than myself when I was a liar and a fraud. We are looking at a rotten fruit.¡±

    Amina spoke up too. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Kagami sighed sharply. ¡°Yes, the primitives don¡¯t even understand a globe. I¡¯m not going to sit here and¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha had been lurking quietly behind the group, craning up for a look at the screen, not really interested. But now she shouldered past Elpida too fast to be stopped. She grabbed the back of Kagami¡¯s chair and yanked her sideways. Red claws went shick out of her fingertips. Spike-tipped tail whipped upward.

    ¡°Stop calling people that!¡± she shouted into Kagami¡¯s face. ¡°I¡¯ll take your head off, reptile!¡±

    Kagami was so afraid she couldn¡¯t speak, just cowering and staring, open-mouthed. Vicky and Elpida worked together to gently but firmly peel Ilyusha off the chair, but she wouldn¡¯t move. She growled.

    Atyle said, ¡°I do not require an animal to defend my honour.¡±

    That got Ilyusha to move. She ripped away, spat at Atyle¡¯s feet, and then stomped off, clicking over to the armoury.

    Kagami was white as a sheet, quivering all over, clutching herself. Vicky squeezed her shoulder.

    ¡°Everyone take a deep breath,¡± said Elpida.

    ¡°A ball,¡± Kagami stammered, holding up a fist. ¡°The Earth, that¡¯s our planet, where we are right now. It¡¯s a ball hanging in space. The Earth goes around the sun in a big circle. That¡¯s ¡­ that¡¯s it. But it¡¯s not meant to look like that. Obviously.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Amina, very softly.

    Kagami stared at her, wide-eyed with lingering shock. Amina broke away from the group and hurried over to Ilyusha. Elpida watched them for a moment to make sure nothing bad was about to happen. Ilyusha turned a cold shoulder, but then Amina said something quiet and soft, and Ilyusha allowed her to get closer. The bionic tail drooped. Elpida nodded to herself ¡ª they¡¯d be alright.

    Vicky was saying: ¡°But that¡¯s a super-continent.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Kagami.

    ¡°How far in the future are we?¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°Several hundred million years, I would guess.¡± She pointed at the screens. ¡°That line of mountains, you see that? That¡¯s the coastline of the Americas smashing into Africa, very slowly.¡± Kagami glanced up at Vicky. ¡°Americas. I assume you and I are close enough in time that we¡¯re both using that word?¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Sure. I mean, I did live there.¡±

    Kagami looked at Elpida and Atyle. Elpida shook her head; she recognised neither of those place names. Atyle said nothing.

    The image on the screen made no sense to Elpida. There was no green. How could this charred ball of tar and carbon be the planet Earth? She traced the mountains, then the vast city ¡ª the darker crust must be buildings ¡ª then the places where land met water, around the edge of the giant island.

    Like a magic-eye picture, the image suddenly made perfect sense. She reached out and pointed at part of the screen, at an iron-grey smudge which might be nothing, but might be a spire.

    ¡°Telokopolis is there.¡±

    Kagami and Vicky looked at her with confused shock. Atyle raised her eyebrows.

    ¡°That¡¯s the plateau,¡± Elpida said. ¡°That¡¯s where the city stands. Can we zoom the image?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Kagami said. ¡°The resolution is terrible and this is all we have.¡± She squinted at the screen. ¡°Could be something there, who knows. Arcologies are sometimes visible from orbit with the naked eye, if they¡¯re big enough.¡±

    ¡°Elpi,¡± said Vicky. ¡°How many people lived in your city, in Telokopolis?¡±

    ¡°Last census was about nine hundred million.¡±

    Kagami and Vicky shared a look. Kagami said, ¡°Definitely visible from space.¡± She laughed, a sad sound. ¡°Could be a spire-city, could be an open chalk pit. Resolution is shit.¡± She eyed Elpida. ¡°How can you be so sure? The landmasses are barely recognisable.¡±

    ¡°This,¡± Elpida said, drawing her finger in a ring around the island. ¡°The places where land meets water. It¡¯s the drop-off, in the green. I recognise the drop-off line, but there¡¯s no vegetation. That threw me off for a moment.¡±

    Nobody seemed to know what she meant.

    ¡°The drop-off,¡± Elpida explained. ¡°Where the green gets exponentially deeper. The plants follow the landscape down but the canopy stays at the same level. The Silico live down there in huge numbers. There¡¯s no sunlight. Gets weirder the deeper you go. But now there¡¯s water instead.¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°You mean ¡­ ¡± Vicky said eventually. ¡°You mean the coastline?¡±

    ¡°Coastline?¡±

    ¡°The sea. Coast. Seas. You have the sea, right?¡±

    ¡°Sea?¡± Elpida echoed. ¡°That¡¯s what it looks like? I¡¯ve seen old pictures, but nothing like this.¡±

    Kagami was squinting at her. ¡°Your time had no seas, yet was drowned in vegetation?¡± She snorted. ¡°This moron lived her whole life in a sim.¡±

    Elpida bristled in a way she¡¯d never experienced before. ¡°Telokopolis is real. My cadre is real.¡±

    Was real. Elpida ached inside.

    Kagami blanched and raised her hands. Elpida took a deep breath.

    ¡°Ease down, girl,¡± Vicky said.

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida said, much calmer. ¡°Does this map indicate where we are?¡±

    ¡°Here,¡± Kagami said, reaching forward to tap somewhere on the far east of the world-island. Then she gestured down the lab, at the equipment lying on the tables, the hand-held devices and scanners and readout screens. ¡°Some of this stuff is positional, I recognise a bit of it. Auspex equipment, portable comms, hand-held radar and sonar. It¡¯s no GPS ¡ª I doubt there¡¯s any sats still flying anyway ¡ª but some of it could point us in the right direction, if we¡¯re going to step out there with a plan to last more than five seconds before somebody eats us.¡±

    ¡°To Telokopolis.¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°Always good to have a goal.¡±

    Elpida then said, out loud: ¡°Or toward the grave worm. It¡¯s closer.¡±

    Everyone looked at her. On the other side of the room, Ilyusha cackled.

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± Vicky said. ¡°You saw the size of that thing.¡±

    ¡°That voice understood the name of the city. I think that¡¯s worth following up. And we still need real answers.¡±

    ¡°We do,¡± said Kagami. ¡°Hell, why not? We¡¯re all going to die the moment we step outside. I vote for the worm.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not going to die,¡± Elpida said.

    Atyle said, ¡°I do not vote.¡±

    ¡°Worm!¡± Ilyusha yelled. She grabbed Amina around the shoulders and rubbed her head, messing up her hair. Amina squeaked.

    Elpida held up a hand. ¡°We can vote when¡ª¡±

    A second low boom passed through the core of the tomb, still distant but much closer. Everyone paused and looked up. Ilyusha grinned.

    Elpida took charge. ¡°Wherever we¡¯re going, we need to get out of here first. Kagami, get those clothes on. Everyone else, grab what you can carry. Vicky, help Amina with a ballistic shield. Atyle, I¡¯m going to show you how a gun works, you need to be armed. Ilyusha, where did you get that backpack?¡±

    Amina and Vicky together had to help Kagami get her clothes on; her augmetic legs might work well enough to walk a few steps now, but she couldn¡¯t contort herself into a pair of trousers. She made an awful fuss of it. Elpida showed Atyle how to work a handgun. The tall noblewoman accepted a sidearm, but she left the thing in her coat pocket with an air of disdain. Elpida filled a backpack and her own pouches with spare ammo.

    Once Kagami was dressed and weighed down with a coat, she set about gathering up auspex equipment. She shoved most of it into a bag and strapped a screen device to her forearm, then slipped a transparent visor headpiece over her eyes, blinking and flicking her eyelids.

    ¡°Get those.¡± Kagami pointed at the tray of palm-sized metal cylinders which Elpida had noticed earlier. ¡°Give me those. Put them in a pouch or something.¡±

    When Vicky handed the six shiny oblongs to her, Kagami cradled them like gemstones, peering closely at their blank surfaces. Then she slipped them into a coat pocket.

    ¡°What kind of weapons are those?¡± Elpida asked.

    ¡°Smart drones. Onboard AI. No way to boot them, let alone power them, but if I can find a way then we¡¯ll be invincible. No sense leaving them here.¡±

    Elpida nodded along with this, then turned away to grab one of the coilguns. The magnetic weapons were too heavy to carry far, but worth the weight if Elpida had to punch a hole through a ring of predators outside. She would need to keep herself and Vicky up front, and Amina well-sheltered ¡ª the younger girl was most likely to break and run, or freeze up, or panic. Kagami needed support: Atyle could manage that if she wouldn¡¯t deign to hold a gun properly. Ilyusha was a wild-card.

    But before Elpida could reach the coilguns, a metallic tearing sound echoed from the lift, followed by a rapid mechanical click-click-click of steel on steel.

    Up in the corridor where they¡¯d entered the lift, something had torn open the armoured doors.

    Something was walking down the lift shaft, on many more than two legs.

 corpus - 1.8

    Elpida took command.

    ¡°Into the gravekeeper¡¯s room, now!¡±

    Click-click-click went metal on metal, racing down the lift shaft.

    ¡°Amina, hold onto that shield and get behind the wall. Vicky, grab three more ballistic shields, toss them back there, then start flipping tables, pile them in the archway. Atyle, you take a shield as well then get behind the wall. And help Kagami, hunker down. Howl¡ª¡±

    Elpida froze. The others froze with her, hanging on her words; they didn¡¯t know that Howl was a name.

    Elpida¡¯s closest was not at her side. She¡¯d never faced combat without Howl, not even that first time when the cadre was six years old.

    Howl was dead.

    ¡° ¡­ Ilyusha, help Vicky with the tables. We need cover and we need it fast. Move!¡±

    Elpida knew this wouldn¡¯t be enough. Cover was unreliable and in short supply. The armoury side of the room held nothing useful except the ballistic shields; the tables on the laboratory side were made of thin metal, not enough to stop a bullet. The only good shelter was the dividing wall between the first room and the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber, but the archway was wide and tall. Elpida would not have attempted to hold that against Silico even with a full team in hardsuits. But there was no other exit, only the grey pyramid, the rippling black sphere, and the dead lips of the interface corpse.

    At least they had a clear line of fire.

    The others scrambled to follow Elpida¡¯s orders. Amina scuttled through the archway, almost tripping over herself. Vicky went tight and professional, grabbing more of the stiff bulletproof shields. Ilyusha helped with gusto, flipping tables and slamming them together into a makeshift barricade, panting wet and hard through a twitching grin. Her tail was lashing back and forth. Kagami staggered behind the barricade under her own power, augmetic legs wobbling, hands clutching at the tables for support.

    Atyle didn¡¯t move. She stared up at the lift shaft and the rapid approach of metal-on-metal with detached curiosity. Her peat-green bionic eye swivelled and rotated in the socket.

    Elpida snapped, ¡°Can you see through the wall? See what it is?¡±

    ¡°No, the metal is too thick. But the sound is fascinating. I count six ¡ª eight ¡ª ten legs?¡±

    ¡°Get in the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber or I¡¯ll throw you in there myself.¡±

    Atyle turned away, head high, walking without a care.

    Clack-clack-clack; too many legs closing on the core of the tomb.

    Elpida grabbed a coilgun. She pulled the apparatus from the racking, tucked the receiver under one arm, and setted the power-tank on her back. It wasn¡¯t like any coilgun ever manufactured in Telokopolis: red and yellow warning stripes all down the barrel, curved protrusions for handholds, thick cables running from power-tank to receiver. But the technology was timeless. Elpida identified the controls, strapped the aim-assist support rig around her hips, and stowed the receiver. She dragged a second coilgun off the rack, then turned and hurried back to the arch and the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber, pausing only to grab a light machine gun and a box-magazine of ammunition.

    Loaded down with heavy weaponry, she vaulted the jumble of tables to join the others, huddled in the gravekeeper¡¯s shadow.

    Amina was pressed against the wall a few feet from the arch, hugging her ballistic shield, a nest of clothing paralysed with fear. Kagami was braced against the cold metal, legs quivering, eyes wide in her face, long black hair swept back. Atyle was staring up at the sphere of the gravekeeper, watching the slow ripples move across the surface.

    Vicky was at the barricade, half-sheltered by one side of the arch, long rifle in her hands; Elpida recognised the pre-battle tension in the way she stood and the way she moved her eyes. Ilyusha was at the opposite end of the arch, staring at the lift doors and ¡ª drooling? She¡¯d shed her backpack of shells and blue nano-goop, and stashed it at Amina¡¯s side. Her tail was flicking, her breath pumping, her claws exposed and clicking against the rotary shotgun in her hands.

    Vicky tried to laugh. ¡°Elpi, you¡¯re carrying half the armoury.¡±

    ¡°Vicky,¡± Elpida said, ¡°look at me. Look at my eyes. Take a deep breath. I¡¯m going to get us out of this.¡±

    ¡°Never was any good at fire-fights. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Do you know how to use a coilgun?¡±

    Vicky frowned. ¡°A what-gun? Is that the thing you¡¯ve got strapped on? Looks heavy.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Elpida dropped the second coilgun and thrust the machine gun toward Vicky. ¡°Take this instead. Set up on the ground, sight-line between those two tables. I¡¯ll get the ballistic shields in place to protect you.¡±

    Vicky nodded. Her hands shook as she slung the rifle and cradled the machine gun. ¡°I can do that. I can do that.¡±

    ¡°You can. You know what you¡¯re doing.¡± Elpida had no idea if Vicky knew what she was doing, but the other woman needed to hear those words. ¡°I need you to get that machine gun in place.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. On it. Okay. Yeah.¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t bother with a pep-talk for Ilyusha. The heavily augmented girl was chewing her own tongue, drawing blood.

    ¡°Ilyusha, hey. Hey!¡±

    The augmented girl twitched her head but didn¡¯t look at Elpida. ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°Look at me. Ilyusha, look at me.¡±

    Burning grey eyes swivelled round; murder-happy combat high, a junkie look. Elpida had seen that on a few faces before. One especially. But she didn¡¯t have time to grieve.

    Elpida said: ¡°Don¡¯t jump this barricade alone. You stay here with us. I will get us out. Stay here with me. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Mmmnnnn ¡­ ¡®kay,¡± Ilyusha rasped.

    Elpida stepped past Ilyusha to deal with Kagami. The doll-like girl looked ready to scream. Elpida held out her submachine gun. ¡°Have you fired a gun before?¡±

    Kagami stared at the weapon like it might sting her. ¡°In a ¡­ sim. In sims. A lot. Never for real.¡±

    Elpida pressed the weapon into Kagami¡¯s hands and moved her fingers to hold the grips. ¡°Safety is here, flick it off like¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Kagami hissed. ¡°I know how it works! I just don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll fall over from the recoil, you moron!¡±

    ¡°Sit on the floor and peek around the corner.¡±

    Kagami laughed, hollow. ¡°You¡¯ve got a coilgun, what do you need with me?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re needed, we all are. Sit, aim, and wait for my command. I know you can do that.¡±

    Kagami did as Elpida ordered. She slumped awkwardly at the corner of the arch in a puddle of grey-black clothing, inches from Ilyusha¡¯s clawed feet, peering through a tiny gap in their paper-thin barricade. Elpida hurried to the other side, stepping over Vicky, who was lying flat to sight down her machine gun. She grabbed the spare ballistic shields and propped two of them up against the barricade, either side of Vicky¡¯s position; they¡¯d take a hit for her, perhaps. Then she gave one to Kagami, a bit of extra cover.

    She unhooked the coilgun receiver, hit the controls to power on the magnetic containment, and felt a sabot-round clunk into place. The power-tank hummed into life on her back. She braced the barrel on the side of an overturned table and aimed at the open doors of the lift.

    Elpida knew they were doomed. This was not a trained team who¡¯d spent a lifetime working together. They were not an under-strength Legion squad waiting for extraction at the edge of the green. These girls were not her cadre. This was a group of scared young women with nowhere to run.

    But the cadre had been like that once, back in the earliest days.

    Before anybody could voice doubt, Elpida said: ¡°Everyone stay quiet. Hold your fire. Let me do the talking.¡±

    Down on the floor, Vicky almost laughed. ¡°Talking?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know what this is or what they want.¡±

    Kagami said, dripping scorn, ¡°I think we can fucking guess! They want to eat us!¡±

    Elpida raised her voice. ¡°Hold your fire until I say so. Ilyusha, do you understand? Hold your fire.¡±

    Ilyusha answered in a mocking sing-song: ¡°Hold-ing, hold-ing, blah-la-la.¡±

    Click-click-click went metal-on-metal, louder and louder ¡ª and then something heavy thumped onto the roof of the lift car. For twenty seconds nothing happened; everyone held their breath. Did Elpida hear voices? She strained to listen.

    Then something tore through the roof of the lift with an ear-splitting rip of peeling metal. Scraps of pulverised grey material flew everywhere, flashing scythes of dull orange punched down through the lift, and then a dark shape squirmed downward and into the light.

    ¡°Oh my fucking God,¡± Vicky said.

    Ilyusha barked. ¡°God! Ha!¡±

    ¡°Quiet,¡± Elpida snapped. ¡°Hold fire.¡±

    Something pushed out through the lift doors and stood up.

    A shield-wall, dark orange: the front of the intruder was protected and obscured by six huge metal shields in a rough square. Eight heavy bionic legs were visible beneath the shields, non-human, multi-jointed, armoured with dun brown plate, curved away from a massive elongated body in the rear. Tiny eyes peered over the topmost shield ¡ª human eyes, soft and sane and green, framed by frizzy brown hair.

    A single construct? A girl riding a construct, or standing on a construct? The shield-wall concealed the details, but the size and scale was all wrong. The thing standing behind those bunched shields was the size of two horses, nine feet tall, and made no sense.

    Before Elpida could gather her wits, somebody squeaked from behind the shield-wall, riding on that eight-legged bionic construct.

    ¡°They¡¯re pointing guns at us! Gun-guns!¡±

    A second voice, a throaty wheeze: ¡°They?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s like three-three! Four? Wow-more!¡±

    A third voice, muffled and mechanical: ¡°Assaulting into an armoury. Bad idea. Told you so.¡±

    ¡°Not-not an assault!¡± said the squeaky first voice. The human eyes and frizzy hair ducked down behind the dark orange shield-wall.

    At least three people, plus a bionic construct ¡ª Silico? Elpida made a split-second decision; whoever these people were, they hadn¡¯t rushed in guns blazing. She raised her voice. ¡°Stay where you are! We have you covered with three coilguns.¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    The muffled and mechanical voice said: ¡°Coilguns. Great. Of course it would be a tomb with coilguns.¡±

    The green eyes popped up again, wide and staring.

    ¡°Lie! Lie-lie, they have one. Two? Two-two.¡±

    Elpida shouted: ¡°State your business or I will open fire.¡±

    The wheezing voice said, ¡°No firing! No firing! The star-caller is among them, don¡¯t hurt her!¡±

    The dun brown bionic legs skittered and danced on the spot, jostling the shield-wall. The squeaky voice said: ¡°Back-back!?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± wheezed the second voice. ¡°She¡ª star-called¡ª caller¡ª I can¡¯t¡ª oh, it¡¯s coming, I can feel it unlatching from the heavens, I¡ª uhhhnn¡ª¡± The voice dissolved into wet gurgles.

    The muffled and mechanical voice said, ¡°Boss? Not now. Boss? Fuck!¡±

    ¡°Back-back!?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, back up the lift, we have this lot bottled up anyway¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha leapt the barricade.

    A flash of pale flesh and red-black bionics vaulted the overturned tables, lips pulled back in a rictus grin. She raised the rotary shotgun in both hands, aimed at the shield-wall, and pulled the trigger. A roar split the air ¡ª then again, and again, as Ilyusha yanked on the trigger and pumped the mechanism to rotate the cylinder for fresh rounds. Pellets bounced off the dark orange shields. Several people screamed. The legs of the construct flinched and jerked.

    Vicky shouted, ¡°Elpi, do we help her?!¡±

    ¡°Hold!¡± Elpida said. ¡°Ilyusha, stop!¡±

    But Ilyusha wasn¡¯t listening. She sprinted forward as she fired, clawed feet chewing through the metal flooring, tail lashing from side to side. She slammed the shield-wall with the tip of her tail and raked at it with the claws from one hand ¡ª and then Ilyusha jinked sideways, flanking the intruder, shotgun jerking up to point at whatever hid behind the shield-wall.

    Howl blossomed in Elpida¡¯s memory.

    Thirteen years old, straddling Elpida¡¯s chest, both of them black and blue and bloody, Howl screaming in her face: ¡°One of us fights, we all fight! You taught me that! Tell me you still believe it or I¡¯ll kill you myself. Tell me you love us.¡±

    One in, all in.

    Elpida slipped her index finger over the coilgun¡¯s trigger, sighting dead centre of the shield-wall. She would take responsibility later. She always did.

    But in the split-second before she could fire, a blade flashed out from behind the shield-wall and cut Ilyusha¡¯s rotary shotgun in half.

    Ilyusha sprang back, spitting and hissing ¡ª and fouling Elpida¡¯s clean shot. She dropped the shattered pieces of her firearm, then flicked her claws free and whipped her tail above her head like a scorpion. A figure darted out from behind the shield-wall before Ilyusha could pounce, and forced her away with a flurry of strikes from a pair of swords. Ilyusha turned away the blows with her claws and the metal of her arms, but Elpida could tell that the heavily augmented girl was inexpert and clumsy; she¡¯d be dead without the bionics.

    Ilyusha¡¯s opponent was unreadable: tight and athletic, wrapped in a dark red bodysuit and draped with matching robe-like layers, head concealed inside a black helmet with a smooth face-plate. Nothing but an angle for a nose and slits for eyeholes. She held a pair of long, curved swords, the metal glittering red. She swung them like liquid.

    Vicky shouted, ¡°I can¡¯t get an angle!¡±

    The squeaky voice was screaming from behind the shield-wall: ¡°Zel-Zel no! No! Back-back! Ahhhh!¡±

    Elpida kicked her way through the makeshift barricade. She kept the coilgun pointed at the shield-wall. The plates were wavering, as if they wanted to intervene in the claws-and-sword duel. Ilyusha was getting a feel for it now, knocking away the sword-strikes and trying to impale the swordswoman with jabs of her tail. The red-clad duellist reacted with expert precision, dodging and twisting out of the way. Ilyusha spat with anger.

    ¡°Ilyusha!¡± Elpida shouted. ¡°Off! Now!¡±

    Ilyusha cackled and pressed forward. The red swordswoman deflected a tail-swipe with both blades.

    ¡°Back down or I will make you back down.¡± Elpida twitched her attention to the shield-wall. ¡°Call your one off, or I will put a hole through you.¡±

    ¡°Zel-Zel! Zel!¡± The squeaky voice was not coherent enough for orders.

    Elpida judged the distances, weighed the coilgun receiver in one hand, and took the opening: she strode at the melee fight just as Ilyusha was rocking back for another blow, scooped Ilyusha¡¯s petite form up from behind, arm around the smaller girl¡¯s stomach, and pointed the coilgun at the red-clad swordswoman. Finger on the trigger, ready to squeeze.

    The red-wrapped figure stopped, swords frozen in mid-air. Ilyusha was kicking and screeching in Elpida¡¯s grip, clawing and raking ¡ª mostly at the floor, but she caught Elpida¡¯s leg as well, bruising and grazing the front of her shin. Elpida clutched Ilyusha tight and held the coilgun steady.

    ¡°Move and I shoot,¡± she said to the red swordswoman.

    ¡°Suits me,¡± came the reply, muffled into mechanical noise by the helmet and mask.

    Ilyusha was spitting. ¡°Fuck you! Fuck you!¡± Her tail-spike went up and down like a stinger in flesh, ramming dents in the metal floor.

    Elpida said, ¡°Swords down. Back away.¡±

    The red woman said: ¡°Not happening.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll go for me again.¡±

    Elpida suppressed a sigh. ¡°Ilyusha. Ilyusha? Ilyusha, I need you to stop.¡±

    Ilyusha finally let go of her raving anger. She sagged in Elpida¡¯s grip, panting through gritted teeth. ¡°What!?¡±

    ¡°If I let you go¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuck you too! Lanky bitch!¡±

    Ilyusha squirmed down and out of Elpida¡¯s grip like a greased weasel. She instantly turned away and stomped over to the armoury. She yanked another rotary shotgun off the racking and slammed it about, then scooped up shells from a box, sat down cross-legged, and started loading the weapon, sulking with her head down.

    The red swordswoman stayed perfectly still. Elpida kept her covered with the coilgun.

    ¡°How about now?¡± Elpida asked.

    ¡°She¡¯s loading a gun. Li?¡±

    The squeaky voice answered from behind the shield-wall: ¡°Mm-mm?¡±

    ¡°That girl raises that gun, you cut her in half.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Nobody is cutting anybody in half.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s voice joined them, along with her hurrying boots: ¡°Yeah, fucking hell. Guns down, okay? Guns down. We don¡¯t all need to shoot each other.¡±

    ¡°Ilyusha,¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°Yeah, fuck you!¡± Ilyusha spat. She didn¡¯t look from loading her replacement shotgun.

    ¡°Promise me you won¡¯t start another fight.¡±

    ¡°Reptile fuck. Cold-blooded cunt bitch. Cunt.¡±

    Elpida twitched her head sideways; she needed to cover the swordswoman but she needed to talk to Ilyusha. She couldn¡¯t do this alone. ¡°Vicky, get Amina, we need her to¡ª¡±

    But to Elpida¡¯s surprise, Amina was already hurrying through the armoury. The younger girl clutched her ballistic shield to her front as she went straight to Ilyusha¡¯s side. Amina went down on her knees, touching Ilyusha without hesitation. The heavily augmented girl shoved her away and raised her bionic tail as if to strike, but Amina dropped the shield and pulled her into an awkward sideways hug. Ilyusha stopped loading the gun. She stared at the floor.

    Elpida asked: ¡°Now?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± said the red swordswoman. ¡°Can I move?¡±

    An explosive cough came from behind the shield-wall. That earlier voice, the bruised and wheezy one which had descended into gurgles, started up in panic: ¡°No firing! The star-caller is here! We can¡¯t risk¡ª risk her. What¡ª what happened, Zeltzin?¡±

    ¡®Zeltzin¡¯ lowered her red swords and then slid them away inside her red robes; Elpida did not like how the woman moved, as if her joints had a wider range of motion than a human being should possess. Zeltzin took a step back and glanced behind the dull orange shields. ¡°No injuries. Just pride. I count six fresh.¡±

    ¡°Six?¡± The wheezy voice sounded surprised.

    Ilyusha muttered, on the other side of the room: ¡°Fuckin¡¯ eat you, cunt. Come try again.¡±

    A clunk and a scrape came from behind the shields. The soft green eyes and frizzy hair from earlier peered over the top. ¡°Lianna,¡± said the wheezy voice. ¡°You may stand down. Nobody is shooting.¡±

    ¡°Guns-guns! Pointing!¡±

    Elpida lowered her coilgun, but she kept it powered. She glanced at Vicky and found the other woman was still cradling that light machine gun. She reached out and put a gentle hand on the weapon, as if encouraging her to keep it pointed away from anybody, but she caught Vicky¡¯s eye and nodded, hoping she understood. She glanced back at the archway: Kagami had staggered out a few paces, supported by clutching onto Atyle¡¯s arm ¡ª not offered but taken regardless. But the borrowed submachine gun hung limp in Kagami¡¯s free hand. The doll-like girl looked terrified, mouth hanging open. Atyle was enraptured by the shield-wall, or perhaps by what lay behind the plates.

    ¡°Guns are down,¡± said the red swordswoman. ¡°Boss, this is a mess. Are you sure she¡¯s here?¡±

    The wheezy voice said, ¡°The star-caller must be here! Lianna, let me see. Let me see. Lower your shields, that¡¯s it, good girl, let me see, let me see ¡­ ¡±

    The voice trailed off. The shield-wall broke, individual plates separating and drifting apart.

    Behind the shields was the top half of a young woman: a head of frizzy brown hair, eyes green and wide and slightly manic, face pale and pinkish and pinched, narrow shoulders and thin ribs clad wrapped in layers of comfortable grey robe, with a pair of normal arms and human hands sticking out from the folds of fabric.

    Flesh ended at her waist; below that she was a bionic spider the size of a hippopotamus.

    Twelve feet long, main body and abdomen structures armoured with dun brown plating. Eight legs supported the body, segmented and flexible, made of bio-plastic and bunches of artificial muscle fibre. Eight arms sprouted from the front part of the body, in a ring around the human torso: six arms ended in those flat orange shields; two arms were shaped into curved pincers, with razor-sharp edges as long as Elpida was tall.

    Ilyusha¡¯s tail had left Elpida shocked by non-human body plan bionics. The four-armed cannibal had seemed impossible. But this was beyond her. This was not human ¡ª but neither was it Silico.

    A second woman was riding on the back of the spider-centaur, a twisted scrap of bark-brown cradled in a nest of blankets. Hollow-cheeked, stubble-scalped, and encrusted with sensory bionics, like coral growing on her face. She had little blooms of metal and bio-plastic in her forehead, sending out feelers up her scalp and down her cheeks. Her nose was replaced with a black and grey apparatus that seemed to cling to her flesh, a limpet sucking at her blood. Little spirals of bionic matter swirled across her lips and chin and down her throat.

    And she had no eyes; her eye sockets were filled with a crust of bionic matter, spilling outward and overflowing onto the bones of her face.

    She smiled. Elpida was reminded of Old Lady Nunnus, the cadre¡¯s one and only teacher.

    The crusted woman spoke in a wheezing voice. ¡°My name is Inaya. One of you has called a falling star.¡±

    She paused for effect and the similarity with Nunnus vanished. Elpida glanced around at the others and concluded that those words meant nothing to anybody. Atyle was staring at the spider-girl with open awe. Kagami looked like she wanted to flee. Amina, oddly, did not seem to care, still focused totally on Ilyusha. Ilyusha just sulked, loading her new shotgun; maybe she¡¯d seen this before. Vicky looked pale but stable. Elpida didn¡¯t blame her. She took a step closer to Vicky, closed the gap between them, and made sure she had a good grip on the coilgun.

    Zeltzin, the red swordswoman, spoke up: ¡°None of them know, boss. We got it wrong.¡±

    The spider-girl spoke too. ¡°Six-six is crazy! Six!¡±

    Zeltzin looked toward Elpida, just a pair of slits in a black mask. ¡°You kept this group together?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Why is six crazy?¡±

    Zeltzin snorted behind her mask. ¡°Most first-time fresh don¡¯t even stick together.¡±

    Inaya spoke over her companions, from up on the spider¡¯s back: ¡°Please! Speak, tell me, tell us. We mean you no harm, star-caller, we will not take¡ª¡±

    Lianna the spider-girl interrupted. ¡°If she isn¡¯t here, they¡¯re just fresh-fresh. Riiiiight?¡± A nasty smile crept across that pinkish face.

    Ilyusha looked up from her shotgun, suddenly very still. Amina let her go. Vicky went tense as well.

    Zeltzin turned her masked face toward the empty space in the racking from where Ilyusha had taken all the cannisters of nanomachine slime. She said: ¡°Where¡¯s all your ambrosia gone?¡±

    Ilyusha slammed a final shell into her shotgun and stood up. ¡°Fuck you, reptile. Drank it all up. Come get it.¡±

    Kagami shouted from the rear of the room: ¡°They¡¯re here to eat us! Somebody shoot the fucking spider-tank, please!¡±

    ¡°No-no!¡± Lianna squeaked ¡ª but she was grinning.

    Vicky swallowed. ¡°Yeah, hey, I don¡¯t like the sound of this.¡±

    Elpida raised the coilgun receiver and pointed it at Lianna¡¯s bionic spider-body. ¡°Nobody is eating anybody.¡±

    ¡°Joke!¡± The spider-girl giggled, a weird and scratchy cackle. Three of the plate-arms went up in surrender. ¡°Joke-joke!¡±

    Inaya carried on. ¡°A star is falling, or preparing to fall. I can see it, I can feel it in my skin, and it is beautiful. I have travelled from tomb to tomb looking for you and I have not seen a starfall in forty years. Please. Just tell me. Speak to me, star-caller. Speak to us.¡±

    Elpida shared a glance with Vicky, then with Kagami and Atyle at the rear of the room. Nobody knew anything.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Elpida said, ¡°but whoever you¡¯re looking for, it¡¯s not one of us. One of our number left the group, went on ahead. Another died, eaten. Another two we never met.¡±

    The encrusted woman looked like she wanted to weep, but her eyes were too full of metal. She looked at Elpida, but Elpida had no idea what the woman could see.

    ¡°Told you, boss,¡± said Zeltzin. ¡°They¡¯re just fresh.¡±

    ¡°It is falling,¡± Inaya said. ¡°It is. I can feel it coming. The machine sings in the heavens.¡±

    Elpida asked, ¡°What do you mean, a star is falling? What does that mean?¡±

    Kagami muttered a suggestion: ¡°Orbital re-entry?¡±

    Zeltzin said, ¡°And they¡¯ve taken all the ambrosia. We need to recoup or leave.¡±

    Ilyusha raised her shotgun and bared her teeth. ¡°Try it!¡±

    ¡°A star,¡± said Inaya. She turned her sightless, metal-crusted face toward the ceiling. ¡°A newborn has called it from the heavens. A clean star, untouched and pure.¡±

    Zeltzin took a step back. ¡°Boss, we need to get out. This place is going to be swarming.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh!¡± Lianna agreed. She was already shuffling her massive spider body backward, inching toward the lift doors. ¡°Wanna take one with? Two-two maybe? Small one? Snack-snack?¡±

    But Inaya¡¯s blind gaze drifted toward Elpida and the others once more. ¡°Perhaps the star-caller does not know. I never considered that possibility. I never thought. It could be one of them. It could. But six? We expected one, perhaps two. If we could winnow them ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Oh, fuck right off,¡± Vicky said.

    Zeltzin said, ¡°It¡¯s not them, boss. We got it wrong.¡±

    Inaya sighed and settled back into her blankets, as if dismissing the situation. ¡°So disappointing. Such a waste of time.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You¡¯re leaving the tomb again, you¡¯re getting outside?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Zeltzin. She didn¡¯t sound happy about it. She was also backing away.

    ¡°You know the route out?¡±

    ¡°Same way we got in. Bit busier now though.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t bother-bother me!¡± said Lianna.

    ¡°You climbed?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Zeltzin. ¡°Front door. Just early, soon as the worm was clear. You don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m talking about, freshie, what does it matter to you?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re taking us with you.¡±

    Nobody said anything for a split-second. Vicky glanced at Elpida, eyes wide. Kagami let out a strangled sound. Lianna, the giant bionic spider, twitched her shields as if to cover herself, then thought better of it and pulled a grimace. Inaya peered down from her back, brow furrowed. Ilyusha frowned too, then cackled with approval as she understood Elpida¡¯s move. Her tail started wagging. She grinned at Elpida.

    ¡°No we¡¯re not,¡± said Zeltzin.

    Quickly and gently, Elpida said: ¡°Vicky, cover the swordswoman. Safety off.¡±

    ¡°Wha¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do it.¡±

    Vicky raised the machine gun and pointed it at Zeltzin. Ilyusha helped, cackling.

    Elpida kept the coilgun barrel aimed at the spider-girl ¡ª and at Inaya, riding on her back. ¡°You can lead us out of the tomb or I can put a hole through your friends and let Ilyusha take you apart. Your call.¡±

 rapax - 2.1

    Pointing a gun and making a threat was easy, even if that gun weighed fifty kilograms and required a stabilisation rig strapped around the user¡¯s hips. Pulling the trigger would be easy too; Elpida¡¯s mind had already calculated the firefight which would ensue, and she knew it would not be much of a fight. One round from the coilgun would slam a plate-sized hole through the middle of Lianna¡¯s bionic spider body. The same round, angled correctly, would also catch Inaya ¡ª the crumpled, shrunken, metal-encrusted woman riding on Lianna¡¯s back ¡ª and smear her across the wall.

    Zeltzin ¡ª the red-clad swordswoman whose face was concealed behind a black ballistic mask ¡ª might be hiding any variety of augmentations beneath her red bodysuit and loose robes. Elpida did not like the way the woman moved, doubled-jointed and loose. But she wouldn¡¯t live through Vicky and Ilyusha opening fire, not this close.

    They could win, quickly and cleanly. But Elpida didn¡¯t want to pull the trigger.

    The spire-cell back in Telokopolis felt like only yesterday. She had died, yesterday. Howl had slept in her arms three days ago ¡ª three hundred million years ago. Howl would have pulled the trigger to protect the cadre, damn the consequences. And that was why Howl had not been in command.

    Elpida¡¯s hands were steady on the coilgun. Zeltzin was saying: ¡°Lead you to the gates of the tomb? You don¡¯t even know what you¡¯re asking for, freshie. Better to stay here and take the loss, make the decision over again, down in the black rain and¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to lead us out,¡± Elpida said.

    From up on the spider-girl¡¯s back, Inaya spoke for her trio, wheezy and rasping: ¡°Let them follow, Zeltzin. Seeds fall where they may, on stone as well as soil.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Elpida.

    Logistics was the hard part: organising an extraction, making sure everybody was ready, all while holding this trio at gunpoint, and making sure the situation did not erupt into an unintentional execution. This wasn¡¯t the kind of operation the cadre had trained for.

    Elpida kept the coilgun pointed at Lianna ¡ª the spider-centaur ¡ª while calling out orders. She had Amina fetch Ilyusha¡¯s backpack from the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber: the backpack full of shotgun shells and cannisters of blue nanomachine slime. She instructed Atyle to grab more backpacks and fill them with whatever she could.

    ¡°Kagami, supervise,¡± she added.

    ¡°What? Supervise what? Putting things in bags?¡±

    Atyle started to say: ¡°I will not be herded and¡ª¡± But Elpida spoke over her.

    ¡°Because you¡¯re free and you understand what you¡¯re looking at, but you can¡¯t move quickly on those legs. Atyle and Amina don¡¯t understand; Atyle, there¡¯s no shame in that, just do it. We need survival equipment. See if there¡¯s any MREs, bottles for water, compact tents. Things like that. Quickly now.¡±

    Zeltzin snorted behind her featureless black mask. ¡°Fresh and clueless.¡±

    Ilyusha laughed. ¡°Shut up, bitch-sticks!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Explain.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s only one kind of food in a tomb.¡±

    Kagami spat, ¡°Told you they were here to fucking eat us.¡±

    Vicky and Ilyusha couldn¡¯t help; they had to keep their weapons pointed at the red-clad swordswoman. But that was a distraction, no matter how steady Vicky¡¯s hands or how much Ilyusha cackled and barked. The coilgun was their ace; without that, the trio of intruders could retreat at their leisure, behind Lianna¡¯s bullet-proof armour plates. Elpida could not allow her aim or her attention to waver.

    Lianna made it easy. The spider-woman kept her armour plates and pincer-blades lowered and out of the way. Her human upper half raised her hands and wore a comedic grimace. Inaya, riding on her back in a nest of blankets, blinded by the coral-reef of bionics on her face, regarded all this with a craggy frown.

    She said: ¡°The star is getting ready to fall. You cannot mean to hold us here for long. I will not allow this, I will not. You may follow, but we must hurry. Zeltzin, they must move!¡±

    Zeltzin said, ¡°Boss, they have a coilgun. We don¡¯t have a choice. We made a bad gamble.¡±

    Inaya¡¯s blind, metal-encrusted gaze wavered down to Zeltzin, then returned to staring at the ceiling. ¡°I cannot allow ¡­ cannot ¡­ we cannot miss the falling star. Not again. Lianna, I have seen you at your best, at your peak, you are still there, can you not¡ª¡±

    ¡°Guns!¡± Lianna squeaked. ¡°Big-big gun! No-no.¡±

    ¡°You,¡± Zeltzin snapped. ¡°White-hair. Leader.¡±

    ¡°Commander,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You address me as Commander.¡±

    Commander, Howl snorted in her memory. You like that, Elps?

    The Legion expects us to have a hierarchy. You don¡¯t have to use it in private. Howl, you follow my orders anyway, even when you argue. What¡¯s the problem?

    I follow you, not your orders.

    The rank was a lie, the authority was a lie; Howl was dead along with the rest of the cadre; Commander Elpida had not been able to protect anybody at the end. The word tasted like poison. But it was a useful tool.

    Zeltzin was saying: ¡°My boss has a point. The longer we wait the worse it will be. You can¡¯t expect us to lead you to the gates of the tomb and then kill us anyway, you¡ª¡±

    A muffled boom reverberated through the armoury and laboratory, a distant explosion beyond the tomb.

    Vicky said, voice quivering: ¡°Third time we¡¯ve heard one of those. What the hell is going on out there?¡±

    Inaya answered, dreamy and drifting. ¡°Animals at a watering hole.¡±

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Vicky said. ¡°Hey, what does that mean?¡±

    Kagami laughed bitterly and broke off from helping Atyle. ¡°It means we¡¯re the only food around and all the monsters are fighting over us.¡±

    Lianna giggled and said, ¡°Yum-yum!¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°You lead us to the way out and then we¡¯ll let you go. Nobody has to die. You have my word.¡±

    Lianna¡¯s goofy grimace got worse. Zeltzin stared from behind her mask. Inaya said nothing, eyes on her falling star.

    Vicky was breathing too heavily. Elpida didn¡¯t dare take her hands off the coilgun receiver, but she spoke without moving her eyes. ¡°Vicky, don¡¯t look at me. Keep Zeltzin covered. You¡¯re doing great.¡±

    ¡°If ¡­ ¡± Vicky said. Elpida heard a dry swallow. ¡°If you¡ª thanks.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re doing great. Keep her covered. If she moves toward me, shoot her.¡±

    ¡°Got it. Right. Got it.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Ilyusha barked. ¡°Stupid bitch fuck. Sword bullshit. Fuck you.¡±

    Zeltzin stayed perfectly still, but Elpida saw motion behind her eye-slits. ¡°I would win a duel,¡± she said. ¡°You know that.¡±

    Ilyusha stuck her tongue out and laughed. She clicked her claws against the rotary shotgun. ¡°And I¡¯ve got a gun!¡±

    Zeltzin said, ¡°Toss it and see what happens.¡±

    From up on Lianna¡¯s back, Inaya sighed. ¡°Zeltzin, pride.¡±

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Lianna giggled. ¡°Yeah, Zel!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°I can¡¯t control Ilyusha. If she thinks you¡¯re assaulting me, she¡¯ll engage without hesitation. I wouldn¡¯t irritate her if I were you.¡±

    Ilyusha barked, ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t piss me off, cunt-face!¡±

    Her tail was wagging. Elpida wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

    The search for supplies was a waste of time; the armoury racks did not contain any MREs, sleeping bags, flashlights, bottles of water, or other survival equipment. Kagami and Atyle found some emergency thermal blankets made of heat-reflective plastic, but that was all. They crammed those into a backpack along with several spare coats and as many grey underlayers as they could fit. A second backpack was filled with ammunition and a few extra side-arms. At Elpida¡¯s instruction they strapped a ballistic shield to Vicky¡¯s back so she didn¡¯t have to look away from their hostages.

    Ilyusha laughed at that. ¡°Tortoise!¡±

    Vicky took it well. ¡°I¡¯ve been called worse.¡±

    ¡°Good tortoise.¡±

    Getting into the lift was the moment of most danger. Elpida said it out loud, to Zeltzin¡¯s blank mask.

    ¡°If they¡¯re going to try to overwhelm us, they¡¯ll do it in the lift, when one of us is distracted or looks away. If they¡¯re smart, they will have left a fourth member of their group at the top of the lift shaft. Be prepared for that.¡±

    Zeltzin said: ¡°Only what you see here.¡±

    Elpida ignored that. She had been watching for covert hand signals or coded communication between the trio; if she and the cadre had been held at gunpoint, that¡¯s what they would have done: set up a reverse surprise, get ready to overpower their captors, make certain everybody knew their roles for when an opening presented itself. But this strange trio from a dead world weren¡¯t doing any of that, unless they were all communicating via neural lace. The conversation with the grave worm made Elpida doubt that.

    ¡°Vicky,¡± she carried on, ¡°you stay glued on Zeltzin, whatever happens. Kagami, cover her too, if you can. Safety off. Atyle, don¡¯t lag behind. Amina, you stay in the rear, you stay behind me. Understand?¡±

    Amina squeaked an affirmative ¡ª but she stayed behind Ilyusha, not Elpida. That was good enough.

    Elpida allowed Lianna to back into the lift. All that bionic muscle and plate was quite impressive to see in motion. Zeltzin followed, slowly, covered by Vicky and Ilyusha. Amina hurried after them, then Atyle ambled inside, head held high, a backpack over one shoulder. Kagami wobbled and stumbled, but she got there, leaning against the inside of the lift. Elpida waited until all the others had gone first, so as not to foul her aim.

    First in, last out; Elpida wasn¡¯t going to let anybody die before her, not this time.

    When she stepped over the threshold of the lift, a cold and mechanical voice spoke from the depths of the tomb.

    ¡°Want not,¡± said the gravekeeper¡¯s interface corpse.

    The others flinched, turned to look, craned their necks, broke their concentration. Even Vicky jerked with surprise, though she held her aim. But Elpida stayed steady, coilgun levelled. Zeltzin and Inaya and Lianna stared too. This was no trick.

    The gravekeeper did not speak on.

    Zeltzin said: ¡°I hate it when the gods do that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not God,¡± Amina said. ¡°It¡¯s sad.¡± But Zeltzin didn¡¯t look at her.

    Inside the lift, Elpida kept a safe distance from Lianna¡¯s spider-body. The floor of the lift was covered with scraps and twists of torn metal from where Lianna had punched through the roof; the ceiling was a gaping hole showing the dark of the lift shaft. She had Atyle close the lift doors and told Amina to press the button for ¡®up¡¯. A little red light came on inside the panel and the lift began to rise. It seemed much slower going up.

    The two groups stared at each other across a few feet of metal floor and shredded debris. Ilyusha kept shifting her clawed feet back and forth, clicking and scraping. Inaya¡¯s breathing was laboured and rough. Lianna kept that cringing grin plastered across her face.

    Elpida said, ¡°Everybody just take a deep breath. We¡¯re not going to fight. Take us to the way out and you can leave.¡±

    Zeltzin made a show of taking that deep breath. Inaya wasn¡¯t paying attention; she appeared to have fallen into a doze, staring upward. Lianna said: ¡°What¡¯cha gonna do at the doors, fresh-fresh?¡±

    Atyle spoke from behind Elpida, voice filled with admiration: ¡°Lianna. You are a thing of exquisite beauty, spider.¡±

    Lianna¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Thank you! Sweet-sweets! Name?¡±

    ¡°Atyle. Would that I could come with you, but I would not willingly step into a web, even for beauty.¡±

    Lianna giggled. ¡°Smart one!¡±

    ¡°Why¡ª¡± Amina started, then hesitated, then carried on. ¡°Miss, why are you a giant spider?¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s cool! Fun-fun! Sexy! Why are you so small and weak? Wanna get gobbled up?¡±

    Ilyusha stamped forward with one clawed foot. ¡°Off, bitch!¡±

    Lianna giggled again.

    ¡°Easy now,¡± said Elpida. ¡°Nobody is eating anybody.¡±

    Elpida approved of the banter. The more they talked the more difficult it would be for either side to pull the trigger. She wasn¡¯t lying about letting the strange trio go unharmed. Once they reached the entrance, they were welcome to go their own way. From what she¡¯d seen so far ¡ª Pira, the cannibal, this trio ¡ª mutual respect and mercy were not common currency in this dead world.

    But Elpida wasn¡¯t from here. She was from Telokopolis.

    Vicky hissed her name: ¡°Elpi.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Can I ask them a question?¡±

    ¡°Go ahead. Keep Zeltzin covered.¡±

    Vicky raised her voice, ¡°When are you all from?¡±

    Inaya¡¯s blind face rotated down to her. ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vicky said. ¡°Time and place. Where¡¯d you come from?¡±

    ¡°The cradle of the gods,¡± Inaya answered, and then looked upward again, conversation over.

    Zeltzin¡¯s answer was muffled by her mask: ¡°We all came from the black and the rain and to the black and the rain we will return. All else is illusion and sunbeams. There was nothing before this.¡±

    Lianna laughed like her companions were joking. She said, ¡°I¡¯m from a hole in the ground!¡±

    Elpida could not see Vicky¡¯s response, but she could hear her swallow. Those were not the kinds of answers she had wanted.

    Four minutes and thirty-six seconds. Elpida counted. The ride up was longer than the descent.

    The doors at the top of the lift shaft hung from their hinges, ripped open when Lianna had entered. Elpida made the trio exit first, then ordered her forward group, then she followed last, stepping out of the lift and into the raised antechamber which overlooked the single corridor that led back to the atrium.

    Muffled sounds of combat were unmistakable now, coming from somewhere beyond the walls: gunfire, sometimes sporadic, occasionally sustained; rare explosions, small and contained; voices, shouting and laughing, some of them not quite right for human throats, words impossible to make out. But Silico didn¡¯t speak. Silico didn¡¯t laugh. Those were human beings out there ¡ª other revenants.

    Elpida¡¯s hands were sticky on the coilgun grips but the assist-rig took most of the weight. She kept the weapon levelled at Lianna while the others clustered around her.

    Zeltzin asked: ¡°What now, Commander?¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Yeah Elpi, what¡¯s the plan?¡±

    Elpida explained. ¡°You three are going to take the lead, up front. We¡¯re going to follow behind. Take us to the exit.¡±

    Zeltzin snorted. ¡°Front gate¡¯s going to be swarming by the time we get there.¡±

    Ilyusha cackled and made her shotgun go clack. ¡°Good!¡±

    Kagami hissed under her breath, sagging in Elpida¡¯s peripheral vision, struggling to make her knees lock. ¡°No, actually, not good. Come on, Commander.¡± Her voice dripped with sarcasm. ¡°We need more than that. Tell me you know what you¡¯re doing, tell me you¡¯re not just making it up as you go along. Fucking hell.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°I trust Elpi. She¡¯s gotten us this far.¡±

    Kagami spat, ¡°We¡¯re chicks barely out of our shells, moron!¡±

    Elpida spoke with confidence: ¡°Zeltzin, how long do we have before the tomb is overrun? I was led to believe we had a couple of hours.¡±

    Zeltzin answered. ¡°It¡¯ll take an hour just to walk to the front gate, at your speed.¡±

    ¡°Our speed?¡±

    Lianna giggled. ¡°I¡¯m fast as fuck!¡±

    Zeltzin said, ¡°We rode her here. You won¡¯t all fit.¡±

    Inaya was still staring at the ceiling. ¡°The star is unlatching. I feel it preparing, readying for the journey, burning fuel in awakening. Zeltzin, we must witness it. We must see where it falls.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Lianna here is a source of intimidation. We¡¯re going let this trio go out the front doors first, then we follow. Anything tries to stop us, we punch through with the coilgun. It¡¯s a big enough threat to buy us breathing room. We cross the cleared ground between the base of the pyramid and the ruins as quickly and as directly as possible. I¡¯ll get us clear.¡±

    Lies, but good for morale.

    Elpida couldn¡¯t make a plan until she knew what the front entrance was like, or what lay beyond it; from the window they¡¯d seen earlier, the base of the pyramid was a jumble of overlapping walls, bridges, and choke-points. She needed to know exactly what she was stepping into. She could ask Zeltzin, but she was confident that Zeltzin would lie. Specific plans had to wait until she had more information.

    She could think and react fast enough to make that work, but she needed the others to stay together and stay calm. She needed them to follow her orders.

    Elpida stared at the eye-slits of Zeltzin¡¯s mask. She asked, ¡°You¡¯ve seen the entrance to the tomb. What do you think of that plan?¡±

    Zeltzin shrugged. The gesture didn¡¯t look right; too many bones moved in her shoulders. ¡°You might make it.¡±

    Elpida decided that was a lie. Zeltzin knew she was bluffing.

    ¡°Cool,¡± said Vicky. Her voice betrayed her nerves. ¡°Cool. We can do this. We can do it. Elpi, I trust you, just tell us what to do.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°What¡¯s it like out there?¡± Her voice lacked its usual acid.

    ¡°Like black rain,¡± Zeltzin said. ¡°But forever and ever.¡±

    ¡°Cut the poetry,¡± Kagami spat. ¡°What is it like, you overdressed peacock?¡±

    Elpida raised her voice before Kagami could spook herself further. ¡°Follow my orders and we¡¯ll be fine. I will get us out of this and I will not forget any of you, I will not leave you behind. Let these three go first, let them lead. Stick close but let them stay in front. Eyes peeled, tell me if you see anything. If you fall behind, call out. Amina, I need you to help Kagami walk. Kagami, just accept it.¡±

    Amina squeaked. ¡°Y-yes!¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°Fine. Put your shoulder here, your hand there¡ª no, there. Like that. Yes. Hold steady, you¡ª you¡ª nun.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted. Elpida couldn¡¯t see the exchange, but she approved of the result.

    ¡°Everybody ready to move?¡± Elpida received a muttered round of affirmatives. She nodded to Zeltzin and Lianna. ¡°Lead on.¡±

    Lianna flashed her teeth, winked broadly, and then turned around, scuttling on eight massive bionic legs. She trotted off with Inaya hunkered down on her back, descending the ramp into the corridor which led back toward the atrium.

    Zeltzin lingered, eyes hidden behind her mask.

    ¡°The star isn¡¯t falling for nothing,¡± she said. ¡°Inaya won¡¯t say so, but it will be bad. You¡¯d be better off trying again. Turn those guns on yourselves, go back into the black rain, make the decision over, sleep or rebirth.¡±

    Ilyusha jerked her shotgun forward. ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Don¡¯t tell my cadre to hurt themselves. Lead on, now.¡±

    Zeltzin sighed, then turned and followed the giant spider-woman. Elpida led the others forward, coilgun raised. Her arms were growing tired.

 rapax - 2.2

    A maze of grey metal corridors, punctuated by abandoned rooms, empty niches, and broken medical equipment; steep stairs with matching metal handrails, the stairways divided in two, with helpful yellow arrows on the floor to indicate which side was for going up and which was for going down; semi-circles of uncomfortable chairs, the fossils of forgotten meetings; atria with glass ceilings looking out on the dead sky, reception desks with broken computer terminals, locker rooms with nothing left inside. Every surface was perfectly free of dust, spotless and clean.

    There was no trail to follow. If Pira had passed this way then she had left nothing behind.

    The lower floors of the tomb pyramid were undeniably human, but they were just as impossible to navigate as the top floors. They lacked the seamless surfaces, the capillary tunnels, and the rooms full of inexplicable machinery, but the same logic lay just beneath the skin of this man-made environment.

    Elpida ignored the implications of that. She kept her mind on the task: she kept the coilgun pointed at Lianna¡¯s spider-abdomen rear.

    Without their guides-slash-hostages, Elpida¡¯s group could have wandered each floor for hours before locating the stairs down. The tomb lacked a central stairwell or a main bank of lifts, which made no sense to Elpida. Telokopolis was in many ways a vertical society; the body of the city was riddled with lift platforms, inter-floor railways, and foot-traffic access tunnels, on every scale from private one-person chutes to the tens of millions who moved through the public systems every day. Elpida had internalised the city¡¯s geographical logic.

    Old Lady Nunnus had once explained to her: We¡¯re too used to verticality. Any child of the city always has in mind what is above and below oneself. Half the Legion recruits suffer agoraphobia and panic attacks the first time they step out onto the plateau. We¡¯ve become like fish, we don¡¯t know water is wet. You girls are no exception, you¡¯ll become acclimated to it regardless, your subconscious minds will expect up and down to work in certain ways. But none of that will apply out in the green.

    Elpida had spent months on end in the green. She thought she knew water was wet. But the layout of the tomb offended her; it wasn¡¯t human, it was just pretending, and it kept almost fooling her.

    Lianna ¡ª the giant spider-centaur ¡ª was human, whatever she looked like; Elpida realised very early that the spider-woman did not understand the tomb either. She was merely retracing her own steps from stairway to stairway, through the jumble of corridors and rooms, and she was having some difficulty. More than once she had to pause, her eight armoured bionic legs tipping and tapping in place, as she peered down the grey metal corridors.

    The first time this happened, Elpida ordered her group to halt as well. She tried to ensure at least eight feet of clearance between them and Lianna¡¯s rear, but that didn¡¯t go as planned: Atyle kept wandering forward, and Ilyusha wouldn¡¯t stay in place.

    Elpida called out: ¡°What¡¯s the hold up?¡±

    Ilyusha barked, ¡°Spidey¡¯s fuckin¡¯ stuck!¡±

    Lianna grumbled under her breath. Zeltzin reached out with one red-gloved hand and patted the spider-girl¡¯s flank. ¡°Boss,¡± she said.

    Inaya stirred within her blanket nest up on Lianna¡¯s back and dragged her eyes down from the ceiling. She grunted, gestured, and said, ¡°That way. Hurry up now.¡±

    They set off again.

    Elpida¡¯s hands were clammy on the coilgun controls. Her arms ached despite the aim-assist rig around her hips. The weight of the power-tank cut into her shoulders. At least she was dressed now, in close-fitting grey underlayers, the heavy armoured coat, and warm boots. She¡¯d never been uncomfortable with nudity ¡ª none of the cadre had been ¡ª but she did not want to step outside with nothing between her skin and the dead world beyond.

    Keeping a consistent distance from Lianna¡¯s rear became difficult when descending stairs; the spider-girl scuttled down six at a time. Elpida also tried to keep an eye on Zeltzin, the red-clad swordswoman; she walked as if every joint was a perfectly oiled ball-and-socket, though her red bodysuit showed normal human hips and knees and ankles. She kept touching Lianna¡¯s dun-brown armoured flank. Elpida couldn¡¯t tell if she was tapping her fingers to communicate in secret.

    Elpida¡¯s group stayed close.

    Amina and Kagami stuck to the rear, a light tread and an erratic stumble at Elpida¡¯s back. The younger girl supported the older one, and Kagami did not complain beyond the occasional sharp intake of breath. Atyle flanked them with a steady, confident stride, sometimes lagging by a few paces to stare with her bionic eye at a broken object or empty corner.

    Elpida called out every now and then: ¡°Amina, are you doing okay?¡±, ¡°Kagami, holding up?¡±, ¡°Atyle, what do you see? Speak to me.¡±

    Ilyusha made herself a mobile asset.

    The heavily augmented girl swung around the group in a loose circle as they moved: sometimes at the front, several paces ahead of Elpida, covering Zeltzin at closer range with the rotary shotgun; then dropping back and looping behind, watching side corridors or empty doorways; she guarded the rear, head swivelling, stalking Elpida¡¯s blind spots, before returning to the front again and pointing her shotgun at Zeltzin¡¯s shoulder blades. Her clawed feet clicked with every step; her tail swished back and forth, razor-red tip cutting the air. Elpida would have called anybody else back into formation ¡ª the risk of fouling her aim with the coilgun was too great. But Ilyusha knew exactly what she was doing. She never stepped into Elpida¡¯s line of fire. Her coordination was perfect. She didn¡¯t need orders. Perhaps she was trying to make up for earlier.

    Elpida was impressed. She made a mental note, following long habits of command: when they got out of here and found safety, Ilyusha deserved praise and encouragement, and Elpida would give it.

    Vicky stayed glued to Elpida¡¯s right, shadowing her paces, covering the swordswoman with her machine gun. She was breathing too hard.

    The two groups did not speak. Up on Lianna¡¯s back, Inaya barely paid attention. Nobody called out except Elpida.

    Sounds of combat from outdoors ¡ª from down below ¡ª had dribbled off to a trickle. Sporadic gunfire. A lull in the fighting. Elpida hoped it would die away completely, but she prepared mentally for the worst.

    After about twenty minutes of downward progress, Vicky wet her lips and whispered: ¡°Elpi?¡±

    Elpida replied in a quick murmur, without looking away from the trio in front. ¡°Vicky. What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, nothing¡¯s wrong. I just ¡­ Can I ask you a question?¡±

    Elpida knew that tone of voice, even in a whisper, from a woman she¡¯d known for less than six hours, who hailed from a culture she couldn¡¯t imagine. Vicky was cracking under the tension; she needed to talk. Ilyusha was mobile, Atyle was detached, Amina and Kagami were focused on the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other ¡ª but Vicky had to keep her weapon pointed and her concentration sharp. Elpida reminded herself that Vicky was not a sister of the cadre. She was not born for this. She was like any other citizen of Telokopolis, like a raw Legion recruit. Elpida had a duty to her.

    Elpida replied in a whisper. ¡°Keep your concentration on Zeltzin. But yes. Go ahead. Ask.¡±

    Vicky forced herself to exhale, slowly, then murmured: ¡°Why do you think it¡¯s all women?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand the question.¡±

    ¡°All women. Us, Pira, the ¡­ cannibal, these three. Even the gravekeeper¡¯s corpse interface thing. Earlier, before Pira left, when you asked her who was outside, she said ¡®girls like us¡¯. It¡¯s all women. Why?¡±

    Elpida hadn¡¯t stopped to consider this; her mind was focused on matters of survival. The cadre had been all female by design, but that was for a dozen conflicting reasons, the internal politics of the project, the pre-existing work of the genetic engineers, and something Nunnus had let slip once: One half believe an all-woman cadre will be more lethal. The other half believed it would make you easier to train.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    What do you believe? Elpida had asked her.

    Neither. Don¡¯t be a fool. You already proved the second half incorrect.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why,¡± Elpida whispered back. ¡°Maybe the resurrection systems have a reason. Or maybe there¡¯s men somewhere and we haven¡¯t seen them yet.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Vicky replied. She sounded uncomfortable, but then she attempted to cover it with a tiny laugh. ¡°Maybe the gravekeeper¡¯s just a sicko.¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t really understand that comment.

    But before she could ask what that meant, Vicky hissed: ¡°Elpi, I¡¯m really fucking scared.¡±

    ¡°Of what? Talk to me.¡±

    ¡°Everything. All of this. I didn¡¯t have time to think about it, but now we¡¯re following these three and I can¡¯t stop. We¡¯re going to walk right into a firefight, aren¡¯t we? If Kaga¡¯s right, all those people out there want to eat us. They¡¯re fighting over us, over the nanomachines inside us ¡ª are us. Shit, I can¡¯t even think about that, it¡¯s too weird. And I can¡¯t ¡­ I can¡¯t ¡­ ¡± She was breathing too fast, shaking with each inhalation.

    Keep it practical, keep her grounded. ¡°Vicky, focus on my voice. Have you been in a firefight before?¡±

    Vicky laughed, but it was not funny. ¡°Died in one, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Before that.¡±

    ¡°A couple of times. I was with the irregulars when the GLR stormed Houseman Square. I was outside, didn¡¯t go room-to-room, but ¡­ I did shoot a guard. Three of us did, I mean. Wasn¡¯t just me.¡± Her voice was shaking. ¡°You don¡¯t even know what that is, though, right? Bet that¡¯s all forgotten, nobody even remembers what Houseman Square was about.¡±

    ¡°You remember. And you can tell me about it later. Any other firefights?¡±

    Elpida saw Vicky nod in her peripheral vision, dark face bobbing. ¡°Couple of other times, couple of other battles. I was never any good at it though. Never tip of the spear or anything. I¡¯m so fucking scared.¡±

    Elpida spoke without looking away from Lianna¡¯s hindquarters. ¡°Vicky, I am going to get us to safety. All of us. I commanded a cadre of two dozen through over three hundred engagements, and I never lost a single comrade.¡±

    Except at the very end. Lost them all. Elpida¡¯s throat closed up.

    Vicky said: ¡°You serious?¡±

    Elpida forced her throat open. ¡°Yes. I will do my best to keep you safe. Just follow my orders. The others too. Nobody gets left behind. Nobody ever gets left behind.¡±

    Vicky fell silent. The grey corridor marched past. Lianna¡¯s limbs clacked and Ilyusha¡¯s claws clicked. Kagami was breathing hard with the pain of her augmetic legs. Elpida flexed her hands around the grips of the coilgun receiver. Her fingers were getting stiff.

    Eventually Vicky whispered: ¡°Thanks, Elpi. Even if we don¡¯t make it.¡±

    ¡°We will.¡±

    Four floors down and fifteen minutes later, they found the first corpse.

    Both groups stopped to inspect the body. Lianna and Zeltzin stepped over the crumpled figure, then turned around. Inaya ignored it, staring upward with her blind, machine-encrusted eyes. Elpida and the others drew to a halt.

    An armoured corpse lay face-down in a pool of fresh blood, surrounded by spent casings; a crescent of bullet holes pockmarked a nearby wall. The corpse¡¯s body armour was dark green, bulky plates, nothing like what they¡¯d found in the gravekeeper¡¯s armoury. Ilyusha rolled the corpse over with a taloned foot. The face was a chewed mass of bullet wounds; several more wounds punctured the legs and arms. Scraps of dark brown hair spilled from a metal helmet.

    Zeltzin said: ¡°This wasn¡¯t here when we came through.¡±

    ¡°Pira¡¯s work?¡± Vicky asked.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Casings match. We might catch up with her. Another early arrival?¡±

    Zeltzin snorted behind her featureless mask. ¡°First of many. We¡¯re taking too long. The lower floors will be full of opportunists. Not all of them are like us.¡±

    Kagami hissed between her teeth, ¡°Yes, yes, we fucking know that part.¡± Then, more quietly, to Amina: ¡°Stay put, for fuck¡¯s sake, she¡¯s dead.¡±

    Atyle stepped forward, bionic eye whirring inside her socket. ¡°Alive with a million artifices. Will this one really walk again?¡±

    Elpida raised her voice. ¡°Everyone watch the corners and doorways. Do not walk into an ambush. You see anything, you shout. Ilyusha, eyes on our rear, got it?¡±

    Ilyusha bounced on her claws, grinning at being called upon. ¡°Got it!¡±

    Zeltzin said, ¡°If we get attacked, we¡¯re not staying to help you.¡±

    ¡°I still have a coilgun. Just keep moving, take us to the way out.¡±

    Lianna puffed up her cheeks, staring at the corpse. ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡±

    Zeltzin said, ¡°Li, there¡¯s no time. Do what she says. Keep going.¡±

    The second corpse was much messier: she was crumpled at a corner, a mashed ruin of bone spars and pulped flesh amid a crazed smear of blood up the walls and across the floor, punctuated by hand-marks and dented metal.

    She had too many limbs, too many of which ended in sharp structures which were not hands; some still clutched scraps of grey clothing torn from her escaped prey. Parts of her body were plated with black scales, hard enough to turn aside a knife ¡ª or perhaps a bullet? Pira must have been forced to cut open her belly and stab her throat to ribbons, up close. She was a girl, no older than fourteen or fifteen by Elpida¡¯s estimate of her face. That face was serene and amused in death, as if she¡¯d just lost a game of tag.

    Bloody bootprints led away from the close-quarters fight.

    ¡°Your friend got ambushed,¡± Zeltzin said.

    Ilyusha spat, ¡°Yeah, and won!¡±

    ¡°Elpi, Elpi,¡± Vicky was saying. The muzzle of her machine gun was wavering, her head twitching at the grey metal walls, eyes growing wide. ¡°Elpi, you hear that?¡±

    Amina whined, ¡°We¡¯re not alone. Are we?¡±

    Kagami hissed: ¡°Shut up. Be quiet.¡±

    ¡°Hungryyyyyyy,¡± Lianna moaned.

    ¡°Elpi!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°I hear it too, Vicky. Focus. Everyone focus and keep moving. We all hear those noises. Keep moving. Stay together.¡±

    Ilyusha made her shotgun go clunk. She shouted down the corridor, into the empty rooms, at the furtive sounds gathering beyond line of sight. ¡°Come out come out, reptiles!¡±

    The fighting outdoors had picked up again, with sustained gunfire and weaponry noises that Elpida couldn¡¯t identify ¡ª strange crackles, deep thumps, hard snaps.

    But noises had climbed into the tomb as well.

    The shuffle and scuff of inexpert stalkers, the footfalls of people moving in adjacent corridors; distant voices, harsh laughter, hushed whispers.

    Elpida¡¯s group drew tighter, shoulder to shoulder. She felt Amina¡¯s hand on her back, clutching her armoured coat. Ilyusha abandoned her forward position and walked backwards, covering their rear. Elpida kept the coilgun steady in her aching arms, but both groups sped up by silent agreement. Zeltzin kept one hand on Lianna¡¯s flank, as if ready to leap on her back and speed away.

    A ragged shape bolted across the corridor in front of the trio, vanishing into a side passage. Far behind them somebody was laughing in a high-pitched cackle, which made Amina whimper and sob. Elpida heard a fight breaking out in the distance, muffled by the dividing walls, gunshots and bodies alike hitting the floor. Something screeched with a noise more Silico than human. They passed several more corpses ¡ª one half-eaten, another dragged into a dark side-corridor by something which fled from the barrel of Ilyusha¡¯s shotgun.

    Vicky was ready to bolt; Elpida could feel it. Kagami was hissing, ¡°Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck.¡± Ilyusha kept banging the floor with the tip of her tail, a warning signal to anybody who might think of ambushing them.

    ¡°Stay together,¡± Elpida said. Her voice was steady as a rock. ¡°Stay calm. Eyes up. Keep moving.¡±

    They hit another staircase. Zeltzin called back as they descended: ¡°Last stairwell! Gates of the tomb are on the right, no more than thirty feet away. We need to run, freshie!¡±

    ¡°Fast-fast!¡± Lianna said.

    ¡°Keep going,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Keep¡ª¡±

    A shotgun blast split the air: Ilyusha, discharging her weapon at something behind them, further up the stairs, shouting: ¡°Fuck right off!¡± Amina screamed. So did Kagami. Ilyusha shouted again: ¡°Fuck you! Get out of that fucking tin can!¡±

    Elpida dared not look round; the trio might flee and leave them stranded. She had no idea if the exit really was that close. Ilyusha fired again, cycling the cylinder for a fresh round. The noise ripped up the stairwell. Lianna¡¯s bionic spider legs were skittering across the metal, desperate to pick up speed. Amina was screaming in terror. Vicky was shouting her name.

    Zeltzin looked back over her shoulder and shouted, ¡°Death¡¯s head!¡±

    Inaya stirred, sat up, and gasped. Lianna ¡ª several tons of bionic spider-woman ¡ª shrieked with fear.

    Elpida lowered the coilgun muzzle. ¡°Go!¡±

    Zeltzin did exactly as Elpida expected: she vaulted onto the back of the bionic spider-girl. Lianna shot forward, scuttling to the foot of the stairs and around a ninety-degree corner to the right, carrying her companions on her back.

    Elpida turned around and raised the coilgun. ¡°Clear!¡± she shouted.

    Ilyusha bundled Amina and Kagami out of the line of fire, ducking her head and tucking her tail. Atyle watched with detached curiosity, but she was pressed against a wall. Vicky turned too, raising her gun, but she was slower on the draw.

    Shadowy figures scuttled away from the threat of Elpida¡¯s coilgun, vanishing over the top of the stairs. But one did not.

    Nine feet of powered armour stood barely a dozen steps behind them; humanoid and grey, heavy and dark, filthy with dirt and tar and bloodstains. The helmet showed nothing but red eye-slits. The figure wore a necklace of severed heads. Black paint on the chest-plate formed a grinning skull.

    One gauntlet held a spiked mace. The other was raised to point at Elpida. The power-armoured nightmare squawked from an external speaker: ¡°ZZZZ-OMMM¡ª¡±

    Elpida squeezed the trigger on the coilgun.

    The sound was deafening: the discharge of magnetic power, the crack of the sound barrier, the sabot-round blowing a fist-sized hole through the suit of power armour, the meaty explosion of organs and spine and viscera punched out of its back. The suit of powered armour crashed backward against the stairs in a waterfall of blood and guts.

    Ilyusha whooped at the top of her lungs. ¡°Get fucked!¡±

    Nothing else came down the stairs.

    ¡°Vicky,¡± Elpida snapped, loud and quick to force the others past the shock. Her ears were ringing. ¡°Cover our front. Everybody to that corner, around to the right, now! With me! Stay close!¡±

    Now that she wasn¡¯t covering their hostages, Elpida kept her head turning and her weapon moving. Amina was whimpering, struggling to hold her ballistic shield and help Kagami at the same time. Atyle didn¡¯t seem to care, detached and distant even as she stayed close. Ilyusha kept spitting and hissing. Vicky was shaking all over.

    The gates of the tomb came upon them all at once; the grave disgorged them through a wide mouth, onto a ramp studded with low walls and firing slits and littered with corpses; the dead black sky blossomed over the rotten teeth of the broken skyline.

    Elpida stepped out into a dozen overlapping firefights between vultures and scavengers and worse.

    ¡°Everyone down! Into cover, heads down, down¡ª¡±

    An amused voice crackled inside her head, directly from her neural lace.

    ¡°Too much heat for you, soldier girl? Don¡¯t stop now. There¡¯s something sprinting your way at sixty miles an hour, and it¡¯s so much worse than some overgrown thanatophiliac.¡±

 rapax - 2.3

    Fresh from the swarming tomb, on the periphery of open warfare between a dozen different carrion-eaters; coilgun power-tank humming on her shoulders, receiver heavy in her hands; and the disembodied voice of the grave worm chuckling a warning of fast-approaching doom.

    ¡°¡ªdown, behind the walls! Down!¡± Elpida shouted.

    She took one hand off the coilgun receiver and grabbed a fistful of Ilyusha¡¯s thermal t-shirt, then threw herself down behind one of the low walls of black metal, pulling the heavily augmented girl after her. Ilyusha squawked in surprise and clattered when she landed, but she didn¡¯t lash out ¡ª she stuck to Elpida¡¯s side. Vicky slammed after them, shoulder-to-shoulder in the tight scrap of cover, hugging the machine gun to her chest. Amina and Kagami stumbled and tripped as they followed, clutching each other, trying to shelter behind Amina¡¯s ballistic shield. Amina was grey with fear, wide-eyed and crying.

    ¡°Amina, stay down!¡± Elpida said. ¡°Stay behind the wall, hold onto that shield! Stay put, stay down! Kagami, hold onto her!¡±

    Atyle stood tall: a dark statue, unafraid and unbowed, framed by the open gate of the tomb, watching the firefights. The lenses inside her peat-green bionic eye whirred and flexed. Stray bullets cracked and chipped the black metal at her feet.

    Elpida roared, ¡°If you get shot I will sling you over my shoulder! Get down! Now!¡±

    Atyle didn¡¯t move.

    Elpida locked the coilgun receiver to the aim-assist rig around her hips, then shot to her feet and tackled Atyle to the ground. She dragged Atyle back into cover and shoved her against the wall.

    ¡°Stay put.¡±

    Atyle blinked rapidly, offended and speechless, mouth hanging open.

    Kagami spat: ¡°Fucking throwback doesn¡¯t understand bullets! Fucking hell, fuck!¡±

    Atyle replied, ¡°I understand perfectly well, you squinting scribe. I cower and scrape for no threat, no sling or arrow or barbed word alike.¡±

    ¡°Then stand up and get domed!¡±

    ¡°I choose not to.¡±

    Elpida looked toward the black sky and said out loud: ¡°Grave worm?¡± But the voice in her neural lace had gone quiet. Vicky looked at her like she was going mad. ¡°The grave worm communicated again, a few moments ago. It warned me that something¡¯s approaching.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Oh, you fucking think?!¡±

    Vicky¡¯s voice wavered. ¡°Elpi? Stay with us, please.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Keep your heads down.¡±

    Elpida pulled up her armoured hood and looked over the wall.

    She had imagined the exit of the tomb would be grand, akin to the great door of Telokopolis, opened once at the city¡¯s birth and then closed for eternity, with all humanity safe inside the last home it would ever need. The gate of the tomb was more like an open wound.

    A ramp led down from a wide opening in the side of the pyramid, then terminated amid the tangle of black metal which Elpida had seen earlier from the high window: bridges and funnels and curtain walls, ditches and bunkers and walkways, all studded with firing slits and low cover. Directly opposite the ramp was a wide clearing. Matte black metal reflected the suffocated sky. On the far side of the clearing was a gap in the exterior curtain wall, too narrow for anything but single file. Beyond that gap lay the ring of bare grey earth which surrounded the tomb, and beyond that was the city.

    Elpida recognised the logic: a perfect breakout position for a well-organised team. The layout was designed to guide anybody leaving the tomb around the edge of the clearing, sheltered by low walls and ditches for cover, toward the exit. The clearing in the middle would act as a killing ground, isolating and exposing any group that pushed in through the gap in the curtain wall. A team trying to leave without getting bogged down in combat should be able to leapfrog from position to position, covering each other at every step, all the way to freedom.

    Her cadre could have run that gauntlet in their sleep. They¡¯d done worse against the Covenanters, in the final weeks before the end.

    But the reluctant dead had already overrun the ragged edge of this open tomb.

    Corpses littered the ramp. Some wore pieces of body armour and grey-black camo, others were naked or dressed in rags; some possessed extra limbs, or heads which opened like flowers of flesh, or eyes on stalks, or exposed cybernetic spinal structures, or segmented metal tentacles lying limp and dead; there were dozens more bionic modifications and flesh-made mutations which Elpida did not have the time to catalogue. One of the nearest corpses was more machine than flesh, a stretched-out figure with long fluted limbs in chrome and brass ¡ª but still unmistakably human, even dead.

    A dozen firefights were playing out beyond the ramp, amid the black walkways and bridges and ditches.

    Figures in combat gear and body armour clustered behind cover, exchanging pot-shots and insults, opening up with automatic weapons, leaping the low walls and going hand-to-hand with blades and axes and bionic limbs. The snap-crack of strange energy weapons made the air crackle. There was no uniformity in dress or design or armament ¡ª or in bodies. With a quick glance, Elpida estimated that most of the girls she could see were human-scale, but many were shaped oddly, with extra limbs or strange additions. Some were taller or bulkier, encased in armour or plugged into large-scale bionics. Some had more than two legs. Some scuttled. Some had worse.

    Elpida¡¯s mind was trained to absorb information and respond with coherent plans, but she was overwhelmed by the details.

    A sniper, kneeling on a walkway, up and to the right: a tall woman wrapped all in loose black, the bottom half of her face obscured by a metal mask, spindly pale limbs sticking out of her mobile camouflage. Four arms stabilized a long rifle, two more arms braced her against the ground, while another two worked the trigger and the bolt-action on her gun, snapping off shots down the walkway at unseen foes.

    A bionic suit, far to the left, amid the tangle of low walls: a rare splash of dirty white amid the black and grey, a mobile armour rig with plates swinging around on articulated arms. Elpida spotted a snatch of strained face and long brown hair, white helmet-visor raised to shout an order. Other girls followed in the suit¡¯s wake, pushing toward a group who scattered before them.

    A blood-streaked nightmare, feeding in the open: a girl ¡ª and it was a girl, naked and bristling with quills ¡ª was perched atop one of the walls far to the right, clawed feet buried in the throat of another girl she¡¯d brought down, like a bird of prey with a small mammal. She tore chunks of flesh from bleeding meat, then stuck her head up as if to watch for scavengers who might steal her kill.

    A rallying point: a flag fluttered over a distant section of the curtain wall, stitched together from pale leather, daubed with a black and grinning skull.

    The angle of the walls hid whoever was flying that flag, but Elpida could hear an intense firefight up there.

    She spotted the trio from within the tomb: Lianna, Inaya riding on her back, and Zeltzin, dismounted once more. They were on the right-hand edge of the clearing, half-sheltered behind one of the most sturdy walls. Lianna, the bionic spider-woman, had her orange armour plates raised to fend off a hail of gunfire. Zeltzin was spitting something at their attackers ¡ª a gaggle of identically dressed, diminutive figures, all in blocky grey armour and silvery helmets.

    Beyond the black metal, beyond the curtain walls, the corpse of the city loomed overhead ¡ª and past that lurked the distant line of the grave worm.

    And down on the left, pinned by gunfire, was Pira.

    Her flame-red hair stood out against the black metal like a tear-drop of molten steel. Down on her knees, her back against a low wall at the edge of the clearing, clutching her submachine gun. Her face was streaked with blood, her grey-black camo gear was torn and dirty. Two corpses lay at her feet. A few meters further on, a group of other girls were peppering her position with bullets, shouting at her, trying to flank her position. As Elpida watched, one of the other girls rounded a wall and got a good angle on Pira ¡ª but the red-headed girl whirled around, gun tucked tight to her shoulder, and felled her ambusher with a tight burst of bullets.

    Elpida ducked back into cover.

    Furtive shapes were moving just inside the wide doorway of the tomb, gathering to rush if Elpida and the others didn¡¯t move soon. Distant calls rang out over the sounds of combat: ¡°Freshies!¡±, ¡°Fresh meat spotted!¡±, the rarer sentiment of, ¡°Good luck, bitches!¡±, or more bizarre statements like, ¡°Grist for God¡¯s mill!¡± and ¡°More souls broken on the wheel of fate!¡±

    Elpida grabbed Vicky¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Vicky, concentrate. Did you see Pira? Over on the left?¡±

    Vicky panted for a moment, wide-eyed, then nodded. ¡°S-she¡¯s in trouble.¡±

    Ilyusha barked: ¡°Reptile fuck finding out! Ha!¡±

    Elpida spoke as clearly as possible. ¡°We need to get to her. Here¡¯s the plan: we skirt the clearing, leapfrogging from position to position. You take Amina and Kagami ahead first, I¡¯ll cover with the coilgun. Then we swap. Atyle follows me as you cover us. Ilyusha can take my rear, she¡¯s mobile.¡±

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Ilyusha cackled. ¡°Your arse is mine!¡±

    ¡°Good enough,¡± Elpida said.

    Vicky frowned and glanced down the line at Kagami.

    ¡°Her?¡± Kagami spat in agreement with Vicky¡¯s doubt. ¡°We¡¯re rushing to the rescue of some bitch who abandoned us?¡±

    Elpida interrupted before mutiny could form up. ¡°Nobody gets left behind. Nobody. Not her, not you. And she¡¯s got the right idea. The quickest way to the exit is around the edge of the clearing, through the good cover. We pick her up, then push to the exit. Shoot anybody and anything in the way.¡±

    Kagami hissed through her teeth. ¡°Fine. I agree with the shooting part.¡± She blinked and squinted behind the readout visor over her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve got short-wave and auspex and bloody everything on this thing, and I can¡¯t see anybody between us and her. Unless there¡¯s a bionic abomination invisible on infra-red and radar and rotational-reflective symmetry. Doubt that, but what do I know?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Kagami, thank you and well done. Keep me informed. Shout my name if you have to. Amina, hold onto her.¡± The younger girl nodded, still terrified, but better with a responsibility under her belt. ¡°Vicky, you saw the way out as well? The break in the wall?¡±

    Vicky nodded. She was breathing too hard. Her knuckles were white around her machine gun.

    Elpida explained. ¡°That¡¯s our target. We leapfrog and cover each other. I know you can do this. I¡¯ve got your back, Vicky.¡± She glanced around at the others. Amina looked too terrified to take in any information, but Vicky would herd her along. Atyle didn¡¯t seem to care; Elpida would hamstring the woman and carry her if she had to. ¡°That goes for all of you. Everyone stick together and follow my orders, I¡¯ll get us¡ª¡±

    Skreeeeek.

    The electric squeal of a loudspeaker howled over the noise of combat, from somewhere up on the curtain wall, below the skull-flag.

    ¡°Those who are fresh from the mercy of oblivion, come to us and be freed of this unwelcome burden. Fear not this hell, for it is not meant for you. Your bodies are arisen from the stinking primordial ooze to which you long to return. It is meant for us, the descendants of angels. We will give you mercy and justice in this after¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha shot to her feet, screaming, ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡±

    She discharged her rotary shotgun three times in quick succession, pumping fresh rounds into the chamber. The loudspeaker roared back at her: ¡°You torture yourself by continuing to exist! Subhuman and¡ª¡±

    The loudspeaker died in a hail of gunfire and a deafening screech from an augmented throat, just as Elpida yanked Ilyusha back down into cover. Ilyusha was unharmed but her face was twisted with rage. She spat at the ground and cycled another shell into her shotgun. The sounds of combat intensified up on the curtain wall. Elpida risked a look just in time to see a bionically-altered girl leap through the air and tear down that skull-flag. A ragged cheer went up.

    Ilyusha joined in, shouting over the top of the wall: ¡°Yeeeah!¡±

    Vicky let out a shaking laugh. ¡°You got shooters out there, huh?¡±

    Ilyusha wagged her bionic tail. ¡°Always!¡±

    Elpida raised her voice: ¡°We¡¯re going for Pira. Two teams.¡±

    Reaching Pira was the most difficult twenty meters of ground Elpida had ever crossed. This was not her cadre, these were not trained soldiers. Vicky knew what to do: stay low, move fast, wait for the next shouted order, and then stick her machine gun up to spray bullets at the other side of the killing ground, at anybody who might be trying to take aim. Ilyusha didn¡¯t need orders; she shadowed Elpida¡¯s back, shotgun muzzle sweeping the ramp when they moved on, as figures spilled from the mouth of the tomb. But Amina was paralysed with fear, tripping over her own boots, clutching her ballistic shield, tears and snot running down her face; Elpida had to shove her forward, almost picking her up. The two-team plan collapsed instantly. Kagami could barely walk; the stress of an open combat situation was aggravating the nerve-connection issues with her augmetic legs. She crashed into cover, howling with pain. Elpida thought she¡¯d been hit. Atyle stood up and walked, head high, as if bulletproof. Elpida shouted at her, but that made no difference.

    They reached Pira just in time. She was blind-firing over her cramped lip of cover, with the opposing group of girls flanking her from two directions at once, howling insults at her as bullets bounced off the black metal: ¡°We¡¯re gonna eat your guts, you midget!¡±, ¡°She killed Suz, she killed Suz!¡±, ¡°Fresh meat¡¯s gonna get fucked and eaten! Step up and out!¡±

    She was about to be overwhelmed.

    Elpida and the others slammed into cover next to her, uncoordinated and messy, Amina¡¯s shield clattering, Ilyusha jerking her shotgun up and firing at nothing. Atyle just stood there for two or three seconds, exposed in the open; Elpida suspected her lack of care shocked several of the opposing group into ceasing fire for a moment. But then Elpida kicked her in the shin. Atyle hunkered down with a dark expression on her face.

    Pira didn¡¯t acknowledge them until Elpida said, ¡°Hey.¡±

    Sky-blue eyes swivelled round in a blood-stained face.

    Pira was bruised and battered. She had a huge gash across her forehead and back over one ear, already clotted with wet and sticky blood, matting her hair. She frowned. The expression looked painful.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Helping you.¡±

    Kagami hissed through her pain: ¡°Not like you deserve it.¡±

    Ilyusha barked, ¡°Proved you wrong, bitch!¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°We¡¯re pinned here, we¡¯re gonna get hit!¡±

    Elpida unlocked the coilgun receiver from the aim-assist rig. ¡°No we¡¯re not. Vicky, follow my lead.¡±

    She waited for a tell-tale break in the nearby gunfire, then for the pounding of boots. Elpida rose from cover, shouldered the coilgun, and shouted: ¡°Clear!¡±

    She banked on intimidation over firepower; the gambit paid off as camo-clad figures froze and scattered. One of them ¡ª a tall woman in a red chest-plate, with night-black fur all over her face ¡ª was brave or stupid enough to raise her weapon instead of fleeing. Elpida squeezed the trigger. Magnetic coils discharged with an electric crack. A sabot-round blew a chunk of wall apart in an explosion of black metal shards, sending the brave black-furred woman howling toward her comrades, bleeding from a dozen shrapnel wounds. Vicky followed up with a hail of bullets ¡ª but she aimed over the heads of the fleeing figures, more sound and fury than lethal intent. Ilyusha pumped a couple of shotgun rounds after them as well, cackling and whooping.

    Elpida thumped back down next to Pira. Vicky followed. Ilyusha ducked back in, her face split by a grin.

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida said. ¡°On the auspex, do we have a clear shot for the exit?¡±

    Kagami squinted, teeth gritted with pain. ¡°No! There¡¯s too much bullshit in the way, too many people. Another fight. Fuck, what is that thing? Glowing like a fusion reactor.¡±

    Pira was still frowning at Elpida. ¡°How are you dragging this lot behind you? You won¡¯t survive five minutes in the open with all this.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Nobody gets left behind. Not even you.¡±

    Pira let out a single puff of breath. Elpida wasn¡¯t sure if that was meant to be a laugh. ¡°You¡¯re serious.¡±

    Vicky was panting on the edge of hyperventilating. ¡°Elpi knows what she¡¯s doing.¡±

    Ilyusha agreed. ¡°Fuck yeah!¡±

    Elpida checked over the lip of cover again. The attackers she had driven off were regrouping over on their left. The exit was about a hundred meters away. And the black sky was churning.

    She ducked back down. ¡°Kagami, talk to me. How many people between us and that gap in the wall?¡±

    But the doll-like girl was frowning at her private visor readouts. She swept her long black hair out of her face. ¡°That¡¯s too fast and it¡¯s glowing red hot. Ambulatory reactor? What am I looking at here?¡±

    ¡°Kagami. People. How many?¡±

    ¡°Uh, six ¡­ seven ¡­ eight? One of them is more polymer than flesh, total obscenity. But, look, there¡¯s something beyond the walls, moving too fast for a person.¡±

    Pira shot forward and grabbed Kagami¡¯s shoulder. Her voice was suddenly focused and tight: ¡°How fast?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m looking at! Get off me!¡±

    ¡°Describe it.¡±

    ¡°A small signal, that¡¯s all! Let go!¡±

    A voice rang out across the metal clearing: Inaya, the blind woman, shouting from Lianna¡¯s back. ¡°A star! A star is falling! Oh, clean star, bless us!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Pira, what does that mean?¡±

    Pira snapped, ¡°I have no idea. But¡ª¡±

    Kreeeech.

    A loudspeaker squeal split the air for a second time, from up on the curtain wall. A new voice screamed, not the preaching from earlier.

    ¡°Zombie! Coming in the front door! Zombie!¡±

    The scream terminated in a jarring crunch as the loudspeaker hit the floor. Pira froze, wide-eyed.

    All around them the tone of the fighting changed instantly. Armoured forms broke cover and fled deeper into the tangle of black metal. Predatory shapes scattered, throwing each other to the ground. The most organised groups withdrew in good order as best they could. One voice started howling with doomed laughter. Another was screaming: ¡°You get what you deserve! You get what you deserve!¡± A third was shouting, ¡°Why now? Why here? What¡¯s it coming here for!?¡±

    Some groups refused to break away. The one that Elpida had driven off was trapped by another group behind them. Elpida peered out across the clearing and saw the spider-trio from the tomb were pinned in place as well: Inaya had dismounted from Lianna¡¯s back, blind eyes and clumsy hands raised to the sky in supplication, toward the roiling darkness. Lianna was tapping her massive bionic legs in place, desperate to run. Zeltzin looked like she was pleading with Inaya.

    Up on one of the walkways the sniper Elpida had seen earlier unfolded herself like a spider, revealing even more pairs of arms. She aimed her weapon at the gap in the wall.

    Trapped. Whatever was coming, it was coming in through their way out; Elpida knew their best bet was to wait and slip out behind it.

    ¡°Pira, what¡¯s happening? Talk to me.¡±

    Pira didn¡¯t answer. Elpida looked round and found Pira with a hunted expression. Her cold blue eyes flickered over each of the others, a quick assessment.

    ¡°Pira,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°Whatever is coming, I will get us past it, but I need intel. What¡¯s happening?¡±

    Ilyusha laughed with the same mad laughter which had gripped her when she was fresh from the resurrection coffin. She lashed the ground with her tail-spike. ¡°Zombie!¡±

    Pira wouldn¡¯t look at Elpida; she looked the other way, deeper into the tangle of black metal.

    Kagami was snapping, ¡°What does that mean? ¡®Zombie¡¯? What does that mean? You cryptic bitches, explain!¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Elpi, Elpi! Everyone is running! What do we do!?¡±

    Elpida grabbed the front of Pira¡¯s bulletproof vest. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±

    Pira finally met Elpida¡¯s eyes; blue sky, haunted and empty. She whispered: ¡°I can¡¯t do this again.¡±

    Then she pulled free from Elpida¡¯s grip, lurched into a crouch, and scurried away, making for the edge of the wall, to flee deeper into the tangle of black metal.

    Elpida grabbed for her, half-rising from cover. ¡°Pira!¡±

    A sardonic voice crackled across Elpida¡¯s neural lace.

    ¡°Too late, soldier-girl. What a shame. Better luck next time, if you even try.¡±

    The zombie arrived with a crack of air pressure.

    Elpida heard it rip through the gap in the curtain wall at sixty miles an hour, exactly as the grave worm had promised, pushing a plug of air ahead of itself in an explosive exhalation of grey dust and powdered bone. A blur of clay-brown and gunmetal-grey slammed to a stop dead centre of the killing ground.

    The new arrival stood stock-still, feet planted, head clicking left and right to acquire targets.

    Tall, gangly, rail-thin, and naked; papery skin the colour of raw sewage, stretched over an artificial skeleton; no face, just a bristle of sensory equipment embedded in the front of an armoured skull, with no mouth or nose or ears or hair or eyeballs, only scar tissue and scabs and inflamed flesh; two bionic legs, digitigrade for speed and balance. Six arms, two with six-fingered, double-thumbed, chrome hands, studded with micro-weapons, close-range flame-throwers, contact-acids, and miniaturized cutting tools; another two arms were functional blades, without artistry or elegance; the final two hooked into bionic attachments for a heavyweight cyclic coilgun and an anti-material rifle; the chest was hollowed out for a deployable chemical laser; bionic structures on the flanks served for manufacture of nerve gas, biological agents, and nanomachine infiltration swarms.

    A human form with nothing human inside.

    They called it a zombie?

    Even Lianna¡¯s spider-body moved and expressed itself like a living creature, no matter how exotic the form. Pira had called them all ¡®the reluctant dead¡¯; Vicky had discovered they did not need to breathe; Kagami had confirmed they were made of nanomachines; but everyone Elpida had met here on the far side of death seemed full of life.

    But not this thing. This was an animated corpse.

    Elpida knew exactly what she was looking at. The form was nothing like the ones she had known, but the violation was identical.

    Silico.

 rapax - 2.4

    The Silico opened fire.

    Sabot-rounds from the heavyweight cyclic coilgun tore into the black metal with a deafening roar, whipping up clouds of shrapnel, sending chips and chunks flying through the air. The zombie swept the weapon back and forth, raking any scrap of cover where revenant girls sheltered and screamed. The anti-material rifle on the opposite arm slammed out rounds to catch anybody who broke cover. Limbs exploded into gore, bodies crumpled against walls, armour buckled and broke. The cyborg killing machine showed no emotion as it worked; it couldn¡¯t, not with a face made of sensory equipment, lenses and intake tubes and scanner-heads. It stood tall where it had stopped, right in the middle of the clearing, and drowned the world in firepower.

    Elpida threw herself back down behind the wall. Pira slipped away, diving out of cover and around a corner. Elpida let her go.

    Coilgun rounds thunked into the wall, chewing up the metal.

    Amina was screaming into her ballistic shield. Kagami yelped as if surprised. Vicky flinched and let out a gasp, clutching her machine gun in white-knuckled hands. Atyle just stared. Ilyusha was cackling with laughter, grey eyes burning bright, lips peeled back to show her teeth.

    Elpida realised with relief that the Silico¡¯s heavyweight cyclic coilgun traded away penetration in return for portability, rate of fire, and speed of target acquisition. Her coilgun used solid slug rounds fed from the receiver; the zombie¡¯s weapon was probably shaving slivers off an ammunition block.

    ¡°Everyone stay down!¡± she screamed over the noise. ¡°Heads down! It can¡¯t shoot through the metal!¡±

    Other shouts rang out over the clearing, in strange accents, from buzzing voice-boxes, muffled by helmets and scarves and metal jaws.

    ¡°Fucking run! Leave it, it¡¯s fucking gone!¡±

    ¡°Annie! Annie!¡±

    ¡°This shit ain¡¯t nothing, who¡¯s got high-ex?! Somebody throw me the¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s standing in the fucking way! Look at it, bastard knows what it¡¯s doing, this is necromancer bullshit, necro¡ª¡±

    ¡°Annie!¡±

    ¡°Throw the header corpses at it, one of them was strapped with a vest¡ª¡±

    ¡°Necromancer bullshit¡ª¡±

    ¡°Leave it, it¡¯s after the freshies! Get gone, get¡ª¡±

    Sporadic return fire plinked and crunched off the metal around the cyborg construct. A machine gun opened up with a clatter-clatter-clatter of bullets. A heavy hissss scorched the air with the invisible beam of a microwave weapon. The crump of a fragmentation grenade went off nearby. No single source of fire lasted long, each one silenced by the zombie¡¯s unrelenting assault

    Elpida risked a split-second glance around the edge of her cover, an in-out jerk, her head wrapped in armoured hood.

    The construct was undeterred: feet planted, head tracking targets with stop-motion jerks, weapons flicking back and forth. The barrels of the cyclic sliver-gun blurred as they spun. The anti-material rifle self-loaded with rapid clunk-clunks of the mechanism. It didn¡¯t need its other four limbs, the close-combat weapons or the blades or the area-denial chemical and biological dispersal pouches. Bullets bounced off bionic limbs. A few rounds had torn papery wounds in the stretched skin, leaking white circulatory fluid; any vital internal structures would be heavily armoured, and hardened against electromagnetic attack.

    Elpida whipped her head back into cover. An anti-material round punched through the air a split-second later. It sailed past and blew a crater in a distant wall, showering the ground with black metal shrapnel.

    Vicky was almost hyperventilating, eyes gone huge in a face gone grey. ¡°Elpi? Elpi, what now?¡±

    Ilyusha whooped at the top of her lungs. Elpida realised the heavily augmented girl was enjoying this. ¡°It¡¯s just a fucking zombie!¡± she called up into the air, over their cover. ¡°Hit it in the fucking head, yeah?¡±

    Kagami whispered: ¡°Should have drowned you all in nuclear fire. This is an obscenity.¡±

    Vicky grabbed Elpida¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Elpi! What do we do!?¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t have a plan.

    She knew there was no escape. The zombie was opening fire on anybody who broke cover. The gap in the outer curtain wall was about a hundred meters away. Even if they could duck and dive from position to position while the murder-machine was occupied with other targets, traversing the exit itself would leave them exposed for perhaps twenty seconds. Elpida could sprint it in ten, alone. But she would not go alone.

    The zombie was standing right in the middle of the clearing, exposed in what should have been a killing ground; that position gave it a clear shot at anybody who reached the exit. It was blocking the only escape.

    Elpida suspected it was doing that on purpose.

    Kagami was hissing: ¡°There must be another way out, there must be!¡±

    Vicky nodded. ¡°Yeah! Right! Pira had the right idea. We fucking run. Right, Elpi? Let¡¯s go!¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°No. If it follows, we could get trapped.¡±

    Kagami was right: there must be other exits from the tomb-fortifications. Some of the other girls were probably making for them now; that¡¯s why Pira had fled. But Elpida did not know where those exits might be. The tangle of black metal walls and bunkers and trenches was just as complex as any undergrowth out in the green ¡ª and just as full of unknown dangers. She had no known route and no way to scout ahead. Running now would risk getting lost, or backed into a dead end if the zombie pursued.

    Vicky shouted in Elpida¡¯s face. ¡°We¡¯re sitting and waiting to die! Elpida!¡±

    Atyle was murmuring to herself, bionic eye whirring as she stared through their cover and right at the zombie. Elpida caught words beneath the noise of gunfire and shrapnel: ¡°God machine¡ª littlest joint of the littlest finger¡ª take me to the source¡ª¡±

    Elpida raised her voice. She could barely hear herself over the rapid-fire slam of sabot rounds. ¡°Nobody is going to die here. We¡ª¡±

    Two options.

    Option one: wait for the construct to pursue another group, then slip away.

    Elpida¡¯s heart rebelled at the notion of sacrificing others to aid her own escape, but it wasn¡¯t to save her skin alone; she couldn¡¯t rescue everybody. If they could reach the exit while the zombie¡¯s attention was on another target, they might be able to sprint through the gap. Elpida could shed the coilgun and lift Kagami over her shoulder. Vicky could probably carry Amina. Atyle would have to pick her feet up for once.

    But Elpida had a suspicion that the murder-machine would not move until it was finished. They couldn¡¯t hide from it either; that sensory set-up could likely see through matter. The zombie would cover that entrance, mow down anybody who tried to flee, murder everyone it could reach, kill everything in range, and only then move on.

    We are not prisoners in our city, Old Lady Nunnus had told her once. That thought is the refuge of fools. Their ¡®solemn vow and covenant¡¯ is nothing but projection. They think of you girls as an affront against the cage they have constructed in their own minds. Telokopolis is not a cage or a mausoleum. Reaching beyond it is not a sin. Your existence is not a sin, because you are one of us.

    Nunnus would have thought her a fool for such a passive strategy.

    Option two: kill the Silico.

    The construct in the clearing was the lowest form of Silico life ¡ª a corpse-drone made from re-purposed parts. It possessed none of the alien elegance and haunting beauty that Elpida and the cadre had witnessed out in the deep green, nor the brutal power and awe-inspiring horror of the dead monsters on display in the public museums, and it lacked the terrible symmetry and imitative humanity of the live specimens sealed in Legion archives.

    Relatively speaking, this zombie should have been easy to kill.

    But Elpida was not armed for Silico, and not for this situation. The construct knew exactly what it was doing: standing in the open, overwhelming any response with weight of firepower. Even with a hardshell and a monoedge blade, Elpida had no hope of getting close enough to breach the construct¡¯s reactor, or cut off the head, or just hack it to pieces. She needed a shaped charge, a heavy-duty laser ¡ª or a combat frame. A combat frame could have crushed this drone with one footfall.

    All she had was the coilgun. The Silico drone might have magnetic countermeasures ¡ª but those kinds of countermeasures would draw a huge amount of power and require an early warning.

    She needed to catch it off guard.

    ¡°We can take it out, we can do it!¡± she yelled over the noise. She took Vicky¡¯s hand from her shoulder and pressed it back to Vicky¡¯s machine gun. ¡°Hold onto that, I might need you to cover me.¡± Then, quickly, before the others could doubt: ¡°Kagami! You can see it through the wall, right? It should have a miniature fusion reactor, maybe two. I need a location.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Fucking hell, Elpi.¡±

    Kagami squinted through her readout visor, shaking and flinching at every impact, her tiny pale face framed by lank black hair. ¡°Two ¡­ yes! Fuck, this thing is pouring out radiation, let¡¯s hope we¡¯re all immune.¡±

    ¡°Concentrate. Power sources, where are they?¡±

    ¡°Base of the neck, bottom of the spine. Looks like it¡¯s drawing from both? I can¡¯t tell!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great. Kagami, thank you. Keep your head down.¡± Elpida clapped her on the shoulder, then looked left and right, to see if she could spot any other groups without leaving cover.

    She couldn¡¯t just shout the plan out loud and hope somebody followed along; most Silico understood human speech perfectly well. She didn¡¯t want it alerted. She needed it looking away long enough for her to take a shot.

    Elpida spotted the sniper.

    Far up on a walkway to the right was the sniper she had seen earlier. The woman was wrapped in loose black from head to toe, except a metal jaw-mask and a strip of mushroom-pale skin around dark red eyes. A dozen arms stuck out from her bundle of robes; half cradled a long rifle, aimed directly at the zombie, while the other half gripped the black metal around her, braced for recoil.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    She was perfectly still. She was also the only thing the construct wasn¡¯t shooting at.

    Elpida raised a fist and rocked it back and forth, but the woman didn¡¯t look. ¡°Heeeey!¡± she shouted over the unrelenting firepower, but the noise was too loud. Elpida hissed: ¡°We need a distraction. I¡¯ve got to communicate with her, the sniper up there. If we can coordinate¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha barked: ¡°Bait time!¡±

    The heavily augmented girl hopped up into a squat and shrugged out of her backpack ¡ª the backpack which contained shotgun shells and the cannisters of blue nanomachine slime, taken from the tomb armoury. She pressed the backpack into Amina¡¯s shaking arms. ¡°Don¡¯t drop it!¡±

    Amina stammered, wet with tears. ¡°W-why me¡ª¡±

    Elpida snapped: ¡°Ilyusha, no! Stay down!¡±

    She grabbed for Ilyusha, but the heavily augmented girl whipped her bionic tail between them, then grinned at Elpida over the black bio-plastic. Her eyes burned like molten lead.

    ¡°I¡¯m faster than any bitch!¡± She made her rotary shotgun go ka-clunk ¡ª then cocked her head, grin frozen, tail wagging. The sound of the zombie¡¯s cyclic coilgun raked the opposite side of the clearing. Elpida heard it pause on a target; the noise of the sabot-impacts rang out as clanging ricochets as the zombie pummelled sustained fire into an immovable object. A familiar voice screamed in fear and panic.

    Ilyusha screeched: ¡°There! Take the shot, beanpole! Fuckin¡¯ love you all!¡±

    Ilyusha exploded from a squat, kicked out with one red-clawed bionic leg, and leapt onto the wall.

    Elpida had no choice; no member of the cadre ever fought alone. Except her, at the very end. She would not allow it.

    She rose with Ilyusha.

    Out in the middle of the clearing, the murder-machine jerked its anti-material rifle around to draw a bead on Ilyusha.

    But the heavily augmented girl was already sprinting down the length of the wall, claws clicking, tail lashing, pumping out rounds from her rotary shotgun to irritate and distract the zombie. She was shrieking with laughter at the top of her lungs. Two consecutive anti-material rounds hit the lip of the wall, chasing the black-and-red cyborg berserker. Black metal shrapnel plinked off Ilyusha¡¯s bionic limbs and pattered against Elpida¡¯s armoured coat and hood. Elpida had to turn her head to avoid getting her face torn to ribbons.

    Ilyusha howled, ¡°Too slow, robot fuck!¡±

    Ilyusha had picked her moment with expert timing; the six-armed zombie monster of stretched skin and chrome limbs was pointing the cyclic coilgun at the other side of the clearing, barrels spinning red-hot, sabots hammering at the one target it couldn¡¯t break: Lianna. The spider-girl from inside the tomb was out of cover, half-exposed, her orange shield-limbs raised in a wall to shelter the diminutive form of Inaya. Sabot-rounds bounced off the shielding in their hundreds, chewing at the black metal ground and whizzing into the air. Lianna was screaming. Inaya was oblivious, staring up at the empty sky; Zeltzin was a red slash at the edge of the shield-wall, waiting for a chance to ¡ª what? Rush the zombie? Several more figures were gathering in Lianna¡¯s wake, but nobody seemed prepared to push forward.

    Elpida shouldered the coilgun ¡ª and held her fire.

    Ilyusha was sprinting away to the left; the Silico¡¯s sensor equipment tracked her, attention focused. But Elpida needed to be outside its direct sensory cone to have any chance of beating magnetic countermeasures. She would only get one shot before the construct would prioritize her as a threat.

    She breathed out, emptied her lungs, made her hands go still.

    A sudden burst of firepower joined in from deeper in the tangle of black metal fortifications: a heavy machine gun opened up with a rattle, buffeting the zombie with a torrent of lead. Elpida risked a glance around the edge of her hood. It was the dirty-white armoured suit from earlier. The pilot inside had raised an arm-mounted machine gun, lightweight, meant for infantry support. No hope of penetrating the Silico¡¯s body ¡ª but it was helping the gambit.

    Elpida sighted down the coilgun receiver, at the base of the zombie¡¯s spine. One shot would blow the reactor apart.

    The Silico¡¯s head was turning, following Ilyusha. She needed one more second.

    Ilyusha whooped and leapt, anti-material rounds exploding inches from her bionic claws. In the corner of Elpida¡¯s vision she was haloed by shrapnel ¡ª and then a six-inch shard of black metal went through the meat of her back.

    Ilyusha yowled, tumbling forward, momentum lost. Next to Elpida a tiny voice screamed: ¡°Illy!¡±

    The zombie¡¯s anti-material rifle flicked forward, covering the heavily augmented girl as she crashed into the floor. Ilyusha lurched up onto her claws, swaying and reeling, streaming with blood, spitting and screaming.

    Elpida was still within the construct¡¯s direct visual cone.

    If she pulled the trigger now, the gambit might fail and they would all die. If she didn¡¯t pull the trigger the Silico would kill Ilyusha.

    She wouldn¡¯t have hesitated for Howl. She wouldn¡¯t have hesitated for any of her cadre.

    Her finger tightened.

    Crack.

    A shot rang out and snapped the Silico¡¯s head sideways by ninety degrees. In Elpida¡¯s peripheral vision, white arms worked the bolt on a sniper rifle, up on a lonely walkway. A second shot slammed into the zombie¡¯s head again, then a third, then a fourth. Pin-point accuracy. Perfect shooting.

    A cheer went up ¡ª then died.

    The zombie jerked its head upright, twisted around to lock onto the many-armed sniper, and raised both its main weapons. The sniper scurried away like a spider as the Silico opened fire; sabot-rounds and anti-material bullets turned her vantage point into a nest of torn metal.

    On the far side of the clearing Zeltzin broke from behind Lianna¡¯s shield-wall and sprinted toward the construct; her twin swords flashed free from inside her red robes. The zombie turned toward her, weapons clicking down flicker-fast.

    Elpida squeezed the trigger. Magnetic coils discharged with a stomach-pounding thump.

    Zeltzin¡¯s foolish bravery had ruined the shot; Elpida¡¯s round missed the base of the zombie¡¯s spine and tore through a bionic weapon-arm, pulverising the joint in a cloud of metal and polymer and milky white artificial blood. The anti-material rifle fell with a wet crunch.

    The Silico didn¡¯t respond to the damage. It didn¡¯t even adjust its footing. It opened up with the cyclic sliver-gun and turned Zeltzin¡¯s midsection into bloody mist.

    The red-clad swordswoman fell face-down in a puddle of meat. Her twin swords clattered to the ground.

    Elpida¡¯s moment of hesitation had cost everything.

    The cyclic coilgun swung for her next, barrels spinning. She hurled herself down behind cover.

    Vicky shouted: ¡°Amina, no!¡±

    Amina had stood up and stepped out from behind the wall, tears running down her face as she stumbled forward, backpack hanging from one arm, bulletproof ballistic shield clutched in both hands. She was trying to reach Ilyusha; the heavily augmented girl had collapsed into the next stretch of cover, slumped and bloody.

    The Silico opened fire.

    Sabot-rounds chewed across the low wall as Elpida ducked. She saw an impact blow a chunk out of Amina¡¯s ballistic shield. The girl screamed and went down. Elpida couldn¡¯t see her from that angle.

    Vicky was paralysed, staring out at where Amina had fallen. Kagami was panting, shaking, covered in a sheen of visible sweat; her visor fed her too much information. Atyle was entranced by the Silico, lost in a world of her own. Sabot-rounds slammed against their cover; now the zombie knew she was a genuine threat. She could hear terrible wailing from the other side of the clearing.

    Elpida raised her voice: ¡°Amina, keep low! Stay still! Stay down behind the shield, stay low! Can you hear me?¡±

    Amina replied with mad screaming. Elpida prayed she wasn¡¯t injured.

    ¡°Vicky!¡± Elpida said. ¡°Vicky!¡± She had to grab the front of Vicky¡¯s clothes and shake her. ¡°Amina¡¯s just knocked down, we need to get her into cover.¡±

    Vicky stammered: ¡°Ze¡ªZeltzin, I saw¡ª I saw her¡ª she was just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Vicky, concentrate. I need you to follow my orders. Amina needs your help. You can do this.¡±

    Vicky swallowed hard, sweat beading on her brow. ¡°What do we do? Tell me what to do, please¡ª¡±

    ¡°Dump your machine gun. Empty hands. Break cover, run for Amina, pick her up and haul yourself into cover next to Ilyusha.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°The Silico can¡¯t target the coilgun as fast¡ª¡±

    ¡°The¡ª the what?¡±

    ¡°The zombie. It can¡¯t target the coilgun as fast as it could with the rifle, and now I¡¯m the priority target because I might actually be able to damage it. You break for Amina, I¡¯ll stand up and draw its fire. It will shoot at me. I will get us out, Vicky. I will get us out. You and everyone else.¡±

    Vicky nodded, jerky with adrenaline and fear. She left the machine gun on the ground and shuffled to the end of the wall.

    Kagami was shaking like a leaf. She hissed: ¡°You two are fucking crazy. I¡¯m among crazy people. We¡¯re all going to fucking die.¡±

    ¡°No, we¡¯re not,¡± Elpida said, bracing the coilgun receiver. ¡°Vicky, you go on one. Then I rise on zero. Ready? Three, two ¡ª one!¡±

    Vicky shot toward Amina¡¯s crumpled form. Elpida heard the coilgun rounds tracking across the wall. Then she rose ¡ª her own coilgun hard against her shoulder, power-tank heavy on her back, finger hot on the trigger. A clear threat, impossible to deny.

    The zombie ignored her.

    It swept that cyclic sliver-gun along the wall, right toward Vicky, as if Elpida was not aiming at its reactor. Fine with her; she squeezed the trigger.

    And the zombie dodged.

    The murder-machine jinked sideways, as if propelled by a magnetic field response. Elpida had never seen anything like it before. Her shot sailed past a bionic hip and blew apart a wall on the other side of the black metal clearing. All she¡¯d done was foul the zombie¡¯s aim by a few inches.

    Cyclic sliver-rounds hit Vicky in the upper right arm and the side of her chest, tearing through armoured coat and underlayers and flesh and bone. The limb flew off in an explosion of blood, leaving behind a ragged stump. Vicky¡¯s side blew open, flesh torn back in great strips across exposed ribs. She gurgled a scream and went down, not far from Amina.

    Elpida had ordered her out there. Elpida had taken the shot. Elpida had failed her.

    She was losing her cadre all over again.

    I love every single one of you, she had once told Howl, in private, in the dark, just the two of them. I never want to lose any of us. I can¡¯t take this. I wasn¡¯t born for this. They tell us we were, but we weren¡¯t.

    None of us were born for this, stupid.

    The spinning barrels of the cyclic sliver-gun moved back toward Elpida; the zombie¡¯s face of sensory equipment locked onto her. She felt a fresh sabot clunk into the barrel of her own weapon. Aimed. Pulled the trigger. Magnetic coils discharged with a thump ¡ª and the sabot-round bounced off an invisible barrier, whizzing off into the sky and slamming into the side of the tomb pyramid towering over them; traditional magnetic countermeasures. The zombie knew she was a threat now. It knew to put her down.

    Elpida¡¯s trigger finger slackened. She was not fit to lead and everyone who followed her was doomed to die. She was dead; the cadre was dead; Howl was dead.

    And then the clouds opened.

    Red light spilled from the black heavens: a glimpse of the revenant sun in gravid glory. In the centre of that cloud-break was a speck of pure white, burning through the atmosphere.

    A falling star.

    Everyone looked up. Even the Silico¡¯s sensor suite swivelled up and around.

    Details grew as the speck fell: massive, angular, made of white plates, shaped for atmospheric re-entry; fins and wings, ramjets and thrusters, arms and legs, and a shielded cockpit like a silver eye. One arm resolved into a white lance, glowing, pointed downward at the dead planet.

    The Silico tilted its body backward and began to deploy the chemical laser from its hollow chest cavity, to shoot down this apparition from the skies.

    Elpida had no idea what she was looking at; the falling star looked more like a combat frame, built on principles foreign to Telokopolis.

    But it was heavenly deliverance.

    Elpida ripped the coilgun¡¯s aim-assist rig free from her hips and let the weapon fall. She leapt the low wall and burst into the black metal clearing. The red light from the sky painted the world a rusty blood red: the Silico, distracted by this higher-priority target; the armoured form of Lianna, trying to scoop Inaya onto her back as the shrivelled woman stared in awe at the falling star; Vicky, howling in pain on the ground next to the shield-covered form of Amina; Zeltzin¡¯s corpse, lying on her front in a puddle of blood and viscera.

    And Zeltzin¡¯s swords.

    Elpida sprinted for the blades.

    She¡¯d almost made it when the zombie woke up. Cyclic coilgun snapped around, spitting slivers at her ankles. Metal shrapnel bounced off her armoured coat. Elpida dived for one of the swords. She closed her hand around the grip, rolled, bounced to her feet, and sprinted right at the zombie ¡ª right toward the spinning barrels pointed at her face.

    She was too far away to reach the construct before it opened fire. All this was futile. She had failed, again and again.

    A sudden roar of bullets slammed into the construct¡¯s side from close range ¡ª small calibre, high rate of fire, not enough to penetrate, but just enough to make the monster twitch.

    A flash of flame-red leapt back into cover, in Elpida¡¯s peripheral vision.

    The Silico pointed the spinning barrels at Elpida again ¡ª but she¡¯d covered the ground. She was dead; but she wouldn¡¯t lose another cadre.

    Howl roared inside her mind. Howl approved. Howl would have done the same.

    The zombie tried to fend her off with its close-combat weapons. A brass-and-chrome hand belched fire from a miniature flame-thrower, drenching the air with napalm, but Elpida was already past, the edge of her coat catching fire behind her. Scything blade-arms tried to cut her down, but she stepped inside the zombie¡¯s guard. Structures on its flanks belched a cloud of nerve gas and flooded the air with neurotoxins, but Elpida¡¯s body was hardened against biological and chemical warfare by all the hard-won knowledge of the greatest city ever built.

    The corpse-drone took a step back.

    Elpida hit the Silico just as the cyclic coilgun opened fire; she decapitated the construct in one swing. Head severed and falling, trailing artificial white blood, it still shot her through the chest. Two slivers went in through the front of her coat, breaking ribs, puncturing lungs, and punching out through her back. The third sliver tore her heart to pieces. She stayed on her feet for another second, kept there by all the genetic engineering of Telokopolis and the pain-blockers in her bloodstream and twenty three years of unbroken training ¡ª or by Howl, roaring in her memories. Elpida rammed the sword through the zombie¡¯s abdomen; she felt it bite through metal; the tip found part of the reactor and did enough damage to break something vital.

    The Silico toppled before she did, crashing over in a twitching tangle of bionic limbs and white blood.

    Elpida crumpled. Flat on her back. The sky burned red. A white meteor was falling to the dead earth, far from the tomb.

    The others would live. Somebody needed to cauterise Vicky¡¯s stump and spray sealant on her ribs and check on Amina. Ilyusha¡¯s wound needed tending, that shrapnel needed extracting. But they would both live. Her cadre would live.

    Love you too, said Howl.

    Elpida closed her eyes. Her flesh grew quiet. The spark went out.

 vulnus - 3.1

    Life roared back, cold and wet and aching, somewhere in the dark.

    Elpida sat bolt upright and retched clotted blood into her own hands.

    She coughed and choked and drooled crimson mucus, wheezing to draw breath through a clogged throat. Her heart beat with an arrhythmic flutter, making her jerk and gasp. Her lungs heaved with stabbing pains; her skin was coated in freezing sweat and burning heat. Her head pounded worse than the time Howl had learned a new trick, and bounced her off the training mat over and over until Elpida had put Howl in a choke-hold.

    Howl!

    She¡¯d heard Howl¡¯s voice, in her dying moments.

    ¡°How¡ª Howl?¡± she tried to say, but managed only a strangled hiss. She leaned forward and brought up chunks of gristle, thick mucus, dried blood. She croaked, ¡°Howl? ¡­ Howl?¡±

    But Howl was dead. Elpida had heard only her own brain chemistry on the edge of oblivion.

    A stained and raspy voice breathed in the dark: ¡°Now that¡¯s a miracle.¡±

    Elpida pulled her head up.

    She was in a small concrete room, like one of the box-bunkers down on Telokopolis¡¯ plateau: bare walls, gritty floor, low ceiling. A metal rectangle covered a narrow slit window. Concrete steps on the right led up to a stout metal door, closed and barred. Another metal door stood half open behind her. Humped figures hunched against the walls. Elpida blinked her eyes to clear her vision, but the world was dark and blurred.

    ¡°Elpida?¡± said Vicky.

    Elpida coughed up bloody mucus when she tried to speak. She spat on the floor, focused on breathing slowly and smoothly, and then tried again. ¡°Yeah. Yes. Vicky.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t force it,¡± Vicky rasped.

    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± Elpida forced. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m up.¡±

    ¡°Take it slowly, okay? You had a nasty wound.¡±

    If her lungs hadn¡¯t hurt so much, Elpida would have laughed. ¡°I took a bullet through the heart.¡±

    The Vicky-lump shifted in the darkness. ¡°Sorry, let me get the light. Last one burnt out hours ago. I think we can see in the dark, a little bit, but it sucks. Let me just ¡­ ¡±

    Snap; a cold blue light crept outward to fill the concrete bunker, from a glow-stick in Vicky¡¯s left hand.

    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Vicky breathed. ¡°You really are alive.¡±

    Vicky looked awful; her dark skin was grey-pale with stress, eyes red and ringed with pain. She was sitting on a makeshift bed of spare coats. She¡¯d been stripped to the waist and half-wrapped in an emergency thermal blanket. The crinkly material reflected the sickly blue light from the glow-stick. An unfamiliar fur-trimmed green coat was draped over her shoulders.

    Her right arm lay in her lap ¡ª attached to her shoulder by a stringy mass of exposed muscle, glistening red and wet. White bone was visible through a split in the meat. Strips of skin grew across the gap as if reaching toward each other.

    ¡°I know, right?¡± Vicky hissed. ¡°Wild.¡±

    Elpida struggled not to cough: ¡°I got you shot. You followed my orders and I got you shot. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Vicky shrugged with her left shoulder. She placed the glow-stick in her lap, next to the unmoving fingers of her right hand. ¡°You slew the monster. And hey, I¡¯m good as new.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Vicky swallowed hard and tried to smile. ¡°No. It hurts like a bitch and I can¡¯t move it right. Reattaching it made me scream so loud I thought my lungs would burst. Apparently that¡¯ll improve.¡±

    ¡°And your ribs?¡±

    ¡°Better than the arm. Stings when I breathe. How about you, Elpi?¡±

    Amina and Ilyusha were huddled beneath a nest of spare coats in the corner, heads together, fast asleep. Ilyusha¡¯s bionic tail poked out of their makeshift bed. A pair of ballistic shields stood against the wall, one intact, the other with a chunk missing from an upper corner. Three backpacks sat on the floor, one of them looking less plump now it had been raided for coats and emergency blankets. Elpida¡¯s own armoured coat sat in a sad pile, covered in blood, holes in the back, along with some shredded grey underlayers from Vicky. Guns were laid out, including Vicky¡¯s heavy machine gun and all the equipment Elpida had been carrying. But no coilgun.

    Three empty cannisters stood in front of one of the backpacks; one had a couple of mouthfuls worth of blue slime left at the bottom.

    ¡°Did it stay down?¡± Elpida asked. ¡°The Silico.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Yeah, you fucked it up real good, Elpi. You saved us. Seriously. Whatever, you got me shot, whatever. I don¡¯t care. You knew what to do, you saved the rest of us.¡±

    Vicky was panting softly, speaking too fast, blinking as if concussed. Elpida couldn¡¯t straighten up without pain, but she knew she needed to change the subject.

    ¡°Nice coat,¡± she said.

    Vicky blinked several times, then laughed, then winced. ¡°Ow. Spoils of war. Illy grabbed it from the battlefield, before we took off. Said it looks cool. Elpi, how are you feeling? You were ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida examined herself. Her hands and arms worked without issue. She straightened up, ignoring the pain in her chest, struggling to suppress the cough. She was wrapped in a thermal blanket as well, crinkling beneath a fresh armoured coat draped over her shoulders. But her grey underlayers hadn¡¯t been changed: her own blood had dried around three ragged holes in the fabric. She worked one hand up inside the shirt and found three areas of tender, spongy flesh, little throbbing craters in her front, sealed but wet. Her fingers came away covered in plasma and blood, almost black in the blue glow-stick light. Her whole chest felt like it was full of glass. Her heart spasmed. She coughed.

    ¡°You were dead,¡± Vicky was saying. ¡°I mean, sure, we¡¯re all dead, or undead, or whatever. But you were dead dead. You weren¡¯t breathing ¡ª oh hell, none of us need to breathe. But you were cold and you were limp. No rigor mortis, I guess. You were dead, Elpi. You were fucking dead.¡±

    ¡°Do we regenerate? Come back to life?¡±

    Vicky shook her head. ¡°We used two cannisters of nanos on you. The blue goo stuff. Had to get it in there and pour it into your heart. Smear it on the damage. Thought I was gonna be sick. Same with my arm. That was weird, with so much of it missing and ¡­ and ¡­ the flesh was reaching ¡­ like ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Ilyusha?¡±

    ¡°What? Oh. No, she¡¯s fine. Flesh wound. Popped it right out. She did regen, for real, I think. Amina¡¯s untouched. Lucky kid.¡± She pointed at the leftover nanomachine slime in the third cannister. ¡°Supposed to tell you to drink the stuff when you wake up. Couldn¡¯t make you swallow while you were ¡­ dead.¡±

    Elpida couldn¡¯t stop coughing. Her heartbeat was wrong ¡ª presumably healing. She hadn¡¯t felt such an invasive sensation since twelve years old, when she and the cadre had undergone the wide-awake operations to install their mind-machine interface and neural lace. Her ribs ached where the Silico¡¯s sabot-rounds had punched through her chest. Her back hurt like one big pulled muscle, crusted with blood from the massive exit wounds. Something back there felt cold when she inhaled.

    She couldn¡¯t process this second resurrection. Elpida¡¯s mind was crafted and honed to absorb information without shock, but this was more than information. She had used her own death to buy the lives of her comrades ¡ª the way it always should have been back in Telokopolis, for Howl and Metris and Silla and all the others. She should have walked into the Civitas chambers with a bomb strapped to her chest years ago, should have marched up to the Covenanters when they were still playing politics, and turned them all into bloody meat and greasy carbon. She had sacrificed herself in the way she always should have done. She had corrected her mistake. Would Old Lady Nunnus be proud? Probably not. But Howl would be. Elpida had saved everyone. Howl grinned in her memories, bright and shining and right.

    But still, she lived. Elpida drew in a wheezing breath and coughed blood into her hand. She said: ¡°You ¡­ you came back for me? You carried me?¡±

    ¡°Not me.¡± Vicky turned her head and nodded. ¡°Her.¡±

    Pira was sitting against the wall, behind Elpida. Eyes closed, arms folded, back straight ¡ª maybe asleep or maybe pretending. She¡¯d washed most of the blood off her pale, freckled face, and cleaned up her torn body armour. Her submachine gun lay in her lap. A twist of flame-red hair was tucked over one shoulder.

    ¡°She came back for me,¡± Elpida said. ¡°At the end. She hit the Silico.¡±

    Vicky nodded, panting softly. ¡°Yeah. Came out of nowhere. Sneaky little bitch.¡± She laughed softly, then winced again. ¡°I mean that with affection. Sorry. Pain is fucking me up. Wish we had some morphine, or even just some tylenol. Pira told us how to use the nanomachine goop. She smeared it on her fingers and got right into your chest with it. Knew exactly what to do. Said you¡¯d probably come back, given time. But maybe you wouldn¡¯t. But you did. So, yeah.¡±

    Elpida stared at Pira¡¯s sleeping face. Even in rest she looked taut.

    ¡°Pira. Are you awake?¡±

    No reply.

    Vicky said: ¡°She doesn¡¯t talk much. Not to me, at least. I¡¯ve been sleeping.¡±

    ¡°How¡ª¡± Elpida coughed again. ¡°How long have I been out?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t know. Twelve, sixteen hours? Kaga¡¯s got a clock, I think.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s mind sharpened through the pain. She glanced around the concrete box. ¡°Where is Kagami? And Atyle?¡±

    Vicky nodded at the half open metal door and the concrete corridor beyond. ¡°Kaga¡¯s down that way. There¡¯s a couple of other rooms. A cistern, water. Vile, but we can drink it. Bunk-room too, but ¡­ nah.¡±

    ¡°Atyle?¡±

    Vicky grimaced. ¡°She walked off. When we were bugging out. I was screaming, too much pain, lost track of her. Kaga says she just turned away from us and walked, like she knew exactly where she really wanted to be.¡±

    Elpida sighed. That hurt in a new way. ¡°Damn.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    One lost. One was too many. Elpida clenched her stomach muscles to stop from coughing again. ¡°Did somebody recover Zeltzin¡¯s corpse, like me?¡±

    ¡°Uh, maybe. I think I saw Lianna, the big spider woman. Scooped her up? I couldn¡¯t say for sure.¡±

    ¡°Where are we now?¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Only about a hundred feet from the tomb pyramid. First safe spot we found. Went to ground. Barred the door. You weigh a ton, apparently. All that height and muscle, heh. Ah, ow.¡±

    ¡°Vicky, take it easy. Rest. You did well. Your job now is to recover and heal, so you focus on that. We¡¯ll get that arm working again.¡±

    Vicky pulled a grey grimace. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything. I got shot. Couldn¡¯t even carry my own arm.¡±

    ¡°That was my fault, not yours. You are not responsible for my mistake. Rest, relax, recover. That¡¯s an order.¡±

    An order. As if Elpida had the right to give any orders. But Vicky nodded.

    Elpida stood up.

    Her heart fluttered and jumped in strange directions. Her head flushed with blood, then drained out. Her whole body shook with weakness. She coughed several times. She peeled the thermal blanket open and stared down at her wounds ¡ª knotty twists of red muscle, wet and soft, holes sealed by nanomachine miracles. The skin was closing up, but too slowly to measure with the naked eye; Elpida understood that technology, at least. Skin-repair was well within the abilities of any hospital in Telokopolis. A Legion medical team or a pilot capsule could have kept her alive with a shattered heart and punctured lungs ¡ª but not on a bare concrete floor, with no equipment except bare hands and raw nanomachine sludge.

    And she hadn¡¯t been kept alive. She¡¯d been dead.

    Vicky rasped, ¡°Elpi, you take it easy too, please.¡±

    ¡°I can stand.¡± The pain in her chest was incredible, but Telokopolis gene-engineering work was already dumping pain-blockers into her bloodstream. She nodded at the metal cover over the slit window. ¡°Safe to open that?¡±

    ¡°Pira says no, not with light showing. And hey, I agree with her. We¡¯re wounded and slow. We don¡¯t want attention.¡±

    Elpida looked down at Pira again. ¡°Pira, are you awake?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Pira.

    Elpida knew what it felt like to be saved. The cadre had defended each other in combat again and again, year after year. Howl had saved her life in more than a physical way. But this felt different. Pira was not her clade-sister, not one of her cadre.

    ¡°You came back for me,¡± she said.

    Pira grunted. ¡°Mmhmm.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re fresh. Still in the rapid regen period after resurrection. Knew you¡¯d come back in a day or two. Leaving you there would be a waste, you¡¯d just get eaten by scavengers. Depending on your deal, you¡¯d have woken up in another tomb, weeks or months or years from now.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t an answer, but Elpida let it go. She said, ¡°You came back and shot at the Silico. I wouldn¡¯t have hit it without your support. Pira, thank you.¡±

    Pira said nothing. Didn¡¯t even open her eyes.

    Vicky said: ¡°Why do you call that thing ¡®Silico¡¯?¡±

    Elpida shrugged. The gesture made her back and ribs scream with pain. She coughed. ¡°Because that¡¯s what it was. A Silico drone, from the green. Made of spare parts and stolen corpses. It wasn¡¯t exactly like the ones I¡¯m familiar with, but the principles were the same.¡± She nodded at the weapons on the floor. ¡°Kind of like our guns. Same principles. Different eras.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°That was late era necro junk. Nothing more. Whatever your time was like, everything from it is gone.¡±

    ¡°That was a Silico construct. I recognised the principles.¡±

    Vicky asked, ¡°Did that thing used to be a person, like us? Lots of those girls back there had bionics. Was that just one of us, gone too far?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Pira and Elpida, both at the same time.

    They paused. Elpida waited.

    ¡°No,¡± Pira repeated. ¡°Just something still up and walking around. A zombie.¡±

    Vicky puffed a tiny laugh. ¡°Aren¡¯t we zombies?¡±

    Pira opened her eyes. Sky-blue and shining, even by the dead light of the glow-stick. She stared at Vicky for a long moment, as if considering the value of the question.

    ¡°Silico,¡± Elpida croaked. ¡°It was Silico.¡±

    Pira spoke to Vicky. ¡°Zombie is a contextual word. Applied to one of us ¡ª revenants, from the tombs ¡ª it¡¯s usually an insult, but it can mean affection. If somebody calls you ¡®zombie¡¯, they¡¯re denying you¡¯re a person. Or they¡¯re your best friend, expressing solidarity.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Vicky grunted. ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°But usually it refers to everything other than us ¡ª the relics, the robots, other kinds of undead. Shuffling corpses, necro-era cyborgs like that thing back there. Leftovers, worm guardians, hunter killers, the nano-shit and monsters and all the rest. Even the occasional true necromantic construct. All the other weird shit out there. All of it is zombies.¡±

    Vicky swallowed. ¡°Shit. I think I liked you better when you weren¡¯t talking much.¡±

    Elpida asked, ¡°You have categories for different classes of Silico? And other creatures?¡±

    Pira snorted and closed her eyes again. ¡°Good luck with that. I tried it before. Waste of time.¡±

    Vicky and Elpida shared a look. Numb terror swam just beneath Vicky¡¯s grey exhaustion. Elpida made an ¡®ease down¡¯ hand gesture, and said, ¡°Vicky, it¡¯s going to be alright. Pira, do you have any idea where Atyle might have gone?¡±

    ¡°The tall one with the bionic eye?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Take your pick. We¡¯re in the graveworm shadow, right after a tomb opened. Miles around will be crawling with revenants for days.¡±

    Elpida asked, ¡°We lost the coilgun?¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, Vicky. You only had one arm, right? Better the arm than the coilgun.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°Lost it in the retreat. Didn¡¯t have enough hands.¡±

    Elpida suppressed a sigh of disappointment. ¡°That was a powerful piece of equipment.¡±

    Pira snorted. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have availed us much if that zombie had been something worse. Coilgun round would probably go through a worm-spawn shell, but wouldn¡¯t do much more than tickle a necromancer machine.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯d that combat frame come down?¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Combat frame?¡±

    ¡°The falling star.¡±

    Pira replied, ¡°North a ways, I think.¡± She frowned without opening her eyes. ¡°That was rare. Not seen anything fall from orbit for a long time.¡±

    Elpida nodded. Pira fell silent. Vicky looked down at the bloody mass of her healing arm. The concrete bunker walls were thick and sturdy; Elpida could hear the occasional muffled gunshot far away, and the scrape of cold wind across the roof. She took a deep breath to mirror the quiet, feeling her lungs ache and her heart lurch. Her vision wavered, then settled. She coughed.

    ¡°How long will it take for my heart to finish healing?¡±

    Pira said: ¡°A day? I don¡¯t know. Chug the nanos, it¡¯ll help.¡±

    Elpida stepped over to the backpacks, squatted down, and poured the remaining nanomachine slime down her throat. It tasted of nothing, coated her mouth, and sat heavy in her stomach. She unzipped Ilyusha¡¯s backpack and found plenty more of the cannisters still inside, faintly glowing blue. ¡°Should I drink more?¡±

    Pira replied in a disapproving tone. ¡°If you want.¡±

    ¡°Bad idea?¡±

    Pira sighed, very slightly. She nodded toward Ilyusha and Amina. ¡°Your bionic friend sleeping in the corner? She pulled shrapnel out of herself and healed up so fast she was risking cancerous growth. She drank several cans before the fight, didn¡¯t she?¡±

    ¡°She did.¡±

    Pira snorted and shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s valuable. Don¡¯t waste it. You get into another fight like that in a week or two, you won¡¯t be fresh, you won¡¯t heal so fast. And you won¡¯t survive having your heart turned into mince.¡±

    Elpida zipped up the backpack. She could endure the pain. ¡°Do we need to eat? I don¡¯t feel hungry. At all.¡±

    ¡°Get used to that,¡± said Pira.

    ¡°Do we need water?¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm.¡±

    ¡°What about sleep?¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡± Pira opened her eyes again.

    ¡°Biologically. Do we need sleep?¡±

    ¡° ¡­ no. But I wouldn¡¯t recommend going without sleep. You¡¯ll go insane, and quickly.¡±

    Vicky laughed softly, then winced. ¡°Same as it ever was, then.¡±

    Elpida turned without standing up; she wanted to be eye-level with Pira for this. ¡°Pira. Thank you for carrying me. Thank you for rescuing me. If you stay by my side, then you¡¯re one of us. I will do my utmost to protect you. Thank you.¡±

    Pira just stared, her eyes a flat and infinite blue. She said nothing.

    Elpida said, ¡°I need information. Answers. The lay of the land. Who¡¯s out there, why are we¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know what you need,¡± Pira said. ¡°And I don¡¯t have any real answers. I can¡¯t point you toward salvation, because there is none. We¡¯re here for nothing. You¡¯re going to die, again and again, and there¡¯s no meaning to any of it. The world is full of dead things, the machines have all gone mad, and there¡¯s nothing left. Welcome to the end of the world.¡±

    ¡°Then why did you save me?¡±

    Pira sighed. ¡°And I¡¯m not going to repeat myself four times. We¡¯ll talk when your friend with the wonky legs gets back from sulking.¡± She nodded at the half-open door, then at Ilyusha and Amina. ¡°And when these two wake up.¡±

    ¡°Kagami? Sulking?¡±

    Vicky pulled an awkward smile. ¡°She¡¯s down in the room with the water. Probably. And she wasn¡¯t sulking, she was crying.¡±

    Elpida scooped up her own submachine gun, checked it was loaded and the safety was on, then put the strap over her shoulder. She stood up. ¡°I¡¯ll go get her. Be right back.¡±

    Vicky called after her as she shuffled through the half-open door: ¡°Be gentle, Elpi! On yourself, too!¡±

    The concrete bunker was nothing more than three rooms connected by a tiny T-shaped corridor, bathed in subterranean darkness. Vicky¡¯s speculation was correct: Elpida could see in the dark, but only a little. She peered into the open door on the right and found a room with two metal bunk beds. All four mattresses were black with rot, skeletons lying on top, filthy bones embedded in glistening black goo. She backed up and took the other door instead.

    This end of the bunker was similar to the other: a square concrete room with a slit window. At one side of the room was a concrete trough full of dirty water. No stairs and no exit; the slit window was lower; a long concrete block served as a seat and firing position in front of the aperture.

    Kagami was sitting on the block, staring out of the open slit, a tiny delicate figure wrapped in a coat too large for her frame. Her visor and auspex gear hung loose around her neck. Her long black hair looked lank and greasy.

    ¡°Hey,¡± said Elpida.

    Kagami looked round. Her eyes were red-rimmed in her soft brown face. ¡°Ah. There she is. The prodigal daughter. Rolled the rock away from the tomb and rose on the third day, did you? Good thing you didn¡¯t actually take three days, I would have drowned myself in the water tank.¡±

    She turned back to the slit window. Elpida walked over and ducked her head to see.

    Nothing but black sky, thick with choking clouds, and the distant teeth of the dead city drowned in shadows. The furnace-light of the dying sun had vanished again, replaced with a dim red glow from one corner of the sky.

    Elpida straightened back up and looked at the water. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re drinking? It looks filthy.¡±

    Kagami shrugged. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. I doubt we can get sick, not in the traditional sense. Pira says so, anyway. Fucking cryptic bitch thinks she knows better than a logician. Dealt with her kind before.¡±

    Elpida stepped over to the water trough and drank some of the cold liquid from cupped hands. It tasted brackish and stale, but it quenched her thirst.

    She said, ¡°You don¡¯t seem surprised that I came back from the dead.¡±

    Kagami didn¡¯t look around from the slit window. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear the Christ joke? Fuck, you probably don¡¯t even have Christianity.¡± She laughed, bitter. ¡°I¡¯m treating you like some Anglo-Rim visitor, some barbarian cunt trying to argue us out of dropping a rod on your stupid head. What do you believe in, huh? The eightfold path? Kami and spirits? Ganesh and all that? Or did the republic win, are you all good little atheists in the Pangaea Proxima future?¡±

    ¡°I believe in Telokopolis,¡± Elpida said.

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Great.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not religious. Some in Telokopolis are. We¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop. Please. I don¡¯t actually want the cultural exchange spiel. I was shitting on you.¡±

    ¡°Kagami, are you alright?¡±

    Kagami looked around from the window again. Her lower lip was shaking. Her eyes were tight. ¡°You and I both understand just how fucked this all is. I envy the fucking paleo and the bionic monster back there, I really do. I even envy Vicky. Poor fucking pre-contraction throwback. I¡¯m not surprised you¡¯re on your feet, no. You know why? Because we¡¯re made of nanomachines. We¡¯re not life. I¡¯ve seen nanotech pushed past all legal and sane limits, and we¡¯re way past that. I¡¯ve seen the abominations it can create, the kind of things that can¡¯t die properly. Death would be a mercy. I¡¯ll bet killing any one of us would be extremely hard. And you know what? That¡¯s a bad thing. That¡¯s a very fucking bad thing.¡±

    ¡°Kagami, thank you for helping me kill the Silico. I only knew where to hit it because you told me the locations of the reactors. You did that. You did well. Thank you.¡±

    Kagami shook her head. ¡°What difference does it make?¡±

    ¡°It kept us alive.¡±

    ¡°For how long? In what kind of state? The weird little nun was right, this is a kind of hell.¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath. Her ribs and back burned with skin regrowth. Her heart spasmed and made her cough. ¡°That¡¯s up to us. And Telokopolis is out there. I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t get hurt during the fight. How are your legs doing now?¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°I can walk without tripping. They still feel wrong.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± Elpida paused, then decided. ¡°Kagami, you¡¯re unarmed. Please don¡¯t go off alone like this. Go armed, even if you¡¯re not going far.¡±

    ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± Kagami huffed. ¡°I can¡¯t shoot anything anyway. I¡¯d just turn the gun on myself if I thought it would work.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Please never do that. I understand, but please don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to give me an order?¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to?¡±

    Kagami held her gaze, then looked down at her lap.

    Elpida said: ¡°Don¡¯t shoot yourself. That¡¯s an order. Now, I can help you get back to the others, if you need a hand. Pira¡¯s going to tell us what she knows.¡±

    ¡°What she knows.¡± Kagami snorted, amused. ¡°Oh, lovely. Fucking hell. Alright, fine, give me your hand then.¡± Kagami stuck her hand out. ¡°Hips are fucking stupid. I hate this.¡±

    Elpida helped Kagami get to her feet and over to the open door. Kagami used one hand on Elpida¡¯s arm in a clumsy vice-grip, but Elpida didn¡¯t mind.

    ¡°Kagami, what was that thing which fell from the sky? It reminded me of a combat frame.¡±

    Kagami answered as they shuffled into the corridor together. ¡°Re-entry suit of some kind. Orbital deployment mech. Sloppy work, slow as a brick. Could have been floating up there for millennia. I highly doubt it¡¯s from your time, you don¡¯t even know what satellites are.¡±

    They returned to the room with the others. Pira and Vicky were sitting in the same positions as before, but Vicky had peeled off her looted coat and looked a bit more awake. Ilyusha was still sleeping, but Amina was blinking and rubbing her eyes. Pira looked up, cold and empty.

    ¡°We need to talk,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Kagami, do you want a coat for¡ª¡±

    ¡°Sitting, yes, yes, fine. Sure.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll get one,¡± Vicky said, reaching over to the bags with her good left arm.

    Elpida said, ¡°No, let me. You rest, Vicky, that¡¯s your job¡ª¡±

    Clang clang clang.

    Three knocks rang against the metal door, up the concrete steps, from the dead world outside.

 vulnus - 3.2

    Thump thump thump came a knocking at the bunker door.

    Pira surged to her feet, submachine gun in her hands. She racked the charging handle, flicked the safety off, and tucked the gun tight against her shoulder; she aimed the weapon up the short flight of stairs, at the barred metal door.

    ¡°Hold!¡± Elpida hissed. ¡°Everyone hold!¡±

    Down in the nest of coats in the corner, Amina choked out a gasp and covered her mouth. Her eyes were wide and shining with sudden tears in the dim illumination from the glow-stick. Ilyusha snorted and stirred next to her, squinting awake and working her jaw, tail scraping across the concrete floor. Kagami let go of Elpida¡¯s arm and slumped against the wall; she scrambled with her auspex gear, pulling the visor back up over her eyes.

    Vicky started to get up, cradling the skinless muscle of her reattached arm, wincing through her teeth.

    ¡°Vicky, stay down,¡± Elpida whispered. She shouldered her own submachine gun. Her heart jerked and fluttered. Her chest felt like it was full of glass. She kept coughing.

    Vicky wheezed: ¡°But I can¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stay down, your job is to rest.¡± There was no other exit from the bunker, no retreat. Elpida whispered, ¡°Kagami, can you tell us what¡¯s out there?¡±

    ¡°Shit, no I can¡¯t! It takes time to boot this up, I need time! Fuck!¡±

    Ilyusha shook her head like a wet dog, still waking up, throwing the coats off her augmented body and hopping to her feet.

    Elpida hissed: ¡°Everyone hold, hold still until Kagami¡ª¡±

    Pira raised her voice, shouting up toward the metal door: ¡°We are heavily armed and wide awake. And we¡¯re not the fresh resurrections from the tomb. Go elsewhere.¡±

    Silence. Ilyusha¡¯s claws scratched against the concrete. Amina panted through her nose. Elpida choked down another cough. Cold wind scraped across the exterior of the bunker.

    A voice called through the door: ¡°A foul wind blows, warrior. I require a redoubt. Or am I exiled for my transgressions, cast out into the wilderness with the beasts of the field?¡±

    Vicky croaked, ¡°Atyle! That¡¯s her!¡±

    ¡°Sounds like her,¡± Elpida said. Silico could imitate human speech; some kinds of higher-order combat drones were designed for such tricks. Some of the rarest kinds of Silico ¡ª the most complex and difficult ones ¡ª even seemed to understand what they were saying, sometimes. ¡°Kagami?¡±

    Kagami was frowning through her visor. ¡°Big mess of nanomachines in the shape of a person, right outside the front door. Just like us, like all the others. It¡¯s one of us. Big power signature though. Non-nuclear. Fuck, it might be her. What the fuck has she been doing all this time?¡±

    Ilyusha squawked: ¡°Crawling back!¡±

    Pira didn¡¯t move, weapon aimed at the door, sky-blue eyes flat and cold, flame-red hair tucked over one shoulder.

    ¡°Pira,¡± Elpida hissed. She coughed again. ¡°Expert opinion.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°Probably is her.¡±

    ¡°Is it safe to let her in? Is it safe to open that door?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°She may have joined another group. She may have friends we don¡¯t know about. She may be planning to kill us all to steal the nanos you took from the tomb.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted, ¡°Fucking reptile. Fuck you.¡±

    Elpida put one hand out to hold off Ilyusha. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving her out there.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°You don¡¯t even know that woman. How much do you trust her?¡±

    ¡°Nobody gets left behind. Telokopolis denies nobody. Kagami, is she alone?¡±

    Kagami craned her head to look in all directions, left and right, even up at the ceiling of the concrete bunker. ¡°Nothing else I can see.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°We¡¯re opening that door.¡±

    Pira let out a tiny sigh and jerked her gun down. She pointed at Vicky. ¡°Hold that light up.¡± Then to Elpida: ¡°I¡¯ll get the door, you cover me. Safety off. Don¡¯t hesitate.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve got your back.¡±

    They climbed the steps together. Ilyusha trailed after them, claws clicking, tail swishing, stretching sleepy muscles. The shadows lay thick at the top of the steps, even with the glow-stick held up high in the room behind them. Elpida levelled her weapon and swallowed a cough. Pira lifted the bar out of the way, turned the handle, and flung the door open.

    Beyond the door was a shallow-sided concrete basin, damp and dirty, clogged with puddles of stagnant water; the rotten city reared behind, like a row of teeth in the mouth of a skull. Far away to the right ¡ª the north? ¡ª a slow plume of black smoke was rising between the necrotic buildings. An uneven false horizon towered over it all: the graveworm, distant and still. The cloud-smothered sky brooded overhead, glowing dim red in one forgotten corner.

    Atyle stood tall and dark in her armoured coat, bare head held high, a smirk on her lips.

    The coilgun power-tank was strapped to her back, the aim-assist rig secured around her slender hips. She held the receiver in both hands ¡ª muzzle pointed at Elpida.

    ¡°Warrior!¡± she said in greeting.

    Elpida coughed. ¡°Shoot me or get inside.¡±

    Atyle¡¯s smirk widened. She awkwardly lowered the coilgun receiver and sauntered through the bunker door. Elpida realised that Atyle didn¡¯t know how to stow the receiver in the rig; the coilgun wasn¡¯t active or charged, and the rig wasn¡¯t properly situated ¡ª the straps were knotted together to keep it from falling off. Pira slammed the door shut and got the bar back in place. Atyle paraded down the steps, glanced around the bunker, and took a bow as best she could with the coilgun strapped to her back.

    Vicky laughed from down the floor: ¡°¡°Welcome back, hey!¡± Then she winced. ¡°Ow! She comes back with heavy weapons, though. Worth it.¡±

    Amina was saying, ¡°Oh, oh oh,¡± over and over again.

    Ilyusha cackled. ¡°Score!¡±

    Elpida approached Atyle. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you did this, but well done. You want a hand taking that off? I know how heavy it is.¡±

    Atyle turned narrow eyes on Elpida; she was brimming with self-satisfaction. ¡°Undress me, warrior.¡±

    Elpida took the coilgun receiver from Atyle and locked it properly to the aim-assist rig, then went behind her and supported the power-tank while Atyle untied the knots and shook the rig free. The position made Elpida¡¯s ribs scream, but she endured the pain, coughing hard until she could lower the power-tank and the rig to the concrete floor.

    Kagami was saying: ¡°It¡¯s been over twelve hours. How the hell did you survive by yourself? What were you even doing?¡±

    ¡°Waiting, mostly. With a brief period of enjoyment.¡±

    Vicky asked, ¡°Have you slept? Eaten?¡±

    ¡°No. Your arm is reattached. That is beautiful.¡±

    ¡°Ha,¡± Vicky said. ¡°I wish.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°You don¡¯t seem surprised to see me alive.¡±

    Atyle answered by making her peat-green bionic eye whirr and flex inside the socket. She looked down at Elpida¡¯s blood-crusted chest, at the holes in her grey underlayers, at the stained emergency blanket beneath the coat draped over her shoulders. ¡°I saw you through the walls, warrior. And I knew you would rise again. You have proven yourself. The gods have chosen you, and closed your wounds.¡±

    Vicky muttered, ¡°Pira did that, actually.¡±

    Kagami pulled the auspex equipment off her face. ¡°That¡¯s how you found us again, isn¡¯t it? That bionic eye. Fucking hell, I may as well be using a sextant by comparison, navigating by the fucking stars.¡±

    Atyle nodded.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Vicky croaked, ¡°thanks for coming back. Thanks for bringing the firepower, too.¡±

    Ilyusha slid up and elbowed Atyle in the ribs, grinning with all her teeth. Atyle¡¯s smug satisfaction curdled only a little when she looked down at the heavily augmented girl.

    Elpida asked, ¡°Why did you come back?¡±

    Atyle looked right at her, one eye bright and sparking, the other a ball of green bio-plastic without pupil or iris. ¡°Slayer of monsters, you are not nothing without your spear, for it was not with the spear that you landed the blow. But it is more entertaining to see you with a weapon in your hands.¡±

    Elpida laughed. Her heart jerked. She coughed.

    Pira said, sudden and sharp: ¡°How did you recover the coilgun?¡±

    Atyle got smug again. ¡°Battlefield ravens strip the dead for choice parts. I found their nest and crept inside and took what is ours. I see as midday in the dark, I see through stone and metal and flesh, I see the wave of thoughts inside the skulls of the living. I am everything I was always meant to be. This was nothing. A trifle. A pleasure.¡±

    Pira pressed. ¡°Another coherent group? And they didn¡¯t catch you? Didn¡¯t even see you?¡±

    ¡°I walk as a ghost walks.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Hell yeah. Sneaky bitch. And hey, I mean that as a compliment.¡±

    Ilyusha laughed. ¡°Biiiitch.¡± She flung herself back down next to Amina in a clatter of bionic limbs, snuggling against the younger girl. Amina seemed completely lost.

    Pira asked, ¡°Did they strip the zombie? Did they have the cyclic coilgun?¡±

    Atyle raised her eyebrows at Pira. ¡°They did take the weapon from the monster. Alas, I could not carry that as well.¡±

    Pira¡¯s eyes flicked back up the steps, to the barred metal door. ¡°How many of them are there? Where exactly? How are they armed?¡±

    Elpida placed a gentle hand on Pira¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Hey. We still need to talk. Don¡¯t go running off alone. I said you¡¯re under my protection if you stay. I mean that.¡±

    Pira blazed with a sudden frown. She spoke quick and hard: ¡°This group is too large and carrying too much dead weight to move around without being noticed, but too small, too unaugmented, and too lightly armed to present a credible deterrent. The first pack of predators will eat us alive. One revenant from beyond the graveworm line would go through us in thirty seconds. We need an edge. Portable heavy weapons are the easiest choice.¡± She jabbed a finger at the coilgun. ¡°That¡¯s a start, but it¡¯s not good enough. We want that cyclic coilgun before somebody attaches it to themselves or it gets traded away.¡± She paused. ¡°That, or somebody is going to have to drink all the nanos and accept the consequences.¡±

    Elpida nodded. This didn¡¯t sound like a ploy to leave the rest of them behind; this was Pira trying to help. Elpida said, ¡°Atyle, did that group look like they were going to move any time soon?¡±

    Atyle shrugged.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Pira said, ¡°The graveworm is still post-partum, nobody¡¯s going to be moving far, but things can shift quickly in the period after opening a tomb. They move, we lose them, we lose the gun.¡±

    Atyle snorted delicately: ¡°I lose nothing.¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°Yeah, I bet you don¡¯t ¡ª you can¡¯t. Not with that eye.¡±

    Atyle smirked. ¡°Jealous, scribe?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Kagami grunted.

    But Elpida was more interested in Pira. ¡°Post-partum,¡± she echoed.

    Vicky added from down on the floor: ¡°This shit is too weird for me right now.¡±

    Pira sighed. ¡°The period after restocking a tomb. It¡¯s complicated. Explaining will take time.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Pira, tell us what you know first, then we¡¯ll go get the cyclic coilgun. Please, don¡¯t risk leaving us in the dark.¡±

    Pira stared back with eyes like the sky over the green. Then she pulled away and returned to her spot. She sat down, folded her arms, and closed her eyes. ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t make me repeat myself.¡±

    Elpida assisted Kagami with sitting down on a folded coat; the petite, doll-like girl was more capable of manipulating the knees and hip-joints of her augmetic legs now, but she still hissed and winced with pain whenever she had to push against her range of motion. Amina burrowed back down in her nest, big eyes staring out at everybody else with barely suppressed fear. Elpida showed Atyle to the cistern with the brackish water, at the other end of the bunker. Ilyusha bounced back up to her claws and followed, clicking across the concrete and through the cloying darkness. Atyle drank from her own cupped hands, uncaring of the stagnant taste.

    Ilyusha stared up at Elpida, waiting. Her tail was wagging.

    Elpida said: ¡°You don¡¯t seem surprised to see me alive, either. You¡¯ve seen this happen before, haven¡¯t you? Many times?¡±

    Ilyusha nodded, hissing a laugh through her teeth.

    Elpida said, ¡°Ilyusha¡ª¡± Then she stopped.

    Earlier, Vicky had called Ilyusha ¡®Illy¡¯, but Elpida wasn¡¯t certain if she could do that. Nicknames had been for the cadre. The cadre was gone, Howl was gone, they were all gone. But she had promised inside her own mind that she would praise Ilyusha. Her throat grew thick. She coughed as her heart spasmed.

    ¡°Ilyusha,¡± she tried again. ¡°Vicky called you Illy. May I¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha nodded. ¡°Mm!¡±

    ¡°Illy, then. Illy, you did really well back there, with the Silico ¡ª with the zombie. And before, with the retreat from the tomb. You did great work. Thank you for covering my back; we wouldn¡¯t have survived without you. I owe you. Thank you.¡±

    Elpida reached down and squeezed Ilyusha¡¯s shoulder, where black-red bionic met pale flesh. Ilyusha laughed, happy and grinning, and bumped her head against Elpida¡¯s forearm. Her tail tapped on the concrete floor. One red-clawed bionic hand closed around Elpida¡¯s flesh, the claws naked and sharp but not cutting through clothing or skin. Ilyusha tightened her grip just enough to scrape ¡ª then she let go. She was bouncing on her clawed feet.

    Elpida¡¯s heart ached. Too much like Howl, though Howl would never have reciprocated the physical in front of another person; Atyle watched the exchange without comment. Elpida had to swallow another cough.

    ¡°How¡¯s your wound?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Gone!¡± Ilyusha barked. ¡°Blue shit¡¯s good, yeah? How¡¯s yours? Lots!¡±

    ¡°Painful,¡± Elpida said. ¡°But I¡¯ll live.¡±

    Ilyusha laughed. ¡°Ha!¡±

    They returned to the others. Vicky had been in the middle of saying something to Kagami, but she trailed off. Atyle took a corner for herself, sitting cross-legged and straight backed on a spare coat, a subtle smile on her darkly sharp face. She looked untouched by her lonely mission. Ilyusha burrowed back into the nest she shared with Amina. Elpida did not try to sit back down on the coats where she had lain while dead; she wasn¡¯t sure if she would be able to stand back up again. Her chest felt like it was made of bone shards and hot ashes. Her back still felt cold whenever she inhaled. She leaned against a wall instead, coughing into her hand.

    Amina was staring at Elpida, eyes wide in her little brown face. Elpida smiled back and said, ¡°I¡¯m alive. It¡¯s okay.¡±

    Vicky spoke gently through her own pain. ¡°Hey, Amina, honey, it¡¯s fine. Elpida¡¯s all better. She died, but she¡¯s back again. Not so different to what happened to us up in the tomb, right?¡±

    Amina murmured, ¡°What was it like?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Being dead?¡± Amina nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t remember anything. I¡¯m sorry, Amina. Maybe I wasn¡¯t really dead.¡±

    Amina said, ¡°You were. You were cold.¡±

    Pira was still sitting against the wall, eyes closed, arms folded. Elpida said her name. ¡°Pira?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Tell us everything you know.¡±

    Pira was silent for a moment, then: ¡°If I do that, we¡¯ll be here until the graveworm starts moving.¡±

    Kagami tutted. ¡°What does that even mean? What does it serve you, being such a cryptic bitch? Do you get off on this? Are we being hazed?¡±

    Pira opened her eyes, dispassionate and distant. ¡°It means I¡¯ve done this for so long that I don¡¯t know where to start. And I don¡¯t have any real answers. What do you want to know?¡±

    Elpida shared a look with the others; she wanted to let them go first, establish a baseline, hold her own questions in reserve for the moments Pira seemed most open. Vicky was frowning, chewing her lip, cradling her skinless arm in her lap. Kagami looked angry and offended. Atyle seemed like she didn¡¯t really care, watching the moment unfold with detached dignity, her bionic eye glinting in the blue glow-stick light. Amina was bewildered. Ilyusha just snuggled down next to the younger girl; her naked red claws curled against the cold concrete floor.

    Kagami huffed. ¡°We all saw the satellite pictures down in the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber. And by the way, fuck you for pointing us toward that thing. A massive AI substrate enclosure, really? Thank you for the total lack of fucking warning. If you hadn¡¯t come back for us out there I would have assumed you were trying to get us all killed, you insufferable cunt.¡±

    Elpida put out a hand. ¡°Hey, Kagami. Cool down.¡±

    Kagami threw up her hands. ¡°Yes. Fine. I¡¯m just getting us all on the same page. We saw the satellite pictures. Me, her, and her.¡± Kagami indicated herself, Elpida, and Vicky. ¡°We understand what we saw. These two don¡¯t.¡± She pointed at Amina and Atyle. Then at Ilyusha. ¡°Her I have no fucking idea. No offence, you ¡­ whatever you are.¡±

    Ilyusha cackled. ¡°Ilyusha!¡±

    Pira listened, but said nothing.

    ¡°So,¡± Kagami spat. ¡°When is this? What¡¯s the date?¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°I have no idea. Late.¡±

    Vicky laughed, but there was no humour in it. ¡°Late. Right.¡±

    Kagami took another shot. ¡°When are you from? What era? What year, by your calendar?¡±

    Pira blinked. ¡°A while before all this.¡±

    Kagami barked a laugh. ¡°That could mean anything. We¡¯re all from before this. What is going on, hmm? Why were we brought back from the fucking dead? Because I remember dying. I think we all do.¡± She glanced around the bunker. Elpida nodded. Vicky took an unstable breath. Amina whimpered. ¡°What¡¯s doing this to us? And why?¡±

    Atyle said, ¡°The gods do not explain themselves to mortals.¡±

    ¡°Pah!¡± Kagami spat.

    Pira glanced sidelong at Atyle. ¡°That¡¯s as good an answer as any.¡±

    Kagami swallowed, blinking rapidly. ¡°You¡¯re joking. You have to know something. There has to be a reason for this. Why are we here? What for? What is in command of all this?¡±

    Pira just stared.

    Kagami went on, breathing too hard: ¡°Alright. Some runaway AI process is doing this. There¡¯s no purpose. No meaning. None of this means anything. You just exist. We¡¯re all here just to exist. Great. How the fuck are we being resurrected, huh? How is this madness bringing back cave-people?¡± She waved a wave toward Atyle. ¡°Explain that!¡±

    Elpida spoke up before Kagami could panic further. ¡°Pira, how long have you been doing this for? How many times have you been resurrected?¡±

    Pira blinked slowly. ¡°Do you have anything to draw with?¡±

    They did; Ilyusha had taken several sticks of camo paint from the tomb armoury: green, brown, grey, black. Pira accepted a stick of black, then stood up and started drawing on the concrete wall. Vicky held the glow-stick up higher. ¡°May as well crack another,¡± said Pira. Vicky did, doubling the sickly blue light lying still and soft over Pira¡¯s back as she worked.

    ¡°This is what I know,¡± said Pira. ¡°There are two distinct systems in operation. One system is comprised of the tombs and the graveworms.¡±

    She stepped to the side so the others could see the drawing on the wall: it was a very rough version of the map they¡¯d seen down in the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber. The world ¡ª a single landmass ¡ª was represented by a lumpy circle, gnarled at the bottom. Pira had separated the landmass roughly down the middle with a dotted line, and labelled the right half as ¡®city¡¯. Several tiny stepped pyramids were dotted throughout the city: the tombs. A number of wiggly lines were labelled ¡®worms¡¯. Three tall triangles sat at equidistant points within the city, forming a larger triangle; each of these was labelled ¡®tower¡¯. A single massive curve of black on the left of the map ¡ª to the west ¡ª indicated something beyond the city; Pira had labelled this as ¡®ring segment¡¯.

    ¡°Oh shit,¡± Vicky croaked. ¡°Names and all. Good sign or bad? Heh. Uh, poor joke. Sorry.¡±

    Ilyusha laughed. ¡°Worm¡¯s too small!¡±

    Kagami muttered, ¡°Yes, considering what we saw earlier. That thing is the size of a mountain. Worms? Plural?¡±

    Pira nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Elpida asked, ¡°How many graveworms? How many tombs?¡±

    Pira glanced back at her rough map. When she spoke, her voice was dead and flat. ¡°I know of sixty two tombs across the east of the continent ¡ª in the city ¡ª but I stopped counting. Graveworms, I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s hard to tell. More than two. A dozen. Maybe. The graveworms move on circuits between the tombs. A worm reaches a tomb, restocks it with nanomachines, then the tomb spits out more of us.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Kagami said. ¡°Why! Why us, specifically?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Pira said. Kagami shook her head.

    ¡°But what¡¯s the graveworm?¡± Vicky asked, frowning. ¡°The gravekeeper, that was an AI, right? Is the worm the same?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Pira said. ¡°The gravekeepers run the resurrection process. The worms restock. I don¡¯t know why. I don¡¯t know what the purpose is. I don¡¯t know. Anybody who tells you they know ¡­ ¡± Pira trailed off, jaw tight. She swallowed. ¡°Nobody knows. Not for sure.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Why do you call them ¡®graveworms¡¯? Odd word choice is all.¡±

    ¡°I picked it up from somebody else, a long time ago.¡±

    Elpida asked, ¡°What¡¯s inside the graveworms?¡±

    Pira stared at her, through her, then blinked. ¡°The graveworms are giant nanomachine forges. They produce raw blue in vast quantities. It takes a lot to resurrect one of us from scratch, in the tombs: somewhere over a million gallons of the stuff per revenant.¡± She shook her head. ¡°But you can¡¯t get inside them. You can¡¯t get anywhere near them. Here.¡±

    She turned back to the wall and drew a second diagram: the graveworm seen from above, represented by a pair of wiggly lines joined at one end, with a blank circle for a head. Then she added two concentric rings around the worm. She labelled the space closest to the worm as ¡®danger¡¯, the middle area as ¡®safe zone¡¯, and the area beyond both rings as ¡®wild¡¯. Then she tapped the innermost ring, closest to the worm.

    ¡°Too close to a graveworm and you run into the worm guardians, the machinery it maintains to protect itself.¡± She nodded at the coilgun. ¡°We could probably kill one with that, but there¡¯s always a lot of them. If we ever seem like we¡¯re getting the upper hand, the graveworm can escalate. It can manufacture infinite guardians for itself. We can¡¯t.¡± Pira tapped the area outside the rings. ¡°Too far from the worm, that¡¯s wilderness. That¡¯s where the zombies wander. The nano-shit and the necromancer leftovers, things like the zombie back at the tomb. Things you wouldn¡¯t believe. But the graveworm¡¯s defences means they never come too close.¡± Then she tapped the space between the two rings, the ¡®safe zone¡¯. ¡°This is where we ¡ª revenants, people from the tombs ¡ª this is where we¡¯re relatively safe. In the shadow of a graveworm. But not from each other.¡±

    Kagami started laughing, sad, slow, pained. ¡°You¡¯re joking? You¡¯re joking. What is this? What is this bullshit?¡±

    Vicky swallowed. ¡°Like extremophiles around a hydrothermal vent. A goldilocks zone.¡±

    Pira nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that comparison before.¡±

    Amina was saying in a tiny voice: ¡°I don¡¯t understand. I don¡¯t understand. I-I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t ¡­ ¡±

    Ilyusha whispered something directly into Amina¡¯s ear. Amina swallowed and stared at Ilyusha. The heavily augmented girl just laughed and nodded back. Atyle was taking all this in with serene detachment; perhaps she already knew.

    Kagami said, ¡°You can¡¯t venture away from one of these nanomachine sludge monsters? You live around while it moves? What do you do, build fucking shanty towns?¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°Only the most heavily augmented have any chance of surviving beyond the graveworm. That zombie, earlier? That was nothing.¡±

    Elpida muttered, ¡°Silico drone. I agree.¡±

    Pira went on, ¡°Normally a creature like that wouldn¡¯t come so close to a graveworm. That¡¯s why everybody was surprised. Something drew it in close, made it take the risk. If we hadn¡¯t killed it, worm guardians would probably have responded in an hour or two. Too late for us.¡±

    Elpida was struggling to absorb this information. She had no idea what a hydrothermal vent was, but she could see the logic. Pira¡¯s diagram on the wall was so simple, so straightforward, though the elements it described were as big as mountains; all these resurrected human beings, crammed into a narrow strip of life around a giant machine. All the genetic engineers of Telokopolis could never have prepared her for this. But Old Lady Nunnus had done a good job of making Elpida flexible. And her cadre had kept her focused on what really mattered. Her mind hungered for more information; she could tell this was not yet a complete picture.

    ¡°How wide is that safe zone?¡± she asked.

    Pira said, ¡°About a mile. The edges are fuzzy, not exact.¡±

    ¡°How often does a graveworm move? How fast?¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°It depends. Sometimes they don¡¯t move for days, or weeks, or longer. I knew one which stayed in place for six years. Heard tell of another which didn¡¯t move for five decades. Mostly it¡¯s days. Sometimes hours. As for how fast, not much. They stop and start. There¡¯s time for sleep and rest.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°That sounds designed. There¡¯s a mind behind this.¡±

    Pira answered without looking at her. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Elpida kept going, pressing for useful intel. ¡°How many of us are there? People from the tomb, revenants?¡±

    Pira said, ¡°Around this worm, considering the size of it, maybe a couple of thousand.¡±

    Vicky said, voice shaking, staring at the black drawings on the wall: ¡°This is it? This the entire world now? Giant machines and the undead crawling around their feet? That¡¯s it? There¡¯s nothing else out there?¡± She was hunched forward slightly, cradling her wounded arm, breathing too fast.

    Elpida said, ¡°Vicky, it¡¯s okay. Vicky?¡±

    Pira sighed and closed her eyes briefly. ¡°There¡¯s plenty out there.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Vicky demanded. ¡°What, then?!¡±

    ¡°Zombies. There is nothing left alive, not in the traditional meaning of ¡®alive¡¯. Even the moss and lichen are nanomachine based. Everything is dead.¡± Pira sighed. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ sorry.¡±

    Vicky laughed a laugh that was more like a sob, wincing in pain. ¡°That¡¯s it? That¡¯s the world. Why was everyone fighting at the tomb, then? Why aren¡¯t we all banded together? What are we doing alone in this bunker?¡±

    Amina said, ¡°We¡¯re in hell. I told you. It¡¯s hell.¡±

    Elpida raised her voice, though it made her lungs hurt: ¡°We¡¯re not in hell. Pira, something you said earlier has stuck in my mind. You said ¡®One revenant from beyond the graveworm line would go through us in thirty seconds.¡¯¡±

    Pira held her gaze, cold and exhausted.

    Elpida explained. ¡°You¡¯ve consistently used the word revenant to describe us, and only us. Everything else is zombies. How does one of us come from beyond the graveworm safe zone? You said only the most heavily augmented have any chance of surviving out there. Are there people out there, like us?¡±

    Pira said nothing.

    Vicky said, ¡°Her story¡¯s gotten mixed up. Can¡¯t keep it straight, can you?¡±

    Kagami hissed, ¡°Wait. Back up. How do you know what the giant worm-construct makes if you can¡¯t get inside?¡±

    ¡°Deductive reasoning,¡± Pira said. ¡°They restock the tombs, it¡¯s the only way. And the ambient nanomachine levels in the air are higher around the graveworm. It¡¯s another reason to stick close. You heal faster and you won¡¯t starve to death.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°You said we didn¡¯t need food.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t.¡±

    Ilyusha was smirking up at Pira, as if this was all silly or irrelevant. Elpida said, ¡°Illy, you¡¯ve been here before as well. Have you¡ª¡±

    A high-pitched whine cut in at the edge of Elpida¡¯s hearing; her heart lurched and fluttered; her head rang from the inside; her eyes watered; her stomach roiled. She thought she was having a medical event, another step of the nanomachine-accelerated healing process ¡ª but the others winced and blinked as well. Amina whimpered in shock. Ilyusha¡¯s claws flicked in and out. Somebody said, voice muffled: ¡°What¡ª ow¡ª what¡ª¡±

    Pira turned grey. Her eyes went wide. She didn¡¯t reach for her gun.

    Elpida said, ¡°Pira, what¡ª¡±

    Pira hissed through clenched teeth: ¡°Nobody move. No sound. Don¡¯t breathe. That¡¯s worm-guard.¡±

 vulnus - 3.3

    Elpida held her breath ¡ª then remembered she didn¡¯t need to breathe.

    The sensory assault from the worm-guard ¡ª as Pira had called it ¡ª intensified. Elpida¡¯s eyes watered; her nose ran with mucus. The tips of her fingers and toes started to go numb; her skin tingled all over, her jaw ached, and her throat tried to close up. Her heart jerked and spasmed, desperate to draw a cough from her lungs. A high-pitched ringing grew louder and louder inside her skull. White flecks danced in her peripheral vision, speckling the dim glow-stick illumination on the walls of the concrete bunker.

    Active scanning. Perhaps a high-powered electromagnetic field. Likely beyond Elpida¡¯s understanding.

    Pira stood frozen, face gone grey-pale, moving only her eyes. Vicky was gritting her teeth, her muscular frame clenched tight. Kagami¡¯s face was scrunched in a frozen scream. Down in the corner, Ilyusha clamped a black-red bionic hand over Amina¡¯s mouth and nose, smothering her hyperventilating panic. Amina struggled briefly; Ilyusha coiled around her like a snake, pinning her limbs and cradling her skull until Amina could only twitch and whimper. Atyle suffered in rapt silence, cross-legged and straight-backed, tears and snot running down her face as she stared at the wall behind Elpida.

    Clink.

    A claw tapped the concrete ¡ª on the exterior wall behind Elpida¡¯s head. Tink ¡ª tink ¡ª tink went those taps, climbing the bunker and mounting the roof in three steps. Click against the left wall, clack against the right; the worm-guard had a long reach.

    Pira¡¯s eyes followed the sound, then jumped to the barred door.

    Tap-tap, tap-tap. The worm-guard probed the door-frame ¡ª then pressed: creeeeeak complained the metal. The door flexed inward.

    Amina whined in Ilyusha¡¯s grip. Kagami swallowed too loudly. Vicky breathed an inaudible curse.

    Elpida looked down at the coilgun through a haze of stinging tears. How quickly could she grab the receiver and power up the magnetic containment? Fast enough to shoot whatever was about to burst through that door? She flexed her numb fingers and prepared to leap.

    Creeeeak went the metal ¡ª and then stopped.

    The door stayed shut. The worm-guard lost interest. Tap-click went claws against the roof, once, twice, three times, and then the worm-guard stopped moving.

    Nerve endings quivered. Skin tingled and itched. Joints burned. Eyes watered. Seconds dragged out in perfect silence and imperfect stillness. Nobody breathed. Even Amina managed to stop whimpering. Ilyusha¡¯s face was buried in Amina¡¯s shoulder. Elpida swallowed a cough. But the worm-guard did not go away.

    Elpida moved her lips, no sound: ¡°Pira. Pira.¡±

    Pira looked. Elpida indicated the coilgun with a flicker of her eyes. Pira shook her head by less than an inch.

    Elpida counted the seconds: sixty, one-twenty, one-eighty, and still the worm-guard did not move on. Vicky was shaking with muscle tension, eyes screwed shut. Kagami looked like she was about to suffer a full-blown panic attack, face completely drained of colour, pupils dilated, mouth hanging open, skin caked with sweat, staring upward at the roof of the bunker. Amina had gone limp and dead-eyed in Ilyusha¡¯s grip. Ilyusha seemed almost the same ¡ª slack and shut down.

    Elpida mouthed again: ¡°Pira. We can¡¯t stay like this forever.¡±

    Pira was drenched with sweat as well. She whispered just loud enough to carry, ¡°It¡¯s not moving. It should be moving. This isn¡¯t normal.¡±

    ¡°Coilgun.¡±

    Pira shook her head again. ¡°Don¡¯t touch the gun.¡±

    Elpida looked at the concrete ceiling and whispered: ¡°Graveworm?¡±

    No reply.

    Pira whispered, ¡°Yes, worm-guard. Our only chance is to stay beneath its threat targeting threshold. Do not touch the coil¡ª¡±

    Dark red light suddenly stabbed through the half-open door to the bunker¡¯s tiny corridor; a flicker-wash of active scanning equipment moving over the room at the other end. The worm-guard had entered the bunker through the open slit-window in the other room, the one Kagami had been looking through earlier.

    Elpida saw a mass of pale tendrils fill the corridor, rushing toward them.

    She dived for the coilgun.

    Rrrrrrr ¡ª peng!

    A deafening noise ripped through the air and the bunker walls alike: engine-discharge, electric crackle, and cannon, all in one.

    Pira stumbled and winced. Kagami cried out and covered her ears. Vicky grunted, sagging. Amina screamed into Ilyusha¡¯s hand, and Ilyusha hissed and slapped the wall with her tail. Even Atyle bowed her head in pain.

    And Elpida came up with the coilgun receiver. She thumbed the power-tank activation and aimed at the half-open door ¡ª but the pale tendrils were gone, whipped away in an instant, followed a split-second later by a rapid tink-tink-tink-tink of the departing worm-guard.

    The sensory assault lifted. Elpida coughed hard. Her chest and heart ached and burned; the dive had cost her. She killed the coilgun power and gently placed the receiver on the floor, but she couldn¡¯t stand up yet. Her head was ringing, her half-closed wounds were screaming, and her vision was wavering.

    Pira took several slow, deep, deliberate breaths. Ilyusha uncoiled from around Amina. The younger girl was crying softly as she hugged her knees to her chest.

    Kagami panted: ¡°What¡ª the fuck¡ª¡±

    ¡°I told you,¡± Pira said. ¡°Worm-guard.¡±

    ¡°No, what¡ª¡±

    ¡°Somebody shot it.¡± Pira pulled herself upright and wiped tears and mucus on her sleeve. ¡°Long range, high-powered, enough to classify as a threat. That sound we heard, that was the worm-guard¡¯s anti-ballistic countermeasures.¡±

    Elpida pushed herself up to her feet. She coughed blood into a hand. ¡°Whoever it was just saved us.¡±

    ¡°By accident,¡± said Pira. ¡°Lone worm-guard, this far out, that¡¯s a lot of nanomachines. If you can ingest them.¡±

    Kagami snapped, ¡°No! No, I mean what the fuck was I looking at!? What the fuck was that!? That wasn¡¯t biological or mechanical or anywhere in between.¡± She pulled the auspex visor off her face and waved it in the air. ¡°This was throwing up errors like I was staring into a fucking quasar. What was that!?¡±

    Vicky made a pathetic attempt at a laugh. ¡°Ow. Said it before, didn¡¯t I? Sufficiently advanced technology, indistinguishable from magic. We just got buzzed by a dragon.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°I told you. Worm-guard.¡±

    Atyle breathed as if coming down from an orgasm. ¡°The machinery of the gods.¡±

    Elpida swallowed another cough. She tasted blood. ¡°Pira, are we safe now? Do we need to move?¡±

    Pira answered: ¡°We¡¯re never safe. But moving would be worse. This group won¡¯t have any chance in the open, not as we are now.¡±

    ¡°The worm-guard won¡¯t come back?¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°No reason to.¡±

    Kagami spat: ¡°No reason?! That thing was hunting us! It crouched up there like it was fucking playing¡ª¡±

    Pira spoke over her, calm and cold. ¡°It knew we were here before it arrived. We were not hiding from it. If it wanted to, it could have cut the roof off and fished us out, or cooked us through the walls without damaging the concrete. We stayed below the threat acquisition threshold, that¡¯s all.¡± She nodded at the coilgun. ¡°If it does return, grab that, aim somewhere, and pray. But I¡¯ll be gone.¡±

    Kagami hissed in frustration. She slapped her auspex visor into her lap.

    Elpida said, ¡°Everyone take a moment. Catch your breath. That was stressful and frightening, but we¡¯re safe now. Vicky, are you okay?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Vicky croaked. She laughed once, then winced, reaching toward the exposed red muscle and meat of her reattached arm. She weakly pulled the looted coat a little tighter over her shoulders. ¡°I mean, yeah. I guess. I¡¯m not hurt. That just sucked.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Ilyusha? Amina?¡±

    Amina was crying, face buried in her knees, half-burrowed beneath the spare coats she¡¯d been sleeping in. Ilyusha was leaning gently against her side. The heavily augmented girl looked drained and withdrawn; the fire had gone out of her lead-grey eyes. Her tail lay against the floor, unmoving. She gave Elpida a limp thumbs-up.

    ¡°Good job comforting her,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Amina? Amina, we¡¯re going to be safe now. We¡¯re safe now.¡±

    Amina whined into her knees: ¡°No, we¡¯re not.¡±

    Everyone took a while to recover their composure. Kagami stewed in silence, chewing on a fingernail. Elpida paced to the stairs and back, testing her heart and chest muscles. Pira closed her eyes in silent meditation. Atyle just wiped her face, none the worse for wear.

    After a moment, Elpida realised that Vicky was watching her. Elpida stopped pacing and stared back. She knew what was coming. She took a deep breath, coughed, and let it happen; if none of the others had spoken up, she would have said it herself.

    Vicky said, slowly: ¡°Pira, you mentioned that wasn¡¯t normal behaviour? From the ¡®worm-guard¡¯, I mean?¡±

    Pira opened her eyes. She glanced at the diagram she¡¯d drawn on the wall, with the two circles around a graveworm. ¡°We¡¯re firmly in the safe zone. Worm-guard don¡¯t come out this far unless they¡¯ve picked up a threat. They don¡¯t hunt us, not unless we¡¯re threatening them or getting too close to the graveworm.¡±

    Kagami pointed at Atyle. ¡°Did she lead it back to us?¡±

    Atyle shot Kagami a stony look.

    Pira shook her head. ¡°No. She was in the open for a long time. It would have caught her.¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°It would not.¡±

    Vicky swallowed and said, ¡°The logical conclusion is that it was after us. Specifically, I mean.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°No reason to. We¡¯re not important.¡±

    But Vicky and Kagami both looked at Elpida. So did Atyle. Pira followed their combined gazes. Ilyusha pulled a sneer and looked at the floor.

    Vicky said, ¡°Sorry Elpi. But you did talk to the thing.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°You did, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Pira frowned, confused rather than hostile. ¡°You did what?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I spoke with the graveworm. More accurately, it spoke to me, and I responded.¡±

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Pira¡¯s stare was unreadable, but open. ¡°Explain.¡±

    ¡°Down in the tomb, we entered the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber. The interface ¡ª the corpse ¡ª it spoke to us, but it was speaking in riddles.¡±

    ¡°Poetry,¡± said Atyle.

    Kagami snorted. ¡°AI nonsense. It wasn¡¯t speaking, not really. Just regurgitating. May as well have a conversation with a linear algebra equation.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°Yes, I¡¯m familiar with that. Elpida, go on.¡±

    ¡°While the gravekeeper was speaking, a second voice spoke over it. But only to me. I have a brain implant called a neural lace.¡± Elpida tapped the back of her neck and felt once again the strange absence of the socket. ¡°It¡¯s meant to be paired with a mind-machine interface slot, but when we were resurrected, that was ¡­ missing. The neural lace is for direct machine communication, and mind-to-mind communication across a private noosphere. I don¡¯t understand how, but something sent a broadcast directly into my neural lace. This voice heavily implied itself to be the graveworm.¡±

    Pira looked around at the others. Kagami and Vicky both nodded. Kagami added: ¡°She was speaking to a voice we couldn¡¯t hear. That much is accurate.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°She didn¡¯t hide it or anything. Elpi, really, no offence.¡±

    ¡°None taken,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡±

    ¡°You,¡± Pira said, nodding to Atyle. ¡°Your eye, it¡¯s high-spec enough for flesh-work. Does Elpida¡ª¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°A metal spider cradling her head and spine, yes. She speaks truth.¡±

    Elpida waited. The cross-examination didn¡¯t offend her. The stakes were too high. Pira addressed her again: ¡°What did it say?¡±

    ¡°It seemed amused,¡± Elpida explained. ¡°It made comments which implied it was watching our progress through the tomb. It joked about acting as my ¡®mission control¡¯. It was surprised I could hear it talking; I think it wasn¡¯t broadcasting on purpose, just speaking to itself, at first. But then it was disappointed that I wasn¡¯t somebody else, somebody specific, as if it was looking for a particular person. It recognised Telokopolis ¡ª the name of my city. Then it seemed confused. Then stopped. It spoke again when we exited the tomb, with a warning about the Silico ¡ª the zombie. Then when the Silico arrived, the graveworm seemed resigned. It hasn¡¯t spoken to me again.¡±

    But Howl did, didn¡¯t she? Elpida kept that fact to herself; that was just brain chemistry, yearning for love on the verge of death.

    Pira looked Elpida up and down.

    Kagami snorted. ¡°You fucking called that thing after us.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Maybe I did.¡±

    Commander, you doom us all, she thought. Same as with the cadre. If Kagami was right, Elpida should walk out of that door and into the dead city, alone, right then; she should have been left for dead, for the scavengers, for the ¡®black rain¡¯ of oblivion once again. If she was calling Silico monsters down on her comrades then she was a liability. She was no use at all. She was death for her sisters and comrades and cadre, all over again.

    Kagami blinked at her. ¡°I-I didn¡¯t mean ¡­ I ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°It¡¯s okay. You may be right.¡±

    Pira sighed sharply. ¡°I already explained. If that worm-guard wanted to kill us, we would be dead.¡±

    Vicky croaked, ¡°You don¡¯t think it was protecting us, do you? Protecting Elpi?¡±

    An uncomfortable look circled the bunker room. Ilyusha finally raised her eyes from the floor; she was grinning at that. Her tail stood up, waving slowly.

    Atyle said, ¡°Favoured of the gods.¡±

    Vicky let out an uncomfortable, forced laugh. ¡°Friends in high places.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°We have no idea what was happening. And the graveworm hasn¡¯t spoken to me again. Pira, you¡¯ve never heard of somebody communicating with a graveworm before?¡±

    Pira stared at Elpida for a very long moment, her eyes like lightning-washed skies in her pale, freckled face. Her flame-red hair was too dark in the dim light from the glow-sticks in Vicky¡¯s lap. Elpida could read her without too much difficulty: Pira was trying to decide if Elpida could be trusted.

    ¡°No,¡± Pira said. ¡°Never.¡± She glanced at Ilyusha too; the heavily augmented girl just shrugged.

    ¡°Have you ever met another person with a neural lace?¡± Elpida asked. Pira shook her head. Elpida¡¯s heart lurched. She coughed. ¡°Anybody with my phenotype? White hair, copper-brown skin? Wouldn¡¯t be as tall as me, different facial structures, not true albinism, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Pira shook her head. Then she added: ¡°But I don¡¯t know everything.¡±

    Elpida forced herself to contain the disappointment. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°Hope.¡±

    Pira sighed. ¡°Hope is a dangerous thing, here. Your world is gone and everyone you knew is dead. The chances of running into somebody from your own time period is almost nil. The quicker you accept that, the easier it will go for you.¡±

    Elpida forced herself to smile. ¡°Thank you all the same. Pira, do you think that really was the graveworm, speaking to me?¡±

    Pira said nothing. But her face was not quite as closed as before.

    Kagami said, lemon-sharp: ¡°Before we get distracted by morose philosophy or whining about the hopelessness of existence, Pira, you were explaining this absolute bullshit to us.¡± She gestured at the map and the diagram on the wall. ¡°And you were avoiding a question. Or am I the only one who remembers?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°No, I recall as well.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Oh, yeah, right. Beyond the graveworm line, right?¡±

    Pira just stared at Elpida, as if still trying to make a decision. Then she glanced at the others, one by one ¡ª lingering perhaps a little longer on Atyle. Then she let out a long sigh and tapped the graveworm diagram again, on the worm itself.

    ¡°Everyone wants to get inside a graveworm.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Elpida asked.

    ¡°I already told you why. The graveworms are giant nanomachine forges. With enough nanomachines, you can do anything.¡±

    Ilyusha barked. ¡°Ha! Sure can.¡±

    ¡°The more nanos you consume, the more you can modify your body.¡± She nodded briefly toward Ilyusha, toward her non-human bionic limbs, her extendible claws, and her tail, which was now wagging in the air. ¡°You can heal faster, move faster, endure more, change more. But there¡¯s only so many ways to get large quantities of nanomachines.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Like eating each other.¡±

    ¡°Cannibalism is popular, yes. Especially on fresh resurrections. But we¡¯re not the only fresh source each time a tomb opens. There¡¯s the raw blue we took from the armoury, but also there¡¯s machinery in the top floors of each tomb, manufacturing bionics, replacements, additions, specialised substances, experiments. That¡¯s why everyone fights to be first in, to claim the resources and get back out again.¡±

    Vicky scoffed. ¡°Fucking hell. No solidarity? No banding together? This is it? The war of all against all. Barbarism.¡±

    ¡°Dog eat dog,¡± Kagami spat.

    Ilyusha snorted: ¡°Reptiles.¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°You can just stick close to the worm, absorb the ambient. You¡¯ll survive, but it¡¯ll never get you far enough.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Far enough to leave. Am I correct?¡±

    ¡°Beyond the graveworm line,¡± Vicky said. ¡°Shit.¡±

    Pira stared at Elpida for another long moment, judging or deciding. Then she nodded. ¡°There are revenants who live beyond the graveworm safe zone, but not many. I already told you: only the most heavily augmented can survive out there.¡±

    Kagami waved a hand at Ilyusha. ¡°Like her?¡±

    Ilyusha cackled. ¡°Like meeee!¡±

    ¡°Not even close,¡± said Pira.

    Elpida said, ¡°I see the logic here and I don¡¯t like it.¡±

    Pira nodded. A moment of understanding passed between them.

    Elpida said, ¡°Anybody who ingests enough nanomachinery to leave the graveworm is either skilled at securing resources from the tombs, or a successful cannibal. Or both.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Pira.

    ¡°Fuck me,¡± said Vicky. ¡°Oh, fuck. Great.¡±

    Amina sobbed into her knees. Ilyusha put an arm around her shoulders. Vicky was shaking her head in horror.

    Pira said, slowly, staring at Elpida: ¡°But if you could get inside a graveworm ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida asked, ¡°Has that ever been done?¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s rumours.¡±

    Elpida already saw the logic: there would be no trek to Telokopolis ¡ª standing or ruined or dead or otherwise ¡ª while bound to the route of a graveworm. But she had spoken with the mountain-sized construct. Was Pira perhaps thinking the same thing? Elpida had no idea what Pira¡¯s agenda was, but Pira had saved her from death before knowing any of that. Perhaps they had a goal in common, perhaps Pira could be trusted. Elpida wanted to trust her.

    Kagami snorted a humourless laugh. ¡°This world is a joke. This future is a joke. Who would make this? Who would allow this to continue?¡±

    Ilyusha barked: ¡°Us!¡±

    Atyle spoke up, unconcerned. ¡°We were reborn with our flesh already blessed by the machinery of the gods.¡± She gestured toward her bionic eye. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Kagami hissed. She rapped her knuckles against one of her augmetic legs. ¡°And it¡¯s fucking perverse.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°The tombs tend to repair the parts which were missing in life. Original life. Sometimes you get reborn with your stock of nanos, too, but more often not. Permanent additions tend to stay.¡±

    Vicky said, voice quivering: ¡°Yeah. Yeah, I¡¯ve got a bionic heart, right? You said that, Atyle. Bionic heart. I died with a chest wound. That fits. It fits.¡±

    Elpida asked, ¡°What happens when a revenant dies?¡±

    Kagami snorted, ¡°Aren¡¯t you the answer to that, you zombie twice over? No offence.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°Killing one of us for real is not so easy. Destroy the brain, or remove enough biomass. With the latter, a revenant can still wait for a very long time, regrowing on ambient. But ¡­ ¡± She shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s a bad way to go insane. Better to give up.¡±

    ¡°Give up?¡± Elpida asked.

    ¡°Give up. Go back to the tombs. Make a deal.¡± She continued before Elpida could ask the obvious question: ¡°The initial resurrection, like you right now, that¡¯s free. The machines just do it, and no, I don¡¯t know why. But from then on you have to have a reason.¡± She shrugged. ¡°It seems to be different for every person who keeps coming back, but you have to give the machines a reason ¡ª the gravekeeper, or something behind the gravekeepers, it¡¯s ¡­ ¡± She trailed off, sudden and hard. ¡°It¡¯s difficult to describe what it feels like. But you have to give them a reason. You have to make a deal.¡±

    Kagami hissed: ¡°So there is an exit button. Just die and choose to stay dead. Hooray.¡±

    Elpida glanced down at her. ¡°Kagami.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright. I won¡¯t blow my brains out. Yet.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°What kind of reason?¡±

    Pira answered. ¡°Like I said, different for everyone.¡±

    ¡°Such as?¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°Looking for another person. Returning to a group. It can get very abstract.¡± She looked at Kagami. ¡°And it¡¯s not as simple as choosing to stay dead. It¡¯s not the same, when you¡¯re dead. It¡¯s not the same. You¡¯ll make the decision to come back. You will.¡±

    Pira¡¯s voice was quivering; Elpida spoke up, quickly, changing the subject. ¡°Pira, how long does it take to come back?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Months? Years?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t recommend testing it.¡± Pira crunched the words out; wrong question, Elpida decided.

    ¡°Okay. Pira, what¡ª¡±

    ¡°If you lose somebody, don¡¯t count on finding her again.¡± Pira swallowed. ¡°It¡¯ll drive you insane as sure as lying in the same place for fifty years trying to regrow your own head. Give up.¡±

    Silence fell over the little bunker room. Ilyusha scratched a claw against the concrete. Amina sobbed quietly into her knees. Kagami looked away. Pira blinked; Elpida wasn¡¯t sure if she could see tears in her eyes. Maybe it was just the dim light.

    Vicky cleared her throat, then winced with pain. ¡°Can I ask a really weird question? I mean, yeah, all of this is weird. Too weird. But hey, this is the weirdest shit so far. How is this whole thing resurrecting people from earlier in history?¡± She gestured at herself with her good hand. ¡°We had brain scanning technology. Or at least the Chinese did, not us in the GLR. But I never sat in a jack chair and had my brainwaves recorded or anything. How am I here?¡±

    Pira said, a little hoarse: ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Ilyusha went, ¡°Pfffft.¡± Then: ¡°Fuck the future. Future sucks.¡±

    Atyle said, ¡°Souls dragged from the well.¡±

    Kagami grunted. ¡°The paleo has a point. No offence, high priestess,¡± she said, dripping sarcasm. ¡°In theory ¡ª in theory ¡ª it should be possible to rotate a consciousness into view from the impression left behind in the quantum foam, based on the entire life of that consciousness. But bodies, likenesses, actual human memories? Nonsense.¡± She mimed spitting on the floor. ¡°The best you¡¯d get is quantum data, but it would be mostly noise. The technology should be impossible to build, but, pah! We¡¯re made of picomachines. Yesterday we had a conversation with an AI substrate enclosure that may as well be a man-made god. I¡¯m about ready to believe rotation theory is fully capable of accessing the foam layer and extracting more than background noise.¡±

    Everyone stared at her. Even Amina raised her tear-stained face.

    Vicky said, ¡°I think our automatic translation technology is struggling a bit.¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°Oh fuck you, womb-born.¡±

    Vicky laughed and then winced in pain. ¡°Fuck you too, spacer head.¡±

    Amina spoke up, peering over her own knees: ¡°God put our souls back. That¡¯s all. We¡¯re not meant to be here. We¡¯re meant to be dead. God hates us all. God hates me.¡±

    Ilyusha bumped her head against Amina¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Naaaaah. God¡¯s a bitch.¡± Amina did not seem comforted.

    Elpida considered the map on the wall, the tombs and the worms ¡ª and the other elements labelled in Pira¡¯s hand, the ¡®towers¡¯ and the ¡®ring segment¡¯. She said: ¡°Pira, you mentioned there¡¯s two systems in operation here. What¡¯s the other?¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Yeah. Get on with it. Before the worm-guard comes back and we have to meet up with you again in a year¡¯s time after we all get turned to paste.¡±

    Pira stared at Kagami for a moment. Not a funny joke. Then she tapped the map on the wall. ¡°The second system is the towers ¡ª there¡¯s three of them in the city ¡ª and the segment which fell from the orbital ring, out to the west, beyond the city.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. ¡°Orbital ring? Did I hear that right?¡±

    Vicky muttered, ¡°Whoa. Okay. Spacer head shit got serious.¡±

    Pira nodded. ¡°Most of it¡¯s still up there, as far as I¡¯m aware. The fallen segment has been down a long time.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°What¡¯s an orbital ring?¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°An orbital ring. Geostationary space station around the whole planet. Probably where that mech dropped from.¡± She turned back to Pira, eyes alight. ¡°When was it built? Do you know? We were trying to get a ring project under-way, but it can¡¯t be ours, that would be a hundred million years old. More! Even our systems wouldn¡¯t last that long, sadly; I¡¯m not that arrogant, Luna wasn¡¯t populated by gods. Is there a space elevator? A needle?¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Tch! Have you ever been out there? To the fallen part?¡±

    ¡°Not myself. All this is second-hand information.¡± She glanced at Elpida, as if Elpida might understand a hidden meaning. ¡°I¡¯ve never been to the towers either. The worms never go near enough to reach them. I¡¯ve tested. The only way to reach them would be to leave the graveworms behind.¡±

    Was that what Pira wanted? To leave the worms behind, to journey to one of these towers? Elpida held her gaze, but Pira didn¡¯t say it openly. Pira was watching her in return, with something in her eyes that Elpida did not recognise. Suspicion? Wariness? A kind of longing and curiosity? Elpida wanted to get her alone, talk to her alone, open her up.

    ¡°Still,¡± Kagami said. ¡°A ring. Fuck.¡±

    Pira continued. ¡°All I know is the towers and the ring ¡ª or what¡¯s left of it ¡ª are components of a global control system for the nanomachinery. Or they were, at one point.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Vicky said. ¡°How do you know this?¡±

    ¡°I said, all this is second-hand information. The worms and the tombs are an emergent system, I think. Nobody designed them. But the towers and the ring, those were made by people. The people who came just before this.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°What are the towers for? What¡¯s inside them?¡±

    Pira stared at her, burning holes in Elpida¡¯s face. ¡°You really don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°No. Why would I?¡±

    ¡°A graveworm spoke to you. And you don¡¯t know. Really, zombie?¡±

    ¡°Pira,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve told you the whole truth. What¡¯s in the towers? You want to reach them, don¡¯t you? What¡¯s in there?¡±

    Pira said, ¡°By now? Nothing. Wishful thinking. Dust and echoes.¡±

    Kagami snorted, ¡°Stop being a cryptic bitch.¡± But her tone was strained. Pira radiated hostility.

    Elpida just said, ¡°Pira?¡±

    Pira was shaking as she spoke, very slowly: ¡°If there¡¯s any of them left, that¡¯s where we¡¯ll find a necromancer.¡±

 vulnus - 3.4

    ¡°Necromancer?¡±

    Elpida echoed the word, enunciating with great care, swallowing a cough as her heart lurched.

    Pira stared back, blue eyes like an electric arc burning across molten skies, face half in shadows cast by the weak illumination from the pair of glow-sticks. She was shaking very slightly with muscle tension. Her face was hard, sweat beading on her forehead, as if waiting for Elpida to charge at her. Cold wind scraped across the roof of the bunker.

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°I recognise the word, but it means nothing to me in this context.¡±

    Pira barely breathed: ¡°Are you sure about that, zombie?¡±

    Elpida opened her hands, slowly and carefully. She held them palm-outward, away from her sides. ¡°Pira, do you need me to put my firearm on the floor?¡±

    Vicky coughed. ¡°Whoa, whoa, what? What¡¯s happening? Did I miss a step?¡±

    Kagami snorted, forcing a laugh. ¡°Our saviour suspects that little Miss Commander here is more than she appears.¡±

    Atyle spoke up too: ¡°We are all more than we appear.¡±

    Elpida maintained eye contact with Pira, and repeated: ¡°I can put my firearm on the floor if you need me to.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°Why would you do that?¡±

    ¡°Because I can tell that you¡¯re bracing for me to shoot you, or planning to shoot me first, and I have no idea why. I can put my gun down, or you can take it off me, or¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha surged to her feet.

    Throwing off the spare coats, pushing Amina clear with a yelp, slamming red-tipped claws into the concrete floor; teeth bared, hands wide, eyes burning hot-steel grey. Elegant black-and-red bionic limbs glinted darkly in the glow-stick light. Her tail whipped upward, poised for a strike, spike extended, aimed at Pira¡¯s skull.

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± she screamed. ¡°Fuck you!¡±

    Pira flinched ¡ª but she didn¡¯t reach for her weapon.

    Elpida shouted: ¡°Illy! Illy, no, please! Ilyusha, Illy, don¡¯t!¡±

    The others joined in: Vicky was croaking, ¡°Illy, Illy, it¡¯s okay¡±; Kagami was huffing and puffing curses, calling Ilyusha a primitive fool, a ¡®chem-jacked bitch¡¯, a ¡®borged-up retard¡¯; Atyle merely clicked her tongue; Amina, down on the ground at Ilyusha¡¯s feet, wrapped her short pudgy arms around one of Ilyusha¡¯s black-red bionic legs.

    Ilyusha just panted through her teeth, daring Pira to go for her gun.

    Pira looked at Ilyusha like none of this mattered. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid. I¡¯m not going to take her weapon and I¡¯m not going to shoot her. What would be the point?¡±

    Ilyusha screwed up her face in disgust. ¡°She¡¯s not a necromancer! Fuck you!¡±

    Pira said nothing. Ilyusha turned away and flung herself back down into the nest of spare coats, sulking into Amina¡¯s shoulder. The younger girl was too shocked and confused to do anything but awkwardly pat Ilyusha¡¯s back.

    ¡°Necromancer,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°Pira, what does that mean?¡±

    Vicky cleared her throat, then spoke a little too fast, ¡°Yeah, I know that word too. Or I know the meaning, it¡¯s not weird or archaic or anything. We¡¯re all speaking our own languages and the nanomachines are auto-translating, right? I know I¡¯m speaking English, to my own ears¡ª¡±

    Kagami scoffed: ¡°Fucking hell.¡±

    Vicky carried on, ¡°Or we¡¯re speaking some kind of shared polyglot, I dunno, and the nanomachines are fixing it up with some post-processing. Yeah? Right? Okay? But ¡®necromancer¡¯, the word makes sense to me. Kaga? Atyle?¡±

    Atyle echoed, ¡°Necromancer. Quite.¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°It¡¯s meaningless.¡±

    Pira was still staring at Elpida as if trying to decide between pointless resistance or acceptance of her own death ¡ª as if Elpida was the only one carrying a gun. Elpida knew that look all too well; she¡¯d seen it on the faces of Legion soldiers and Covenanter fanatics alike, directed toward her; she¡¯d seen it on the cadre¡¯s early handlers, the project men with their check-lists and protein cubes and taser-prods. She¡¯d seen it on the face of the cadre¡¯s first kill at six years old, when they¡¯d cut his hamstrings and pulled open his clean-room gear and broken his neck and eaten part of his corpse. She didn¡¯t want anybody to look at her like that. She would have preferred if Pira had tried to shoot her.

    ¡°Pira,¡± she said slowly. ¡°Whatever you think I am¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not.¡± Pira took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. The combat-ready tension went out of her shoulders. She closed her eyes and rubbed them with thumb and forefinger. Elpida relaxed too, slowly, with no sudden movements. Pira continued: ¡°You¡¯re not a necromancer. Probably.¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°Your paranoia would be a lot more relatable if you would explain yourself. I have plenty of my own questions about our oh-so-brave Commander here and her direct line to the giant fucking worm machine out there, but right now I¡¯m inclined to side with her and the¡ª¡± Kagami paused. ¡°Ilyusha over there. Elpida got us out of that fucking obscenity where we woke up, and killed the munitions cyborg. We¡¯d be dead without her. You ran off by yourself, bitch.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Kagami, thank you. But Pira¡¯s one of us, too. She came back for me.¡±

    Kagami huffed again and flapped her hands. ¡°Whatever.¡±

    Pira looked Elpida up and down, then turned back to the map she¡¯d drawn on the wall.

    ¡°¡®Necromancer¡¯ is just a word,¡± she said, low and quiet. ¡°Like ¡®zombie¡¯. It¡¯s a shorthand among the revenants, for the civilization that came before all this. For the people who did this.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Too much experimenting with nanotechnology and AI? Are we in the aftermath of a grey goo problem? Morons at the end of the tech tree? Explain.¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. We¡¯re their waste, their aftermath, their pollution.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°But you think there¡¯s some of these people left?¡±

    Pira didn¡¯t respond for a long moment. She stared at the map she¡¯d drawn on the wall in black camo paint. She touched one of the triangles labelled ¡®tower¡¯.

    Kagami snapped: ¡°How do you know any of this?¡±

    Pira turned back to them. The steel had gone out of her face. She seemed exhausted. ¡°People blame all sorts of things on the necromancers. Whenever something weird happens, or a graveworm does something unexpected, or something particularly horrible walks out of the wilds beyond the safe zone ¡ª must be a necromancer nearby. Must be a way to explain it.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Almost never is.¡±

    Kagami pressed: ¡°But how do you even know¡ª¡±

    ¡°Because rarely ¡ª very rarely ¡ª somebody meets a necromancer for real.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Have you met a necromancer?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And you think I¡¯m one of them?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been doing this for a very long time, and I¡¯ve met a necromancer once. Once. A very long time ago.¡± Pira stared at the floor next to Elpida¡¯s feet. ¡°They can disguise themselves to look like us. If you were a necromancer, you wouldn¡¯t have died fighting that zombie. You wouldn¡¯t have died at all. You wouldn¡¯t have needed raw blue to bring you back, and you wouldn¡¯t have needed me to smear it on your pulped heart muscle. You wouldn¡¯t care about me shooting you, because you would have perfect control of the nanomachines in your body ¡ª and in ours, too. You could freeze us in place, stop our hearts, turn us into sludge. Whatever you wanted.¡± She finally looked up at Elpida, her eyes gone flat. ¡°If you were a necromancer, then your body wouldn¡¯t be real, just somebody else¡¯s face and form over a compacted mass of nano-sludge. Whoever they were, they gave up being human long before they ended all biological life.¡± She let out another sigh. ¡°Or maybe you are a necromancer, and you¡¯ve decided to really commit to the illusion.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Hey now, Elpi woke up with the rest of us. We were all in that tomb together. She was right there, you saw her. We all saw her.¡±

    ¡°Did we?¡± said Pira.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I understand your suspicion. I would think the same in your position. It¡¯s only sensible caution.¡±

    ¡°You spoke to a graveworm. Necromancer or not, I don¡¯t know what you are.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a soldier of Telokopolis.¡±

    Pira nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anybody else about speaking to the graveworm. If we take on others, or become part of a larger group, or even just meet one without fighting, don¡¯t tell anybody.¡± She pointed at Vicky. ¡°She has a point. I saw you in the tomb. You got these people together and you got them out. I don¡¯t know how you did that, but you did. Fine. I don¡¯t care if you are a necromancer, role-playing as a revenant for fun. But nobody else will see it that way. You let on, you¡¯ll get a bullet in the head, and they¡¯ll burn your corpse.¡±

    Silence fell over the bunker room. Elpida took a deep breath and nodded. Vicky muttered, ¡°Fucking hell. Fuck me. Fuck all of this.¡± Kagami snorted a wordless dismissal, turning away in disgust. Atyle just closed her eyes and straightened her back. Amina and Ilyusha were absorbed in their private refuge. Pira turned away and looked at her map again.

    At length, Vicky said: ¡°Are ¡­ are the necromancers all women, too?¡±

    Pira turned back. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°All women. All the revenants, us, earlier. It was all women. Is that true for the necromancers, too?¡±

    Pira said, ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Are the revenants all women?¡±

    ¡°As far as I know.¡±

    ¡°But why?¡±

    Pira sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Vicky was shaking her head. ¡°So that¡¯s it? That¡¯s Earth now? There¡¯s no human beings left, except us?¡±

    ¡°None would survive the nanomachine atmosphere, anyway.¡±

    Kagami spat: ¡°We¡¯re not human beings! We¡¯re not even our original selves, we¡¯re copies, we¡¯re pollution. We¡¯re pure externality. Didn¡¯t you hear her?¡± She pointed at Pira. ¡°And you. Are these hypothetical bone-lords extinct, or not? You contradicted yourself, you know that?¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Pira said, ¡°Maybe. Maybe not. The few among the revenants, I think they¡¯re just leftovers. Like us. And maybe they¡¯re all gone by now.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°But you want to reach the towers, to see if there¡¯s any left?¡±

    Kagami scoffed before Pira could answer: ¡°She already said. A global control system for the nanomachinery. An off-button for this zombie shit-world.¡± She let out a high-pitched laugh, scratching along the edge of hysteria. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that the last human civilization ¡ª no, last post-human civilization, they did what? They killed the biosphere, drowned the fucking planet in nanomachines, gave birth to AI obscenities, and then ¡ª died out? They fucked off and left behind their mess?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much,¡± said Pira.

    ¡°Ha!¡± Kagami barked. Her doll-like face had gone pale. Cold sweat plastered her black hair to her forehead.

    Vicky said, ¡°Kaga, hey, cool down.¡±

    Elpida added, ¡°Kagami, look¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Kagami snapped, pointing a finger up at Elpida. ¡°You shut up for a second.¡± She addressed Pira again: ¡°How long has this been going on? This doesn¡¯t even make sense.¡± She rapped her knuckles against the concrete floor. ¡°This bunker is practically untouched. We saw skyscrapers from the window in the tomb. Skyscrapers, glass and steel, it doesn¡¯t last! This city isn¡¯t two thousand years abandoned, and it¡¯s certainly not thirty thousand years¡ª¡±

    ¡°The necromancers didn¡¯t build the city,¡± Pira said. Her voice seemed so very tired. ¡°They only built the towers. Maybe the ring. The city was here before them.¡±

    ¡°That makes even less sense!¡±

    Pira said, ¡°The air is full of nanomachines. The soil, the water, all of it.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°The city regrows.¡± Pira nodded at the door into the tiny corridor. ¡°Those corpses in the bunk-room, they¡¯re really corpses. The nanomachines regrow them, and a billion others, based on a pattern from a hundred thousand years ago. Or more. I don¡¯t know how long this has been going on.¡± Pira poked the floor with the toe of her boot. ¡°The concrete, the asphalt, the glass, the brick. All of it. It all regrows, crumbles, rots, and regrows again. If we wait here long enough, those corpses in the bunk-room will eventually stand up. But they wouldn¡¯t be human beings. They wouldn¡¯t even be like us. Just another type of zombie. Stuff rises from the nanomachine soup, but none of it is alive. There is nothing left alive.¡±

    Kagami stared in stunned silence. Vicky swallowed loudly. Amina was crying again, in wide-eyed silence.

    Elpida said, ¡°We¡¯re alive.¡±

    Pira held her gaze for a moment. ¡°That¡¯s all I know. Welcome to the end, zombie.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got more questions,¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°Y-yeah,¡± Vicky stammered. ¡°So do I.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°I¡¯m sure you do, but we¡¯re running out of time. We need protection or firepower before the graveworm starts moving. We need to get that cyclic coilgun, it¡¯s the best bet we have.¡±

    Elpida asked, ¡°How long until the graveworm moves?¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°Could be months. Could be hours. Could start in five minutes. The graveworm is still post-partum so I would estimate a few days.¡± She looked down at Atyle. ¡°You, bionic eye.¡±

    ¡°Atyle,¡± said Atyle.

    ¡°You ready?¡±

    Atyle opened her eyes. Peat-green bionic whirred and spun in one socket. ¡°You and I, mysterious stranger?¡±

    ¡°You and me,¡± Pira said. ¡°How far away is the scavenger group?¡±

    Atyle cocked her head. ¡°Two hours travel. Perhaps.¡±

    ¡°How many of them?¡±

    ¡°A dozen. Some of them are ¡­ beautifully changed. I would have asked for a closer look, but I do not wish to have my eye plucked out.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°You guide me or this doesn¡¯t happen.¡±

    Atyle got to her feet, tall and willowy in her own long black armoured coat. Pira slung her submachine gun and looked Atyle up and down. ¡°You¡¯re not armed.¡±

    Atyle showed her teeth. ¡°Is that not your purpose, warrior?¡±

    ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s go.¡± Pira met Elpida¡¯s eyes. ¡°You¡¯re not coming.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I know.¡±

    Pira blinked in surprise.

    Vicky croaked, ¡°Wait, what?¡±

    Kagami laughed, a horrible lost sound. ¡°I assumed our hero of the hour would be in high demand.¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath. Her back felt cold where the exit wounds wheezed and sucked. Her heart spasmed in her chest. She coughed. ¡°I doubt I can run while my heart is healing. You¡¯re going to rely on stealth, and I can¡¯t stop coughing. I would be a liability to you. I would be a terrible Commander if I put you two at further risk for the sake of my own vanity. That¡¯s not how we did things in¡ª¡± Telokopolis? No. ¡°In the cadre.¡± She held out her hand to Pira, and spoke words from a million years ago: ¡°Good hunting in the green, but do not stay from these doors too long. Hurry home to us, sister. Hurry home soon.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s eyes prickled with heat. Her throat tightened.

    Pira stared for a long moment, then clasped Elpida¡¯s hand. Elpida repeated the words for Atyle; the tall dark woman took Elpida¡¯s hand without pause, and gave her a smile too.

    ¡°Bar the door behind us,¡± Pira instructed. ¡°Whoever shot at the worm-guard earlier might still be watching this bunker, if the worm-guard didn¡¯t get them. Anybody knocks, power up the coilgun and shout for them to go away. Don¡¯t pretend you¡¯re not here.¡±

    Vicky asked. ¡°What if the graveworm starts to move?¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯re all dead. No sense worrying. Get some sleep.¡±

    Elpida accompanied Pira and Atyle up the short flight of concrete steps. The shadows were thicker up by the door. She readied her weapon to cover their exit, though Atyle assured them nobody was around. Elpida whispered ¡°Good luck,¡± then unbarred the door and opened it just wide enough for the pair to slip out into the red-tinted twilight of frozen black.

    Pira loped out across the empty concrete basin, moving with the ease of long practice, covering every angle with the muzzle of her submachine gun. Atyle strode on, head high, uncaring of what she could not see. Elpida cast one last look up at the towering mountain range of the graveworm in the distance. Then she shut the door and sealed herself inside.

    By unspoken agreement the others followed Pira¡¯s advice to get some rest; Elpida knew it was more from exhaustion than prudence.

    Kagami curled up on her side beneath another spare coat, with a folded sleeve as a pillow, grumbling a bitter curse under her breath. She looked tiny and fragile, facing the wall in sullen silence until her breathing grew slow and soft. Amina and Ilyusha went into the other room together for a few minutes; Elpida heard the sound of water falling from cupped hands, and Ilyusha¡¯s muffled giggle. They returned arm-in-arm and snuggled back into their corner, though Ilyusha took a moment to pat Elpida on the flank. Amina looked distant and shell-shocked.

    Vicky gave Elpida an awkward smile.

    ¡°Gonna sleep?¡± Elpida asked softly.

    ¡°May as well try,¡± Vicky croaked. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, cradling her reattached arm in her lap. ¡°Can¡¯t really lie down. You?¡±

    ¡°In a minute or two. I¡¯m going to check the other rooms first, make sure we¡¯re secure. Do you want water? I could use one of the empty nano cannisters.¡±

    ¡°Nah. Not thirsty. Thanks, Elpi.¡±

    Elpida went into the tiny corridor, alone. Her body moved automatically, taking her into the little bunk-room so she could stare at the skeletons and mattresses embedded in glistening black goo. The bones did not look like they would stand up any time soon. Then she went into the room at the end of the corridor, with the cistern of water and the open slit-window in the wall.

    She stared out of the slit for a while, at the black sky and the rotten teeth of crumbling buildings, trying to feel anything about what Pira had said, about necromancers and zombies and the aftermath of biological life. But nothing came to mind. Rest was a sensible plan. The right plan. Correct.

    Raindrops began to fall, speckling the ruins. Fat, heavy drops drummed faintly on the roof of the bunker. The rain looked black and greasy. A gunshot echoed from somewhere far away. A shout carried on the wind. The worm-guard had left no mark on the concrete. Elpida closed the metal shutter over the slit-window.

    She drank several mouthfuls of water from her own cupped hands, then looked up at the ceiling, and said: ¡°Graveworm?¡±

    No reply.

    ¡°Howl?¡±

    When Elpida returned to the main room of the little bunker, the others were asleep. Vicky¡¯s eyes were closed and her breathing was regular, her body dark and muscular against the wall. Kagami was curled up, tight and secure, shoulders small and slender. Ilyusha and Amina were burrowed down together, wrapped in each other¡¯s arms.

    Elpida attempted to lie down on the coat where she had lain as a corpse, but getting into a sitting position was difficult enough. Even with pain-blockers flooding her bloodstream, her chest felt like it was made of shattered glass. Her heart kept jerking and jumping. She had to swallow a cough ¡ª didn¡¯t want to wake the others. The thermal blanket crinkled beneath her coat every time she moved. Eventually she managed to lie on one side, facing toward Vicky.

    The morbid association did not bother her. Neither did sleeping in a room full of people; the cadre had always slept together, right from the start, in a big pile when they were younger, with more space as they got older, sometimes in twos or threes, but always in the same room. Any attempt to separate them was dangerous. Their early handlers had learned that the hard way; the cadre¡¯s own actions had turned it into official policy, though they hadn¡¯t known so at the time. Elpida had not slept alone a single night of her life, not until¡ª

    Yesterday? she thought. Yesterday was a million years ago. She¡¯d been last to leave, last out, alone in that spire-cell, yesterday.

    A strange pressure squeezed Elpida¡¯s heart. She stared at the toe of Vicky¡¯s boot. Her eyes burned.

    ¡°Howl,¡± she mouthed. ¡°Howl?¡±

    The black rain drummed static on the bunker roof. Elpida¡¯s chest tightened.

    Vicky¡¯s lips parted with a click: ¡°Is that a name?¡±

    Elpida blinked moisture out of her eyes. ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°¡®Howl¡¯,¡± Vicky whispered. ¡°You said it earlier, too, when you ¡­ came back. And in the tomb, I think. Is that a name?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t feel like expanding. Vicky didn¡¯t ask her to. Minutes passed in black static.

    Then, Vicky whispered: ¡°I can¡¯t sleep. Pain¡¯s too much. You?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got pain-blocker glands. Genetically engineered,¡± Elpida whispered back. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to sleep either.¡±

    ¡°Misery loves company.¡± Vicky puffed out a little laugh. ¡°What do you normally do when you can¡¯t sleep?¡±

    ¡°Exercise. Sparring. Sex.¡±

    Vicky blinked open her eyes and stared down at Elpida, eyebrows raised. ¡°Wow. Well. Probably can¡¯t do any of those right now. Here we are, denied the chief nourisher in life¡¯s great feast, which is ironic, on account of being undead and all.¡± She smiled painfully. ¡°You get that one? Shakespeare made it to your future?¡±

    ¡°Shakespeare?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as no, then.¡± Vicky frowned. ¡°Elpi, are you okay?¡±

    Elpida sat up on her makeshift bed. ¡°Yesterday I was in a prison cell. A million years ago. But also yesterday.¡±

    Vicky smiled. ¡°I¡¯m kinda in shock too,¡± she whispered. ¡°How can anybody sleep after all that stuff from Pira? Hey, for the record, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re a necromancer or whatever. Even if you are, I don¡¯t care. You saved us. More than once. Pira¡¯s paranoid. How long do you think she¡¯s been doing this?¡±

    ¡°A long time.¡± A lump formed in Elpida¡¯s throat. ¡°I¡¯d like to ask her that, when she and Atyle return.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vicky said. ¡°Hey, I expect you¡¯ve slept enough, anyway, right?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°We both need to heal. Is there anything I can do to help you?¡±

    Vicky shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s just the pain. I¡¯ve slept in much worse places than this. At least there¡¯s a door, and no drafts, no rats or cockroaches, or shit on the floor. I¡¯ve been homeless before, this is practically luxury compared to that.¡±

    ¡°Homeless?¡±

    ¡° ¡­ yeah? Like, homeless. Nowhere to live. Sleeping rough.¡±

    ¡°Home ¡­ less.¡± Elpida split the word into its component parts. She shook her head. ¡°The concept makes no sense to me. Maybe translation isn¡¯t working.¡±

    Vicky frowned. Elpida was surprised to see a glimmer of sudden hostility in Vicky¡¯s dark face. Vicky murmured: ¡°Oh. Right. No homeless people in your shining city on a hill, huh?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°Telokopolis is home. And it¡¯s on a plateau, not a hill. Vicky, what¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Vicky lifted her head and sat forward slightly. Her expression took on a hint of suspicion. ¡°Alright, in your Telokopolis, what happens to people who can¡¯t afford their homes anymore?¡±

    ¡°They ¡­ find another one?¡±

    ¡°What if they can¡¯t afford anywhere?¡±

    Elpida frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Just humour me,¡± Vicky whispered. ¡°What happens if somebody can¡¯t find a place to live? Poverty. Can¡¯t afford anywhere. What happens?¡±

    Elpida shrugged. ¡°They¡¯d have to go down a floor. Maybe a lot of floors, but there¡¯s always open space in the Skirts. Up-Spire people think the Skirts are slums, but they have the same network access as anybody else. Telokopolis responds to the meanest Skirter the same as any Up-Spire noble. And even Up-Spire there¡¯s public dormitories, canteens, things like that. Nobody can stop the city from making them.¡± Elpida almost laughed. ¡°Even the Civitas can¡¯t defy Telokopolis itself.¡±

    Vicky frowned. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®stop the city from making them¡¯?¡±

    Elpida shrugged again. ¡°Telokopolis provides. Any Skirt dweller can stand by a blank wall and request a room. The city responds to any human.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s frown turned from hostile suspicion to amazement. ¡°Okay. Alright. What if there¡¯s no free space to make a room?¡±

    ¡°Go down a floor.¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°And what if there¡¯s no space on any floor? What if somebody else has taken it all?¡±

    Elpida laughed softly. ¡°Telokopolis has space for ten times the current population. That¡¯s what the last surveys said.¡±

    ¡°You survey your own city? Wait, ten times? How big did you say the population is again? Or ¡­ was. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Nine hundred million.¡±

    Vicky bit her tongue, then said: ¡°You had slums and nobles, but infinite replication technology. I don¡¯t get it. And your city grows rooms? When people request them?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°The monochalkum layer can¡¯t be expanded, but the interior of the city is endless as long as it¡¯s fed nanomachines every century or so. Not nanomachines like we¡¯re made of now, I think. Ours were different. But yes, there¡¯s always somewhere to live. The city extrudes new spaces as required. The Builders, their generation, they were ¡­ beyond us, the people in my time. They made a miracle. Telokopolis is home, for all humanity.¡± She sighed softly and recited: ¡°The greatest home-machine ever built by human love and human labour, crystallised into the foundations and returned for eternity, refreshed with each generation of effort, from all, to all, for all.¡± Elpida pulled a self-conscious smile. ¡°Not my words. That¡¯s just a piece of history every schoolchild learns.¡± Her turn to frown at Vicky. ¡°¡®Homeless¡¯ would be like ¡­ like ¡­ leaving somebody out on the plateau, or in the green.¡± She uttered a tiny, bitter laugh. ¡°Even the Covenanters wouldn¡¯t do that. In your time, people were left out in the green?¡±

    Vicky smiled back, though still a little suspicious. ¡°Yeah. You could say that.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°Telokopolis is for all. For you too.¡±

    But not for us, she thought. Not for me, or Howl, or Silla, or Metris, or all the others. Telokopolis was not for Elpida. She had been cast out, into death.

    Vicky was laughing softly. ¡°Thanks, super-soldier girl. Sounds like you had a good time. Sparring and sex, hey? You ¡­ Elpi?¡±

    Elpida couldn¡¯t see clearly. Her vision was blurred. ¡°My cadre. my clade-sisters. My¡ª Howl. Howl. You asked who¡ª Howl was my second. Howl was my ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida felt tears running down her cheeks.

    The dam broke.

 vulnus - 3.5

    The tears wouldn¡¯t stop; burning hot behind her eyes, blurring the exterior world beyond a veil of pain, running down her cheeks in twin scar-lines, invading her mouth with the taste of bitter salt, dripping from her chin to stain the cold concrete floor and pool in the crinkling plastic of the emergency blanket. She made no effort to wipe at the tears ¡ª could not have done even if she had wanted. Heaving, shaking, suppressing each great wracking sob, grinding the broken glass inside her lungs. She gritted her teeth and screwed her eyes shut, but the tears could not be dammed up. The pain was too large for her body, with nowhere to go. She would burst, explode, fly apart. She wanted to keen and wail and howl through her teeth; she wanted to scream until her lungs ruptured; she wanted to tear handfuls of concrete from the floor and crush them to dust, hurl them at the walls, force them down her throat, smash them against her own skull, open herself up until blood and viscera and bone marrow ran free and released her from this pain.

    But she didn¡¯t. She didn¡¯t want to wake the others ¡ª Kagami, Ilyusha, Amina. They were exhausted. They needed rest. She swallowed each sob, feeling her heart tearing at itself.

    Elpida wept without end.

    After minutes or hours ¡ª she wasn¡¯t sure ¡ª she felt a hand grip her upper arm, firm and strong.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Vicky hissed. ¡°Come on, Elpi. Up you get. Come on. On your feet, super-soldier girl. What do I have to say? Attention? Time to move out? On the double? Come on. Come on, get up, ¡®cos I can¡¯t lift you.¡±

    Elpida choked out: ¡°Your¡ª arm¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuck my arm. Forget about the arm. On your feet. With me.¡±

    Elpida wasn¡¯t sure how she managed to stand, but she did. Vicky¡¯s hand was sweaty and grimy in her own. Vicky led her out of the bunker¡¯s main room, through the tiny dark corridor, and into the room at the opposite end, with the concrete block-seat and the cistern of water and the closed slit window. Vicky made Elpida sit down on the concrete block. Elpida could barely see through the tears. Her muscles felt like overstretched steel cables. She couldn¡¯t stop sobbing. She wanted to smash her head into the concrete wall so the cold air would take her brains.

    ¡°Elpi,¡± Vicky was saying in a croaky voice. Her hand was squeezing Elpida¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Elpi, I¡¯ll be back in less than sixty seconds. Okay? Can you hold on for sixty seconds for me?¡±

    Elpida nodded.

    Vicky left the room. Greasy raindrops drummed on the concrete roof, drowning Elpida in black static. Low voices came from the other end of the bunker. Then Vicky returned, with the dead-blue light of a glow-stick. She joined Elpida on the bench and put her one working hand on Elpida¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Let it out,¡± Vicky said. ¡°Just let it out, Elpi. You gotta. You gotta let it out. You¡¯re not gonna wake anybody up, I¡¯ve warned them. You¡¯ve been going and going and going since we woke up ¡ª since we came back to life, whatever. You were on your feet from the word go. You were the only one who did that. Come on, Elpi, let it out, let it¡ª¡±

    Elpida screamed. She screamed through her teeth until her throat was raw and bloody. She keened and spat and howled so hard she thought the concrete might crack; she leaned forward and screamed at the floor; she stamped and kicked and wept till she drooled bloody saliva.

    She did what she couldn¡¯t do yesterday ¡ª a million years ago ¡ª for each of her lost clade-sisters.

    In the spire-cell where the Covenanters had incarcerated the cadre, up near the very tip of Telokopolis, she¡¯d had to be strong. Elpida had to be the Commander, had to keep the others sharp, give them hope. She had kept them organised, made certain nobody fell into despair, or felt separated from the others. She had never given up on any of her sisters, all twenty four of them. Right down to the final day, with only herself, Kos, and Orchid left, when she¡¯d become certain that the Covenanters were executing them, Elpida had to be strong. Yesterday.

    The genetically engineered pilot-clade were hardened against panic attacks, post-traumatic stress disorder, combat fatigue, anxiety issues; they had been grown with a host of minor but important tweaks to their emotional regulation, hormone production, and neurochemistry. But they could still cry. All of Elpida¡¯s clade-sisters had been able to feel the full range of human emotion, even those who stood at the extremes of the project¡¯s genetic tweaking. As Commander ¡ª or perhaps because of Old Lady Nunnus ¡ª Elpida had been allowed to see the pilot project design documents. She had read the reports on what had come before the cadre. Previous versions of the pilot project had tried to create perfect little automatons, human beings without needs; the result was flesh without soul. The first pilot project design team had been removed from their posts and barred from Civitas work for life. The cadre was the compromise: people, but selectively muted.

    Except it hadn¡¯t worked. The project had not predicted what the girls would become, the group-logic which bound them together, the intense need for each other¡¯s company and touch and regard and love. And by the time that had become apparent, the cadre had been ready to force their hands.

    But Elpida had never been taught how to deal with grief. She¡¯d never lost a sister. She had no idea how to mourn.

    So she screamed and screamed and screamed for her sisters, until she had nothing left inside.

    The pain did not ebb, did not lessen, did not go away.

    Eventually, only aching silence was left.

    ¡°Here,¡± Vicky croaked. ¡°To ¡­ to wipe your eyes.¡±

    She pressed one of the spare grey thermal t-shirts into Elpida¡¯s hands. Elpida used it to wipe her face, to clean up the drool and dried tears. She stared at the concrete wall in the blue glow-stick light. She listened to the rain above her head. Vicky got up again for a moment and left the glow-stick on the concrete seat; Elpida heard the glugging of water. Then Vicky returned and held out one of the nanomachine cannisters they¡¯d taken from the tomb, one which had already been drained of the blue nanomachine slop. She¡¯d filled it with brackish water from the cistern.

    Vicky said: ¡°Try to drink some. Sorry, this is the only container we¡¯ve got. S¡¯probably got some trace leftover nanomachines in it, but hey, that¡¯s supposed to be good for us, right? Like nano-squash. Heh.¡±

    Elpida nodded. Her face was sore. She coughed. She drank some stagnant water, then handed the cannister back. Vicky drank as well, stiff and slow next to Elpida on the concrete seat. Raindrops drummed on the roof, washing the air clean with black static. They passed the water back and forth for a while.

    Eventually, Elpida said, ¡°How long was I crying?¡±

    ¡°About an hour, I think. You went quiet in the middle for a bit, then there was some more. If you need to keep going, that¡¯s okay too.¡±

    ¡°I made a lot of noise.¡±

    Vicky cleared her throat gently. ¡°Kaga¡¯s awake. I asked her to come get us if she sees anything moving toward the bunker.¡±

    Vicky looked uncomfortable; she had to sit bent forward to cradle her reattached arm in her lap, and the looted green coat was pulled tight over her left side. Her dark face was lined with exhaustion, deep brown eyes soft with care. Her hair looked like she¡¯d been running her hand through it over and over.

    Elpida told her: ¡°You need sleep.¡±

    Vicky pulled a rueful smile. ¡°Elpi, it¡¯s a lot to deal with, waking up after the end of the world. With everybody gone. Dead, I mean. I cried too, earlier, while you were, um, dead. Kaga went off to cry by herself. Amina can¡¯t stop crying. We¡¯re all fucked up by this. It¡¯s okay to let it out. Like I said, you¡¯ve been in go mode since you jumped out of that coffin. Nobody¡¯s gonna blame you for breaking down a bit.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s not that. I wasn¡¯t mourning the world. I¡¯m not in shock.¡±

    Vicky raised her eyebrows. ¡°Oh yeah?¡±

    Elpida stared at the concrete wall. ¡°Yesterday ¡ª a million years ago ¡ª I was in a cell. With my cadre.¡±

    ¡°Cadre. Right. You called yourself ¡®Commander¡¯ earlier. You led a squad or something? A¡ª¡±

    ¡°The cadre. My clade-sisters. The pilot-program clone litter. My family, my lovers, my responsibility.¡± Elpida spoke the words even though she knew Vicky would not understand all the meanings. ¡°All of us. We were in that cell for almost two weeks. Every day the Covenanters would take one or two of my sisters away, and shoot them. I was the Commander, and I couldn¡¯t do anything. They kept me for last. Probably because the Civitas was demanding they hand me over. Maybe I was a bargaining chip. Maybe the executions were political theatre. I don¡¯t know. But at the end it was just me in that cell, alone for the first time in my life. And then they came back and shot me too.¡±

    Vicky was silent. Elpida turned to her, and found Vicky staring in mute horror.

    ¡° ¡­ E-Elpi, are you ¡­ you ¡­ ¡± Vicky swallowed. ¡°Grief like that doesn¡¯t just pack itself away. Do you ¡­ do you need¡ª¡±

    ¡°I was made for this. I still feel it, but it¡¯s dulled now. That¡¯s just how I was designed.¡±

    ¡°What, they made you so you can¡¯t even grieve?¡±

    Elpida told Vicky the basics ¡ª about the pilot program, the cadre, the genetic engineering, the Civitas, the Covenanters, the endless political division over isolation and expedition, the ¡®green question¡¯ ¡ª and then about the end, the spire-cell. Vicky listened without asking questions. Elpida skipped unimportant details; the details did not matter.

    ¡°And, Howl?¡± Vicky asked gently. ¡°That was a name. Was she ¡­ ?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s throat tried to close up. She stared at the blue-lit concrete, and recited:

    ¡°Howl. Metris. Silla. Vari. Third. Kit. Daysalt. Shade. Orchid. Arry. Bug. Ipeka. Velvet. Kos. Fii. Snow. Here. Dusk. Scoria. Yeva. Try. Asp. Quio. Emi.¡±

    Black static washed away the names. Elpida repeated them a second time, under her breath. She reached up and cupped the back of her neck, where her MMI slot should have been.

    After a long moment, Vicky said: ¡°Those were their names?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Mmhmm. Howl was my ¡­ closest. Second-in-command, sort of. We didn¡¯t really have ranks, not really.¡±

    ¡°But you were in charge?¡±

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Elpida shrugged. ¡°The Legion had ranks, so we had to maintain some semblance of command structure, even if just for appearances. I was the Commander, but not because of rank, and not because of anything the project bio-engineers intended. I was Commander because the others followed me. Silla, Metris, Howl, they were my lieutenants. But Howl was ¡­ ¡± The tears threatened to come back. Elpida took a deep breath. ¡°Howl was special.¡±

    ¡°Your ¡­ lover?¡± Vicky sounded a little uncomfortable. Elpida was used to that.

    ¡°We all loved each other. In all different sorts of ways. Born together, raised together. But with Howl and me, it was always very intense. She was impossible.¡± A smile pulled at the corners of Elpida¡¯s mouth. ¡°She would always push me, always question me, challenge me in front of the others. We beat each other black and blue in sparring. But she¡¯d always want to get in private, too, just the two of us. She loved me, more than the others, I think, though that¡¯s impossible to quantify. And I relied on her in a way I never understood, not until ¡­ ¡± Elpida trailed off, looking down at her hands. ¡°We were very close. Slept together a lot. I knew her body better than I know my own.¡±

    Vicky didn¡¯t say anything for a long moment, so eventually Elpida looked up ¡ª and found a very familiar expression looking back at her: incomprehension, caution, concern. She straightened up.

    ¡°Elpi,¡± Vicky started to say. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±

    Vicky froze. ¡° ¡­ Elpi?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen that look on your face a thousand times before.¡± Elpida kept her voice level and calm, but she was surprised ¡ª by anger. She¡¯d never given vent to it before, not to a Legionnaire, not in the Civitas, not to Old Lady Nunnus ¡ª not to any outsider beyond the cadre. ¡°You don¡¯t understand what I¡¯ve told you. You don¡¯t understand us. You don¡¯t understand the bond we have or what it means; because you don¡¯t think it¡¯s real. You see a genetic experiment that doesn¡¯t really think or feel like a¡ª¡±

    Vicky raised her good hand. ¡°Elpi, whoa, no¡ª¡±

    ¡°We were never approved of. First we were a bunch of soulless freaks, raised in antiseptic rooms, prodded and poked and experimented on¡ª¡±

    ¡°Elpi! It¡¯s okay, you¡¯re¡ª¡±

    ¡°Until we killed one of our handlers at six years old!¡± Elpida snapped in Vicky¡¯s face. Vicky shut up. ¡°I led that. I led the others in a murder. I made the decision, I approved the plan, I took responsibility. Because I could see what would happen if we didn¡¯t. Genetic engineering had gifted me enough intelligence that at six years old I could see the project was going to split us up.¡±

    Vicky nodded. ¡°Okay. Okay.¡±

    ¡°They called us clones, but we weren¡¯t identical. Not from identical genetic stock. Each of us was selected and built differently. That was part of the experiment. And they were going to split us up, use some of us to breed more, discard others as failed ¡ª not kill us, but just into the civilian population. They wanted to split us up. So we killed a fully grown man at six years old. We trapped him, cut his hamstrings, and broke his neck. We showed the project what we were capable of. And it worked.¡±

    Vicky swallowed.

    Elpida continued: ¡°And then we were still freaks, but we were something else too. Nobody ever approved, no matter how successful we were, no matter that we finally got the combat frames to respond to a human MMI link. No matter how deep we went into the green. No matter how many Legion operations we saved. Did we have souls? That was up for debate. Could we feel? Probably, but maybe not. Old Lady Nunnus believed us. When she took over, she treated us like human beings, because she believed in the purpose of the project, she was an expeditionist ¡ª but even she didn¡¯t want to know what was inside our heads. Legion Commanders found it weird that we all slept together, that we were so close, that we fucked.¡± Something caught in Elpida¡¯s throat. ¡°We fucked.¡± She took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. ¡°It feels good to say that. I¡¯m sorry, Vicky. I don¡¯t know how to do this. I don¡¯t know how to feel these things.¡±

    Vicky touched Elpida¡¯s shoulder with cautious fingertips. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say. Elpi, I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    Elpida just nodded. The pain was still there, tender and raw. Her heart lurched and she coughed again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I snapped at you. I saw something in your face which wasn¡¯t really there. Projecting. You didn¡¯t deserve that.¡±

    ¡°Apology accepted. It¡¯s no problem. You¡¯ve been through a lot. Shit, that feels like an understatement alright.¡± Vicky fell quiet for a long moment, then said: ¡°Do you think¡ª¡±

    ¡°We were just casualties in a bigger conflict,¡± Elpida said quickly. ¡°In the end we just didn¡¯t matter. Most people who live in Telokopolis will never see it from the outside, from the exterior. If they do, then it¡¯s from up close, from just down on the plateau. The Legion, they never go that far into the green. They can¡¯t. A few miles at most, then the green itself and the Silico push them back. But us?¡± Elpida smiled, tasting bitter salt once more. ¡°We saw the city from half a world away. You know what it looks like? A shining needle. Touching the sky. It¡¯s beautiful.¡±

    Slow tears rolled down her cheeks, for something other than her sisters.

    Elpida added, ¡°Telokopolis killed all my sisters. And Telokopolis is eternal. And it¡¯s not theirs. It belongs to all of us.¡±

    And if any of my sisters are up and breathing in this afterlife ¡­

    Elpida let that thought trail off. She left it unspoken. Pira had warned, that way lay madness.

    Black static filled the silence. Minutes passed. Elpida dried her eyes again. She moved her lips in a silent mantra, repeating once again the names of all her clade-sisters.

    Vicky waited for her to finish, then said: ¡°You know, Elpi, when I called you super-soldier girl, I was kind of joking.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t wrong.¡±

    Vicky let out a very awkward laugh. ¡°Yeah, but you were also a child soldier. That¡¯s no joke. Sorry.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°It was worth it. The project was correct. The Covenanters were wrong, the isolationists were wrong. This future proves that, if nothing else. We were correct.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but that doesn¡¯t justify child soldiers.¡±

    ¡°Without the project, my sisters and I would not have existed.¡± Elpida nodded to Vicky. ¡°I came to terms with that long before death. I just wish they were here. I¡¯m not supposed to be alone.¡±

    ¡°None of us are,¡± Vicky said. ¡°And hey, we¡¯re not, are we?¡±

    ¡°I suppose not.¡±

    Vicky smiled a grim smile. ¡°Hey, no judgement or anything. Technically I was a child soldier too. I thought it was pretty justified at the time.¡±

    Elpida gestured for the cannister of water. Vicky handed it over. Elpida drank, then handed it back again, and said: ¡°Tell me about Houseman Square.¡±

    Vicky blinked, dark lashes catching glow-stick light. ¡°W-what? I mean, pardon?¡±

    ¡°Back in the tomb, when I asked if you¡¯d ever been in a firefight. You said nobody would even remember what the battle was about, or why it mattered. I said you could tell me about it later. I was the only one who knew the names of all my sisters, but now you know as well. So, tell me about Houseman Square. Then I¡¯ll know.¡±

    Vicky let out a big sigh, then almost laughed. ¡°Fucking hell, Elpi.¡± She cast around the concrete room as if looking for a way out. ¡°Gonna need a stronger drink than stale water for that. I¡¯m not really sure you wanna know, not after what you told me. Houseman Square was heavy shit.¡±

    ¡°Vicky, look at me.¡±

    Vicky looked, and looked troubled.

    ¡°I¡¯m alright now,¡± Elpida said.

    Vicky looked very sceptical. ¡°Uh, sure.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean that I¡¯m not in pain. I think I¡¯ll always be in pain. But I¡¯m calm. I¡¯m present. This is what I was designed and trained to do: be calm and present so I can make plans and lead my cadre. Please, tell me about Houseman Square.¡±

    Vicky pulled an apologetic grimace. ¡°If you say so.¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°Houseman Square was a prison. An unofficial prison, but the sort everybody knows about, you know? Torture, gruesome stuff. People went in and didn¡¯t come back out. Or came out missing pieces. Used to be this police precinct building, old-city stuff. Um. The battle was, uh, well.¡± She shook her head and looked away. ¡°Sorry, Elpi, this is complicated stuff.¡±

    ¡°I can keep up.¡±

    Vicky didn¡¯t look at her. ¡°Opening the prison was the GLR¡¯s excuse to cross the border into Chicago. Hell, they didn¡¯t need an excuse by that point. It¡¯s why I joined the irregulars, for that fight. Lied about my age.¡± She let out a sharp sigh. ¡°Look, Elpi, none of this is going to make sense to you. You don¡¯t have the context for the GLR, the revolution, any of it. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d make sense in your world. Future. Whatever.¡±

    ¡°You can tell me anyway. I¡¯ll still listen.¡±

    Vicky snorted. ¡°Yeah, I guess you will.¡±

    ¡°You lied about your age? Why?¡±

    Vicky¡¯s sad smile turned almost to a grin. ¡°So they¡¯d let me fight. Told ¡®em I was sixteen. I was actually a week shy of fifteen. Don¡¯t think they were convinced, but the GLR covert guys already inside the city, they didn¡¯t give a shit. They wanted rifles in hands and red flags in the air. Fuck it, I would have turned up even if they¡¯d said no. Somebody I knew was in Houseman Square, that¡¯s why I joined.¡± She sighed deeply. ¡°I didn¡¯t even hear Borzman¡¯s ¡®no more masters¡¯ speech until three years later. Didn¡¯t read any theory, didn¡¯t give a shit. I just wanted my dad out of that prison. The GLR were the only ones trying.¡±

    ¡°Your father.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡± Vicky fell silent. Her fingers hovered toward the exposed muscle of her reattached arm. ¡°He was dead though. Way too late. Died weeks before the revolution came to Chicago.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Vicky shook her head. ¡°Twenty years ago, now.¡± Then she laughed, just once, eyes far away. ¡°Two hundred million years, actually, I guess. Twenty subjective years. Weird.¡±

    Elpida studied Vicky¡¯s profile, her dark skin and full cheeks and sharp nose: Vicky ¡ª Victoria ¡ª did not look thirty-five years old. She looked twenty.

    Elpida weighed her options, then said: ¡°You don¡¯t look thirty-five.¡±

    Vicky froze. She glanced at Elpida, as if caught in a lie. She swallowed, then smiled, intensely awkward. ¡°Yeah. I noticed. Something to do with the nanomachines, maybe. I guess.¡±

    Elpida considered the possibility that Vicky was a necromancer, as Pira had described. Perhaps Vicky was wearing a body and a history not truly her own, and was having trouble keeping her story straight. Vicky had taken wounds, covered Elpida¡¯s back, struggled alongside her. Pira had suggested that Elpida might be a necromancer, ¡®role-playing¡¯ a revenant for personal pleasure.

    Elpida considered the possibility ¡ª and decided that it didn¡¯t matter, either way.

    ¡°Chicago,¡± Elpida echoed the name-word Vicky had used. ¡°Is that where you come from?¡±

    Vicky took a deep breath, visibly relieved. ¡°Sort of. The Chicago city-state. Used to be part of this big empire like a hundred years before I was born. Then part of a smaller empire, but nobody called it that. Everybody just called us Chicago.¡± She shrugged. ¡°But now I¡¯m ¡­ or I was ¡­ ¡± She shook her head and straightened up with sudden pride. ¡°Nah, not was. I am still a citizen and soldier of the GLR. The Great Lakes Republic.¡± She smiled suddenly. ¡°Fuck Chicago. I hope the GLR eventually finished the job and burned the arcology to the fucking ground.¡± Then she laughed. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to say things like that. We¡¯re not supposed to wish that. We were meant to take the arcology, no matter how long it lasted. Borzman and Merla themselves both said that. At least if the bastards didn¡¯t nuke themselves first. Ha. Ahhh, Elpi, you don¡¯t even know what half of this means, do you?¡±

    Elpida smiled back. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    She had no idea how Vicky¡¯s world fitted together; half the ideas Vicky implied were alien ¡ª the word ¡®revolution¡¯ reminded her too much of the Covenanters. But Elpida recognised that pride, that identification, that straightening of the spine. She felt the same thing when she thought of Telokopolis.

    ¡°Houseman Square, then,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Do you want to tell me about the battle itself, or does that not matter in the same way?¡±

    Vicky didn¡¯t answer for a moment. She looked down at her hands, a nervous twitch in her face. Then: ¡°Elpi, I¡¯ve got a secret to tell you. About me. About my body.¡±

    Necromancer? ¡°Go on.¡±

    Vicky was almost shaking. She looked up at Elpida¡¯s eyes. ¡°When I woke up in the tomb ¡­ I ¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to ¡­ I had nothing to hide, I just ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Vicky, it¡¯s okay. Whatever it is.¡±

    ¡°Vicky¡¯s not even my real name,¡± said Vicky. Her voice was stretched thin. Her eyes were wide with private panic. ¡°I picked it. On the spot, when you asked me in the tomb. I picked it. It¡¯s not real.¡±

    ¡°My name is real,¡± Elpida said.

    Vicky halted whatever she was about to say. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I picked my own name. All of us in the cadre did. Nobody named us. They gave us numbers.¡±

    Vicky stared, blinked several times, and then laughed once, sad and confused. ¡°Right. Right.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no less real because you picked it yourself.¡±

    Vicky nodded, but she was still on the edge of a strange panic.

    Elpida said: ¡°Vicky, are you a necromancer?¡±

    Vicky laughed again. ¡°No. No, that would be simpler. Elpi, this.¡± She held up her good hand. ¡°This isn¡¯t my body. I mean, it¡¯s my face ¡ª I know it is, I¡¯ve checked, I spent like two hours staring into the surface of one of these stupid space blankets. It¡¯s my face, it¡¯s my skin, it¡¯s even my fingers and my scars and ¡­ and ¡­ but it¡¯s not my body.¡± She shook her head. ¡°For a start it¡¯s almost twenty fucking years younger.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re in it,¡± Elpida said. ¡°It¡¯s yours.¡±

    Vicky laughed. ¡°Yeah, but¡ª¡±

    Uneven footsteps tapped into the tiny corridor which connected to the main room of the bunker. Vicky jumped, good hand to her mouth. Elpida just looked round and waited.

    Kagami¡¯s voice called a moment later: ¡°Are you two decent in there? I am not walking in on zombie sex, not on day one. Day two, whatever this is now. I would prefer never.¡±

    Vicky huffed: ¡°We¡¯re not doing that, Kaga.¡±

    Elpida just said, ¡°We¡¯re decent.¡±

    Kagami shuffled into the room, peering around the doorway with her doll-like face. She looked tiny and huddled inside her armoured coat. The auspex visor across the top half of her face made her look like a giant insect, recently emerged from her cocoon.

    ¡°Kaga,¡± Vicky said, ¡°were you listening to us? Did you¡ª¡±

    ¡°I do not give a fig whatever you were talking about,¡± Kagami grumbled. ¡°I don¡¯t care. Shut up.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°We have company.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question.

    Kagami nodded. She pointed, up and to the left, staring through her visor, seeing through concrete and steel and empty air. ¡°I spy with my large and high-cognition-load eye ¡ª a single revenant, crouched in a building, two or three floors up.¡±

    Elpida stood up. Her heart lurched. She coughed. ¡°Alone? Just one?¡±

    ¡°Alone,¡± Kagami confirmed. ¡°And pointing something at the bunker ¡ª something glowing like a red-hot poker. I think we¡¯re about to be cracked open.¡±

 Interlude: Pheiriant

    Melyn woke to the familiar sound of firearms discharge.

    Low and deep and crunchy: crouf crouf. The gunshots were muffled by the thick walls of her cocoon ¡ª safely beyond of layers of exotic metal, hardened polymer, and self-regrowing composite ceramic armour ¡ª but also by the blankets in which she had wrapped herself for sleep, and by the fluttering sound of Hafina snoring next to her.

    Pheiri was shooting at something.

    This was normal, expected behaviour. Her notes recorded three thousand seven hundred and sixty two instances of Pheiri shooting at things with small arms. She¡¯d given up adding more instances some time ago. She couldn¡¯t recall when.

    Melyn lay awake in the dark for a long time, snuggled down against Hafina¡¯s side. She did not want to peel herself out of the blankets to see what was going on. There was no point. The engines remained on standby, a deep-belly hum down below Melyn¡¯s range of hearing, a comforting full-body heartbeat transmitted up through the floor of the crew compartment, where she and Haf made their bed; the hull wasn¡¯t ringing with impacts or dinging and pinging as small-calibre rounds bounced off the dirty white exterior; nothing was scratching against the rear access ramp or the top hatch; whatever Pheiri was doing did not involve the main turret, the rail-lance, or turning on all the lights and flashing alarms and generally having a tantrum. Melyn decided the noise would probably stop soon. She wanted to go back to sleep. Haf¡¯s flank was nice and warm. Her body said no emergency. The screen of her mind was quiet and still.

    But the crack-thump of weaponry went on and on. Timers started inside Melyn¡¯s head, counting seconds, then minutes, then a quarter of an hour, until she was not only awake, but very irritated.

    She left the halo of Haf¡¯s body heat and rolled onto her back.

    The crew compartment was the single largest space inside Pheiri ¡ª the only space large enough to bed down for the night, even if the benches were often covered in junk and clothes and pieces of Haf¡¯s rifle and side-arms; Haf liked to take the guns apart and cover them in grease and put them back together again. Melyn didn¡¯t understand why. Sometimes Melyn slept in one of the seats in the control cockpit, or wriggled into the cramped storage racks above the crew compartment. She had vague memories of once sleeping inside Pheiri¡¯s turret, though those memories hurt if she touched them for too long; perhaps she had been unwell. But the crew compartment was the only place she and Hafina could lay down blankets and stretch out together. Sleeping together was always better than sleeping alone. Melyn didn¡¯t enjoy sleeping alone, not unless she could wedge herself into the smallest space possible.

    White and gunmetal, Pheiri¡¯s guts flickered and danced with the backwash from the control cockpit up front, from a constellation of LEDs and readout screens and blinking lights, like fireworks in a moonless night sky.

    Melyn had never seen ¡®fireworks¡¯ or ¡®the moon¡¯. She wasn¡¯t sure what concepts those words referred to, but they scrolled across the screen of her mind regardless. She dismissed them with growing irritation.

    Pheiri was still shooting: crump-crump-crack. Then came a long pause. Then another trio of shots. A long series of whirs and clicks and deep-tissue clunks followed: fresh rounds cycling into chambers from Pheiri¡¯s growth-organs. Three more shots. Another two. One. Silence reigned just long enough for Melyn¡¯s eyelids to droop. Then a barrage of slam-bang-crack jerked her into awareness again. Her mind was counting minutes and seconds and shots and time between shots and predicted distances and trajectories and targets. Sleep was hopeless. She extracted her arms from the covers and frowned toward the control cockpit.

    Hafina snored on, oblivious.

    Melyn told herself she was not jealous of Haf¡¯s ability to sleep through anything, but she was. She was jealous of Haf¡¯s larger body, Haf¡¯s extra-fluffy blonde hair, Haf¡¯s strength and stamina, Haf¡¯s blind faith in Pheiri, and Haf¡¯s unerring accuracy with the rifle. She was more ambivalent about Haf¡¯s big goofy smile and Haf¡¯s unreserved hugs and Haf¡¯s big stupid eyes and big stupid arms.

    But Haf wouldn¡¯t understand the lights in the cockpit. The flickering patterns called to Melyn, made her head hurt, suggested she might decipher them into ammunition levels, heat readouts, IR feedback. But Haf would just shrug. To Haf they were just patterns in the dark. Waking Haf was pointless.

    Melyn poked Haf in the side, hard.

    ¡°Wake up,¡± she hissed. ¡°Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.¡±

    Haf grumbled. She wedged her large frame further into the corner between crew compartment floor and crew compartment bench. The pose looked deeply uncomfortable, but Haf liked it; Haf liked to have her back against solid surfaces. That was why Melyn always got the middle of the floor.

    ¡°Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Haf, wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Haf. Haf. Wake up.¡±

    ¡°Mmmmmnnnn,¡± Haf grumbled again. Big eyes stayed firmly shut. Her blonde hair was all mashed into her face. She snuggled her head down further onto the bag she was using as a pillow. ¡°How about no?¡±

    Melyn sat up, dragging half the covers off Haf¡¯s front. ¡°Can¡¯t you hear that? Haf, listen. Listen. Listen.¡±

    Firearms discharge cracked and thumped, on and on, into the night.

    Haf frowned without opening her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s raining.¡±

    Melyn tutted. ¡°That¡¯s not rain. That¡¯s guns.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but there¡¯s rain too. I can hear it on Pheiri. Plink-plonk-plink. You listen.¡±

    Melyn was about to poke Haf in the side again, harder ¡ª but then she cocked her head and realised that Haf was correct: it was raining. Big fat drops raised a wall of static against Pheiri¡¯s exterior. The screen of her mind supplied estimated raindrop density and liquid precipitation measurements, then demanded she drink some rainwater to test the chemical composition. She made that demand go away.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Melyn huffed. ¡°It¡¯s raining, fine¡ª¡±

    Haf said: ¡°I was right. Go on, tell me I was right.¡± Her grin split the darkness of the crew compartment, big and toothy.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°But I was right!¡± Haf sounded a little offended.

    ¡°That¡¯s not important right now. Haf¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s always important when I¡¯m right. Come on, tell me I¡¯m clever, Mely. Pleeeeease, tell me I¡¯m clever. Tell me I¡¯m clever or I¡¯ll go back to sleep.¡±

    Melyn sighed. ¡°You¡¯re not more clever than me. Stop playing. Stop. Listen. Pheiri¡¯s doing something.¡±

    Hafina listened for a moment. Then she said: ¡°Pheiri¡¯s always doing something.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but we aren¡¯t moving. And it¡¯s not stopping.¡±

    Haf shrugged beneath her ruined blanket cocoon. One huge naked shoulder went up and down. Her mouth twisted with grumpy sleep-desire. ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So, we¡¯re not moving through anything. What¡¯s he shooting at? Why¡¯s it going on so long? Why now? It¡¯s the middle of the night. That doesn¡¯t make sense. And it¡¯s not stopping. Not stopping. Not stopping. We have to check. I have to check.¡±

    The slow crump-crack of gunshots continued, muffled beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull. Melyn let the sound speak for itself. Eventually Haf sat up, too big inside the crew compartment, beautiful in her ungainly motions; the flickering cockpit lights glazed her naked shoulders and collarbone and chest. The screen of Melyn¡¯s mind measured Haf¡¯s visible muscles against every previous measurement of Haf¡¯s visible muscles, then informed her that Haf had lost an estimated sixty pounds of muscle mass over the last twenty five thousand hours. Melyn¡¯s mind suggested several sources of high-calorie intake, but she didn¡¯t know any of the words, so she made the suggestions go away.

    Haf opened her eyes and watched the ceiling. She said: ¡°Pheiri knows what he¡¯s doing.¡±

    Melyn hissed, ¡°Yes, but we don¡¯t know what he¡¯s doing!¡±

    Haf shot her one of those big stupid smiles, the kind which made her soft and funny and red in the face. ¡°Then go look? Want me to stop you? Is this just a roundabout way of waking me up for a fuck?¡±

    Melyn punched Haf in the shoulder. Haf laughed and tried to elbow her in the side, but Melyn was already squirming out of bed.

    She kept her head low as she left their blanket nest, so she didn¡¯t bang it on the crew compartment ceiling; Melyn was much smaller than Haf, with slender limbs and fewer sticky-out bits to bruise on Pheiri¡¯s innards, but she still had to be careful. She curled her toes against the cold metal floor as she rummaged in the equipment bags on the bench, pushing aside her helmet and old body armour and too many pairs of gloves.

    Haf sat up straight all of a sudden. Her eyes went three times larger. Her skin cycled from reflective-pale to night-combat black. ¡°Mel? You¡¯re not going outside, are you?¡±

    Melyn found her big grey jumper and dragged it over her head. She pulled her dark hair back into a ponytail. ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°But what are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t feel like being naked right now.¡± Melyn scooped up her notebook and a pen from the bench. She refused to look at Haf.

    ¡°Awwww, hey,¡± Hafina whined. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to make you mad. Mely, what¡¯d I do?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re fine.¡±

    Melyn went to the front of the crew compartment and jabbed at the dispenser controls until Pheiri disgorged a food-stick. She stuck one end in her mouth, tucked her notebook under an armpit, and ignored Haf whining her name.

    ¡°Melyyyy, Melyyyy, Melyyyyyyyy.¡±

    Melyn squirmed through Pheiri¡¯s innards, over branching tubes and past bunches of wiring, lifting her naked legs to scramble over the bare metal of the reserve communication officer¡¯s seat, the secondary gunner¡¯s position, the access hatch for the engine, and the bulge of super-heavy armour over Pheiri¡¯s brain. She had no idea what a communication officer or secondary gunner was, or what they needed all those extra buttons and switches and dials for. Nothing back there had lit up in a long time. But the words scrolled across the screen of her mind anyway, along with the time since last activation of the respective systems: five hundred twenty six thousand three hundred and two hours.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    She wriggled past the rungs of the turret-ladder and could not resist the urge to glance upward, at the control-helmet which hung in the dark, inside the turret. She suppressed a shudder, but she didn¡¯t know why.

    Melyn popped free into the control cockpit. The screens and buttons and dials were all trying to tell her things, too many things, all at once. Melyn ignored them. She crouched on the shapeless ancient stuffing of the auxiliary manual input seat, then took a moment to chew the food-stick and lick greasy crumbs off her fingertips. She flipped open her notebook and started to cross-reference the symbols on the screens against her previous records. The screen of her mind kept making useless suggestions with words she didn¡¯t know.

    Her eyes flicked up and down. Her fingertips traced her notes. Her lips moved in silence.

    Haf called out, still worming her way through Pheiri¡¯s guts: ¡°Is he okay? Mel? Mel? Is he alright?¡±

    Melyn tutted under her breath. ¡°Of course he¡¯s alright. Don¡¯t be stupid.¡±

    ¡°Mel!¡±

    Hafina emerged into the control cockpit a second later and banged her head on the roof. She had pulled body armour over her naked top half, arms sticking out, hands clutching her rifle. Her eyes were huge in the darkness. Her skin glistened white-grey as it tried to match the metal behind her.

    Melyn raised an eyebrow. ¡°Haf, what are you doing?¡±

    Haf said: ¡°Is there something wrong with him!?¡±

    ¡° ¡­ no. Haf, why are you carrying the gun?¡±

    Haf looked down at the polymer-and-metal firearm in her hands. ¡°Seemed like the right thing to do?¡±

    Melyn sighed. She pointed at a seat on the other side of the control cockpit. ¡°Sit. Wait. Let me read.¡±

    Haf sat and waited. She was very still.

    Melyn found Pheiri¡¯s information harder to comprehend than usual; there was a lot of data that she¡¯d never seen before, not recorded anywhere in her notes, indicated on readouts which she¡¯d never seen lit, or at least not lit in those specific ways. The screen of her mind kept supplying things about atmospheric nanomachine density, orbital re-entry disturbance, relative time displacement, and flashing her with priority interrupts. She made all those go away because they weren¡¯t helping.

    One screen she did know: a landscape of green ghosts washed with ash and acid rain. That was a front view from Pheiri¡¯s cameras. Lights blinked on a console just above her head: green for ready, red for reloading. There were a lot of reds, taking a lot of time to cycle back to green. At least she assumed that¡¯s what the lights meant, because she¡¯d never seen those particular ones lit before. Lots of the usual ones were green and not changing to red.

    ¡°Different ¡­ weapons?¡± she muttered. Hafina sat up straighter. ¡°I¡¯m not talking to you, Haf. Settle down. Pheiri is fine.¡±

    Melyn pressed some of the buttons by the side of the display screens, the ones she knew from experience, the ones that would change the colours of the display or tell Pheiri that she wanted to look in different directions. But all the readouts showed her the same information, nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary, just the city, haunted by image-ghosts as zombies slipped away into the ruins. The readouts shook very slightly every time Pheiri fired another hull-weapon. Melyn couldn¡¯t see what he was shooting at.

    Haf leaned forward to get a better view, then stood up. She left her rifle behind. Her eyes were normal size again. She got behind Melyn and slowly hugged her from behind, chin on Melyn¡¯s shoulder, crouching and bracing herself against the cramped metal confines of the forward compartment.

    Melyn said: ¡°You¡¯re warm.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re cold. Brain¡¯s doing too much.¡± Hafina squinted hard at the third screen above Melyn¡¯s head. ¡°Act¡ª act ¡­ ive? Active! Active crew ¡­ pro¡ª prot¡ª¡±

    Melyn sighed. She read the glowing green text in a single glance. ¡°Active crew protection ballistics online.¡±

    ¡°Ooooh, right.¡± Haf lit up. ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    Melyn frowned. ¡°It¡¯s right there, that¡¯s what it means. Active crew protection ballistics online.¡± She tapped the screen with the end of her pen. ¡°Right there.¡±

    Haf pouted and blew a raspberry against the side of Melyn¡¯s head, which turned into a brief struggle for dominance. Melyn won - she already had the chair, her hands were quicker, and Hafina¡¯s strength was limited against non-lethal targets. After a quick cuff round the head, Haf settled back into place with her chin on Melyn¡¯s opposite shoulder.

    Haf said: ¡°Teach me.¡±

    ¡°Active,¡± Melyn began. ¡°So, opposite of passive. That means Pheiri is doing something.¡±

    Haf snorted. ¡°We know that already.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but this means Pheiri wants to tell us. And, ¡®crew¡¯, that¡¯s ¡­ ¡±

    Haf squinted. ¡°Like the crew compartment?¡±

    ¡°Yes. So ¡­ let¡¯s skip that for now.¡± Melyn tapped the next word. ¡°Protection. Pheiri always protects us, so that must be right, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s doing anything bad.¡± Melyn stopped and stared for a long time at the next word. The firearms crumping and cracking from outside kept interrupting her thoughts with useless data.

    The moment stretched too long for Hafina¡¯s patience. She whined. ¡°Ballistics?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Melyn admitted.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know? What do you mean you don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know every single word, okay? I don¡¯t know what it means. Stop that. Stop nibbling on me.¡± She elbowed Haf in the ribs, which did nothing to stop Haf chewing on Melyn¡¯s ear.

    ¡°Mmmmmmm. But you read the books. Don¡¯t they have all the words?¡±

    Melyn sighed. ¡°They have lots but not all. You can¡¯t have all the words in a single book, it doesn¡¯t work like that. You put certain words in certain orders to say certain things, you don¡¯t just jam them all together.¡±

    The screen of Melyn¡¯s mind said: Dictionary. She dismissed that.

    Hafina made a dissatisfied noise.

    Melyn went on: ¡°Anyway. Ballistics. Now I¡¯ve had a moment to think, I think it means guns. Firearms.¡±

    ¡°See!¡± Haf laughed. ¡°You did know! Fuck it, Mel, you¡¯re so fucking smart. I love you.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re dumb as a brick, but I love you too.¡± She tapped the last word in the sentence. ¡°Online. That means it¡¯s on, or it¡¯s working, or it¡¯s connected. So Pheiri is doing something active, which is on, to protect us.¡± She finished, nodded, and smiled to herself. That felt good. All the things in her mind lined up for once. ¡°He¡¯s shooting at stuff.¡±

    Hafina laughed. ¡°We knew that from the start.¡±

    Melyn nodded. ¡°Yes. But this way is better.¡± She flicked back through her notes, reading by the light from the screens and LEDs. ¡°He¡¯s done this before. My notes say we¡¯ve read this line before. Three hundred and eighty times in this notebook alone. This one alone.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot.¡± Hafina sounded impressed. ¡°Go Pheiri. Bang bang.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    Hafina smacked her lips. ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound right though.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Melyn said. She reached up and tapped the screen again. ¡°This next line is new. More interesting. Not seen before.¡± She read out loud for Haf¡¯s benefit: ¡°Anti-personnel munitions insufficient for penetration. Escalation to HE-tip rounds authorised.¡±

    Hafina whistled. Melyn frowned: did Haf understand what the words meant? But Haf was already asking: ¡°He done this before?¡±

    Melyn flicked back through her notebook again. ¡°Mm, yes. Here. And here. And once again, here. I think we forgot. We forgot. Forgot. We forgot.¡±

    Haf squeezed Melyn¡¯s shoulders, nice and tight and hard. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Melyn said. She stared at her notes.

    Hafina nuzzled her neck and said: ¡°As long as you don¡¯t forget me.¡±

    ¡°How could I?¡± Melyn straightened up. ¡°You¡¯re too large to forget. You always get in the way.¡± Haf made a sad face, peering around Melyn¡¯s shoulder. ¡°What? What? What?¡±

    Haf said, ¡°Doesn¡¯t that imply I might forget you?¡±

    ¡°Why? Why?¡±

    ¡°¡®Cos you¡¯re kinda small.¡±

    Melyn rolled her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid.¡±

    Haf smiled, pretend sadness turning back into a grin.

    Melyn went on: ¡°If you forgot me, I¡¯d beat you up.¡±

    Haf laughed. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be able to beat me up!¡±

    Melyn turned slightly in her seat. ¡°If you forgot me, you couldn¡¯t use your muscles at their maximum. Therefore, I would beat you.¡±

    Haf pulled a thinking face, then shrugged her big naked shoulders beneath her loose body armour. Her skin cycled back to its usual resting reddish tint. ¡°Can¡¯t argue with that, I guess.¡± She looked up at the screens again. ¡°So, like, what¡¯s Pheiri shooting at?¡±

    Melyn didn¡¯t answer right away. She looked up and to the left, at the portion of the forward compartment that projected upward, where the observation seat hung unoccupied. Set in the metal in front of the seat was a sliding wedge which covered a thick pane of reinforced steel-glass.

    They both stared.

    Melyn felt her heartbeat quicken. She wormed a hand under her grey jumper and pressed her palm to her ribs. Haf just chewed her bottom lip, then bit off a chunk of flesh and swallowed it. Melyn swatted her on the legs. Haf shouldn¡¯t eat bits of herself. Recycling was inefficient.

    ¡°Pheiri,¡± Melyn said. ¡°What are you shooting at?¡±

    Green text scroll-printed onto a nearby screen, replacing a meaningless stack of data.

    ¡°Nanomachine conglomeration #813576,¡± Melyn read out loud. ¡°Estimated sapience high-value target. Damage to outer shell negligible. Damage to core negligible. Percentage of body mass lost zero-point-zero-zero-zero-three. Estimate disengagement at eighty seconds ongoing. Recommend no pursuit of target.¡±

    Hafina snorted. ¡°Pheiri, we¡¯re not gonna chase it?¡±

    The green text re-printed itself: Recommend no pursuit of target.

    ¡°Why not?¡± Haf asked. ¡°I mean, sure, you do you, but why¡ª¡±

    Recommend no pursuit of target.

    ¡°Why not?¡± Haf repeated.

    Melyn said: ¡°It¡¯s probably bait.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to look,¡± Hafina announced. She clambered over Melyn and up into the observation seat.

    ¡°No!¡± Melyn whispered. ¡°Don¡¯t! You don¡¯t know what Pheiri¡¯s shooting at! Stop it!¡± Melyn grabbed Haf¡¯s ankle, but Haf shook her off.

    Melyn didn¡¯t understand why she was whispering; it wasn¡¯t as if anything outside could hear them through the inches and inches of Pheiri¡¯s hull armour. She also didn¡¯t understand why she was afraid. The screen of her mind was covered with terminology she didn¡¯t understand: ¡®cognitive hazard¡¯, ¡®visual spectrum infection vector¡¯, ¡®LOS resolution blocker¡¯, and a dozen other pieces of useless nonsense that she shut down or shooed away.

    Haf ignored her panic and craned forward in the observation seat. She slid the wedge open with a clack. The little steel-glass window was too high for either of them; Melyn always had to stand on the seat to see anything, but Hafina only had to strain upward and press her face to the transparent surface.

    Melyn pulled her jumper over her head and huddled down in her seat. Haf stared into the dark beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull. Raindrops blurred the world.

    Moments passed. Timers counted down inside Melyn¡¯s head. Haf didn¡¯t make a sound. Melyn peeked out from inside the collar of her jumper, then lowered it to uncover her mouth. Haf was unmoving. Her eyes were very large.

    Melyn said: ¡°What do you see?¡±

    ¡°Eh,¡± Haf grunted. ¡°Too dark. Too much rain. Can¡¯t see anything.¡±

    Melyn huffed and rolled her eyes and got out of her seat. She settled her jumper so it fell past her knees, then set about crawling around the inside of the control cockpit so she could write down all the different things Pheiri was trying to tell them. She noted the position and colour of LEDs, which ones were lit and which ones were dark; she sketched the contents of all of the screens, numbering and labelling them as she went; she wrote down all the numbers she could find, especially the ones she hadn¡¯t seen before.

    ¡°Neural lace echo signal detected,¡± she read off a display, because she¡¯d never seen the words before. ¡°New course entered. Priority override: recovery of pilot.¡±

    Haf peered down at her from the observation seat. ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡±

    Melyn shrugged, writing the words in her notebook. ¡°No idea.¡± She frowned through the following sentences, but there was nothing interesting, just lists of numbers and directions and speeds. But then: ¡°High risk advisory: projected course intersects nanomachine output facility footprint; crew advised to stay within atmospheric sealed compartments for approx three hundred hours. Check atmospheric seals. Check atmospheric re-processors.¡±

    Haf went all stiff. Her eyes blinked in the dark, big and shiny-black. ¡°Pheiri wants to go near a worm?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re nowhere near one,¡± Melyn said. ¡°Nowhere near. Nowhere.¡±

    ¡°Yeah we¡¯re pretty deep, right?¡±

    ¡°Nowhere near. Nowhere near.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s he thinking?¡± Hafina clacked the cover back over the observation window. ¡°Hey, Pheiri, what you thinking? We don¡¯t wanna go near a worm.¡±

    ¡°Priority override,¡± said Melyn.

    ¡°Eh?¡± Haf slithered down from the seat, huge and tight in front of Melyn. Her skin was turning grey-white again, trying to blend in with the cockpit.

    ¡°It means we don¡¯t get a choice. It means Pheiri has to do it, and we have ¡­ to ¡­ ¡± Melyn looked up. ¡°Oh. It stopped.¡±

    ¡°Eh?¡±

    ¡°Shhhhh. Listen. Listen.¡±

    The shooting was over. No more guns going off. The lights, the ones which had been red and green, were now all dark. The message about active crew protection had wiped itself off the relevant screen. The ash-and-acid ghosts on the night vision monitor had vanished.

    Haf broke into a grin. ¡°Thank you, Pheiri!¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Pheiri,¡± Melyn echoed in a soft purr, matching the faint hum of Pheiri¡¯s engine. She reached out and stroked the nearest piece of bare metal.

    She and Haf looked at each other for a moment, then broke into a shared giggle. Haf sat down in one of the forward seats. Melyn climbed into her lap. They wriggled to get comfortable, heads together, all six of Haf¡¯s arms around Melyn¡¯s much smaller body. Haf fell asleep first, snoring softly. Melyn waited longer, listening to the rain, watching until all the little lights inside Pheiri had gone out.

    ¡°Priority override,¡± she whispered to the dark control room. ¡°You sure? Sure?¡±

    A single screen blinked on. Green text print-scrolled: No. Uncertain.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Signal corruption. Orbital re-entry interference. Elevated levels of nanomachine construct activity. Risk to crew. Damage to armour plating sub-layer in locations: A453, A927, A33820, B89263, B98762, C7830387, D2387, M2223, O233321, Y2871, Y778201. Risk to crew. No pilot. Risk to crew. Fusion containment replacement required. Risk to crew. Maintenance overdue by 99999999 ERROR hours. Risk to crew.

    ¡°Are we going to do it anyway?¡± Melyn whispered. ¡°Do it anyway? Anyway?¡±

    Risk to crew.

    ¡°Okay. Okay. Do it anyway?¡±

    Risk to crew.

    The screen blinked off.

    Pheiri had nothing more to say. Melyn closed her eyes, held her breath, and listened to the nuclear heartbeat below her feet.

 duellum - 4.1

    Elpida held the auspex visor up to her eyes and pointed it at the blank wall of the bunker.

    Matter peeled away layer by layer, flayed by penetrating radar, gravitic deep-tone wave-reflection, quantum-junction informational return, and a dozen other methods which Kagami had named under her breath as she had handed over the equipment; Elpida did not understand half of them, but she trusted the results.

    Concrete, steel rebar, several hundred meters of open air above crumbling asphalt ¡ª then a tangle of broken brick, buckled breeze block, patchy plaster, shards of glass, and even wood, rotting and flaking and splintering in grand eternal silence. Wood, untouched by the green, so rare and precious in Telokopolis. All wood inside the city had been grown and harvested in tiny amounts, from the vital beating biological heart of the buried fields, tucked deep down in the city¡¯s subterranean foundations. But here it was ¡ª wood, exposed to the elements, the acid rain and soot and exotic bacteria, left to moulder like tooth decay inside the countless buildings of this corpse-city.

    Elpida reminded herself: the wood was imitation, regrown by nanomachines, no different to steel and brick and concrete. Here, after death, there was no distinction.

    Vicky hissed into the darkness, ¡°Why hasn¡¯t she shot us yet?¡±

    Ilyusha replied: ¡°Bitch can¡¯t see us?¡±

    The auspex gear¡¯s on-board programming also considered the wood to be unimportant; the data was captured, processed, highlighted, labelled, and then shunted off to a sub-view side-window, alongside a thousand other details about a slice of the landscape beyond their temporary refuge.

    Vicky said, ¡°But she¡¯s aiming at the bunker. She knows we¡¯re here. Right, Elpi?¡±

    Ilyusha just went, ¡°Pffft.¡±

    A ceaseless torrent of information poured in front of Elpida¡¯s eyes: the atmospheric composition and wind speed ¡ª there was so much more carbon in the air compared with her time, without the green blanketing the planet; the chemical balance of one hundred thousand individual greasy raindrops, drumming on broken buildings; the estimated rainfall rate as the drops pooled and puddled in asphalt ruts and concrete cracks; the distances between the bunker and the row of buildings opposite, displayed in several different forms of measurement, none of which Elpida could understand.

    But even through the deluge of data, the revenant was obvious.

    A live mass of high-activity nanomachinery, highlighted in yellow and orange and red. Perhaps crouched or hunched or sitting down ¡ª Elpida could not visually disentangle limb from torso, not through the auspex visor. The revenant was in a building on the other side of the road, slightly to the left, three stories up. The auspex separated and labelled an object in close proximity with the revenant, close enough to be in her hands: a long device, long enough to be a rifle of some kind. The visor¡¯s resolution was too low for visual identification. The label was dark red: ¡®gravitic weapon signature¡¯.

    Kagami whispered, as if the watcher might overhear them: ¡°Do you see it? Elpida, do you see it?¡±

    Elpida pulled the auspex visor off her face and handed it back to Kagami. She blinked and squinted in the sudden darkness after the technicolour explosion of the auspex-sight. Her stomach was churning and her head was spinning; she was meant to be immune to motion sickness.

    ¡°Well?¡± Kagami demanded.

    Vicky said, ¡°Elpi, you okay?¡±

    They were back in the main room of the bunker, with the supplies and the guns and the makeshift bedrolls. Glow-stick illumination struggled up the walls, washing Pira¡¯s map and diagram with fading blue. Kagami was leaning against the wall to take the weight off her bionic legs. Vicky hovered at Elpida¡¯s shoulder, cradling her reattached right arm, face tight and drawn with fear. Ilyusha and Amina were awake too; the latter was huddled under a coat pulled up to her chin, watching the others with wide, terrified eyes. Ilyusha had exited their shared nest; she squatted on her black-and-red bionic legs, knife-tip tail slowly lashing the air, arms resting on her knees, fingertip claws extended as if to stretch tiny muscles.

    Elpida said, ¡°I¡¯m fine. But I can¡¯t use that visor, it¡¯s causing motion sickness, or something similar. How do you get anything useful out of it?¡±

    Kagami snorted. She accepted the visor and pulled it back down over her own face. The transparent surface glittered dull green in the dark; Kagami¡¯s eyes looked huge. ¡°This?¡±

    Elpida nodded, ¡°We had nothing like that in Telokopolis. Not without MMI uplink.¡±

    ¡°Ha,¡± Kagami said, but she didn¡¯t sound amused. She was too busy adjusting the auspex again and staring up at the revenant outdoors. ¡°Take it you weren¡¯t exactly urban warfare specialists, then? This crap is nothing. Bulky consumer shit we¡¯d sell to surface rubes. Every one of my own logician agents would have a full-spectrum sensor suite ten times more complex than this. I spent ninety percent of my life plugged into software a hundred times more detailed and¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha snapped: ¡°Blah blah!¡±

    She swiped at Kagami¡¯s augmetic ankle with one clawed hand, but intentionally didn¡¯t connect the blow; Kagami flinched and stumbled anyway, and probably would have gone over if not for the wall against her back.

    Kagami hissed, ¡°You little shit!¡± Ilyusha snorted.

    ¡°Illy,¡± Elpida said, gentle but firm. Ilyusha ducked her head in acknowledgement, tapped the concrete floor with her tail, then reached out and gently closed her clawed fingers around Elpida¡¯s ankle. Elpida allowed it.

    Vicky cleared her throat. ¡°Kaga, we get the point.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Fine, right, whatever. Elpida, you saw where she was though, yes? You saw the nanomachine signal?¡±

    Elpida felt numb. Her mind wanted to focus on the task, but her heart still ached. She nodded and pointed up at where she¡¯d seen the highlighted signal. ¡°Yes, right there.¡± She paused to cough as her heart jerked in the wrong direction. ¡°I couldn¡¯t make out which way she¡¯s facing or distinguish any body parts.¡±

    Kagami grunted. ¡°Yes, I noticed that too. That¡¯s not just user error. Can¡¯t make out which body part is which.¡± In the dim light, Kagami¡¯s eyes flickered from the visor to Elpida¡¯s face. She pulled a nervous grimace. ¡°Bad sign, right? What¡¯s up there, hm? Another monster?¡±

    Ilyusha answered, low and uninterested: ¡°Vulture.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Kagami, are you certain she¡¯s alone? She¡¯s the only one out there?¡± Elpida turned one finger in a circle. ¡°We¡¯re not being watched from any other directions?¡±

    ¡°Alone, yes, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Check again, please.¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes. She glanced left and right. ¡°There¡¯s nothing¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do a full circle, check in every direction.¡± Elpida spoke command, to blanket the numb feeling inside her chest. Kagami was basically a civilian, however experienced. ¡°Not just because I¡¯m asking, but because somebody or something else may be sneaking up on us. What we¡¯re looking at now may be a covering position, nothing more. Do it. Please.¡±

    Kagami turned in a slow circle, staring through concrete and steel. Down in the corner, Amina whimpered. Vicky swallowed loudly. Ilyusha clacked her exposed claws against the concrete floor, eyeing her rotary shotgun which lay with the other weapons. Black rain drummed on the roof.

    Kagami spread a hand. ¡°There¡¯s nothing here but the one signal.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Kagami, thank you.¡± Kagami snorted and waved that off. Elpida continued, ¡°Right, what else can you tell me about the revenant out there? I need intel. Is she armed? Armoured? Muscled? Anything. Any details.¡±

    Kagami squinted up at the blank concrete wall again. ¡°Not much, just like with you. Lots of metal on her. Could be guns, body armour, I don¡¯t know. Thermal shows she¡¯s a bit cold. Colder than us, I mean. Maybe just a degree or two. Completely motionless. I didn¡¯t actually see her arrive, just looked up and there she was. Hasn¡¯t moved an inch. Watching us.¡±

    Ilyusha repeated, ¡°Vulture.¡±

    Elpida looked down at Ilyusha¡¯s dull grey eyes, and said: ¡°Ilyusha, is this a common phenomenon? A lone revenant, stalking a group?¡±

    Ilyusha shrugged.

    Vicky let out an unsteady breath. ¡°Wish Pira was here.¡±

    ¡°Ha,¡± said Ilyusha.

    Elpida nodded. She said, ¡°Yes, we need long range comms. But that¡¯s a problem for the future. We have to deal with the situation we¡¯re in. Kagami, keep your eyes on the signal. She twitches, you tell me.¡±

    Kagami muttered, ¡°Yes ma¡¯am, three bags full ma¡¯am. Trust me, she does anything with that weapon, we¡¯re all fucking dead ¡ª again. That could crack this bunker like an eggshell, no doubt.¡±

    Amina whimpered again. ¡°S-somebody¡¯s watching us? Illy?¡± She reached toward Ilyusha, fingers shying away.

    Ilyusha showed Amina her teeth. ¡°Vulture, vulture. S¡¯nothing!¡±

    Vicky spoke, making her voice bright for Amina¡¯s sake. ¡°It¡¯s alright, sweetheart. It¡¯s gonna be fine. It¡¯s just somebody we don¡¯t know. Probably she doesn¡¯t even know we¡¯re in here. Probably scared of us too. Chin up, we¡¯re gonna be fine.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°We have to work from the assumption that she can see us.¡±

    Vicky stared at her in the glow-stick light. ¡°But she¡¯s not shooting.¡±

    Kagami sighed, ¡°I¡¯m not even the only one of us who can see through walls, you limb-dragging dirt eater.¡± Vicky gave Kagami a cold look. Kagami shrugged and made a so-what face and said, ¡°That wasn¡¯t a reference to your arm, you moron. It¡¯s a generic insult. Practically affectionate.¡± She huffed. ¡°Look, our commander here is correct. For all we know that bitch up there can see us right back.¡±

    Vicky said, colder than before, ¡°Then why¡¯s she not shooting?¡±

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Elpida said, ¡°Kagami, eyes on target, see if she responds to this.¡±

    Elpida raised one hand over her head. The gesture pulled at the still-healing wounds in her chest and back. Her heart lurched and made her cough twice. She waved the hand back and forth in a repeating, alternating pattern of three short, three long, three short: an ancient signal even in the time of Telokopolis. She kept up the wave for almost thirty seconds. Nobody spoke in the darkness of the bunker.

    ¡°Nothing?¡± Elpida asked. She lowered her hand.

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Not even a twitch.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Which means she can¡¯t see us.¡±

    Kagami snapped, ¡°Or she doesn¡¯t want us to know she can see us. Lulling us into a false sense of security. But why, if she has that fucking gun? Look at that thing, it¡¯s gravitics.¡± She made an angry gesture at something nobody else could see. ¡°Miniaturised gravitics, absolute bullshit. This fucking place.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Maybe the scanner thing is wrong,¡±

    Kagami shook her head, ¡°It¡¯s working fine. We have no idea what this bitch wants¡ª

    ¡°Vulture,¡± Ilyusha hissed.

    ¡°Elpi,¡± Vicky was saying, ¡°What do we do?¡±

    Kagami carried on, ¡°Could be waiting for us to go to sleep, or trying to flush us out, or get inside our fucking heads and make us all¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha snapped, almost angry: ¡°Vulture!¡±

    ¡°What does that mean, you little goblin fu¡ª¡±

    Elpida raised her voice, ¡°She won¡¯t open fire.¡±

    The others all stopped. Kagami frowned at Elpida, then quickly turned back to watching the mystery observer. Ilyusha looked up in curiosity, anger stalled.

    Elpida gently peeled her ankle out of Ilyusha¡¯s grip and went over to the backpacks against the wall. She located Ilyusha¡¯s backpack and pulled out a cannister of blue nano-slime. The stuff glowed softly in her grip. Her throat tightened with an urge to drink; that was new.

    She held the cannister up, over her head.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Kagami breathed. ¡°Oh, yes. She was very interested in that. Moved her ¡ª head? Looks like a head. Moved it by almost fifteen degrees. Finally broke her statue impression. Got you, bitch. We got you.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°She¡¯s after the nanomachines.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Kagami hissed.

    ¡°Duh!¡± Ilyusha said. ¡°Wants our goop! And our meats.¡±

    Vicky swallowed, dry and shaky. ¡°And she can see us. Okay. Okay. Alright. I was wrong.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°She can, or she can see the signature of our raw nanomachines.¡±

    Elpida lowered the nanomachine cannister. She had intended to return it to the backpack, but the faint blue glow caught her eye again; the urge to drink was stronger this time, though she knew the goo was tasteless. More nanomachines would heal her heart, wouldn¡¯t they? Without thinking about what she was doing, she reached over with her other hand to open the lid.

    Crack-crump!

    A shot rang out, muffled beyond the bunker ¡ª followed by the sound of a bullet hitting concrete, only inches away.

    Vicky and Kagami both flinched. Amina let out a strangled yelp. Ilyusha snorted, amused. Elpida stopped reaching for the cannister lid.

    Kagami stammered as she steadied herself against the wall: ¡°Why is she shooting at us now? And that wasn¡¯t her gravitic weapon, that was some fucking popgun!¡±

    Vicky was panting with surprise. ¡°She can¡¯t shoot through the concrete, this place is like six feet thick. What the hell? What the¡ª Amina, sweetie, it¡¯s okay, she can¡¯t hurt us with that, she was just trying to spook us, trying to scare us.¡±

    Ilyusha kept laughing, hissing through her teeth.

    Elpida said: ¡°That was a statement, not an assault, yes. She¡¯s letting us know she sees us.¡± She returned the cannister to the backpack, all thoughts of drinking gone for now. ¡°Kagami, what¡¯s she doing?¡±

    ¡°Motionless! Statue! I can¡¯t even see what she shot with!¡±

    Vicky was saying, ¡°That¡¯s not good, that¡¯s really really not good. That¡¯s really not good.¡±

    Amina said, in a tiny voice, ¡°Can¡¯t we ¡­ talk to ¡­ her?¡±

    Kagami snorted. Ilyusha didn¡¯t even bother to answer. Vicky said, ¡°Sweetie, that¡¯s a nice idea, but probably not. Hey, hey, Elpi, Kaga, you don¡¯t think this is the same person who shot at the worm-guard, right? Like ¡­ like predators fighting over a kill?¡±

    Kagami murmured: ¡°How should we know?¡± Then, louder: ¡°Fuck this bitch. There¡¯s only one way in and out of this bunker and we have a coilgun ¡ª right? Right. If she tries to creep up on us, then fuck her ¡ª we¡¯ll shoot her first. You see this?!¡± Kagami raised a finger toward the wall in what Elpida assumed was an obscene gesture. ¡°Fuck you! Simple! Straightforward!¡±

    Elpida just said, ¡°She can likely see the coilgun too. We do not have the element of surprise.¡±

    Amina was breathing too hard, in gaspy little jerks, ¡°B-but ¡­ she¡¯s watching. Can¡¯t we say please don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ammy,¡± Vicky said, ¡°it¡¯s sweet of you, but this person might be dangerous. Might want to hurt us. We have to be careful.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°No. Amina¡¯s right.¡±

    Everyone looked at her. Kagami looked full away from the target for a moment before catching herself. Ilyusha cocked her head and clicked her claws against the concrete, curious, and no longer laughing. Amina blinked in surprise.

    ¡°Oh great,¡± Kagami muttered under her breath. ¡°Gone soft in the head, brave leader?¡±

    Elpida repeated herself: ¡°We have to make contact.¡±

    Vicky looked worried. Cold sweat was beading on her forehead. ¡°Uh, Elpi, this isn¡¯t one of us. This could be a cannibal. A monster. Anything. She must be after the nanos, which means, you know ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve considered our options. We have to make contact.¡±

    Kagami slid one hand under her visor and gripped her own cheekbones, perhaps to contain a grimace. ¡°How can you not understand the situation? Did you not listen to little miss fucking know-it-all earlier? This world is worse than dog-eat-dog, it¡¯s instant cannibalistic exploitation turned up to eleven! You¡¯re not going to make a fucking friend out there!¡±

    ¡°Elpi,¡± Vicky said, ¡°I gotta agree, hey? Are you thinking straight? Consider this carefully, yeah? We don¡¯t wanna draw attention.¡±

    Ilyusha was just watching, head tilted to one side. Perhaps she saw the logic as well.

    Elpida raised her chin and raised her voice, and made sure to look everyone in the eyes as she spoke. ¡°That revenant is three floors up.¡± She pointed at the wall. ¡°That¡¯s a good vantage point. Heavy weapon or not, she¡¯s got a good view up and down the road next to this bunker, and a perfect view into the concrete basin in which this bunker sits. We cannot communicate with Pira or Atyle, and we don¡¯t know what direction they¡¯ll come when they return. That revenant up there could creep up on us, and yes, we could kill her with the coilgun. But she could also sit there for the next few hours and then shoot Pira or Atyle when they return, in order to draw us out. We have no way to warn them. We can¡¯t afford to wait. We have to remove this problem before the others get back.¡±

    Vicky blew out a big sigh, then put her face in her good hand. Kagami grimaced, but didn¡¯t raise a complaint. Ilyusha grinned; ¡®remove this problem¡¯ may have given her ideas. Amina just watched, chewing on her lower lip, eyes big and glistening in the dark.

    Elpida didn¡¯t share the rest of her thoughts; she didn¡¯t want to demoralise anybody. Their options were limited. The revenant was not visible through either of the slit-windows, they were at the wrong angles. They could not relocate; even if they stuck to the shadow of the bunker and somehow avoided the sniper, and if Pira and Atyle knew where to find them, they were still short two able bodies ¡ª they could not carry all their gear. They also couldn¡¯t bait the observer out by pretending to go to sleep; that presented the same issue, placing them on the losing side of a waiting game. But there was one other possibility.

    ¡°If contact doesn¡¯t work,¡± Elpida said, ¡°I might be able to draw her out, for a clean shot.¡±

    She pointed at the guns laid out on the floor ¡ª at the sniper rifle Vicky had taken from the gravekeeper¡¯s armoury.

    Vicky¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Oh, hey. I¡ª with this arm, I-I can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not expecting you to,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    Kagami squinted: ¡°Why not just blast her with the coilgun?¡±

    ¡°She may be able to see us moving the power signature. The first step is better achieved with stealth.¡±

    There was no further debate. Vicky couldn¡¯t handle anything but a pistol until her arm was healed; Kagami was getting better at controlling her unfamiliar augmetic legs, but she couldn¡¯t crouch or squat or hug the wall of the bunker, and she certainly wouldn¡¯t be able to belly-crawl to get into position; Amina was obviously out of the running.

    ¡°Ilyusha,¡± Elpida said when the heavily augmented girl hopped to her claws. ¡°Illy. I need you to cover my back.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Ilyusha grunted. She didn¡¯t seem happy with this plan.

    ¡°I¡¯m not just saying that to give you something to do or make you feel useful. I need you to stand in that doorway with your shotgun and cover my back. I need you close, in case I make a mistake and get shot. You¡¯re mobile, you¡¯re fast, and you know what you¡¯re doing. And I trust you. I¡¯m going to have Kagami get as close to the doorway as possible so she can relay to me if the target moves. That means you¡¯re protecting her, as well.¡± Elpida put a hand on Ilyusha¡¯s shoulder, squeezing gently. ¡°Can you do that for us?¡±

    Ilyusha held Elpida¡¯s gaze for a second, eyes like molten lead. Then she broke into a grin. She flicked her tail up and down. ¡°¡®Kay. For you.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s heart jumped at that smile. She coughed twice, and tasted blood.

    She wasn¡¯t certain that she could change out of her bloodstained grey underlayers without tearing a still-healing muscle, or bruising her heart, or grinding the broken-glass feeling inside her chest into the meat of her lungs; Elpida would have to go out there wearing the clothes she had died in. At least the armoured coat was fresh. She zipped the coat closed over her front, with the emergency blanket still over her shoulders inside, reflective surfaces all tucked away. She slipped an automatic handgun and her combat knife into her pockets, then checked the scope on the sniper rifle and slung it over her shoulder.

    Ilyusha grabbed her rotary shotgun, grinning to herself, hissing a word under her breath. Kagami was already getting into position, lowering herself to sit awkwardly halfway up the concrete steps which led to the door.

    Vicky ducked her head to whisper privately to Elpida: ¡°Are you sure you should be doing this?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I¡¯m the only one who can take the shot. I¡¯m wounded, but I won¡¯t have to crawl far, if I have to crawl at all. And I¡¯m going to try to talk to her first.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Vicky whispered. ¡°I mean emotionally. You doing okay? Half an hour ago you were ¡­ you know.¡±

    ¡°This is how I¡¯m built. I¡¯m focused, I¡¯m ready. Let¡¯s deal with the problem first. Then, later, I don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t think about them now.¡±

    Vicky nodded. ¡°Be safe. Don¡¯t get shot, okay?¡±

    Elpida and Ilyusha went up the steps to the barred metal door, where the shadows gathered. Kagami snorted and said: ¡°Better hope she¡¯s not wearing armour. Piece of old crap like that, no proper sights, no explosive core in the bullets. What are you going to do, tickle her?¡±

    Elpida just said, ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t a lie, but it was an exaggeration; Elpida had never been much of a sharpshooter. In the cadre she would have delegated a task like this to Velvet, or maybe to Dusk ¡ª or perhaps to Asp, if she needed somebody to sit completely still in one place for nine hours for the purpose of a single shot. But she was the only one here. As she stood by the metal door, surrounded by the black static of the raindrops, she briefly entertained the notion that the unseen observer was Velvet, or Dusk, or Asp; if it was Asp, Elpida was vastly outmatched. But all she would have to do is call out. The sound of her voice would be enough.

    Ilyusha watched in curious silence as Elpida closed her eyes and whispered her cadre¡¯s names.

    Then she nodded to Ilyusha, said, ¡°You got my back? Stick to the doorway, relay anything from Kagami,¡± lifted the metal bar, and cracked the door.

    Elpida pulled up her armoured hood and stepped out into the rain.

    The bunker squatted at one end of a shallow concrete basin, wide and filthy; dirty rainwater was sluicing along the edges, flowing into drainage holes and vanishing into subterranean darkness. The raindrops felt greasy and gritty on the exposed skin of Elpida¡¯s hands, drumming static on her armoured hood. The air tasted of petrochemicals and wet concrete and obscure rot. Buildings like fossilised tusks reared toward the choking sky in every direction. The graveworm lay still on the horizon, wavering behind a veil of water.

    Elpida stuck to the wall of the bunker and followed it to the left, only a few paces to the corner. Ilyusha peered out after her, staying low, eyes on the far end of the concrete basin. Elpida reached the corner and dropped into a crouch, trying not to cough. The rain dulled all sounds behind a wall of static.

    She glanced back at the mountain-line on the horizon.

    ¡°Graveworm?¡± Elpida whispered. Then, with a lump in her throat: ¡°Howl?¡±

    But there was no reply. She turned back to her task.

    From this angle, the vantage point of the mystery revenant was blocked vertically by the gently sloping side of the concrete basin. Elpida peered around the corner, eyeing the upper floors of the ruins on the far side of the ancient road: glass and steel in grand decay, brick crumbling to nothing, plaster and breeze block and wood exposed like ossified guts.

    If she wanted to put eyes on her opponent, she would need to shuffle forward and raise her head.

    Instead, Elpida took the rifle from her shoulder and looked through the scope, examining the building just to the left. Raindrops pattered off the barrel. Many floors above the third story were still intact, a tangle of brick outcrops and twisted steel and fragments of glass. That was bad; if Elpida moved forward, the revenant could simply climb higher to get a clean shot at her. Elpida would be exposed. She stayed where she was.

    Time to bluff.

    Elpida raised her eye from the scope but kept the rifle in place, then called out across the road: ¡°Hello!¡±

    The rain swallowed her words; the effort burned her lungs. She coughed twice, then waited, then called again: ¡°Hello over there! We can see you watching us! What do you want?¡±

    Raindrops drummed on concrete and dripped from the rim of her hood. Elpida waited, counting the seconds up to twenty.

    She called out again: ¡°If you don¡¯t reply, and you don¡¯t leave, then I¡¯m going to hunt you. Tell me what you want. You want our raw nanomachines? We can negotiate. We can talk. What do you want?¡±

    A reply came from deep within the rain, howling out across the road; the voice sounded like metal itself had learnt to cackle.

    ¡°Sport!¡± it screeched. ¡°Sport of you ¡ª necromancer!¡±

 duellum - 4.2

    That word again, screeching out from between the rotten tooth-stubs of this city-corpse, half-drowned in the steady static hiss of greasy, gritty raindrops, pattering on asphalt and pooling in concrete and drumming on the hood of Elpida¡¯s armoured coat.

    Necromancer.

    Echoes faded; static filled the silence.

    The mysterious revenant ¡ª the sniper up in a building on the other side of the ancient road ¡ª had nothing more to say.

    Elpida put her eye to the scope of her rifle again, to watch the buildings across the road for any sign of motion. Twisted steel and slick-wet brick were blurred by a veil of water. Rain dripped from the rim of her hood. Droplets plinked on the barrel of the gun.

    This was the second time Elpida had been accused of Necromancy. Was this a goad, a bluff, an insult intended to draw her out? Or was it simply a mistake? Had the sniper seen her turn and whisper to the distant mountain range of the graveworm? If she could see through walls, why not flesh?

    Or did the revenant sniper know something Elpida did not?

    Elpida looked over her right shoulder, back toward the open door of the bunker. Ilyusha squatted just inside the doorway, sheltering from the rain, bionic limbs all sharp red angles. She cradled her rotary shotgun close to her chest, barrel pointing across the concrete basin to cover Elpida¡¯s back. The heavily augmented girl pulled a grit-toothed sneer of disapproval; she could hear every word shouted back and forth across the road. Elpida signalled with one hand: hold steady. Ilyusha huffed and tossed her head, but she stayed put.

    Elpida hissed, ¡°Ask Kagami: is she moving?¡±

    Ilyusha ducked back into the doorway, then reappeared a moment later. She shook her head. Elpida mouthed: ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Back to the concrete slope, the shattered road, and the buildings like broken fingers. Elpida called out again, projecting her voice through the rain: ¡°What do you mean, ¡®sport¡¯? Are you hunting us?¡±

    No reply. Just the rain.

    Elpida coughed once, tasted blood, and took another shot: ¡°Why do you think I¡¯m a Necromancer?¡±

    Still nothing.

    Elpida carried on. ¡°If I was a Necromancer, I could just walk through your bullets, right? Why would I hide from you?¡±

    Raindrops drummed. Filthy fluid flowed down concrete gutters. Petrochemical stench filled Elpida¡¯s aching lungs. Grit gathered on her exposed hands. Water sluiced from her hood. She thought once again of Asp, most willowy and delicate of her cadre. Asp was able to still herself like a pool of dark water; Asp was ¡ª no, Elpida reminded herself with a throb of pain in her chest: Asp was dead.

    Asp had been an expert at striking from stillness. Asp could go from nothing to everything all at once, from a standing start to an explosion of violence. Asp had not been the most skilled at close quarters combat, nor the most feared on the sparring floor mats, and Elpida knew a few of her more intimate weaknesses; but if Elpida had needed somebody to sit and endure the tension of waiting, of stillness and silence, without surrender to any unplanned reaction, without the lure of whim or wit, she would have chosen Asp.

    The taciturn sniper was not Asp; nor was she Velvet, or Dusk. Elpida could never have bested Asp in long-distance single combat. None of her tricks would have worked. But as raindrops drummed and no answer came, Elpida asked herself what Asp would do.

    Asp would stay still.

    Elpida took one hand off her rifle and pressed her fingers against the bunker¡¯s exterior wall; the concrete was cold and wet. She estimated the angles and distances. Then, very quickly, she reached up and tapped the highest point she could touch without rising from a crouch.

    Crack-crump!

    The sniper¡¯s bullet slammed into the concrete in a shower of cold grit; Elpida had already whipped her hand back down. The sniper¡¯s aim was perfect; the bullet would have shattered the bones of Elpida¡¯s palm.

    She whispered to herself: ¡°Thank you, sister. Thank you, Asp. I love you.¡±

    Then she put her eye to the rifle¡¯s scope, aimed at a piece of brick two floors above the revenant¡¯s position, and squeezed the trigger. Her shot rang out with a high-pitched crack; a puff of pulverised brick-dust was swallowed by the rain.

    Before the echoes of the shot faded away, without raising her eye from the scope, while her hands worked the bolt to load another round, Elpida called out.

    ¡°You know something we don¡¯t, zombie?¡±

    She took another shot. Her second bullet hit a spear of steel rebar poking from a piece of ancient concrete. Crack-ping went the distant ricochet.

    Elpida shouted across the road: ¡°How many of us do you see, zombie? Three plus one Necromancer? Or is it four? Or six? Are you certain you see all of us?¡±

    She squeezed the trigger again, aiming between the buildings, shooting at open air. The gunshot echoed off into the rain storm.

    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb with me, zombie,¡± Elpida called. ¡°I said I would hunt you. You just wait right where you are.¡±

    Another shot; another crack off the concrete; another clack-clack of the bolt in her hands.

    A reply finally screeched back, like metal on rock: ¡°Stand up, then!¡±

    Elpida raised her eye from the scope. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Prove you¡¯re no bone fucker! I¡¯ll put one in your leg!¡±

    Elpida suppressed a sigh, then coughed hard, three times; all that shouting made her lungs burn, still healing from the Silico¡¯s coilgun rounds. It felt like shards of molten glass were working their way into her bloodstream by way of her alveoli. She whispered: ¡°Nice try.¡±

    ¡°Ehhhh?¡± the revenant screeched. ¡°What¡¯s that? Too chicken-shit? Afraid to be proved wrong? Where¡¯s all your big talk about hunting me? Ha! Come on! Come out! Prove you¡¯re one of us and not some corpse-raping blob! Come ooooooon! Come ouuuuut!¡±

    Elpida said nothing as the shout trailed off. She waited. She counted the seconds inside her head.

    At thirty seven seconds, Ilyusha hissed for Elpida¡¯s attention: ¡°Bitch is moving!¡± She ducked back into the doorway again, then reappeared quickly. ¡°Going up!¡±

    Elpida smiled. Thirty seven seconds; this sniper was no Asp.

    She lowered her own rifle, slipped around the corner of the bunker, and hurried back to the doorway. Ilyusha waited with a sour frown on her pale little face, grey eyes flat like cold lead. Elpida squatted just inside the door frame and shook her hood off, coat dripping water onto the concrete steps. Kagami was sitting a few steps further down, half in the darkness, frowning up at the concrete walls through the auspex visor. Vicky was keeping Amina company in the far corner. The air beyond the bunker was a wall of rain.

    Kagami snapped, ¡°So?¡±

    Elpida asked: ¡°Where¡¯s she going?¡±

    ¡°Along to the right.¡± Kagami raised a hand, tracing lines only she could see. ¡°Slowly. Not far. Oh, there she goes, up one floor. That¡¯s a metal railing. Must be some intact stairs. There, she stopped. Halfway to another floor. A stairwell or something. I see glass, brick, a crack in the wall. Nice hidey hole. Clever. Do we have a plan, then, or are we just flailing?¡±

    Ilyusha hissed, ¡°Blow her the fuck up!¡±

    Elpida spoke quickly. She made sure to glance down at Vicky and Amina too. ¡°She was trying to goad me into taking a risky shot, but she¡¯s too impatient to do it properly. That works in our favour, we can use that. But we¡¯re still in a very bad position. She can see through walls, which neutralises all the usual tactics for this kind of engagement. She will see me coming, no matter how well I conceal myself or how slowly I move into position. She can even see us having this conversation. She will know we¡¯re planning something. She¡¯s also a very quick and accurate shot. I¡¯m going to have to surprise her.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Itchy trigger finger, right, right. Get her to, what, jump the gun? Ha.¡±

    From down in the bunker room, Vicky said: ¡°We¡¯re in really big trouble, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    Elpida refused to confirm that. She said, ¡°There¡¯s a way to deal with this, but it¡¯s extremely risky. We have one attempt and we have to get it right.¡±

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    Kagami huffed. ¡°Why not just blow her up with the coilgun?¡± She gestured down at the receiver and power-tank on the floor of the bunker room, bulky and angular in the glow-stick light. ¡°Who cares what cover she has when you¡¯re pointing that at her?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll see it the moment we activate the power-tank.¡±

    ¡°And? So?¡±

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida said, firmly. ¡°We don¡¯t want to provoke her into using that gravitic weapon against this bunker. If we threaten her life then she may decide the nanomachines are not worth the trouble; she may pull the trigger. We need to corner her without her realising. We need to present her with a close-range threat to occupy her attention.¡±

    Elpida did not voice her other suspicion, because she didn¡¯t want to spook her comrades: it was possible the mysterious revenant really was playing with them, for sport. Using the coilgun might break the rules of her private game.

    Kagami hissed in frustration. ¡°Great. Frozen conflict bullshit. Oh, there are so many fucking ways this can go wrong. Can¡¯t we just make her leave?¡±

    Ilyusha grunted, ¡°Called us necromancers. Cunt fuck shit-eater.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°She doesn¡¯t really believe that. It¡¯s bait, to make us angry. Ilyusha, don¡¯t let it get to you. That¡¯s what she wants.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted and looked out into the rain. Her exposed red claws clicked against the metal of her shotgun. Her black-and-red bionic tail tapped at the wall.

    ¡°Ilyusha,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I can¡¯t dislodge this sniper by myself. This is a two person job. It¡¯s incredibly dangerous, one of us is likely to get shot; in fact, I¡¯m counting on that. With any luck the armour in these coats will stop a round or two, but I don¡¯t know what kind of firearm she¡¯s using. You¡¯re the only one fast enough to cross that road in the opening I can make ¡ª but I am asking you, not ordering you. Will you help me?¡±

    Ilyusha turned her eyes back to Elpida, head tilting sideways, mouth a funny smirk. She nudged Elpida on the shoulder, a playful little shove. Elpida¡¯s heart lurched at that gesture. She swallowed a cough.

    Ilyusha said: ¡°In!¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Ilyusha ¡ª Illy, thank you. Pira mentioned that you¡¯re currently regenerating more rapidly than the rest of us, because of the nanomachines you drank back in the tomb. Is that still correct?¡±

    Ilyusha shrugged.

    Elpida continued. ¡°Okay, I want you to take two spare coats and drape them over yourself. Take a ballistic shield, too.¡± Ilyusha opened her mouth to complain, so Elpida quickly said: ¡°No arguments. If I get shot and I can¡¯t walk, it doesn¡¯t matter. If you get shot and downed, the plan is over. I need you mobile. I need you across that road. It¡¯s very likely that the kill will be yours.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s voice floated up from the cramped gloom: ¡°Kill?¡±

    ¡°We have to,¡± said Elpida. She looked down into the bunker and met Vicky¡¯s eyes: a dark frown in the anemic glow-stick illumination. Amina was up on her feet now, draped with a coat, clutching Vicky¡¯s good hand in her own small, brown fist. Elpida added: ¡°Unless she backs down and leaves. The threat to Pira and Atyle as they return is too much. We may have to kill her, yes.¡± Elpida turned back to Ilyusha, reached out, and took Ilyusha¡¯s black-red bionic shoulder. ¡°The plan is simple ¡ª you go to where I was, to the corner of the bunker. You stay low, beneath her line of sight. Crawl forward up the slope. Get as close to the road as you can. Then you wait. I¡¯ll go to the opposite corner and set up the shot.¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°Hey, Elpi¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know, it¡¯s not a good angle for a shot. It¡¯s not meant to be good.¡±

    Vicky sighed. She sounded almost angry. ¡°You¡¯re going to use yourself as bait. I don¡¯t like that. I really don¡¯t like that.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice. And the coat will probably stop a bullet¡ª¡±

    ¡°Probably?¡± Vicky scoffed. ¡°And what if she shoots you in the face, Elpi? Isn¡¯t that how to kill one of us? Destroy enough brain matter? Boom, head-shot, and you¡¯re gone.¡±

    Amina was wide-eyed with incomprehension and fear. Kagami cleared her throat and said, ¡°Knuckle-dragger has a point.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m counting on.¡±

    Vicky opened her mouth to argue, but then she stopped and frowned.

    ¡°Trust me,¡± said Elpida. ¡°We have to mislead her with an irresistible target.¡± Then she turned back to Ilyusha. ¡°Illy, when you hear a shot ¡ª from either me or her, it doesn¡¯t matter which ¡ª you cross that street as fast as possible, get into the building with her. Don¡¯t look back for me, don¡¯t turn around if I¡¯m hit, just sprint. If she shouts anything, ignore her. Once you¡¯re in there ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida trailed off. Ilyusha knew what to do. The heavily augmented girl grinned wide, clicked her tongue, and made her rotary shotgun go cluck-clunk.

    ¡°Get her fucked,¡± Ilyusha growled.

    ¡°Right.¡± Elpida squeezed her shoulder. ¡°If everything goes to plan, I¡¯ll be right behind you, once she¡¯s distracted. If I¡¯m not, then be careful in there. She may have set up traps, tripwires, mines, something to cover her rear. Kagami?¡±

    Kagami went, ¡°Pffft,¡± still staring through her auspex visor at the opposite wall. ¡°Nothing I can pick out against the background of the ruins. Fucking hell. You¡¯re really going to do this, you pair of berserker stim-heads. You¡¯re both going to get shot doing this. Fuck, fuck me.¡±

    Ilyusha barked with laughter.

    Elpida said, ¡°Likely, yes. It¡¯s the only way. Let¡¯s prep.¡±

    Ilyusha sprang out of a crouch and hopped down the concrete steps, first to the backpacks. She placed her shotgun on the floor as she draped a couple of spare armoured coats over herself, then filled the pockets of her makeshift shorts with spare shells. Amina hovered nearby, as if nervous to say anything, but then Ilyusha turned to her and closed the gap. The two girls shared whispers. Hands touched, brief in parting. Ilyusha head-bumped Amina¡¯s shoulder. Amina sniffed and wiped her eyes.

    Vicky brought Elpida fresh rounds for the rifle, and her submachine gun, which Elpida slung over her other shoulder. Elpida thanked her, but Vicky just nodded, face creased with worry; she walked back over to the weapons laid out on the floor.

    Kagami clicked her fingers for attention, without looking away from the view through her visor. ¡°Are you taking the auspex with you? I can¡¯t shout that far if she moves, and I can¡¯t bloody well follow you. I can¡¯t. I just can¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°No, you keep it,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be any use to me in combat, I can¡¯t read the intel. But I should check her location one more time. This has to be perfect.¡±

    Kagami swallowed. ¡°What am I supposed to do, hm? Shout to you if she ¡­ ¡±

    Vicky selected a handgun from the floor, the only gun she could use with her reattached arm curled up against her side. She came back to the foot of the steps.

    ¡°Kaga,¡± she said, ¡°you get as close to the door as you can, in case you need to shout. I¡¯ll watch your back. I got you, okay?¡±

    ¡°Good idea,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Vicky, thank you.¡±

    Elpida did not like the look in Vicky¡¯s eyes, but she knew it came from a place of concern.

    Thirty seconds later, Elpida and Ilyusha stepped out of the little metal door and into the pouring rain, side by side. Ilyusha bumped her head against Elpida¡¯s shoulder, then went right; Elpida watched her go. She was perfect: Ilyusha¡¯s petite figure, wrapped in coats, sheltered behind the rectangle of a ballistic shield, presented a tiny target compared with Elpida¡¯s height and muscle mass. Ilyusha scurried along the side of the bunker, splashing through the puddles, claws clicking on concrete. She dropped into a crouch, slid onto her belly, and shimmied around the corner, careless of the cold, foul-smelling water. Her tail scraped a mark on the ground. Bare bionic claws scrabbled at the concrete.

    From the open doorway, over Kagami¡¯s shivering head, Vicky hissed: ¡°Elpi, don¡¯t get shot.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll work,¡± said Elpida.

    She turned and hurried to the other corner of the bunker, raindrops pummelling her hood and shoulders. Elpida dropped to a crouch and copied the same position she¡¯d used earlier; she unshouldered the sniper rifle and peered around the corner, so the unseen revenant¡¯s vantage point was still below the lip of the concrete slope. She put her eye to the scope, found the right building, then shuffled out of cover and edged a few inches up the slope.

    Elpida called out, ¡°Still there, zombie? Still watching?¡±

    She drew a bead on a random corner of brick and pulled the trigger. Millennia-old masonry shattered and joined the rainfall. She worked the bolt.

    She kept shouting. ¡°I told you we¡¯d hunt you, zombie.¡± She inched forward again, crouching lower as she ascended the concrete slope. Rainwater swirled around her boots. ¡°Last chance to back out. You wanted sport, I¡¯m giving you a sporting chance.¡±

    She pulled the trigger again; across the road, a shard of glass exploded into fragments.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to count to three,¡± Elpida yelled.

    She shuffled her boots up the concrete slope. Shoulders low, chest aching with her death-wounds, head scrunched down. Almost there. Elpida would only have to raise her head another six inches to bring the sniper¡¯s vantage point into view of her scope ¡ª and to put her own skull in the sniper¡¯s line of fire.

    ¡°One,¡± Elpida shouted. She worked the bolt on the rifle.

    A screech carried on the rain: ¡°You call this a pincer movement? You think I¡¯m an idiot? I can see you right there!¡±

    ¡°Two.¡± Elpida willed Ilyusha not to respond.

    The screech again: ¡°You¡¯re not much sport, are you! Come on, you can do better than this!¡±

    ¡°Three.¡±

    Elpida stood up.

    All the way up, straight to her full height, rain streaming from shoulders and hood; no edging her skull over the lip of the slope to hunt for a trick shot. Rifle butt firm against her shoulder, eye to the sight, she tracked the revenant¡¯s estimated position all the way up. A glint of scope greeted her efforts, winking from between two twisted masses of rusted steel and ancient brick. Elpida¡¯s finger tightened on the trigger.

    Crack.

    But the revenant shot first ¡ª several feet too low, reacting instead of thinking, aimed at where Elpida¡¯s face should have been.

    The bullet hit Elpida in the stomach, knocked the wind out of her, and ruined her own shot. Adrenaline and pain-blockers flooded her bloodstream; genetically engineered balance and strengthened muscles kept her on her feet long enough to collapse into an unsteady crouch. One foot went out from beneath her, slipping in the rainwater; she almost slid down the concrete slope, raindrops pattering on her face and filling her mouth with acidic chemical gunk. Her body tried to vomit as waves of pain radiated up from her stomach, forcing her to cough, hacking blood into her mouth. But she didn¡¯t have time for pain.

    Ilyusha¡¯s footsteps were already sprinting across the ancient asphalt.

    Elpida jammed the rifle to her shoulder and rocketed back to her feet. This time there was no bullet ¡ª the sniper was too busy trying to take aim at Ilyusha. The heavily augmented girl was flying across the road, whooping and cackling, tail lashing the air, double coats flapping out around her like bat-wings, hiding the ballistic shield clutched in one hand. Perfect to catch any bullets.

    A second gunshot rang out, but Elpida didn¡¯t see Ilyusha stumble; Asp could have made that shot. This sniper wasn¡¯t one tenth of Asp.

    Elpida took aim at the sliver of darkness between twists of metal and piles of old brick. She pumped the trigger, peppering the concealed position.

    She didn¡¯t see if the sniper retreated, but there was no return fire. Ilyusha reached the other side of the road and slipped inside the building, raindrops pattering off her rotary shotgun as she poked it out from under the coats, pushing on inside, vanishing into the tangle of ruins.

    Elpida dropped to a crouch, panting with the pain in her gut. She slid a hand across her belly, across the slick wet surface of the coat, allowing herself a hard grunt at the spike of pain, and¡ª

    A little flattened disk of lead peeled off in her fingers. Chemical propellant bullet, caught by the coat. It fell from her hand into the running rainwater with a dull clink.

    She¡¯d have a bruise like a mule¡¯s kick. But the trick had worked.

    ¡°How¡¯s that for sport?¡± she called out. Then she had to spit bile and blood into the rainwater.

    Steady static hiss filled the air. No reply.

    Elpida had to keep talking, keep the sniper distracted, to increase Ilyusha¡¯s chances. ¡°How¡¯s that¡ª¡±

    Crump-thoom went something on the other side of the road, muffled inside the ruins: a small-scale explosive detonation. A grenade or a mine. Exactly as Elpida had warned.

    ¡°Hahaha!¡± a screeching metallic laugh rang out through the wall of rain. ¡°Come on in, fresh meat! Come right in!¡±

 duellum - 4.3

    ¡°Ilyusha! Illy! Illy, respond!¡±

    Elpida shouted across the road, over the sniper¡¯s mocking laugh and the echoes of the explosion. Greasy rain swallowed her words, drumming on her hood, pounding on the asphalt, swirling around her boots as it flowed down the concrete slope, carrying away the deformed bullet which had failed to penetrate her armoured coat.

    She coughed and spat blood into the water ¡ª bright and fresh: internal bleeding from the massive bullet-impact bruise spreading across her abdomen.

    ¡°Illy!¡±

    Ilyusha did not respond.

    The metallic voice howled through the rain once again, but this time it was muffled behind brick and steel, funnelled in the wrong direction, unfocused: ¡°Your fresh meat was too heavy on her feet! Come pick her up, Necromancer!¡±

    Elpida¡¯s body acted on the available information before her conscious mind caught up.

    She slung the rifle over her shoulder, shot to her feet, and sprinted out onto the ancient asphalt of the road. Her bruised stomach muscles and slow-healing chest wounds lit up with agony; painblockers and adrenaline flooded her bloodstream, her gene-tweaked biochemistry doing its best to keep her moving. From behind, back in the bunker, somebody shouted her name: ¡°Elpi!¡±

    Probably Vicky, but there was no time to respond.

    Elpida¡¯s boots splashed through dancing puddles of gritty water. Raindrops lashed her face. She vaulted the lane divider in the middle of the road; landing sent a jagged spike of pain up through her guts. She turned a stumble into a lunge, then hauled herself toward the shadow of the ruined buildings.

    Compared to Ilyusha, Elpida was a large, slow-moving target, with little protection, and no covering fire.

    But the sniper didn¡¯t shoot.

    It wasn¡¯t until she slammed into the cover of the ruined buildings that Elpida¡¯s conscious mind caught up with her training: the sniper¡¯s metallic voice had been muffled, wavering, projected the wrong way ¡ª in motion. The sniper was either relocating to a new spot, or descending through the structure to deal with Ilyusha. That gave Elpida an opening. A risky one, yes, but one of her comrades was in trouble, perhaps injured, perhaps about to be killed. Her training, even tattered and torn, had handed her the correct response.

    A calculated risk. Old Lady Nunnus would have scolded her for this one.

    ¡°You are the Commander, not a sacrificial pawn. Yes, every one of you girls is more than capable of deciding for herself, I bloody well know that. We all learned that early enough. You¡¯re not raw Legion recruits picking your noses and waiting for the drill sergeant. But if you go down, the others will stop at nothing to recover their leader. If you love your sisters as they love you, do not put yourself at unnecessary risk.¡±

    Elpida wasn¡¯t Commander of anything now. And she wasn¡¯t letting any comrade die before she did.

    Sprinting across the road had aggravated the massive deep-tissue bruise on her abdomen; painblockers could dull the response, but they couldn¡¯t stop her drooling blood into the puddles of rainwater. Hissing through her teeth with convulsive pain, pressing herself against a filthy concrete wall for cover, raindrops pummelling her hood and shoulders, Elpida had to make a conscious choice: stop breathing. She did not need to breathe, or pant, or wheeze. She was not alive, not really.

    She swallowed blood. Tasted petrochemicals and chlorine and acid in the rainwater. After a few seconds, the pain ebbed down to a manageable level.

    Elpida pulled her submachine gun up, pressed the stock to her shoulder, and slipped in through an empty doorway of tarnished steel.

    The building the sniper had selected as a vantage point was some kind of light commercial or office space: the ground floor was a wide area of once-white tiles, with a reception desk, several banks of empty lockers along one wall, some kind of lathe-like machine along the other, and some fallen concrete at the far end. The ruin was thick with shadows, hissing with rain like sand on a drum. Empty doorways led to open stairwells on both left and right, climbing upward: the stairs on the left were scuffed blue polymer with metal railings, but the steps on the right were made of wood. Elpida allowed herself a single split-second of wonder. Walking on wood? Obscene.

    On the left, one flight up on a little corner-landing, a wide area of stairs and wall was blackened with fresh soot: the aftermath of a small explosive device.

    A tangle of bionic limbs and armoured coats lay in a heap.

    Elpida moved quickly, submachine gun up, watching her feet for tripwires or mines or anything else out of place, eyes on the corners for mounted weapons or cameras or any sign of movement. She did not like stepping into the stairwell; it went up perhaps five or six floors before terminating in a tangle of bent steel and crumbled concrete ¡ª a vertical killing ground topped by a sniper¡¯s nest. She kept her armoured hood up, covering the corners with her submachine gun. Her footsteps echoed upward. Rainwater dripped from her coat.

    When she reached the corner landing, Elpida tore her eyes away from the vertical shaft of the stairwell and crouched next to the tangle of coats, fearing the worst. She tried to shield Ilyusha¡¯s body with her own, in case the sniper was watching from above.

    She hissed: ¡°Ilyusha? Ilyusha, respond. Illy!¡±

    Ilyusha gurgled.

    Elpida pulled back a corner of armoured coat: Ilyusha¡¯s face appeared from within the tangle. Dazed, dirty, disoriented, face smeared with blood from a gash on her scalp, but very much alive and conscious. Ilyusha cracked a grin and gurgled again. Elpida realised she was trying to laugh.

    Elpida said: ¡°We have to move. Can you stand?¡±

    ¡°Got me with a fucking cunt, bomb shit.¡± Ilyusha slurred. Her eyes wavered, one pupil larger than the other. Concussion. ¡°Meant to be our thing. Thirteen thing. Fucking reptile. Fuck.¡±

    Ilyusha squirmed beneath the coats. Elpida tried to reach out and hold her still, but Ilyusha shoved and kicked free a large piece of soot-blackened, heat-warped, bulletproof polymer: the ballistic shield. The shield had taken the brunt of the explosion. Ilyusha must have had enough sense to keep the shield to her front. Probably saved her life.

    Elpida took all this in with a glance, then hissed: ¡°We need to get out of this stairwell and into cover. The sniper is right above us. Can you stand¡ª¡±

    A metallic screech echoed downward, turning the stairwell into a giant megaphone: ¡°I see you, bone fucker! Come on up!¡±

    Elpida grabbed the ballistic shield just in time.

    As she jerked it upward to shelter herself and Ilyusha, a single round ricocheted off the bulletproof surface. The impact juddered down her arm and into her shoulder, vibrating through the wounds in her chest and the bruise on her stomach. Elpida grunted with pain and effort. The sniper howled and cackled, deafening in the echo-filled stairwell. She fired again ¡ª and again ¡ª and again ¡ª slamming the bulletproof shield with small calibre rounds, forcing Elpida down to cover Ilyusha.

    ¡°Come on, necrophiliac!¡± she screamed. ¡°You can do better than that!¡±

    Elpida hissed: ¡°Ilyusha, grab me! Grab on, I can¡¯t do this with one arm.¡±

    Ilyusha obeyed. From inside the tangle of coats she extended all four black-and-red bionic limbs to grip Elpida¡¯s shoulders and wrap around her waist. Sharp red claws dug into Elpida¡¯s flesh; Ilyusha clung to her front like an infant marsupial. Elpida crawled backward down the steps. Ilyusha¡¯s bionic tail dragged behind, limp and loose. The sniper fired again and again, pounding on the shield, howling with laughter. She landed two additional rounds on Ilyusha¡¯s tail, the only unprotected body part. Luckily the bullets bounced off with a resonant ping.

    Stomach muscles screaming, drooling blood through gritted teeth, Elpida dragged Ilyusha back out of the stairwell.

    She dropped the ballistic shield on the dirty white tiles and collapsed onto her side. Ilyusha remained attached to her front for over a minute, panting softly, chewing on Elpida¡¯s collarbone. Elpida allowed it.

    Eventually Ilyusha unclenched her limbs. Elpida propped her up against a wall and examined her for wounds, running her hands over Ilyusha¡¯s non-augmetic flesh, down her torso and up to her throat. Luckily Ilyusha still had her rotary shotgun cradled in her lap, secured around her neck with a canvas strap. Elpida checked her pulse, stared into her flat grey eyes, and took a look at the head wound ¡ª shallow, barely a graze, clotting fast. The blood smeared down Ilyusha¡¯s face made it look much worse.

    ¡°You¡¯re clear,¡± Elpida said. She sat back on her haunches and eyed the stairwell.

    Ilyusha grunted: ¡°No.¡± She reached out and grabbed a corner of Elpida¡¯s coat in one limp hand.

    ¡°No? No what?¡±

    ¡°No go. Don¡¯t go.¡± Ilyusha¡¯s eyes were like a dead sky before a storm, leaden and dark.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°Ilyusha ¡ª Illy, I¡¯m not going anywhere while you have a concussion. You¡¯ve not got any wounds except that gash on your head, and that¡¯s visibly better already. Nanomachines, I suppose. But you need to sit still.¡±

    Ilyusha grunted and closed her eyes. ¡°Fucked up.¡±

    ¡°We all make mistakes,¡± Elpida said. ¡°And you did the right thing, you kept the shield up, at your front. Well done. I¡¯m glad you did.¡±

    Ilyusha grumbled. She kept blinking as if trying to clear her vision.

    Elpida asked: ¡°What was it? A tripwire? Did you see?¡±

    ¡°Lil¡¯ robot bomb cunt. Creeping around.¡±

    Elpida froze. She turned slowly and looked toward the shadowy reception area, the banks of lockers, the tumbled concrete. Tripwires and traps she could manage with her eyes and ears; she could even disarm several types of anti-personnel mine if she had to. But semi-autonomous mobile robotic explosives were beyond her abilities, not without more equipment. She needed scanner devices, bomb-sniffers, ablative drones ¡ª and most of all she needed a hardshell. She stared into every dark corner, one hand on her weapon.

    ¡°Ilyusha. What did it look like?¡±

    ¡°Brown spider thingy.¡±

    ¡°How big?¡±

    ¡°Hand? Ish? Little piss head fuck.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Thank you.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted: ¡°Fucked up.¡±

    Elpida turned back to her, but kept her attention on her own peripheral vision. Ilyusha looked sad. Elpida said, ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, it¡¯s mine. I didn¡¯t predict she might have something like this. Drones are difficult to deal with, even with a bomb team and the right tools. You didn¡¯t have either.¡±

    ¡°Fucking bitch.¡±

    Elpida nodded. She didn¡¯t need to ask who Ilyusha was referring to. ¡°She¡¯s playing with us. I don¡¯t know why.¡±

    ¡°Crazy cunt.¡±

    ¡°Maybe. She must know I¡¯m not a Necromancer. It makes no sense. Either she¡¯s trying to wind us up, or ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida trailed off; through the wall of rain beyond the building¡¯s entrance she heard a name on the wind. Her name.

    She got to her feet. Ilyusha didn¡¯t want to let go of her coat, but Elpida gently peeled her claws open and whispered that she wasn¡¯t going far. Ilyusha didn¡¯t fight. Elpida quickly crossed to the open doorway, staring out into the rain, across the uneven asphalt. The bunker was a low grey hump on the far side.

    ¡°¡ªpida! Elpida! Elpi!¡±

    It was Vicky, out of sight.

    Elpida cupped her hands around her mouth and called back: ¡°We¡¯re okay! Illy is okay! Don¡¯t expose yourselves! Vicky, stay hidden! Head down!¡±

    Raindrop static filled the silence. Then Vicky shouted back: ¡°Okay!¡±

    A metallic screech rang out from above. The sniper cackled into the rain, then said, ¡°Expose yourself all you like, freshies! Come save your corpse-fucker bitch! Haahaaaa!¡±

    Vicky and Kagami were smart enough not to respond. Elpida hoped they were comforting Amina, too. They really needed long-range comms; even short range would make a difference. She wondered if such things were available in this wasteland.

    She turned away from the open doorway and crept back toward the stairwell, bringing her submachine gun up, eyes alert for any sign of skittering motion.

    She hissed: ¡°Illy, I¡¯m going to¡ª¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Ilyusha spat.

    The heavily augmented girl lurched to her feet. She staggered and swayed, naked claws scraping across the tile floor. She knocked her revolver-shotgun against the wall so hard that Elpida flinched, anticipating an accidental discharge. But the shotgun was made of sterner stuff; the mechanism didn¡¯t fail. Ilyusha shook her head, blinking her eyes hard as she struggled to focus on Elpida. She wobbled to one side, shotgun pointed at nothing, double layers of coats hanging from her narrow shoulders.

    Elpida put out one hand to steady her. ¡°Illy, wait. You need to recover¡ª¡±

    ¡°I can go!¡± Ilyusha shouted. She reached out and wrapped one hand around Elpida¡¯s wrist, claws going snick-snack as they flicked out and dug into the fabric of Elpida¡¯s coat. She hung on and pulled herself upright, then screwed her eyes shut, panting with effort. ¡°I can!¡±

    Elpida pitched her voice calm but firm; she¡¯d seen this before, on the faces of her clade-sisters: a devotion to others which often defied good sense. ¡°Illy. Illy, open your eyes and look at me.¡±

    Ilyusha shook her head, trying to clear a blockage. ¡°Nuurrrh¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ilyusha,¡± Elpida ordered. ¡°Look at me.¡±

    Ilyusha looked, molten grey eyes in a face smeared with drying blood.

    ¡°Illy, I¡¯m not going up there without you. I¡¯m not taking on a sniper in a prepared position, especially not when she¡¯s got mobile drones with explosives. The more pairs of eyes we have for that task, the better our chances of survival. But you are concussed. I need you, Ilyusha ¡ª which means I need you clear and sharp. I am ordering you to sit down and recover.¡±

    Ilyusha squinted, sullen and sulky. Her red-clawed fingers tightened on Elpida¡¯s wrist.

    Elpida continued. ¡°I¡¯m not going to expose myself to her line of fire. I¡¯m going to shout up the stairwell, without entering it. She¡¯s playing mind-games with us. I¡¯m answering her move.¡±

    Ilyusha hissed through clenched teeth. She did not let go.

    Elpida realised that Ilyusha did not believe her.

    Elpida¡¯s heart ached with sudden grief, pinned by those smouldering grey eyes. She had never needed to worry about whether her clade-sisters in the cadre believed her, trusted her, and placed their faith in her decisions. She had been Commander because the cadre had chosen to follow her ¡ª but not without question, never without question. Elpida was Commander because she listened to her sisters ¡ª to their doubts, their questions, their needs, right back to that very first time they had worked together. The cadre believed in her decisions because she believed in them; she was the cadre, and the cadre was her.

    Howl was not always the first to question, nor always the most insistent. But without fail she was always the most personal, the closest up in Elpida¡¯s face, the one who wouldn¡¯t let it drop even in private, even after sex.

    Ilyusha did not look like Howl: the only resemblance was physical size, her petite frame.

    But this attitude, the look in those eyes ¡ª I won¡¯t let you go alone because I don¡¯t believe you ¡ª it excavated Elpida¡¯s heart.

    Grief was an open wound, bleeding into sodden bandages. Too close, too soon, too raw. But Elpida took a deep breath and packed it away beneath layers of gauze and painblockers and training. They had a task to complete. She was designed for carrying on. She would think about this later.

    ¡°Illy,¡± she said. Some of her grief edged into her voice. ¡°I¡¯m not going up there without you. I would not leave you alone with explosive drones around. Even though I hardly know you.¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s grip finally slackened. She let go and staggered sideways, then allowed Elpida to help her sit down. Ilyusha clutched her shotgun and let her head roll back against the wall. She hissed a wordless noise of frustration.

    Elpida said: ¡°I¡¯m going to shout up to the sniper. I¡¯m going less than a dozen feet away from you. You¡¯ll hear every word. If you see a drone¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shout or shoot, yaaaaah.¡±

    Elpida smiled for her, then reached down and patted Ilyusha on the head, stroking her bloody hair, avoiding the scalp wound. ¡°Good girl. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s tail flicked back and forth over the dirty tiles. Elpida stood up and stepped away.

    The doorway to the stairwell was wide enough for Elpida to project her voice upward without crossing the threshold and into the revenant¡¯s line of fire. She picked up the ballistic shield anyway, in case of scuttling bombs or unexpected surprises. She lifted the shield to cover her front, stepped up to the door, and shouted.

    ¡°What do you want, zombie?¡±

    A moment of rain-static against the walls and roof. Echoing silence. Elpida¡¯s heart jerked. She coughed.

    Then: ¡°You, Necromancer!¡± came the screeching reply, echoing down the stairwell, twisting the strange voice.

    Elpida shouted back up: ¡°You must know I¡¯m not a Necromancer. You¡¯re goading me. Why bother?¡±

    A single laugh, followed by: ¡°Your freshies don¡¯t know, but I do! I¡¯m gonna eat your guts, bone-fucker! Come on, come get scrambled! You know you gotta try, or I¡¯ll come eat your brains in your sleep!¡±

    Elpida couldn¡¯t decide if the revenant sniper really believed what she was saying. The taunting served little purpose now; they were already inside the building, committed to removing her, perhaps killing her. Bait or not, they had taken the decision. Where did this lead? Elpida couldn¡¯t figure it out, not unless the sniper really believed she was talking to a Necromancer ¡ª and had a way to kill a Necromancer.

    Elpida called upward again: ¡°What makes you think I¡¯m a Necromancer? Is it the neural lace in my head? I have a cranial implant, from life, metal inside my skull, for communication. Is that it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s written on your skiiiiiin!¡±

    Her skin?

    The colour of Elpida¡¯s skin ¡ª copper-brown ¡ª was artificially selected, along with her white hair and the purple tint of her irises. Same as the rest of the cadre. An artificial phenotype found nowhere else in Telokopolis, so they would never be mistaken as natural born human beings.

    Elpida shouted up the stairwell: ¡°You¡¯ve seen somebody with my skin and hair colour before? Somebody with my phenotype? You¡¯ve seen a revenant like me?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re no zombie, corpse-fucker!¡±

    ¡°Please! You¡¯ve seen somebody like me before?¡±

    The sniper just cackled and hurled more howling insults down the stairwell shaft. Elpida realised she¡¯d made a tactical mistake; even if the sniper didn¡¯t mean what Elpida assumed, the change in Elpida¡¯s tone of voice had handed the sniper fresh bait, a new tool with which to goad and irritate. Elpida forced herself to turn away from the stairwell and walk back to Ilyusha, no matter what information the sniper may have.

    Ilyusha snorted, ¡°Biiitch.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elpida agreed.

    She placed the shield on the floor and sat down cross-legged next to Ilyusha, so they could both watch the room for bomb drones. Ilyusha¡¯s eyes were like cold lead ¡ª and still uneven. Still concussed. Ilyusha stared back. They were going to have to sit there for a few minutes, at least.

    Elpida couldn¡¯t take it, that sullen watching ¡ª so very Howl. Post-coital Howl, curled up and sulky, paradoxically grumpy, usually because her mind was working on some special problem, unknotted by the release of sex. Elpida could not endure that look on Ilyusha¡¯s face, even if it had a totally different cause and meaning. She had to look away.

    Many of the popular religions in Telokopolis had believed in reincarnation; some of the earliest records in the archives even spoke of a dominant religion during the city¡¯s first thousand years, a religion which preached of the reincarnation and inevitable reunion of lovers separated by death. Elpida had never spent much time thinking about that. The cadre had little in the way of spiritual education, even less in long-dead cults. But as the rain-static drummed and Elpida strained her eyes for motion and Ilyusha sat there, small and sour and in some ways too familiar, Elpida¡¯s mind wandered toward impossible hope.

    In a way, were they not all reincarnated?

    Training reasserted itself quickly. Elpida needed to keep her mind occupied. Ilyusha was not Howl. Without turning to look at Ilyusha again, she said: ¡°Illy, do you mind if I ask where ¡ª or when ¡ª you¡¯re¡ª¡±

    Needle points touched Elpida¡¯s cheek. She froze.

    Ilyusha pressed a bionic hand to Elpida¡¯s jaw, cheekbone, and nose. Black augmetic, trimmed in red, pressed against coppery skin. Ilyusha¡¯s hand was surprisingly warm.

    Elpida moved only her eyes. Ilyusha was staring up at her with a relaxed and dreamlike expression. Her pupils were the same size.

    ¡°Illy?¡± Elpida hissed. Her heart was racing. ¡°Illy?¡±

    Ilyusha said, ¡°You¡¯re being very kind to her. Long time since that. Keep doing that, please.¡±

    ¡°Ilyusha?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    She sounded so sad.

    Without another word, Ilyusha exploded to her feet. A grin ripped across her face. A clawed foot slammed into the tiles. Her shotgun came up in both hands, went clunk-click, and pointed outward at the room, at¡ª

    A spidery brown blob on the ceiling, scuttling silently toward them.

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± Ilyusha yelled.

    She pulled the trigger, painting ceiling and spider and half the wall with a wide spread of shot. Elpida scrambled for the ballistic shield, but Ilyusha¡¯s shot landed true. The tiny spider-drone was knocked off the ceiling and blasted toward the rear of the room. It detonated with a low crump. Elpida ducked behind the shield and tried to drag Ilyusha down too, but the heavily augmented girl stood tall, laughing, washed by the back-blast of tiny pieces of concrete debris.

    ¡°Got you, bitch! Smart now!¡± she shouted. ¡°Try again, cunt!¡±

    Elpida stood up, one hand on Ilyusha¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Well done. Well done, Good shot.¡±

    ¡°Good girl,¡± Ilyusha demanded.

    ¡°Good girl, yes. Good eyes, too. Think you can keep spotting them like that?¡±

    Ilyusha nodded, cycling another round into her weapon. Her eyes were clear, her balance was perfect, her tail was wagging.

    ¡°Good,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Then I¡¯ve got a plan. We¡¯re going up.¡±

 duellum - 4.4

    Elpida whispered the plan behind a cupped hand, her words shrouded by rainstorm static, with Ilyusha¡¯s back toward the left-hand stairwell.

    She doubted that the revenant sniper up in her tangled nest of broken steel and shattered concrete could lip-read through the walls, but Elpida wasn¡¯t going to take that risk. So she pressed the edge of her hand to Ilyusha¡¯s bloodstained hair, and breathed into her ear.

    Speed was essential ¡ª as were accuracy and visual acuity. One mistake would ruin the plan, and likely end up with both of them splattered across the stairs by an explosive spider-drone. They would lose the element of surprise the moment they moved; the sniper could see through walls.

    But if they did it right, the sniper would have to relocate.

    Elpida¡¯s breath tickled the tiny hairs on Ilyusha¡¯s neck: ¡°If we move fast enough we can flank her before she can properly readjust. We may be able to force her into a sub-optimal position, then exploit the opening. That depends on the layout of the top floor; if it¡¯s wide open like down here, we have to keep moving fast, to get above her. If it¡¯s close-quarters, we can hunt her. But we must move faster than she expects.¡±

    It¡¯s how she would have cornered Asp, if she¡¯d ever had need to.

    Ilyusha¡¯s face was still smeared with blood from her shallow head wound. Grey eyes shined amid sticky crimson, no trace of concussion left. She squinted and gestured with those eyes, indicating the stairwell ¡ª the opposite stairwell, on the right, with steps made of wood, and no sniper watching from the apex.

    Ilyusha said, ¡°Obvious trap?¡±

    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s the point. She¡¯s likely expecting us to take that stairwell. It¡¯s our only option to nullify her high-ground advantage and flank her through the middle of the structure. It¡¯s probably full of the explosive drones ¡ª not just to kill us, but to slow us down, to give her time to relocate. She wants to make us crawl.¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s lips peeled back from her teeth. She hissed.

    Elpida whispered: ¡°But we¡¯re not going to crawl; we¡¯re going to stand tall, and sprint.¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s angry sneer transformed into a grin. Her exposed red claws clinked against her rotary shotgun and tapped on the heat-damaged surface of the ballistic shield.

    ¡°Stand tall!¡± she barked. ¡°Love it.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Illy, this is going to be very dangerous. I¡¯m asking you to sprint through a mobile minefield. I¡¯ll take point, with the shield, but if you¡ª¡±

    ¡°I go up front!¡± Ilyusha snapped. She lifted the shield and tucked it in close. ¡°You¡¯re too big!¡±

    Elpida wanted to argue, but Ilyusha had a point: Elpida was too tall to fit comfortably behind the shield without crouching, which might slow them down. And Ilyusha clearly wanted this: her eyes burned like lightning-lit storm clouds; her petite frame was full of muscular tension, ready to explode upward; her lips peeled back in a toothy grin, framed by drying blood; she was wagging her black-and-red bionic tail.

    Ilyusha was the only one of Elpida¡¯s new comrades who she could trust for this task. Even Pira, battle-hardened and experienced, would show too much caution. She needed reckless abandon married to unmatched skill.

    She needed Howl.

    Ilyusha must have mistaken Elpida¡¯s guilt and grief for hesitation. The heavily augmented girl suddenly hissed: ¡°I can do it! Elps! Take me!¡±

    Elpida¡¯s heart lurched. She swallowed a cough, which made her stomach muscles scream.

    The ghost of her most beloved had somehow stolen inside the body of this girl from another era; Elpida did not believe that literally, she knew that she was projecting, seeing what she wanted to see. She was grasping for comfort at an echo inside her own mind.

    But here was one last charge alongside Howl, if only in surrogate.

    Elpida whispered: ¡°All right. You take point. Shield up. I trust you, Illy. Are you certain you can spot and neutralise those bomb drones?¡±

    Ilyusha nodded. ¡°Fuck yeah I can!¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Elpida made sure her own sniper rifle was strapped securely across her back, then unslung her submachine gun again. ¡°Are you ready?¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Ilyusha levelled her shotgun and tucked the shield in tight. She bounced one leg up and down on the ball of her foot, vibrating with energy. Elpida reached over with one hand and pulled Ilyusha¡¯s double hoods up, covering her head with the armoured fabric. Ilyusha playfully twisted her head and snapped her teeth at Elpida¡¯s hand. Elpida tried not to think about that; Ilyusha was not Howl.

    Elpida hissed, ¡°On three, we break for the stairwell. Move as fast as you can, I¡¯ll match your pace.¡±

    ¡°Race you!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡±

    ¡°Joking! Let¡¯s go! Let¡¯s go fuck her up!¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°All right. One.¡±

    Ilyusha bounced in time with the count. Her eyes were glued to the stairwell.

    ¡°Two.¡±

    Elpida flexed both hands on her submachine gun. Ilyusha rocked forward on the balls of her feet.

    ¡°Three.¡±

    They launched from a standing start, slammed through the doorway together, and hit the stairs running.

    Ilyusha was perfect ¡ª shield in tight, eyes up and roving, shotgun light and muzzle mobile, head swivelling in all directions as she flew up the wooden steps. She was so quick and graceful on her bionic legs. She twisted on the spot with ease, even carrying that bulletproof shield and weighed down by two layers of armoured coat. With each sinuous motion she anchored herself by digging her bionic claws into the wooden stairs, chewing into the material as she leapt and kicked. She covered every corner ¡ª and Elpida¡¯s back ¡ª in a ceaseless rising whirlwind of motion. Elpida was impressed; she knew Ilyusha was good, she¡¯d witnessed these skills from the moment they¡¯d stalked out of the resurrection chamber together. But to operate like this under such pressure, to execute a difficult plan with no practice, was more than Elpida expected from anybody not of her cadre.

    The wooden stairwell was a windowless vertical corridor, identical to its matching plastic and metal twin on the other side, but lacking a tangle of ruins at the top. The steps and railings were made of wood, but the walls were polished brick covered with a layer of clear lacquer. The steps climbed toward double-doors at regular intervals; eight floors, capped with a roof.

    Elpida¡¯s wounds were screaming by the time they hit the first landing; her bruised stomach muscles were stiffening and her chest felt like ground glass. She coughed hard, spat dark blood onto the wooden floor, and forced her legs to leap the steps three at a time, sticking close to Ilyusha¡¯s heels.

    The first explosive drone showed itself seconds later: a brown smudge dropped from the brick wall on their left.

    Elpida shouted, bringing her submachine gun up: ¡°Left! Ten o¡¯clock¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha was quick. She twitched round before Elpida had finished shouting, then blasted the drone and half the wall with a storm of lead pellets from her shotgun. The drone detonated with a meaty crump. Ilyusha whooped, filling the stairwell with echoes. Elpida closed her eyes as brick dust and tiny pieces of shrapnel rained downward.

    ¡°Keep moving!¡± she shouted, already hurling herself up the steps. ¡°Eyes up! Go!¡±

    When the shock wave passed, Elpida opened her eyes; Ilyusha hadn¡¯t even broken her stride. Leaping three or four steps at a time, her face still blood-slick with crimson, grey eyes like a raging storm, grin a white slash in a red face.

    Howl¡¯s ghost; an unfair thought, which Elpida did not have time to address.

    The sniper threw a dozen more explosive drones at them in the forty one seconds it took to sprint to the top floor; perhaps the devices were automatic, Elpida couldn¡¯t tell. Ilyusha shot them out of the air, blasted them against the walls or the underside of the stairs, and once lifted her shotgun to detonate one of the drones which was wedged low against a step, hiding like a landmine. She scored ten kills, whooping and cheering, bionic feet tearing into the wood to anchor herself against the recoil of her weapon; Elpida scored two, despite the relatively poor accuracy of her submachine gun against such small targets. Ilyusha tanked the explosive backwash on the shield, hurtling forward without pause, cackling at the top of her lungs.

    Forty one seconds. They hit the top of the stairwell, a small landing with an open doorway.

    Ilyusha was panting through clenched teeth, shield up, eyes darting back and forth for more drones. Elpida was heaving with the pain in her belly and chest, drooling blood.

    The doorway led into a jumble of abandoned office space: cubicles, partition walls, support pillars, low desks with swivel chairs and personal terminals. All was draped with dust and shadows.

    Eight floors up was higher than the revenant sniper¡¯s position on the opposite side of the building. If Elpida had timed this right, the sniper would still be scrambling to catch up with them, trying to get into a new position to hold them off at range. But a tangle of office space was not a good place to hold an opponent at arm¡¯s length. This was close-quarters work. Shield and shotgun would shine.

    Elpida spat to clear her throat. ¡°Perfect. Illy, well done. Good girl. Good.¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s face lit up with ecstasy. She shouted into the depths of the ruined building: ¡°I¡¯m a good girl, bitch! You fucking hear that!?¡±

    Elpida grunted: ¡°Hold one second. No sense rushing the door. She might have more drones. We go in, straight¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Ilyusha barked, twisted on the spot with her claws anchoring her feet to the ground, and mashed her bloody lips against Elpida¡¯s mouth.

    The kiss was over in a heartbeat. Ilyusha tore away, grinning madly, and plunged forward into the maze of cubicles.

    Elpida wasted a precious second on shock. She could taste Ilyusha¡¯s blood, smeared across her lips.

    Then she dived into the shadows, following the clicking claws. ¡°Illy! Wait!¡±

    The top floor of the building was all one big room: open-plan, grey-on-grey, divided into small cubicles and a few open areas. The partitions were just shorter than Elpida¡¯s sight-line; they wouldn¡¯t block or deflect a shot from the sniper¡¯s chemical propellant, solid-slug rifle, but they would foul her accuracy. One end of the building, far away to the right, had collapsed into a tangle of concrete and steel; rain drummed on the breached ruins, admitting a trickle of light to draw long grey shadows across the room. The air smelled of petrochemicals and plastic.

    Elpida quickly caught up with Ilyusha, right on her heels. Ilyusha grinned back at her, blood smeared in a new way over her lower face.

    ¡°Straight for the door!¡± Elpida hissed as they kept low, behind the partitions. ¡°Catch her as she¡¯s coming in. Watch for more drones, we¡¯re exposed here, we¡ª¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    A metallic voice suddenly screeched from the other end of the room, muffled by the partitions and the rain-static in the air: ¡°I see you right there, corpse-shitter! And your little fuck-toy friend, too! Come get me, if you caaaaan!¡±

    The sniper was already up here.

    But she hadn¡¯t taken a shot ¡ª she¡¯d goaded them, again.

    Ilyusha gritted her teeth and raised her head to howl an insult across the maze of cubicle partitions: ¡°I¡¯m gonna take you apart, bitch!¡±

    Elpida hissed, ¡°She¡¯s not set up! Illy, go!¡±

    Elpida¡¯s heart ached all the more when Ilyusha didn¡¯t need a reminder of the plan. The heavily augmented girl twisted on the spot and scurried off to the left, her tail bouncing as she vanished deeper into the maze of partition walls.

    Elpida went right. She stayed low, moving fast, submachine gun covering corners.

    Splitting up was dangerous, and not only because of the explosive drones: with no short-range comms there was a very real risk of her and Ilyusha shooting each other in confusion. Even the cadre was not immune to the fog of battle.

    But the sniper could see them anyway; there was no reason to stay quiet.

    Elpida called out, as planned: ¡°Illy!¡±

    Ilyusha shouted back. ¡°Here!¡± Her voice floated over the partitions. They weren¡¯t too far apart.

    ¡°Anything?¡±

    ¡°Bitch is close!¡±

    Elpida stopped at the corner of a cubicle and projected her voice deeper into the room: ¡°Hey, zombie! Not gonna shoot me?¡±

    Rainstorm static drummed on the roof, spattering on the concrete and steel at the far end of the room. The revenant sniper did not reply.

    The tactic was simple ¡ª Ilyusha went one way, Elpida went the other: a pincer movement. Even a very skilled sniper could not keep two opponents at bay at the same time, not in a close-quarters environment with her sight-lines complicated by all these partition walls and pillars, even if she could see through solid matter. Asp, with her perfect technique, would have retreated; this sniper was more bold and less skilled. Whoever she chose not to engage would be able to rush her. Hopefully Ilyusha, with her shield for protection.

    But the sniper wasn¡¯t shooting.

    Had Elpida completely misunderstood her capabilities? In Kagami¡¯s auspex visor, the revenant¡¯s physical form had been difficult to make out, a jumble of limbs and torso and other parts. Had she fled from the close-quarter confrontation? Or had Elpida made a mistake?

    Elpida drew her combat knife from within her coat, holding it in her left hand and bracing her submachine gun on her wrist. She peered around the edge of the cubicle, into a wider space with low benches and deep shadows.

    Beneath the omnipresent chemical smell of the rainwater, she caught wind of something else ¡ª woody and meaty, like mushrooms.

    She called out: ¡°Illy! Sound off!¡±

    ¡°Elpi!¡± Ilyusha cackled back. She was muffled by the rain-static, further away now, scuttling between pillars and walls as they both looped toward their target.

    ¡°Anything?¡±

    ¡°I can smell the cunt right here!¡±

    Elpida kept moving. She shot into the open space and paused behind a stout pillar; a clock and an ancient calender were mounted on the white plaster. She raised her voice again. ¡°Come on, zombie! Take a shot already!¡±

    Nothing.

    Shadows lay thick inside the cubicles on either side. Rainwater static washed away the sound of her own heartbeat.

    Elpida smelled mushrooms again. Stronger. Closer.

    ¡°Illy!¡± she called out. ¡°Illy, abort!¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± Ilyusha¡¯s shout was all but drowned by the rain.

    Elpida ducked left and right, checking around the sides of the pillar. Empty cubicles penned her on all sides: a dozen hiding places for explosive drones or unbreathing zombies. Long shadows loomed in the weak light creeping in through the fallen section of roof. She flexed her hands on her submachine gun and combat knife.

    ¡°Abort!¡± she repeated. ¡°Back to the door! Now!¡±

    ¡°Fuck that!¡± Ilyusha shouted back.

    Elpida had made a mistake; this was a trap.

    She had begun this duel by asking herself what one of her own cadre would be capable of: she had compared the revenant sniper against Asp. One of her beloved sisters, Asp, so willowy and graceful, so slow to move and so fast to strike. Asp, with her almond-shaped eyes and long fingers and low, whispery voice. Elpida had compared this sniper with Asp, and found the revenant wanting. How could she not? Her cadre was perfect, the best at what they did. Any tactic which would overcome Asp would surely overcome her inferior.

    Get up close and personal. Neutralise her range. Shock her into close quarters combat, where all her skills meant nothing.

    But these zombies were not Elpida¡¯s cadre. This was not the green. This was not Telokopolis

    ¡°Ilyusha!¡± she shouted one more time. ¡°Back to the door, right now!¡±

    Elpida burst from behind the pillar, making no effort to stay low, hurrying back along the route she¡¯d taken through the maze of cubicles. She turned quickly as she strode, trying to cover every angle with the muzzle of her weapon, flicking it back and forth between the cubicle openings she raced past. If she could catch back up with Ilyusha they might be able to extract themselves. Analysis of failure was for later. She had to move, stay alert, pull out before¡ª

    Crump went an explosion on the far side of the office space. Partitions and shrapnel flew into the air.

    ¡°Illy!¡± Elpida shouted.

    A giant spider draped all in black slid out of a cubicle, right on top of her.

    Elpida jerked back, finger tightening on the trigger of her weapon; but the spider reached out with three arms, flicker-quick. Pale papery hands grabbed her wrist and elbow, forcing her aim up and to the side with monstrous strength. The third hand got a grip on her trigger finger and snapped the bones backward with an audible crack. Elpida hissed blood through gritted teeth. Painblockers compensated; training took over. Elpida stabbed forward and upward with her combat knife, aiming at the white skin of an exposed throat.

    Three more hands caught her thrust. Her knife scored a glancing blow along a naked forearm. Red blood slid from an open wound.

    A metallic voice hissed, amused: ¡°Go on corpse-fucker, turn me to shit! Try it!¡±

    Elpida had only a second to realise what she was grappling with: it was the sniper from the battle at the tomb fortifications, the one who had shot at the Silico construct.

    She was gigantic: nine feet of loose black robes were wrapped around a hunchbacked frame, topped by a moon-like face and a sheet of lank, white-blonde hair. Her mouth and chin were covered by a metal mask painted with sharp black teeth. Her eyes were dark red, without pupils or irises, bionic lenses flexing and adjusting beneath layers of bio-plastic. Spindly, pale, papery limbs jutted out at odd angles from inside her robes, lacking muscle mass despite her incredible strength ¡ª six, then eight, then a dozen limbs. She reeked of that woody, meaty, fungal stench.

    Elpida grunted: ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡±

    Three pale arms raised a smooth grey oblong with a wide opening at one end. Elpida had never seen a weapon like it before.

    The gigantic spider-sniper jammed it under Elpida¡¯s chin, and hissed, voice like metal on metal: ¡°Back to hell, sludge-scum!¡±

    She pulled the trigger.

    A pulse of heat passed through Elpida¡¯s face and scalp and¡ª

    Nothing happened.

    The sniper¡¯s dark red bionic eyes blinked twice. Before Elpida could kick and struggle, the gravitic weapon was removed from under her chin and the sniper let go of her arms. The giant stepped back, massive and dark in the cramped spaces between the cubicles. Elpida dropped her knife and transferred her submachine gun to her left hand, ignoring the pain from the broken bones in her right index finger. She raised the gun, finger on the trigger.

    The sniper was murmuring: ¡°But you look just like¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha came crashing directly through the cubicle partitions.

    A whirlwind of claw and shield and lashing tail burst through the flimsy walls and slammed into the sniper, bowling her over in a cloud of black. Spindly limbs went everywhere, reaching for weapons, righting the sniper, trying to deflect the stabbing spike of Ilyusha¡¯s tail.

    Ilyusha screamed. ¡°Fucking got you, cunt!¡±

    ¡°Howl,¡± Elpida breathed.

    Ilyusha slammed her ballistic shield into the sniper¡¯s front as the revenant tried to rise, knocking her down into a tangle of broken partitions. One bone-thin pale arm raised a bulky handgun, but Ilyusha¡¯s tail knocked it aside. Ilyusha planted a clawed foot into the black robes, shoved her shotgun in the sniper¡¯s moon-like face, and-

    Stopped.

    The gigantic hunchbacked sniper had raised one arm between herself and Ilyusha, as if to ward off the killing shot. A set of symbols were burned or tattooed into the mushroom-pale flesh: a row of nine stylised black skulls, some of which had little crosses for eyes or limp tongues hanging from slack jaws. Each skull was struck through with a thick line. At the head of the row was a symbol Elpida recognised, a diagonal line intersected by a crescent: the same symbol which Ilyusha had daubed on the front of her torn t-shirt, with a stick of green camo paint, back in the gravekeeper¡¯s armoury. The same symbol was still visible on Ilyusha¡¯s t-shirt now, through the open front of her double layer of armoured coats.

    Ilyusha stared at the symbols. She bared her teeth in frustration, looked back up at the sniper¡¯s deep red eyes, and jerked her shotgun forward.

    The gigantic sniper woman said: ¡°You won¡¯t.¡± Her metallic voice was scratchy with pain. ¡°Mistake. Same side. Come on.¡±

    ¡°Bitch!¡± Ilyusha screamed.

    A metal snort came from beneath the mask. Pale eyebrows flexed above deep red bionic orbs. ¡°No harm done.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Illy, is this woman¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fucking stupid cunt!¡± Ilyusha screamed again. Then she lowered her shotgun and stepped off the sniper.

    Elpida kept the giant covered with her submachine gun as the huge woman flowed to her feet ¡ª though she could have concealed anything beneath those robes, feet or otherwise. She filled the space, massive and dark, limbs all suddenly tucking back inside her robes.

    ¡°No sudden movements,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You¡¯re going to answer my questions.¡±

    But then Ilyusha reached out with the tip of her shotgun ¡ª and gently lowered Elpida¡¯s own weapon.

    ¡°Illy? She¡¯s¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha, sulky and bitter and gritting her teeth, shook her head.

    Elpida asked: ¡°We¡¯re letting her go?¡±

    Ilyusha hissed a wordless noise of humiliated frustration.

    The sniper ignored Elpida, addressing Ilyusha: ¡°Thought your clever friend here was a Necromancer, comrade. My mistake. Big sorry. Whoops.¡± Her metal voice did not sound apologetic. She sounded amused.

    ¡°Retard fuckhead,¡± Ilyusha growled. ¡°Should fucking shoot you.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Illy, do you know this woman?¡±

    ¡°No!¡±

    ¡°Serin,¡± said the giant sniper. ¡°I¡¯ve heard your names. You shout a lot.¡±

    Elpida spoke quickly. ¡°Serin. Fine. Why did you think I was a Necromancer? You mentioned my skin. Explain. Now.¡±

    Serin¡¯s moon-like face, cupped by the metal mask, turned to look at Elpida with dark light burning inside those red machine-eyes. ¡°Seen a corpse-fucker with your skin and hair, once. And all that metal in your head. Never seen that elsewhere. Other metal. Other heads. Not that metal.¡±

    ¡°A Necromancer who looked like me? What was her name? What other¡ª¡±

    ¡°Too long ago.¡±

    ¡°How¡ª¡±

    ¡°Too long for memory, fresh meat. She got away, from another. Not me. Long time. Didn¡¯t have means then. But worth a shot, at you. No harm, no foul, right?¡±

    ¡°You broke my finger.¡± Elpida raised her right hand. Her index finger would need to be set, or at least snapped back into position. The pain throbbed down her wrist in sharp waves. She allowed that pain to carry away her disappointment at the lack of information.

    But a Necromancer, with her skin and her hair? That could only mean one thing.

    Serin shrugged, bony plates adjusting beneath her black robes. ¡°It¡¯ll fix right easy. You¡¯ve got all that raw blue. Which you should drink up, by the way. Not everybody with peepers like mine is hunting big game. Plenty of crows out there looking for an easy score.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re not?¡± Elpida demanded. ¡°You¡¯ve just spent an hour trying to kill us.¡±

    Serin produced her strange grey oblong weapon again ¡ª the source of the gravitic signature Kagami had seen in the auspex visor. It seemed to suck in the faint light filtering into the office space from the section of fallen roof. She showed it to them ¡ª but mostly to Ilyusha.

    ¡°Just luring you close,¡± said Serin. ¡°For this. But it doesn¡¯t work on zombies. Only corpse-rapists, and worse.¡±

    Ilyusha hissed: ¡°Moron shit eater dick face.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°Ilyusha, we¡¯re letting this woman go? I need to understand.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted. ¡°Hunting reptiles. Not gonna eat us. Just fucking stupid.¡±

    ¡°Reptiles? I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Serin raised her tattooed arm again, showing off those crossed-out black skulls. ¡°I hunt the death cult. Mostly.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve seen that symbol before, a black skull, painted on the chest of a suit of power-armour.¡±

    The sniper¡¯s pale eyebrows shot upward. ¡°Where? A friend?¡±

    ¡°Shot her,¡± Ilyusha snapped, pointing at Elpida. ¡°With a coilgun. Boom! Fucked. Elpi¡¯s cool, she¡¯s one of us. Fuck off!¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Serin grunted. ¡°Well done, fresh meat who isn¡¯t a Necromancer. Hold onto your little comrade there, she¡¯ll teach you how not to become a monster.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted: ¡°Fuck you, retard. Use your eyes next time.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, little comrade.¡±

    Elpida was having trouble keeping up with this. Her wounds and bruises ached. There were undercurrents of allegiance and identification here that she did not yet know. But the fight was over. The fight had been mistaken in the first place, the product of an overzealous hunter.

    She said, ¡°So this was a case of mistaken identity? All this violence was for nothing?¡±

    Serin shrugged again. Too many joints moved beneath her robes, massive shapes hidden in the black. She reeked of fungal spores and mushroom flesh. ¡°Fun, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    Ilyusha said, ¡°Boring shit. You shoot like you¡¯re blind. Cunt.¡±

    Elpida couldn¡¯t see any other way to end this. Her mind was already joining the dots ¡ª the skull symbols, the matching insignia she¡¯d seen on that pale leather flag during the fight to escape the tomb pyramid, and Ilyusha¡¯s apparent yet offended allegiance with this woman. She said, ¡°You promise to leave us alone now? Illy, can we trust her to go? This isn¡¯t a trap or a trick?¡±

    Serin answered first: ¡°No reason to hunt you more. You¡¯re no Necromancer. Oopsie.¡±

    Ilyusha looked like she wanted to rip the sniper¡¯s face off, but she hissed in frustration. ¡°Our side. Don¡¯t shoot, I guess. Fuck-head.¡±

    Elpida locked eyes with Serin for a long moment, then said, ¡°Who needs enemies when you have allies like these.¡±

    The deep red bionic eyes scrunched up at the corners: a grin, hidden behind the metal mask.

    That scratching voice hissed over the rain static: ¡°I¡¯m not your ally, fresh meat. But if you keep killing death¡¯s heads, you¡¯re on the right track. Watch your shadows, I¡¯ll be around.¡±

    And with that the spindly giant turned and flowed away, vanishing amid the tangle of cubicles and shadows. She showed no fear of being shot in the back. Ilyusha spat on the ground as she left, but there was little anger in the gesture. Elpida grimaced at her own broken finger. She tried to catch Ilyusha¡¯s flat grey eyes.

    ¡°Illy, none of that was your fault.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡±

    ¡°I need an explanation, intel, anything. I realise why we didn¡¯t kill that woman ¡ª she confirmed I¡¯m not a Necromancer. But, death¡¯s heads? Her tattoos? That symbol on your t-shirt? Please. If we have potential allies here, that¡¯s a good thing. But I need to know.¡±

    Ilyusha avoided her gaze, embarrassed or ashamed. Her shotgun pointed at the floor. Her tail hung limp.

    ¡°Even the good are made bloodthirsty,¡± she said ¡ª and it was that other voice, that voice she had used to plead for continued kindness, when her clawed hand had touched Elpida¡¯s face.

    Elpida reached over and took her shoulder, gently.

    Ilyusha¡¯s head snapped up, eyes burning bright once again. Her tail flicked the air. She pulled a sardonic grin. ¡°Stupid shit. S¡¯go back to the others, yeah?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I¡¯m with you, Illy.¡±

 lepus - 5.1

    Amina hadn¡¯t told the other girls about the knife.

    She took comfort in that while the fighting was going on ¡ª in the weight and pressure of the blade: six inches of smooth, unblemished black steel. Amina had never known a knife so beautiful. Perhaps blades like this belonged only in hell. She kept it contained inside the strange stiff sheath, wrapped in an extra shirt beneath her clothes, pressed against the bare skin of her ribs and belly. Her hidden claw.

    She took comfort in the secret itself, too. The secret knife felt familiar ¡ª though her illicit lethality was hardly remarkable among all the other damned and demons and devils. If she told the others about the knife they would probably consider it a sensible precaution.

    So why not tell them? Her own demon was gone, at long last. Since awakening in that metal coffin, Amina had not felt the urge, not once. In damnation, in hell, she was finally free.

    But still, she hid the knife.

    Amina focused on the sensation of the knife against her ribs as she cowered inside that dirty stone house, tucked deep down in the shadows, her body wrapped in that oversized coat. She was trying not to listen. Gunshots and explosions floated across the road outdoors, through the rainstorm, penetrating the walls of the concrete bunker; Ilyusha had taught her those words ¡ª ¡®concrete¡¯ and ¡®bunker¡¯ ¡ª along with dozens of others, like ¡®firearm¡¯, ¡®bullet¡¯, and ¡®bitch¡¯. Amina didn¡¯t like any of those words, but she liked Ilyusha, so she had listened and learned, though she had struggled to understand. She knew that she lacked proper context, but that did not help. Amina had always thought of herself as quite clever; she read better than all five of her elder sisters, and father had encouraged her to write down her few attempts at poetry. But reading was not knowing. Hell was teaching her that.

    Vicky and Kagami crouched in the doorway, up the little flight of stairs. Stinking rain pounded the concrete beyond the doorway. Vicky tried to offer some words of encouragement, because Vicky was very kind, but they were both quickly distracted by Kagami¡¯s running commentary on the fight. Kagami¡¯s magic seeing-glass allowed her to look through the walls. Amina didn¡¯t understand most of the terminology ¡ª ¡°Fucking mobile drone bombs!¡±, ¡°Pincer movement, smart, smart, good, I agree,¡± ¡°She¡¯s right on top of you, look up! Look up! Argh!¡± ¡ª but she could follow the flow. She wished she could stop listening.

    She wasn¡¯t afraid for Ilyusha. She had been at first, when Illy had left the bunker to fight the revenant with the big gun. Without Illy, Amina would be alone. Illy was the only one similar to her. The only one with a demon. Amina could not take another death, not so soon. Not after her sisters. Not after the pile of corpses in Qarya¡¯s central square.

    But the angel was at Illy¡¯s side. And the angel was invincible.

    Amina didn¡¯t want to listen ¡ª because Illy and the angel were about to make another corpse. Even without her demon, Amina wanted to see that corpse. She¡¯d always thought that fascination belonged to the demon. But it was her own.

    As the gunshots and explosions raged and Kagami hissed and winced, Amina pressed her hand to the knife beneath her clothes. She wormed her fingers in deep and held the strange smooth grip. Amina wasn¡¯t sure if Kagami had seen the knife, but Kagami hadn¡¯t said anything.

    A couple of minutes of tense silence passed, filled only with rain, then Kagami snapped: ¡°They¡¯re letting her go!¡± Her voice echoed in the confined space of the bunker¡¯s single room. ¡°They¡¯re letting her fucking go! What the hell do they think they¡¯re doing?!¡±

    Vicky was panting as she said: ¡°But it¡¯s over. It¡¯s over, right? I¡¯m sure Elpi had a good reason. Maybe this was all a mistake.¡±

    Kagami was furious. ¡°That little fucking borged-up weasel had the sniper literally on the floor! Gun in her face! And what, this is the one time she holds back?!¡±

    Amina spoke up, surprising herself: ¡°But nobody died? Nobody got ¡­ nobody died ¡­ ¡±

    Kagami hissed between her teeth. She didn¡¯t look at Amina. ¡°Yes, yes. They¡¯re both intact. A bit bruised, I expect, but nothing major. The sniper¡¯s leaving ¡ª fuck me, but she¡¯s fast. She¡¯ll be out of range in a moment. Here they come, slinking back home. Pair of morons. I¡¯m going to have some fucking questions for your little friend.¡±

    When Ilyusha and the angel returned to the bunker, they were more than a ¡®bit bruised¡¯, in both body and soul.

    They entered with rainwater streaming from their coats, laden down with equipment. Amina stayed back as the door was closed and barred; she would only get in the way if she tried to help ¡ª and she recognised the undirected anger in Ilyusha¡¯s slumped shoulders. Undirected anger always made her afraid. As soon as the pair were down the steps and safe, Vicky and Kagami showered them with questions.

    ¡°Are you hurt? You got wounded, we saw¡ª¡±

    ¡°What the hell did you think you were doing? You fucking moron¡ª¡±

    ¡°Here, put your weapons down, get that coat¡ª¡±

    ¡°That thing was threatening to murder us all, and you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Elpi, slow, go slow, take it easy¡ª¡±

    But Ilyusha was sad and bitter. She shrugged off the words and her coats alike. Blood was drying all over her face and matted in the front of her blonde hair, sticky and hot and crimson. Her own blood. Smeared across her lips.

    Illy, covered in her own blood. Amina¡¯s heart strained at the beauty.

    Amina tried very hard not to show how she felt as she hurried to Ilyusha¡¯s side ¡ª those thoughts were demon thoughts, the same as the corpse-love. Ilyusha folded toward her, tucked into the soft meat of her body, none the wiser. Amina took her hand and inspected the cut on her scalp. She wished she had needle and thread, and something to use as antiseptic.

    She whispered: ¡°Illy. You¡¯re wounded. You¡¯re all bloody.¡±

    But Ilyusha ignored her. Ilyusha was part of the argument. Amina wanted to slip away into the corner, but Ilyusha wanted her, so she stayed very still and very silent and prayed to go unnoticed.

    ¡°¡ªon our side,¡± Ilyusha grunted.

    Kagami snapped: ¡°What do you mean, our ¡®side¡¯? What sides are there out here? There¡¯s no sides left to fucking take, you moron!¡±

    The angel spoke, firm and clear, despite the pain around her eyes: ¡°Kagami, you¡¯re not listening. It was a mistake. A bad one, but an honest one. As far as I can tell, Serin hunts the ¡®death¡¯s head¡¯ people we saw back at the tomb. And Necromancers. She wasn¡¯t really after us.¡±

    Kagami scoffed. ¡°Shooting you in the gut, blowing up this little idiot here, using a dozen explosive drones, and then blasting your skull with a gravitic weapon. What was all that, then? Flirting?¡±

    ¡°The gravitic weapon only works on Necromancers. And I¡¯m fine. She was genuinely mistaken. I do not believe she was lying to us.¡±

    Ilyusha hissed: ¡°Fucking shit cunt bitch. Stupid fuck. Should¡¯a shouted to me.¡±

    Vicky laughed awkwardly, and said, ¡°Sounds like she should have checked her targets.¡±

    Kagami snapped at the angel, ¡°And you bought that? You believed that? You let her go, because she sold you some grade-A bullshit.¡±

    The angel shook her head. ¡°I suspect we never actually had Serin at a disadvantage, even when Ilyusha had her pinned. She was heavily modified beneath her robes. Likely armoured. If she had truly wanted to kill us then, I believe she could have done so. She wasn¡¯t even afraid of getting shot.¡±

    Ilyusha hissed, sarcastic: ¡°Immune to bullets. Fuck.¡±

    The angel was wounded too, weary and in pain. She was tensed up around some kind of stomach wound. She kept spitting and drooling dark red venous blood. Her right index finger was purple and swollen. Vicky fussed over her, handing her a shirt to mop up the blood. The angel thanked her. Amina could barely look, the angel was too beautiful.

    The angel raised her broken finger and said: ¡°I¡¯ve already snapped it back into place. I think there¡¯s two distinct fractures, but I can¡¯t be sure. I¡¯m going to let it heal naturally. It¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Kagami grumbled: ¡°Oh, great, yes, we¡¯ll just wait for our only competent shooter¡¯s trigger finger to heal. Great plan.¡±

    The angel said: ¡°I would prefer to conserve our nanomachine supply.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Elpi, come on, you¡¯ve got internal bleeding and you¡¯ve got it bad. You¡¯re ready to drop. You¡¯re barely standing. Drink a mouthful of blue gunk. Just one swig. Please.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°She could dunk her finger in the raw nanos. Maybe that would work. Who knows?¡±

    Ilyusha snorted. The angel said, ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯m considerably more robust than a baseline human being.¡±

    Vicky sighed heavily; the sigh reminded Amina of her mother. She tried not to think about her mother. Vicky said: ¡°Elpi, for fuck¡¯s sake. Yeah you¡¯re real big and strong, super-soldier girl, we all know that, but you¡¯re not invincible. You¡¯ve got nothing to prove.¡±

    Amina knew better; the angel was both immortal and invincible.

    Elpida was an angel. Amina had suspected this since before they¡¯d escaped from the pyramid. The fight with the terrible monster had only reinforced her suspicions ¡ª what damned soul would throw herself at a demon of hell for others trapped in this place?

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    But when Elpida came back to life, suspicion became certainty. Amina had pretended to be asleep as Elpida had choked and spluttered and clawed her way back up from hell¡¯s deeper reaches. The others ¡ª including Elpida herself ¡ª spoke about nanomachines and resurrection and heart muscles, about being animated by tiny invisible clockwork. Ilyusha had whispered to Amina about those things, but Amina knew the truth. Pira had helped by smearing the blue stuff inside Elpida¡¯s wounds, which confused Amina because Pira was terrifying; perhaps Pira knew the truth as well, and wanted to keep the angel alongside them for her own ends.

    Elpida was taller than any woman Amina had ever seen, irrespective of breeding or class or diet. Taller than any man, too. Taller even than the armoured Frankish knights who loomed so large in Amina¡¯s waking nightmares of her own death. Elpida moved a little bit like those knights, frightening in her confidence and her economy of motion ¡ª but without the swagger and the aggression. Elpida led them where no other could find the right words. She was strong, muscled beneath her clothes like nothing Amina had ever imagined. She was clever, and kind, and impossibly beautiful; that long white hair was not natural, the angles of her face were too perfect to be human, and her voice was like a baited hook, dusky and smooth and honeyed. The angel was so beautiful that Amina could barely look at her without burning inside.

    And now she was wounded, and bloodied, and aching ¡ª and all the more beautiful for it, just as she had been in death. When the angel had been laid out on the floor of the bunker, Amina had crept forward to touch her face while all the others were sleeping or distracted, just once.

    Those were demon thoughts too. Amina had not expected them.

    At first, Amina had assumed that Elpida must have done something very terrible to be cast into hell. Had she disobeyed God? Had she turned against other angels? Had she led a rebellion?

    God must be wrong, God must be mad, to cast out such an angel.

    Amina could not extend such charity to herself. She knew she was meant to be here, in hell, with all the other monsters.

    As Vicky helped Elpida drink a small, carefully measured mouthful of the glowing blue magical potion, Amina realised: not all of the blood around Elpida¡¯s lips was from her own internal bleeding. The crimson was smeared across her mouth like a kiss. Ilyusha¡¯s lips and mouth were smeared in a similar fashion.

    A blessing! The angel had blessed Ilyusha during combat, with a kiss, because Illy was worthy. Amina felt herself smile, felt her eyes grow moist with pleasure, but then¡ª

    A tremble of desire.

    Where had the blood come from? Did the angel bite Illy? Did Illy bite the angel? Would Amina ever be worthy of a kiss like that? She doubted, but she wanted. Her lips trembled, her chest fluttered; she barely felt when Ilyusha detached herself from Amina¡¯s side and clicked off toward the doorway to the rest of the bunker. She didn¡¯t notice her own hand touching the knife beneath her clothes. Vicky happened to glance at her; that brought her back to herself. She let go of the knife.

    She turned and whispered: ¡°Illy?¡±

    Elpida was peeling off her coat and lifting her shirt to inspect the massive bruise across her stomach. Vicky was helping, actually touching the angel¡¯s ribs and stomach; Amina had to look away from that, or she would freeze up. Kagami was grumbling, pulling her magic seeing-glass off her head. And Ilyusha wanted to wash her face, in the other room with the cistern full of water. Amina fetched the one empty cannister, so as not to contaminate their drinking supply. She hurried to join Ilyusha in the relative privacy of the cistern room. Amina caught Ilyusha about to dunk her whole head and face into the trough of water.

    ¡°Illy!¡± she whispered. ¡°Let me help. Please, Illy, Illy, let me ¡­ let me ¡­ ¡±

    Ilyusha snorted. Amina knew it was not for her, but she flinched anyway. But then Ilyusha straightened up and stepped back, waiting.

    Amina filled the cannister and gently washed Ilyusha¡¯s face. She poured cold, clear water over the shallow head wound, cleaning out fragments of dry clot. She rinsed Ilyusha¡¯s hair. She dabbed at the bloody mess of Ilyusha¡¯s face with a spare shirt from their rapidly dwindling supply. Ilyusha endured the attention with folded arms, grey eyes turned away, her metal tail lashing the air.

    Amina knew that her lethal friend was humiliated and frustrated somehow. She knew she should stay quiet, so as not to draw that anger down upon herself. But temptation danced on her tongue.

    Every second alongside Ilyusha presented a paradox Amina had never felt in life: fear of anger was transmuted by the beauty of that red-spike tail-tip, by the shiver of Illy¡¯s claws going shick-shick in and out of her fingertips, by the tip-tap of her metal feet on the concrete floor.

    Amina thought it would be a beautiful thing to be pierced by those claws.

    Which was why she said, in a tiny whisper: ¡°Illy, please don¡¯t be angry.¡±

    touch me rake me penetrate my skin

    ¡°Mm?¡± Ilyusha turned those slate-grey eyes toward her. Amina shivered inside. She wiped a streak of blood from Ilyusha¡¯s jawbone. She longed to suck on the bloodstained shirt. She forced herself to resist.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t be angry,¡± she murmured. ¡°I feel ¡­ complicated, when you¡¯re angry. Clean anger is okay. But this ¡­ makes me ¡­ ¡±

    Frightened? Aroused?

    touch me touch me touch me touch me

    ¡°Ehhhh.¡± Ilyusha unfolded her arms and reached out to hold Amina¡¯s flank with one hand, gentle and comforting. She looped her tail around Amina¡¯s back, the sharp spike inches from Amina¡¯s shoulder. Amina could barely breathe; she tried not to show it. ¡°Not angry,¡± Ilyusha grunted. ¡°Not with you, Ami. World¡¯s a fuck.¡±

    please God please merciful God tell her to open my belly and spill me upon the floor please God please

    Amina waited, praying silently for those claws to cut into her flesh. But Ilyusha was gentle and God was not listening. Ilyusha was not God¡¯s creature, after all.

    ¡° ¡­ okay,¡± Amina whispered eventually. She resumed tending to her friend.

    Was this what she was reduced to, without her demon?

    Amina had been drawn to Ilyusha by urges she did not understand. She had justified it to herself with the fact that Ilyusha was short and young, like her. The others were all taller, older, and far more frightening.

    But that wasn¡¯t the truth; Ilyusha excited her in a way she¡¯d never felt before. Ilyusha was like her. Ilyusha was sharp and vicious and violent ¡ª things Amina would never have loved in life. At first she had worried it was her demon, staying silent and unseen, guiding her to new perversions.

    Amina had not told Ilyusha about the knife, but she was certain that Ilyusha knew. During all their time cuddled up beneath the spare coats over the last two days, Ilyusha must have felt the hard steel secret against Amina¡¯s belly. Surely she knew.

    Besides, Illy must know, because Illy had a demon too.

    Ilyusha¡¯s demon was on the outside, in her beautiful metal limbs and her impossible tail and her incredible violence. Or rather, Ilyusha was the demon, and the other girl who sometimes whispered to Amina, she was the host. Ilyusha¡¯s demon was clever and strong and protective. Ilyusha had found a good use for her demon, had made friends with it, and given it free reign.

    Amina had often wished she could do the same.

    Over the following couple of hours, the others all managed to return to sleep, or at least to lie down and rest. Kagami had an argument with Elpida, using a lot of words and phrases which Amina didn¡¯t understand ¡ª ¡°strategic vulnerability¡±, ¡°hoodwinked¡±, ¡°trolling¡± ¡ª but Amina could tell that it wasn¡¯t a real argument. The tones told the truth. Kagami was afraid and trying to hide it; she vented for a while, then lay down in a huff and dragged a coat over her head. Elpida and Vicky vanished into the other room for about twenty minutes, beyond Amina¡¯s earshot. She was afraid Elpida would cry and scream again. The angel¡¯s grief had been so terrible to overhear, full of rage and sorrow; Amina was certain she would be flayed alive and reduced to ash if she witnessed it up close. She wondered what Vicky was made of, to endure that pain at such close proximity. But there was no crying or screaming. Vicky and Elpida returned shortly. Vicky had to help Elpida lie down, even though she only had one working arm. Elpida¡¯s stomach was obviously causing her a lot of pain, the muscles going stiff with deep bruises and organ damage.

    It was beautiful to watch the angel struggle with her pain.

    Ilyusha burrowed down inside their makeshift bed of coats, snuggling into Amina¡¯s flank. Amina liked that. Her body was not pretty or slender or graceful, like her older sisters had been; she was pudgy and thick around the middle, clumsy with her footsteps and her fingers alike. But she was good for cuddling. Illy used her like a pillow.

    The first time they had slept in the bunker was after they had fled from the terrible battle with the monster. Amina didn¡¯t understand the city they¡¯d fled through ¡ª the impossibly tall buildings, the smooth black surfaces of ancient roads, the fake stone and the black sky and the angel¡¯s corpse in Pira¡¯s arms. She¡¯d understood even less when Pira had gone to work on the angel¡¯s unbreathing meat. She¡¯d retreated, buried herself, been ready to scream, taking comfort only in the knife.

    But Ilyusha had spent a long time whispering to Amina beneath the nest of coats. Illy had taught her words, gossiped about the others, asked her questions about herself. Amina had told her all about Qarya and her five elder sisters, and her father, who was very smart and very clever with words and very quick with the merchants. She told Ilyusha about the beauty of her father¡¯s olive groves, and shared one of the poems she had once written, one about the taste of olives in sunlight. It helped to focus on life before the end, before the Franks had built a pile of corpses in Qarya¡¯s burned out remains.

    This time, as they snuggled down for sleep, Ilyusha was too exhausted and too sore for much whispering.

    Head beneath the covers, Amina murmured: ¡°Illy?¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s eyes were already closed, her warm metal limbs wrapped around Amina¡¯s torso, her tail looped through Amina¡¯s legs. She grunted. ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°The ¡­ ¡®sniper¡¯, was she very strong and very terrible?¡±

    Ilyusha was silent for a long moment. Amina thought her sharp friend had already fallen asleep. But then Illy said: ¡°Big moron. Don¡¯t worry. Safe with me, Ami. Safe.¡±

    Illy fell asleep after that. Amina struggled to follow.

    She didn¡¯t mind sleeping on the floor. In her family house in Qarya she¡¯d had a proper bed, though shared with two of her sisters. She didn¡¯t mind the omnipresent sound of soft, shallow breathing which filled the bunker, nor the static drumming of the rainstorm on the concrete roof as it slowly trailed off. She didn¡¯t even mind when the angel turned on her side to spit and cough blood into a spare shirt. She considered creeping out of her nest to touch that blood. The thought of tasting it made her quiver inside.

    Demon thoughts. Bad thoughts. Who tasted blood? Not her. Not anymore.

    Amina couldn¡¯t sleep because she hadn¡¯t prayed.

    She hadn¡¯t thought about prayer since she¡¯d woken up inside that metal box. For the last few days ¡ª the days since her mortal death ¡ª she had not prayed even once. It was the first time in her life she had not prayed daily, since she was old enough to remember. True, she had offered up improvised pleas to God, begging really, but she had not sat and prayed, not properly. How could she? She didn¡¯t even know which way to face; if what the others said about the shape of the world was true, then Mecca could be anywhere. If she was correct, if she was in hell, then what use were prayers?

    God was great and God was merciful. But God was not here. God did not love Amina.

    Her hand found the knife again, safe beneath her clothes. The knife was here. Ilyusha was here.

    Amina had taken the knife from the room full of weapons inside the pyramid. She had slipped it inside her clothes when nobody was looking. Back then, she had not understood what ¡®guns¡¯ were, but she knew knives all too well. She had worried that the impulse to conceal the knife was the demon working through her, lurking inside her heart. But she had not felt it stirring. She had not felt the urge.

    The others all had metal parts. Even Vicky did, hidden inside her body. If the metal parts were gifts from God, then perhaps the part of her which had played host to the demon was gone. Perhaps it had been replaced with metal.

    In the shared darkness of the concrete bunker, in place of prayer, Amina cried a few silent tears of relief. The demon was dead. Her own end had robbed it of any more victims.

    Ilyusha snuggled against her side. A single red claw pressed against Amina¡¯s shoulder, twitching in and out. She shivered and gasped.

    Maybe hell was not so bad after all, with a friend, and no demon.

    In the shared darkness, she stared at the angel¡¯s beauty, a few feet away on the floor. She stared at Elpida¡¯s white hair curled around her neck, at her elegant muscles, at the secret wounds beneath her clothes. She saw in her mind¡¯s eye the blood-smeared kiss on Elpida¡¯s lips, from Illy to the angel ¡ª or the other way around?

    Amina¡¯s palm was clammy on her hidden knife. Her hand was shaking.

    Her demon was gone. She did not feel the urge.

    She did not feel the urge.

    She did not feel-

 lepus - 5.2

    Amina could not tell day from night; the only window inside the bunker was shut tight.

    And there was no true sunlight in hell. No warmth for the damned ¡ª except in each other.

    After a long and exhausted sleep snuggled up with Ilyusha, with her hand wrapped around the sweaty hilt of her knife, Amina awoke to a clank-clank-clank echoing down into the bunker.

    Atyle and Pira had returned from their quest.

    Amina stayed out of the way: she did not know how to help, how to usefully insert herself among the others. The angel and Illy and Vicky all moved with confidence and certainty; Amina felt clumsy, slow, and small, swamped inside her clothes, outpaced by the older girls with their elegant legs and graceful hands.

    But she also hoped to avoid attention. Of all the other hell-bound girls condemned alongside her, the most terrifying were Atyle and Pira.

    When the knock on the door was followed by Pira¡¯s shout, Amina hid deeper inside her bundle of coats. When Elpida and Ilyusha picked up guns and climbed the steps to unbar the door, Amina clamped her lips shut and held her breath. When Atyle and Pira clattered down the steps and rejoined them in the bunker, Amina did not welcome them home. When the questions started to fly back and forth, Amina tried not to listen.

    She wanted to close her eyes and sink into her hidden nest. But she was very good at listening.

    Atyle and Pira both looked terrible, but in different ways. Their clothes and hair were dirty from the gritty rain, stained from lying in ashes or stagnant water ¡ª or perhaps from splashes of blood. They were both exhausted ¡ª but exhaustion made Atyle glow.

    Pira was wounded.

    The terrifying Frankish warrior slumped against the wall, clutching her side. The angel - who was angelic to all, even demons ¡ª went to help her. Pira put up a token resistance, but Elpida was too deft, too firm. Wet clothing and pieces of armour fell to the floor. Pira stood, panting, half-stripped to reveal a bloody bullet wound chewed into her flank. Crimson was smeared across her pale flesh, over her ribcage and stomach. Her blue eyes were flat and hollow with pain. She pushed weakly at Elpida¡¯s hand.

    Pira hissed, ¡°Off¡ª I¡¯m¡ª it went through. Clean shot. I¡¯ll heal. Get off.¡±

    Elpida replied, ¡°Stop. Pira, stop trying to hide the wound. Get the rest of your armour off, let¡¯s at least plug it, or get some nanomachines in there. And well done, both of you. Well done. Atyle, put that with the coilgun for now. And sit down, you¡¯ve earned a rest.¡±

    But Atyle said: ¡°It is a gift for you, warrior, and it shall not touch the ground before it touches your hands. My second gift for you. A feast for the eyes and the strongest arm.¡±

    Amina was very glad that Atyle had eyes only for the angel. Atyle was a terror whose gaze left Amina paralysed.

    The others were gathered around the tall, dark figure of Atyle. They examined the nightmare she had brought back from beyond. Ilyusha was grinning, flexing her claws like a carnivore before fresh meat, capering from foot to foot; that was beautiful, so Amina tried to focus on Illy, but there was too much going on. Vicky was nodding, looking serious, chewing her lip. Kagami was peering through her magic seeing-glass, muttering under her breath.

    Atyle was carrying a limb, taken from the monster the angel had slain.

    A few scraps of papery skin and dry flesh still clung to one end of the arm, penetrated by complicated pieces of metal. The limb bulged outward in the middle; Kagami was pointing and gesturing at that swelling of dead flesh, saying words Amina did not understand: ¡°Self-replenishing manufactory; we feed it rocks and dirt, it¡¯ll turn them into sabots. Fuck me, this is beautiful.¡±

    Beyond that distended section was a collection of smooth metal tubes.

    Death.

    Amina had seen those tubes kill the angel; they had spat metal and torn Elpida apart. Ilyusha had explained what firearms were, but she must be wrong, or mistaken, or confused. Only magic of the most terrible kind could have felled the angel ¡ª or perhaps the terrible vengeance and anger of God.

    Was the monster another kind of angel? Had Atyle and Pira broken off part of an angel?

    Amina¡¯s head swam with the implications. Cold sweat broke out on her face, her palms, and her back. Beneath her clothes her knuckles creaked on the hilt of her knife. She wanted the quiet to come back. She wanted the rainstorm. She wanted to close her eyes and stop thinking and¡ª

    Pira croaked: ¡°Stop gawking. Put it down. Listen. We were followed.¡±

    Kagami turned and spluttered, ¡°What? How?! I thought you were good at this!¡±

    The angel looked up from tending to Pira¡¯s wound. Her attention sharpened. ¡°You were followed?¡±

    Pira nodded.

    ¡°Where? How many? Are they close?¡±

    Pira said, ¡°Two. Not far. They¡ª¡±

    But Atyle insisted: ¡°Warrior. Accept my gift. I will not place it at your feet as tribute. From my hands to yours, or not at all.¡±

    Amina could feel the tension like steam filling the air. She wanted to whimper and hide. But Elpida rose from Pira. She awkwardly accepted the horrifying trophy. Atyle smiled, then sat cross-legged on the floor, as if her part was over. Vicky scurried about to tend to Pira¡¯s wound. Ilyusha kept bending over the weapon, poking at the metal parts with her extended claws, even when Elpida placed the horrible thing on the cold floor.

    Amina had to look away when Vicky pulled a bullet out of Pira¡¯s blood-slick side.

    Vicky snorted. ¡°All the way through? What¡¯s this then?¡±

    Pira didn¡¯t answer that. ¡°Followed, yes,¡± she said to Elpida, croaky and pale. ¡°Not by the scavenger group we took the cyclic coilgun from. I made a mistake. We stopped to rest. Two ¡ª unnhh ¡ª two revenants. Crept up on us. Winged me. Followed us after. But they hung back when we got close to the bunker.¡±

    Vicky hissed, ¡°Shit. Don¡¯t tell me this means we¡¯re gonna have to move?¡±

    Atyle said, eyes closed: ¡°We are safe in here. We are many, and strong. We will not be assaulted.¡±

    Kagami was peering at the walls with her magic glass. ¡°Nobody¡¯s out there, nobody within range. Nothing, just damp ground and those permanent clouds. You don¡¯t think they were friends with the sniper bitch?¡±

    Pira blinked. The mask of pain stiffened. ¡°Sniper?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°We were attacked. We dealt with it.¡±

    That was when the argument started ¡ª a real one.

    Amina knew the difference between a real argument and a fake one. She had learned the nuances from listening to her sisters and her parents a thousand times, hidden behind the turn of a wall or sitting with her head bowed, hoping not to get involved.

    She saw it in the scrunch of Pira¡¯s frown. She heard it in the quiet, controlled tone of the first few questions, even if she couldn¡¯t follow the reasoning: ¡°You confronted her?¡± ¡°You killed her?¡± ¡°You let her go?¡± ¡°Why?¡± She felt it resonate in the angel¡¯s posture, in the way Vicky drew up alongside her in support. She recognised Kagami¡¯s detachment, the way she stood somewhat apart at first, then joined in ¡ª with Pira. And when Ilyusha stamped on the floor and spat insults, Amina flinched. Ilyusha¡¯s tail lashed the air. Her claws flicked in and out. Amina shivered.

    She couldn¡¯t follow the meaning; the argument was too real. She wanted to clamp her hands over ears. She wanted to vanish.

    Pira, cold: ¡°You had a highly developed revenant at gunpoint and you let her go. You wasted¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha, spitting. ¡°Not gonna fucking eat anybody you reptile cunt!¡±

    Pira¡¯s reply: ¡°I am not advocating cannibalism. I am advocating self-preservation. And I told you not to leave this bunker.¡±

    Vicky, too slow to make peace: ¡°Woah, woah, this woman let Elpi and Illy go, from what I understand. Right? Elpi?¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Pira was unyielding. ¡°She will return to her allies and try again. This is how it works. None of you will survive more than a few days if you don¡¯t learn that.¡±

    Ilyusha, bubbling over with rage: ¡°Fuck you! She was like me! Like me! Fuck you, reptile, you cunts never fucking get it! You just run!¡±

    The angel¡¯s voice cut through the shouting, clear and calm: ¡°We¡¯re going to have to move regardless. Pira, this changes nothing.¡±

    Amina offered her a silent prayer. If God would not listen, the angel would do. She prayed for the shouting to stop.

    Pira came back sharp: ¡°Move? This is a perfectly defensible position. Atyle is correct about that. You know that as well as I do. We should stay still until the graveworm moves. What are you suggesting?¡±

    The angel had a plan.

    ¡°We¡¯re going after the combat frame ¡ª the ¡®fallen star¡¯,¡± she said. ¡°Now we have the cyclic coilgun, more firepower, we can move around. I want that combat frame.¡±

    Amina heard something else in the angel¡¯s voice, something she had not expected. She wondered if any of the others could hear it.

    Desire.

    Amina wished she had not prayed to the angel, had not offered what little strength she had to share, because Amina did not want to leave the bunker.

    She knew this barren stone room was nothing more than a temporary refuge. She had just about managed to follow the conversation which had taken place after the angel had come back to life, about the giant metal worms and how they would eventually have to move on, and keep moving, like nomads, never stopping in one place for long. But Amina did not wish to live like that. She had spent her whole life in Qarya. Other than roaming the hills and valleys, and the occasional visit to neighbouring villages, she knew nowhere else. She did not wish to know hell.

    Another punishment heaped upon her, for failure to resist her demon: no place to rest her head, no comfortable pillow, no soft bed.

    Pira hissed: ¡°You¡¯re suicidal. I should never have helped you.¡±

    The shouting got worse ¡ª not louder, but more angry, bitter, and aggressive. Ilyusha spat and raged, threatening with the spike on her tail, saying words she had not taught to Amina. Pira turned cold, like a corpse. The angel kept explaining why they had to move before the graveworm did, why she didn¡¯t want to risk leaving the ¡®combat frame¡¯ behind, when the worm moved on. Amina did not understand why the angel wanted to find that giant; perhaps she was going to recruit it ¡ª but that didn¡¯t explain the quiver of desire and need in the angel¡¯s voice. Vicky sided with Elpida. Kagami sided with Pira at first ¡ª but then wavered, withdrew, and kept her own counsel. She watched Elpida carefully; Amina watched her watching.

    Pira and Ilyusha snapped at each other.

    ¡°¡ªshould have killed her when you had the chance¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªshould have torn your guts out when you woke up, shit eater!¡±

    Elpida tried to keep the peace. ¡°Ilyusha, back off. Right now. Pira, stop. What¡¯s done is done.¡±

    Pira¡¯s voice was cold. ¡°What¡¯s done will come back to bite us. And I am not moving this group.¡±

    Amina couldn¡¯t take it; not because she couldn¡¯t understand the information, but because she understood the tone and flow of an argument all too well. She had witnessed enough of them, stood on the sidelines or just out of sight, listening and understanding and wishing she didn¡¯t. Now her companions in this dark place seemed on the verge of tearing each other apart. She was trapped, buffeted by their anger, trying to stay still and silent.

    ¡°Soft-headed¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuckface!¡±

    ¡°¡ªout of control¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªyour choice, warrior¡ª¡±

    ¡°Everyone be quiet!¡±

    Anger, hot and sharp, drew Amina¡¯s demon from its dreamless sleep.

    At first she didn¡¯t realise it was still there, coiled inside her breast like a serpent in a garden. But as the argument finally burned out under the angel¡¯s call for silence, Amina realised she had wormed one hand up inside her clothes and through the carefully wrapped bundle pressed against her front. She was gripping the hilt of the knife. But it was not her fault.

    The demon was using her eyes, judging the other girls.

    She felt the urge. Clear and clean.

    Amina sobbed.

    Vicky said, ¡°Look, we¡¯re upsetting Amina. Amina, sweetie, it¡¯s okay. We¡¯re all really tired and really stressed, but we don¡¯t hate each other. Nobody¡¯s going to fight. Everyone¡¯s gonna calm down now, okay?¡±

    The angel said: ¡°I agree with Vicky. Everyone needs to calm down. We can talk this over.¡±

    Ilyusha scoffed. Pira turned her head away. Amina had to put her hand over her lower face to smother another horrified sob; the demon writhed inside her chest, making demands. Ilyusha came over to her and wormed into the coats to hug her from behind. Ilyusha¡¯s claws flicked back into her fingertips before she touched Amina. Amina wished those claws would rake her flesh in punishment.

    Pira said: ¡°What¡¯s to discuss? We¡¯re not moving this group, not before the worm moves.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Let¡¯s get that wound plugged first. Then I¡¯ll explain.¡±

    The others continued their argument, slower now. Pira slid down to the floor and closed her eyes. Elpida made suggestions about giants and pilots and other words Amina could not fathom.

    Amina negotiated with her demon.

    Elpida was out of the question. Elpida was an angel. Elpida had returned to life once already, and she would do so again. Elpida¡¯s skin would turn away Amina¡¯s knife. Amina¡¯s demon was a terrible thing, but she knew it was very small, not powerful enough to overcome such beauty and grace. Elpida would see her intent, fight her off, take away the knife ¡ª and then Elpida would be kind. She would understand. Beneath her angelic onslaught, the demon would wither.

    The demon wanted Elpida, very badly. It wanted to kiss blood off Elpida¡¯s lips and smear crimson into that perfect white hair. But the demon agreed: not Elpida.

    ¡°¡ªnot from your time,¡± Pira was saying, eyes screwed up in pain. ¡°Whatever the orbital entry was, the chance of it being compatible with you is minuscule. It¡¯s a fool¡¯s errand. Give it up.¡±

    The angel replied: ¡°It¡¯s a combat frame. If I can interface, we¡¯d be invincible. It¡¯s a worth an attempt.¡±

    Pira said nothing.

    Pira was too frightening. Even slumped against the wall, oozing blood from a bullet wound, grey in the face and cold with detachment, Pira was terrifying. Pira was a demon too, Amina knew this. She was strong and tough and clever and quick and cruel. Pira would take a dozen stab wounds and keep fighting. Pira would kill her.

    But back in Qarya, Kazem had been strong and clever and cruel ¡ª so very cruel, the way he had beaten Amina¡¯s eldest sister. But Amina¡¯s demon had been smarter. The demon had helped her lead Kazem down to the river, down to a bend where nobody went, with promises of kisses and favours. The demon had plunged a stolen butcher¡¯s knife into Kazem¡¯s spine.

    Auntie Ruwa had been tough and quick and cruel, and clever enough to conceal her infidelity with Amina¡¯s father. But she had believed when Amina had lured her out into the woods, with a tale that her second-eldest sister had gotten her foot stuck in a tree root. Auntie Ruwa had crumpled well enough when Amina¡¯s demon had pierced her lungs with an awl. Wolves had eaten her corpse; Amina had checked, a week later, just to be sure.

    How about Atyle?

    ¡°A machine of the gods,¡± Atyle was saying. Her eyes were closed. ¡°Among other machines of the gods. I do not see the value, warrior. But I will follow, if only to see how you see.¡±

    Absolutely not. Amina knew that Atyle could see through more than walls. The sorcerer could see through flesh, thought, and souls. Amina told the demon no, never, do not even suggest such a thing. She framed specific words very carefully in her mind: Atyle, I will not harm you. I will not. I will not.

    Atyle did not open her eyes or look round. Amina hoped the sorcerer would understand.

    Vicky said: ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not gonna pretend to know shit about any of this stuff, but if Elpi says she can pilot a giant robot, I¡¯m down for finding the giant robot.¡±

    Vicky would make an easy target, especially with that useless arm, hanging all meaty and bloody. Amina told the demon no; Vicky was sweet, Vicky cared, Vicky had held her hand and tried to comfort her. Not Vicky. Not her. No.

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Agreed. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s no Republic biomechanoid, but if I saw one of those on the horizon, I¡¯d be running to claim it, too. Metaphorically.¡±

    Kagami?

    Perhaps. The demon purred. Kagami was slow and vulnerable. Arrogant and rude and hateful. But also very clever. If it was to be Kagami, Amina would have to be very clever too, which meant she would need to listen to the demon. She didn¡¯t like that.

    The Frankish knight she¡¯d killed had been arrogant and rude, too. In the final hours of Qarya¡¯s destruction, with her sisters and parents already dead, Amina had pretended not to resist as one of the armoured figures had dragged her off. She knew why. She knew what was going to happen to her. But the knight didn¡¯t know about the knife. He had discovered it when she¡¯d used it to cut open his belly and drag his entrails out. That¡¯s how the other knights had found their friend, and why they¡¯d killed Amina outright.

    But Kagami wasn¡¯t a Frankish knight. She didn¡¯t deserve that. And she was ugly. Amina repeated that, for the demon: Kagami was ugly. It would be a waste.

    But Ilyusha was beautiful. Smeared with blood, she was even more beautiful.

    ¡°No!¡±

    The others looked up from their debate. Vicky said something kind. Ilyusha cocked her head. Pira stared.

    The angel said: ¡°Amina, you disagree?¡±

    Amina stared back, swallowed hard, and managed to say: ¡°N-no. Sorry. No.¡±

    Pira said, without malice, ¡°She doesn¡¯t even understand what we¡¯re talking about.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Poor paleo. It¡¯s sad, that¡¯s what it is.¡±

    The angel signalled for them to stop insulting her. She said, ¡°It¡¯s alright, Amina.¡± Amina tried not to sob. ¡°If you have an objection, you can share it. I promise I¡¯ll listen. I¡¯ll try to explain anything you don¡¯t understand. Kagami will help.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°I¡¯ll what?¡±

    Amina shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

    Vicky said, ¡°She¡¯s terrified. Elpi, just let her rest.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Amina, you don¡¯t have to speak in front of everybody else. It¡¯s okay. We can talk later, if you want.¡±

    Amina kept her eyes screwed tight and waited for the others to resume their talking.

    When they did, she concentrated on the demon inside her chest. She squeezed it with her soul, making it smaller and tighter, harder and harder, no matter the imprint it left on her. She crushed it down as small as it would go, into a tiny ball that she could trap and contain.

    She uncurled her fingers from around her knife. Her knuckles ached.

    She would not let the demon hurt her companions. Not Ilyusha, not Elpida, not Vicky, not Kagami. Not even Atyle or Pira, though they were both terrifying and maybe even deserved it. God was not watching, God was not in this place. They were already in hell, they did not need more pain.

    Only the angel was watching. And the angel would not approve.

    Amina¡¯s hearing came back. A high pitched whine gave way to the angel¡¯s voice.

    ¡°¡ªnot too many miles away. We can move quickly, if we stick together.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Today? I mean, if we can even measure time in days.¡±

    ¡°As soon as Pira¡¯s recovered. We move.¡±

    Amina slowly opened her eyes. The argument had finally died and been reborn as agreement. Elpida was sitting cross-legged and talking with Pira. Vicky and Kagami were listening. Ilyusha was watching with one eye open, snuggled into Amina¡¯s flank.

    And Atyle was staring at Amina. Her magic eye, green and dark, rolled inside the socket.

    For almost a full minute, Amina stared back. Eventually Atyle tilted her head and smiled a secret smile.

    She knew about the demon.

    Amina wanted to close up and stop thinking ¡ª but she stared at Elpida instead, at her coppery skin and the faint bloodstains on her lips. Elpida¡¯s skin would turn a blade. Elpida¡¯s lips would kiss away the demon. The angel would save her. It was the only choice, if the sorcerer already knew.

    Feed the demon inedible fare. Feed it something it could not swallow. Murder it with poison.

    Amina would lead the demon to Elpida, and Elpida would murder it with kindness.

    Amina wouldn¡¯t mind dying at those perfect hands.

 lepus - 5.3

    Amina felt such terrible melancholy when they left the bunker ¡ª left it behind, forever.

    The cold stone hut was a poor excuse for a home, even a temporary one: the floor and walls were rough and grey, colourless and blank; every surface was rock hard, pitted, and scratchy; the air smelled of dust ¡ª not the clean dust of dry earth or fresh straw, but unnatural and heavy; the place was empty of anything except that little side-room full of corpses and rot. Amina decided she did not like concrete. It was a material fit only for building in hell.

    But when the angel led the way out of the metal door, up the concrete ramp, and across the rotting black ribbon of the ancient road, Amina could not help but look back.

    The bunker was like a little calcified stone wart, slick with slow-drying rain, sunk into the desiccated flesh of the world.

    Amina understood that none of them were likely to ever see this place again.

    They had left nothing behind except bloodstains and body heat; Pira had even wiped her diagram and map off the concrete wall, smearing the paint to illegibility with the cuff of her sleeve. While the others had gathered up their weapons and stuffed spare equipment into the backpacks and filled the two empty cannisters with water, Amina had felt a desire to scratch her name into the concrete wall. Low down, small, neat, where it might be seen in the future by another lost soul like herself. But she could not mark the concrete. Her nails were too soft. She would have to use the knife, but she did not wish to reveal her hidden claw.

    Her demon¡¯s whispers were very clear about that: keep the secret, for now.

    The angel led them over the road and plunged into the buildings on the opposite side. Amina looked back, past Pira, who was acting as rearguard. She kept looking back until only a sliver of the bunker remained.

    Amina offered a prayer ¡ª not to God, who was not here and did not care, and not to the angel, whose mind was on other desires, but to the bunker itself. An ugly little stone tumour, which had sheltered them in their hour of need.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispered.

    Next to her, Ilyusha jerked round. Claws out, weapon bobbing, eyes up, her beautiful face framed by the dying brickwork of the buildings between which they slid. ¡°Eh? Ami? Eh?¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Amina whispered. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡±

    She turned away from the bunker and concentrated on keeping her place in the group, keeping pace with Ilyusha, and keeping her head down.

    Amina felt such terrible melancholy ¡ª but the fear was worse.

    During the mad scramble for safety after the battle outside the tomb, Amina had not been able to absorb the details of the landscape through which they had fled; she had been too focused on the body of the angel in Pira¡¯s arms, on Ilyusha¡¯s clawed hand dragging at her own, at her pumping lungs and sweat-stained skin and the screaming fear in her belly. But now, as the group picked their way through the corpse-like ruins of eternity, the only thing she could do was observe.

    After all, she was no use for anything else in this place.

    Her demon disagreed. Her knife chafed against her ribs with every step.

    The buildings were impossibly huge and impossibly rotten, an endless patchwork of crumbling brick, concrete stained and cracked, glass shattered and melted, steel twisted and warped and eaten by rust; some buildings were skeletal, empty, windblown corpses, while others were bloated with black rot and dark green growths, bulging and spreading into the streets and alleys. Corroded ribbons of metal hung in the air, swooping and dipping, leading off into the city. Strange humped metal creatures sat dead at intersections, like giant rust-caked caterpillars. Some of the structures were dizzyingly tall, the work of angels or demons or something else Amina could not imagine. She had to crane her neck all the way back to see their ragged tips scraping at the sky. On a few of those tallest fingers, giant bulbs of flesh stood out, fat and red, like parasitic plants soaking up non-existent sunlight.

    Beyond those infected fingers, the sky was choked with motionless black. A faint red glow burned in one quarter, pretending to be the sun, trapped behind an infinity of smog. The light offered no heat, no comfort, but somehow Amina could still see well enough.

    Her boots scuffed and dragged along paving slabs, on smooth black ¡®asphalt¡¯, fitted bricks, dull metal, shattered concrete, but only the occasional stretch of naked dirt, turned to mud by the night¡¯s rain ¡ª and the dirt was not brown or black, but grey.

    Even the soil was dead.

    Horrible sounds echoed through the canyons formed by the buildings: far-off gunshots, the chatter of weapons, screams ripped away by the wind, feet tapping on dead ground, and worse noises, ones which Amina could not name or comprehend.

    Amina¡¯s only solace was in the other girls, in front and behind, in how close they moved, how tight their ¡®formation¡¯ ¡ª a word she had learned not from Ilyusha, but from the angel.

    Elpida led from the front, as Amina thought was right; she used hand signals and hisses to call for halts, or to wave Ilyusha forward, or to resume their slow, stop-start progress through the ruptured capillaries of this corpse-city. The angel carried the big gun ¡ª the ¡®coilgun¡¯ she had taken from the tomb. It looked heavy and bulky, but the angel was unstoppable, and she left the piece that did the shooting locked to the backpack part, keeping her hands free for other tasks.

    Atyle stayed very close to the angel, which made Amina¡¯s demon flutter with wet-red jealousy.

    But Atyle also had the task of carrying the severed arm-gun which she and Pira had brought back from their quest; Amina did not envy that. Atyle also had the task of sometimes pointing the arm-gun at things ¡ª things which strayed too close or wouldn¡¯t go away, things which were interested in their little group, things which did not show enough fear of the angel¡¯s coilgun or her threatening words. Amina never saw those things, because she was always hunkered down while it happened, cowering behind a snatch of wall or Ilyusha¡¯s ballistic shield, her arms wrapped around her own head, trying not to sob or whine, because prey-like noise might attract more predatory attention.

    Atyle didn¡¯t care. She stood tall, as if nothing could touch her; Amina understood that the angel had chosen Atyle for that task because of her near-suicidal fearlessness.

    That happened five times on the first day; three of those times, the angel and Pira did a lot of shouting ¡ª not at each other, for which Amina was thankful, but at the things they were pointing the guns at.

    Vicky and Kagami came next. Vicky¡¯s arm was still recovering from its reattachment, wrapped in a sling made from a spare t-shirt. But she was confident on her feet and strong enough to support Kagami. Often she would turn and whisper a few words of encouragement to Amina; Amina liked Vicky a lot. Vicky was kind, and good, and meant what she said. Vicky was not a liar giving lip service. Vicky was a good person; Amina made sure to repeat that in her head, hammering that fact into her demon. Vicky spent all her time helping Kagami to walk, or steadying Kagami whenever Kagami had to use her magic seeing-glass, or helping Amina get into cover when they had to stop quickly because something bad was nearby.

    Amina could tell that Vicky was used to this ¡ª moving from place to place, helping a small group of friends, sticking together. Amina liked that.

    Kagami struggled. She still could not walk properly; her magic metal legs were disobedient. She panted for breath often, relishing every little stop. She said a lot of harsh words, some which even made Ilyusha snort and giggle, and one which made Vicky angry in return. But sometimes Kagami saw things that the others couldn¡¯t, before Elpida or Atyle could spot them. Why did Atyle not spot them first, with her magic eye? Amina did not understand that. Perhaps it was the stress of carrying the arm-gun and watching the angel¡¯s back.

    Whenever that happened, Kagami called out to Elpida. The terror in her voice made Amina want to curl up into a ball and stop moving.

    Behind Vicky and Kagami came herself and Ilyusha. But Illy could not stay at her side all the time.

    Ilyusha had to go forward often, whenever the angel hissed for her help in warding off something that would not go away. Sometimes Ilyusha went forward just because she felt like it, scrambling over broken concrete so she could bump her head on the angel¡¯s shoulder or snap her teeth at the angel¡¯s fingers. She went backward too, looping around the rear of the group, worming her way through parallel alleys and streets until she would burst from some unexpected broken vein of brick and steel to rejoin them again. Claws clicking on concrete, tail lashing the air, Illy was beautiful. Illy was meant to be here. Illy had let her demon reshape her body so she could thrive in hell.

    Was that what Amina had to do? Give her demon what it wanted? Change, like Illy had?

    Her demon was silent on this subject.

    Whenever Ilyusha left her side, Amina¡¯s demon whispered suggestions: it told her to wriggle her hand up inside her clothes and wrap her fingers around the hilt of her knife. But she needed both hands for balance. Walking was hard, and tiring, and the ground was often uneven, and she never knew when they would all have to suddenly stop and hide.

    And Pira might see.

    Pira brought up the rear of the group. The flame-haired warrior was still recovering from the gunshot wound in her side, her movements a fraction slower and more stiff than before. Pira was also angry; Amina could tell that Pira did not agree with this course of action, this trek across hell¡¯s putrefied hide. But Pira had been out-argued by the angel¡¯s desire. Pira could not resist the angel any more than Amina could; Amina¡¯s demon burbled with quiet jealousy over that, too.

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    Amina tried to look back as little as possible; she did not want to draw Pira¡¯s attention. But whenever Pira went forward, Amina found herself at the rear of the group, alone and exposed. Better to have Pira at her back than nothing at all.

    Progress was slow torture. Amina was not used to travelling long distances, but even she could tell that they were not making good time. The city was a tangle of corpses piled atop each other, necessitating constant detours around impassable areas ¡ª craters of rubble, infested buildings bubbling with black rot, strange creatures and machines motionless amid the ruins.

    And worst of all, other revenants.

    Haunted voices called out from the ruins ¡ª not to Amina and her companions, but locked in unseen congress. Great and terrible damned slid away into the dark, or lumbered past the ends of streets, or stood and watched from silent vantage points. More than once, pot-shots rang out through the air, until warded off by the angel and Atyle waving their weapons.

    But progress they did, one step at a time; they went north, toward the plume of smoke in the far distance, the thinning marker of the angel¡¯s desire.

    Other than that finger of smoke, the only constant landmark was the grey mountain range always to their left: the giant machine-worm, the ¡®graveworm¡¯.

    Amina tried not to think about that creature. It was too big. A leviathan cast out of the world and into hell, where it belonged.

    After the first few hours, Amina found her thoughts turning to nothing. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, until her feet blurred together, through stagnant puddles and sticky mud and solid rot. She concentrated on listening for the hiss of the angel¡¯s voice calling for a halt, calling for them to duck, to scurry into cover like rats. She felt like a rat, or a mouse, or a rabbit diving for a hole.

    Eventually, after many hours but few miles, the red smear in the sky grew dim. Amina and the others could still see easily enough ¡ª she did not understand how ¡ª but her body demanded rest.

    That night there was no bunker, no thick walls, no one door in or out. They slept in a huge metal barn; Vicky and Ilyusha both called it a ¡®hangar¡¯.

    The barn was full of strange dark rusting shapes, metal monsters of sharp angles and long blades and collapsed wheels. The dead monsters seemed to make Ilyusha sad; she stared at them for a long time and wouldn¡¯t ¡ª or couldn¡¯t ¡ª explain why. But exhaustion and sleep carried away any melancholy.

    They bedded down wedged into a corner of the hangar, burrowing into coats and wrapping themselves in spare layers. The structure was set in the middle of a wide open space of blank concrete, with huge archways opening in two directions. The angel said something about ¡®good lines of sight¡¯. But Amina would have preferred to hide and build a fire. She felt very cold.

    But there was nothing to burn. Only metal and concrete. Did concrete burn? Amina doubted that.

    Another difference to the few days in the bunker: they did not all sleep at the same time.

    The others took turns to sit up, stay awake, and watch the vast, dark entrances to the hangar, the wide flat concrete plain outdoors, and the jagged horizon beyond. Amina was not included in this process. Pira was offered an exemption, but refused. Ilyusha was passed over for responsibility.

    But again, Amina could not sleep.

    She was exhausted. Her legs ached. Her mind was stretched thin by the stop-start motion of the day, by the terror of cowering from things unseen, by the dizzying reality of this city in hell. She could not have prayed, even if she had been inclined to do so. She should have slipped into merciful sleep. But beneath a pile of coats, propped against the very corner of the hangar walls, with Ilyusha snuggled up and chewing on her arm, all Amina could do was grip her knife.

    The corpse-city loomed outdoors. Full of dead things, hell-bound things, just like her.

    A knife was safety. A knife was security. A knife was the demon¡¯s way. And hell was full of demons.

    Elpida had taken the first watch. She sat a little way out from the rest of the group, a little further out from the corner, facing toward the horizon, sitting on a metal box which she and Atyle had dragged over from beneath one of the ruined metal machines. Amina stared at Elpida¡¯s back for a very long time, at her shoulders beneath the heavy coat, at the faint hint of her brilliant white hair silhouetted against the distant red horizon-glow.

    The angel would protect her ¡ª but only until she revealed her demon.

    Amina¡¯s demon was already whispering a suggestion: get up, walk over, pull out the knife. The angel would hear her coming. Get it over with. Stop hiding what you are. Stop hiding. Stop.

    But Amina was snuggled up with Ilyusha. Illy would wake up, and be grumpy. The others might hear her.

    She wanted the angel, and only the angel, to do it.

    So Amina watched.

    And in the dark, with distant howling caught on the wind, Amina heard Elpida whisper a single word.

    ¡°Graveworm?¡±

    Two or three hours later ¡ª she wasn¡¯t sure, because she may have fallen asleep ¡ª Amina realised she wasn¡¯t the only one watching the angel¡¯s back.

    Pira was awake, sitting up. Amina had not seen her move. She was staring at Elpida across the dark cavern of the hangar.

    Pira¡¯s watch was next, but she didn¡¯t stand up or walk over to Elpida; she just watched ¡ª and listened, Amina assumed, because the angel was whispering her litany of names. Her private prayer of twenty four. Amina strained to memorise all those names ¡ª Ipeka, Kit, Third, Howl. Those names were important to the angel. The angel was praying to them, in a way that Amina understood. Perhaps they were the names of other angels, left behind, or betrayed, or loved? Perhaps Amina could pray to those names as well. Inside her chest, her demon retreated a little at that notion.

    When the angel had finished whispering, Pira stood and walked over. Her hair was a smouldering ember of red in the dark.

    She sat down on the other end of the metal box, as far from Elpida as she could get. Both of them were facing away from Amina, into the night.

    Amina stayed very still. She held her breath.

    ¡°Pira,¡± the angel whispered. ¡°Rest well? How are you holding up? How¡¯s the wound feel?¡±

    Pira answered in an even softer whisper. She didn¡¯t look at Elpida. Amina had to strain to hear the words.

    ¡°Fine. You?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Doing good so far.¡±

    Pira exhaled hard through her nose. ¡°I know you¡¯re still wounded. Can see it in how you move. Your whole stomach is seized up. Internal bleeding making your muscles and organs stiff. We should have waited another day.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.¡±

    Pira¡¯s head turned toward the angel, just a little. ¡°Having any regrets, yet?¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t answer for a moment, then whispered: ¡°We made it through one day.¡±

    ¡°We almost didn¡¯t. Several times.¡± Pira sounded angry.

    ¡°But we did.¡±

    ¡°Blind luck.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s whisper was calm and collected, but there was something dead about her voice. ¡°Those two in the powered armour, they ran from us when we showed them the coilgun. The revenant with the scythe, she only left when you shouted at her. Good job, Pira. The group with the ¡­ mirrors? They saw us, yes, that was risky. But they gave us a wide berth. We did it. We can do it again.¡±

    Pira stared at Elpida for a few moments, then turned back to the horizon. ¡°This group is half dead weight.¡±

    Minutes passed. Amina didn¡¯t understand why Elpida was still sitting there. It was Pira¡¯s turn to watch. Elpida deserved sleep.

    Then, Elpida whispered: ¡°That large group we had to go around, the ones inside that fortress complex, there must have been two, maybe three dozen of them. And the noises, the ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°They were eating each other,¡± Pira supplied.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Elpida straightened up, her dark silhouette rising. ¡°Was that normal?¡±

    Pira¡¯s lips clicked. She whispered, ¡°Sometimes. Sometimes not. Revenants collaborate and split based on a million pressures and variations, but the smartest and least volatile will be bunkered down, waiting for the worm to move. The best spots will be occupied by the strongest, or the most well organized; they¡¯ll hold those spots in case the worm isn¡¯t moving for weeks, or months. The cannibal pack we saw were in the open. Exposed. Disorganised. The only ones moving around so openly are those who can¡¯t do otherwise. The lost. The mad. Predators. Us.¡±

    Elpida breathed a tiny laugh. ¡°Point taken.¡±

    But Pira carried on. ¡°Other groups will be preying where they can. Others still will have agendas of their own, beliefs, creeds. It¡¯s rare, but sometimes revenants from similar eras find each other, find commonality in their ideology. Those groups are often well-organized. Can be very dangerous.¡±

    Pira trailed off. Elpida whispered: ¡°Like the Death¡¯s Heads?¡±

    Pira glanced toward Elpida again. ¡°The what?¡±

    ¡°The people back at the tomb, with the megaphone and the human-skin flag, with the skull painted on it. The one in powered armour who I killed with the coilgun, it ¡ª she, I suppose ¡ª had a black skull on her armour, too. And Serin, the sniper, she had black skulls crossed out on her arm. Kill counting. She called them ¡®the death cult¡¯, but when we were leaving the tomb, the trio we were with, they shouted ¡®death¡¯s head¡¯, like a warning that we should recognise.¡± Elpida turned more fully to look at Pira, two dark outlines against the jagged horizon. ¡°Back at the tomb, when that flag got ripped down, a cheer went up. I heard it. Other revenants, some who¡¯d been fighting each other, they cheered. I haven¡¯t forgotten that. Pira, who are those people?¡±

    Pira sighed. She seemed to be thinking, but Amina couldn¡¯t quite tell, not with Pira all in shadow.

    Eventually, Pira whispered, ¡°Groups like that appear from time to time. Omnicidal, aggressive, selective. Skulls crop up a lot in their symbolism. I¡¯ve never had a personal close encounter with them though. I couldn¡¯t tell you what they believe.¡±

    ¡°From time to time? The whole time you¡¯ve been doing this?¡±

    Pira shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing this a long time. I¡¯ve seen things like them before. That¡¯s all.¡±

    Pira was lying to the angel; Amina¡¯s demon told her so. Her fingers creaked on the handle of her knife. She tried not to breathe.

    Elpida was whispering: ¡°Serin didn¡¯t kill us. I know you think we let her go, but it¡¯s the other way around: she let us go. She was unstable, and violent, and mistaken. But she let us go. Ilyusha and she shared some kind of allegiance, against the Death¡¯s Heads. Isn¡¯t that a start?¡±

    Pira just said: ¡°She¡¯s following us.¡±

    ¡°Serin?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Elpida sighed a little. ¡°I noticed.¡±

    Pira glanced at her. ¡°You did?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Mmhmm.¡±

    Pira shook her head and looked away.

    Elpida said, ¡°She¡¯s highly modified. Is she the kind of person you were talking about, when you mentioned revenants who can live beyond the graveworm line?¡±

    ¡°Not even close.¡±

    Elpida and Pira sat side by side in the dark, watching the horizon. Amina¡¯s demon stirred her heart with jealousy. But she could never speak to the angel in the manner which Pira did. She could never sit up there, side by side with divinity, with this demon in her chest.

    Eventually, Elpida whispered: ¡°Pira, where are you from? In life, where did you come from?¡±

    Pira said nothing. She stared forward.

    But Amina saw her shoulders tighten. Even as shadows, she recognised the temper of raw nerves.

    Elpida waited a moment, then said, ¡°I know it¡¯s an intimate question, but all we have here is each other. You saved me. I trust you. I want to know more about you. If you don¡¯t want to answer, that¡¯s okay. But if you ever feel ready, please¡ª¡±

    ¡°I hate you.¡±

    Pira whispered it so softly, Amina almost didn¡¯t catch the words.

    Elpida waited.

    ¡°I hate you,¡± Pira repeated. She whispered to the dark skies beyond the hangar. ¡°All of you. You did this. You. Them. All your shining cities ¡ª your Telokopolis, too, yes. All of you are descendants of the culture which murdered mine. You want to know where I come from?¡± Pira gestured out ¡ª at the corpse-city. ¡°This. This is my life. What came before is barely a memory. The womb. Oblivion.¡±

    A long time passed. Whole minutes in silence. Was Pira crying? Amina could not tell. Elpida did not touch her.

    Then, eventually, Elpida said: ¡°Why are you staying with us, then?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Pira¡¯s whisper was clear, her emotions shuttered once more. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll lead us into the graveworm, and then out again, beyond. Or maybe we¡¯ll all die tomorrow and I¡¯ll wake up twelve years from now, and never see you again. I don¡¯t know if it matters anymore.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I can¡¯t promise much, Pira. I don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m doing. But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t promise anything.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t do that,¡± Elpida whispered. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t leave you behind, even if you hate me. Hate me as much as you want. I can take it.¡±

    Elpida stood up. As she ended her watch, she reached for Pira¡¯s shoulder. But Pira swatted her hand away. Amina flinched in the darkness, then wriggled down and pretended to be asleep.

    Her demon¡¯s hand was hot and sweaty on her knife. The angel was so forgiving, so perfect, so loving.

    She knew what she had to do: use the knife, then ask forgiveness.

    Tomorrow night.

 lepus - 5.4

    Elpida knew she was being followed.

    Serin made herself conspicuous. The hulking, black-wrapped, many-armed sniper never strayed more than a few hundred meters behind the group as Elpida led them through the city¡¯s labyrinthine guts. Serin used many techniques to signal her presence: the glint of a rifle scope in the ember-red light of the dead sun; a flutter of black fabric slipping around the corner of a ruined wall; a spindly-boned, mushroom-pale hand casually exposed on the lip of an empty window, five floors up and far out of reach. The revenant didn¡¯t show herself every time Elpida looked back, but she was present more often than not. Elpida had no doubt that Serin was able to conceal herself perfectly if she wished.

    If Serin wanted to signal her presence to the entire group she could have relied on Kagami¡¯s auspex visor or Atyle¡¯s high-grade bionic eye. Picking her out amid the ruins would not be difficult; Serin was a hot glow of nanomachine activity and a jumbled amalgam of bionic parts.

    Elpida guessed that the message was intended for her, personally.

    And the message was clear: ¡®I am following. Not hunting. Here I am! See me? See me. Good. Not sneaking up on you, not-a-Necromancer. Go on, off you trot, go where you¡¯re going.¡¯

    If the others noticed the silent eighth member of their group, they didn¡¯t say anything. Kagami had a target-rich environment to worry about. Atyle didn¡¯t seem to care; she was focused on the cyclic sliver-gun in her arms, on the path ahead, and on Elpida.

    But Serin wasn¡¯t the only thing tracking their scent.

    That was why Elpida pushed the others onward when night fell. The first day of trekking across the city¡¯s worm-eaten hide had not been easy; as the hazy red glow vanished from the edge of the black-drenched sky the others were flagging. Nanomachine revenants all ¡ª but only Elpida had the benefit of Telokopolan genetic engineering. She could have walked through that night and several more if her purposes had required; her body would automatically sacrifice short-term cognitive function in return for keeping her on her feet. Her brain would half-cycle if needed, flushing out beta-amyloid metabolite section by section, shunting core functions around as necessary. But sleeplessness was not a decision to be taken lightly. Elpida had forbidden casual insomnia among the cadre after an incident between Third and Quio, when they¡¯d all been thirteen years old. The pair had pushed each other to remain without sleep for days on end, doing their best not to show any outward evidence of exhaustion. The double-dare had come to an end with a shouting match, a crying fit, a sleep-addled slugging contest, and finally a knife, until Elpida had stepped in. She had forced the pair to sleep in the same bunk for three weeks to work out their issues. They were inseparable since.

    Had been, Elpida reminded herself. Had been inseparable. Now they were both dead.

    Elpida could have walked forever. The massive bruise across her abdomen ached very badly; she still felt the tender sharpness of internal wounds, healing quicker than in life but slower than she needed. But she could put one foot in front of the other, almost indefinitely.

    Pira hid her tiredness well, despite the bullet wound in her flank; Vicky hid it poorly, but Elpida could tell she was determined to endure any hardship. Atyle allowed it to show in the slowing of her limbs and the pinching of her eyes; Kagami expressed it with open grumbling and complaints about the pain in her bionic legs.

    Amina didn¡¯t complain at all. She was quiet as a mouse as she dragged her feet and fought her drooping eyelids. Elpida wished she could have carried the girl, but her arms were full of weapons and the coilgun power-tank was strapped to her back. Ilyusha didn¡¯t complain either, but the heavily augmented girl kept shaking her head to snap herself back to alertness; she got lazy with her finger-claws, leaving them extended to click against the metal of her rotary shotgun; she raked the concrete ground with her talons; she breathed too heavily; she spat.

    But Elpida had to make them safe.

    The rust-caked shell of the ancient aircraft hangar gave her perfect sight-lines on any approach to the entrances. She let them rest there. She took the first watch. She would have taken all the watches if her sleep-waste bio-recycling was more efficient.

    Serin made herself obvious during the night; Elpida spotted a scratch of scraggly black perched in a ruined building across the hangar¡¯s concrete airfield.

    Elpida couldn¡¯t figure out what the sniper hoped to gain. Did she still suspect that Elpida was more than she appeared, a hidden Necromancer? Did she know Elpida¡¯s thoughts about the fallen combat frame; was she hoping to use Elpida to somehow take control of the machine? Neither of those answers made any sense.

    Or maybe she was a mere scavenger, lying in wait to pick off the predators on Elpida¡¯s tail. She did have an excellent view of the hangar doors. Anything scuttling across that airfield would be completely exposed.

    But nothing crept close in the night. Not during Elpida¡¯s watch, or Pira¡¯s, or Vicky¡¯s, or any others.

    In the stillborn red glow behind the mortuary veil of the sky, as the others woke up and prepared to move again, Elpida allowed herself to wonder about the rusted and ruined flying machines inside the hangar. They were made of sharp angles, with pointed noses, and heavy, bulky weapons hanging from beneath their bellies and their swept-back wings. Telokopolis had maintained stationary Legion airship platforms for spotting and fire-support, but they never ventured beyond the plateau; the city had not sent a true flying machine out over the green for over two thousand years before Elpida¡¯s birth, during the last great expeditionary period. A few flyers lingered in museums, bulky machines with bulging bellies and blistering with ballistics. But even Legion technicians didn¡¯t pretend to understand how they worked.

    Old Lady Nunnus had once explained: The Silico changed the air itself to stop us going any deeper. Read the after action reports, girl. You can see it for yourself. Yes, the language is old and difficult, but the conclusions are undeniable. The pilots of that era went very deep over the green, far past the drop off, into the places where the green goes down for several miles. The Silico did not want us out there, we were getting too close to something of theirs. So they broke the air, broke the ramscoops, and grounded us. But now you walk again, you girls. There is no grounding a combat frame.

    These strange sharp flying machines were proof that humans had eventually flown once more. But now they rusted, long forgotten, just nanomachine imitations. Zombies, like all the rest.

    Ilyusha joined her for a few moments before they left the hangar. The heavily augmented girl stared at the flying machines and made no effort to conceal her sorrow.

    ¡°Illy, do you know this place?¡±

    Ilyusha shook her head. ¡°Just sad.¡±

    ¡°Sad about the flying machines?¡±

    ¡°Planes. Mm. Never fly again.¡± She bared her teeth and made a strange noise, a growling imitation of a machine gun, accompanied by a judder of her head. The gesture seemed to banish a little of her melancholy.

    Elpida shook her head gently. ¡°I think they¡¯re still very beautiful, even in death. Perhaps we¡¯ll fly again, too.¡±

    Ilyusha flashed a sudden toothy grin. Eyes of molten lead caught the dull red light spilling through the hangar doors. ¡°Still flying here!¡± She made that machine-gun imitation noise again, then clicked off to help Amina pack up the spare coats.

    The second day was worse.

    Serin remained a distant shadow, but the other pursuers grew less cautious. As Elpida led the others through the broken canyons between the buildings, she could no longer ignore the attention that followed in their wake. They stopped a dozen times that day, halted by terrible things lumbering across their path, or by stationary machines ticking and pulsing to themselves in clockwork harmony, or by other revenants out in the open, addled, confident, predatory. Seven times they had to brandish the coilgun and the cyclic sliver-gun to drive away curious challenges, half-glimpsed shadows in the buildings, hooting voices in gantries overhead, or crouched lurkers behind broken walls and the rusted-out hulls of ground vehicles. One time Elpida was forced to discharge the coilgun with a mighty crack-thump of magnetic power, to blast a concrete wall apart; an armoured revenant had stood and sang a song that had made Amina whimper in fear and Ilyusha spit with anger. The zombie had howled her haunting shrieks through a microphone grille until Elpida had showered her with shrapnel and brick dust.

    But the movement at their rear was constant: feet and claws scuttled and skittered between the buildings, always keeping out of sight. Metal-plated flickers hid themselves from Elpida¡¯s backward glances. Multi-jointed insect-like limbs ratcheted back into cover. The twin glint of binocular lenses snatched away. Wisps of hair slipped into shadow.

    Kagami was first to speak up. She called for a halt and came forward. Her voice was shaking. ¡°We¡¯re being followed! We¡¯re being fucking followed!¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°The sniper again, right?¡±

    Kagami shook her head, glancing back through the visor of her auspex. ¡°No! There¡¯s six, seven, eight of them? A dozen? Two groups? I don¡¯t know! They¡¯ve been with us the whole way since this morning, they¡¯re all over the fucking place! We¡¯re being fucking hunted!¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I know.¡±

    Kagami spluttered. ¡°You what?!¡±

    Pira said, low and fatalistic: ¡°Predators. We¡¯ve attracted attention. It was inevitable.¡±

    Pira was right ¡ª this corpse was riddled with carrion-eaters. Elpida cast her mind back to Pira¡¯s metaphor about hydrothermal vents, life clustered into a pocket of warmth, surrounded by infinite darkness. She was beginning to understand what that meant.

    Kagami¡¯s eyes were bloodshot with stress. ¡°That¡¯s what the big gun is for, right? What did you spend all that effort and blood getting it for, huh? Shoot them! Light the whole fucking street up behind us!¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t work,¡± Pira said. ¡°They¡¯ll slip away, then return.¡±

    Elpida agreed. The cyclic sliver-gun was a powerful weapon, but it wouldn¡¯t demolish buildings. Her coilgun might, but they had limited rounds. And she probably couldn¡¯t hit half a dozen fleeing targets. This urban environment was too dense, with too many places to hide, too many lines of retreat and access, too many angles to cover.

    ¡°They know we¡¯re powerful,¡± she murmured. ¡°That¡¯s why they¡¯re staying away.¡±

    Kagami snapped. ¡°They¡¯re going to fucking sneak up on us!¡±

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    From Elpida¡¯s other side, Atyle spoke for the first time in hours: ¡°And the warrior will be ready for them. Have faith.¡±

    Elpida did not reply to that; she could not force the unseen stalkers into open combat. Why would Atyle have faith in her?

    Ilyusha couldn¡¯t catch the elusive pursuers either. Elpida didn¡¯t ask her to try, but Ilyusha could not be restrained. Looping away from the group, racing through side-streets, clicking down alleyways, she spat with frustration and raked her claws across the concrete. Pira got twitchy; she kept jerking around at the slightest sound, covering the tight, dense alleyways with her submachine gun. Vicky tried not to show the tension, but she started jumping at shadows. Kagami was openly terrified, teeth-gritting, eyes raging inside. Amina was frightened too, but that just made her stick closer to the others, tripping over her own feet in a desperate effort to keep up. Only Atyle seemed unafraid.

    Traversing the corpse-city was not like navigating through the green; Elpida¡¯s training was only partially applicable.

    The cadre had spent plenty of time out in the green ¡ª first on foot, as barely more than children, alongside the daily Legion flame-thrower patrols at the edge of the plateau, burning back the clawing vegetation and repelling the Silico which responded. Then they had gone in with the deep-probe Legion teams, clad in hardshells and heavily protected, to acclimate these secret girls to their lifelong task. And finally in their glorious combat frames, striding through the trees, taller than any of the soldiers they had once relied on, protecting their protectors in turn.

    Rotten buildings were not towering eternal trees which would regrow themselves in fractal beauty if cut and wounded; rubble and metal scrap was not the clinging, crawling undergrowth, ready to squeeze through gaps in armour and invade unprotected skin; wandering revenants were not the lurking promise of Silico murder-machines. Every concrete crossroad and asphalt junction demanded adjustments in Elpida¡¯s training. Every shattered window was a threat, every doorway a danger, every corner of brick and concrete and steel commanded her full attention.

    By the time the sky began to dim again, she was exhausted.

    Elpida did not press the others this time. Kagami and Atyle both reported that the city remained dense for many miles yet. They would find no open building with good sight-lines this night. Instead she led them upward. She chose a ¡®skyscraper¡¯ ¡ª Vicky taught her the word ¡ª which commanded a good view overlooking the streets below. Like a tiny imitation of Telokopolis itself. A petty tower.

    She forced the others to climb fifteen flights of stairs, up and up into the dark reaches of glass and metal. They skirted any rooms full of strange growths, or old corpses twitching in death, or the slick-wet black mould of nanite gestation. By floor eight Vicky was half-carrying Kagami. By floor twelve Amina was riding on Ilyusha¡¯s back. By floor fifteen Elpida¡¯s internal wounds were complaining.

    But their unseen stalkers did not follow. Serin was nowhere to be seen.

    Elpida selected a trio of rooms just off the stairwell, with only two doors in or out. The rooms were full of ancient office equipment ¡ª desks and computer terminals and a row of printing machines. Elpida, Pira, and Atyle worked together to shove desks and machines up against both doors, for additional security. The exterior wall was glass from floor to ceiling, with an uninterrupted view of the cityscape beyond, mouldering in the dying red light; but it was fifteen floors up and the glass was armoured. Elpida had Kagami confirm that with the auspex.

    ¡°You could hit that with an anti-materiel round and be fine,¡± she grumbled, sagging against the wall.

    A grey line in the distance marked the position of the graveworm.

    They bedded down for the night with barely a word, exhausted from stress and walking. The others took the middle room and arranged themselves much as they had done in the hangar and the bunker: Ilyusha and Amina slept together, while the others stayed apart. Pira took the most distant spot she could. Elpida noted one change, however: Kagami still slept with her back to Vicky, but now they were almost touching.

    Elpida took first watch without asking.

    She checked the cannisters of blue nanomachine slime, ignoring the biological urge to drink. Then she went into the other room, closer to the stairwell, and sat on a desk. She stared out of the windows at the cityscape beneath the choking night sky ¡ª wrack and ruin and rot, forever and ever.

    The thin plume of remnant smoke from the fallen combat frame was only a few miles distant, but this journey was taking days.

    Was this really a city, or something else? A zombie, a living corpse, a memory ¡ª like her? Telokopolis had cradled her and loved her; its every street and lift and room was meant for human habitation and life. But this city? Elpida knew it was only her imagination, but she felt like the city was staring back at her with a mocking grin, laughing at her, leading her on a morbid dance.

    Elpida still loved Telokopolis. After two days in this continent-spanning corpse-city, she was growing to hate the nameless carcass.

    Too much imagination; she required practical occupation.

    She checked her weapons, her submachine gun, her pistols, her combat knife. She checked the coilgun too, though there was no way to service the magnetic barrel or the power-tank without appropriate tools. She field-stripped and cleaned her submachine gun, while keeping an eye on the shadow-choked arteries of the city below. Every now and then she walked over to the door which led to the stairwell, pressed her ear to the metal, and closed her eyes. She listened for furtive footsteps, for whispered voices, or the rustle of cloth. But there was nothing; the stalkers from the streets had not followed them up into the tower.

    She peeled her clothes off to inspect her bruises, standing naked and alone in the dark. Her stomach was a patchwork of green and purple and black. She probed the strange bionic replacement of her own upper right arm; it felt completely normal unless she stopped to think about it. She ran through some simple stretching exercises then replaced her clothes. She found her scope and watched the city streets for movement. She pointed the scope at the graveworm, but there was nothing to see at such a distance.

    Eventually she ran out of things to do. She stared over the dead city and whispered the twenty four names of her cadre. Then she added, at the end: ¡°Howl? Howl? Are you there? Howl, please.¡±

    Then: ¡°Graveworm?¡±

    No reply.

    A little while later Elpida heard movement in the other room. She was unsurprised when Vicky appeared in the doorway. Vicky¡¯s looted fur-trimmed coat was draped over her shoulders. Her eyes were bloodshot.

    ¡°Elpi,¡± she whispered, croaky. She took a swig of water from one of the empty nanite cannisters they carried.

    Elpida said: ¡°It¡¯s not your turn to watch. Pira¡¯s next. Vicky, go get some more sleep.¡±

    ¡°S¡¯that an order?¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s a suggestion. I¡¯m not your commanding officer.¡±

    Vicky blinked slowly, then mumbled: ¡°What if I want you to be?¡±

    I don¡¯t deserve that, Elpida thought.

    Vicky joined Elpida on the desk, staring out over the city. Her right arm was still stiff and fragile, but the skin had finally closed over the reattached muscle, sealing the wound. She still wore the sling, to keep the arm clutched close to her chest. Her short hair was messier than usual, raked back and sweat-stained from stress and sleep. Her eyes looked very tired.

    Eventually, Vicky said, ¡°Let me take the rest of your watch.¡±

    ¡°I can stay awake a lot longer than you. My brain can half-cycle if I need to. You need sleep more than I do.¡±

    ¡°Ahhhhhhh.¡± Vicky smiled. Her dark skin crinkled. ¡°Super-soldier bullshit. Right.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re exhausted. We all are. This is harder than I expected. But I can endure it better than anyone else. Vicky, please go back to sleep.¡±

    Vicky snorted, which Elpida had not expected. ¡°You¡¯re exhausted, too. Elpi, if you go down, we¡¯re all fucked. You saw that out there today, same as I did. We couldn¡¯t lead ourselves through all that.¡±

    ¡°Pira could take over if¡ª¡±

    ¡°Pira wouldn¡¯t push through that,¡± Vicky hissed. ¡°She¡¯d leave us behind. Atyle would wander off. Ilyusha, I dunno, probably charge the first bitch she sees. Elpi, get some sleep, damn you, because you¡¯re the only thing keeping us alive and moving. Please, fucking hell. Don¡¯t do this.¡±

    ¡°Vicky, you¡¯re afraid and you¡¯re stressed. And it¡¯s okay to admit that. But you¡¯re incorrect. You will survive, all of you. With or without me.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s heart burned with shame. She was not a good Commander. She was no Commander at all. She did not deserve this.

    Vicky sighed again and stopped arguing. She stared at the dead city on the other side of the glass.

    Elpida briefly considered trying to make a deal with Vicky: if you sleep, I sleep too. She¡¯d done the same with Howl more than once, as well as other members of the cadre. But sleeping with Howl was a close affair, skin-to-skin, Howl clutching one of Elpida¡¯s legs with the tops of her thighs. Vicky was more than welcome to physical intimacy if she needed it, but Elpida was not sure she could provide, not outside her cadre.

    But then Vicky whispered: ¡°You sure this was a good idea?¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t pretend not to know what Vicky was talking about. ¡°Leaving the bunker?¡±

    Vicky nodded without looking at her. ¡°Leaving a safe place. Striking out for this ¡®combat frame¡¯. Walking through ¡­ this.¡± She nodded at the city.

    ¡°I believe it was the correct option. There was no other.¡±

    Vicky shook her head. ¡°We could have stayed put, like Pira suggested. Wait for the worm to move. Rest, recover. Fuck, Elpi, you¡¯re still wounded. We could have waited.¡±

    Elpida answered without truly thinking: ¡°My cadre died because of passivity and inaction.¡±

    Vicky turned to face her. Dark lashes blinked. ¡°Elpi. No, no, Elpida. Your sisters got murdered by fascists. Don¡¯t blame yourself for that. I didn¡¯t mean that. Okay? I didn¡¯t mean that.¡±

    But the fire was in her chest now. ¡°It could have been different. I could have ¡ª should have acted. The Legion never picked a side, Covenanter or not. But we had contacts, allies, maybe even friends. If you pull a Legion general out of a Silico ambush, with a sucking gut wound, and save all his men, he doesn¡¯t much care what the Civitas is calling you a year or two later. We could have rallied support. We could have killed the Covenanters first. We could have climbed into our combat frames and ripped the entire Civitas chamber out of Telokopolis itself and¡ª¡±

    Elpida stopped when she realised she wasn¡¯t whispering any more. She halted, and swallowed, and wiped angry tears out of her eyes.

    Vicky said: ¡°Elpi, it¡¯s okay. You gotta process this.¡±

    Grief was meant to be for later. She had a mission.

    Elpida took a deep breath, then said: ¡°We could sit and wait for the graveworm to move, yes. We could join this process, whatever is happening here.¡± She nodded at the city beyond the window. ¡°We could become part of it. The scavenging and the predation. No. I am making a different choice. I am going to find the combat frame. I cannot believe it was mere coincidence that it fell from orbit only hours after our resurrection. There must be a reason. If it¡¯s not operable, if I can¡¯t pilot it without an MMI cranial uplink slot, then I¡¯ll try something else. But I will not be passive. I will not allow inaction to kill any of you.¡±

    Vicky swallowed, loud in the close quiet of the abandoned tower. ¡°Then what? What¡¯s your plan? I¡¯m not challenging you, Elpi. I just ¡­ I want you to have a plan. I want to believe. I do.¡±

    Elpida gestured at the graveworm.

    ¡°It spoke to me before. It sent the worm-guard to check on us. I will make it speak again. I will make it recognise me. I will. The combat frame is the easiest way. If that doesn¡¯t work, I¡¯ll find another method.¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t know if that was what Vicky needed to hear, but it was the truth. It seemed to work. Vicky nodded and took several deep breaths. She sat with Elpida for a few more minutes, then stood up and muttered something about getting some more sleep. Elpida thanked her. Vicky went back to the other room and lay down.

    But a few minutes later Elpida heard movement again: footsteps and a tap-tap. Perhaps Vicky was more plagued by insomnia than she realised. Or perhaps it was Pira, ready for the second watch. Had it really been that long?

    But it was neither of them.

    It was Amina.

    Wrapped in a coat, eyes wide and white-rimmed with high-strung anxiety, Amina stood in the connecting doorway and started at Elpida. She seemed so small, dwarfed by her clothes, shivering with adrenaline and cortisol. One of her arms was tucked up inside her clothes, clutching at her own chest.

    ¡°Amina?¡± Elpida whispered. ¡°Is something wrong?¡±

    Amina nodded. She half-stumbled closer. Her eyes were fixed on Elpida. Her breathing was ragged.

    Elpida reached out to steady her, but Amina flinched back from her touch.

    ¡°Amina, tell me what¡¯s wrong. Did you hear something?¡±

    Amina¡¯s voice quivered: ¡°I¡¯m wrong. I¡¯m all wrong.¡±

    Ah.

    Elpida had seen this look before, on the faces of more than one of the cadre. She glanced again at the position of Amina¡¯s arm clutched against her own chest. Had the girl hurt herself? Scratched at her flesh until it bled? Cut herself on purpose, with her concealed knife? Elpida knew what to do, she could put a stop to self-harm, there were dozens of methods of coaxing that behaviour into submission. She would take the blame and take it onto herself. She would cradle the pain away. Amina needed help. Though Elpida couldn¡¯t see any blood.

    ¡°Amina, there¡¯s no shame in what you¡¯ve done. I want you to tell me as clearly as you can: what have you done?¡±

    Amina¡¯s breath was heaving, rough, difficult, almost hyperventilating. She was shaking all over. She whimpered when she spoke: ¡°I need you to kill me.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°No. Tell me what¡ª¡±

    ¡°I n-need to h-hurt you, and t-then you¡¯ll ¡­ s-see me for real, a-and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Amina, it¡¯s going to be okay. I¡¯m not going to hurt you.¡± Elpida reached out again.

    Tap-tap.

    That sound was not coming from Amina.

    Elpida realised her mistake a fraction of a second too late; she had been distracted by Amina¡¯s approach, but it wasn¡¯t Amina¡¯s fault.

    Amina¡¯s eyes went over Elpida¡¯s shoulder, wide with shock and terror. Her mouth opened to scream.

    Elpida lunged for her submachine gun, twisting toward the bank of windows, toward that almost-perfect stealth-penetration of the armoured glass.

    Two dark shapes clung to the exterior of the window, all ragged limbs and hanging flesh and snapping claws bathed in grey-dead night.

    Elpida¡¯s finger tightened on the trigger.

    The glass exploded inward.

 lepus - 5.5

    When the monsters shattered the wall of windows and burst into the tower and fell upon the angel, Amina was useless.

    Glass exploded; shards filled the air, stinging Amina¡¯s face, cutting her cheeks, pattering off the walls like a swarm of furious wasps. Night chill burst into the room, driven by the whipping winds outside the tower. The angel was lost for a moment amid the storm-fury of glass and sound.

    Misshapen predators followed.

    The angel¡¯s weapon roared at the pouncing shadows ¡ª but only once. A clawed hand knocked the gun from her grip, then both the monsters were on her like a pair of hounds. They slammed the angel to the floor; a flash of white hair and gritted teeth amid the dark confusion. Limbs rose and fell with the effort of subduing her, hitting her, grabbing her wrists, trying to pin her down with monstrous strength ¡ª but the angel fought as only God¡¯s own right hand could do so. Amina knew that in her soul; in motion, Elpida was beautiful beyond all human grace. There was no doubt she was an angel, one of the highest, the most important. And she never stopped moving.

    A knife flashed into Elpida¡¯s hands, thrusting, stabbing, opening holes in flesh. One of the monsters snapped her right wrist; she swapped grips, kept going, didn¡¯t even scream. She head-butted a nose; blood fountained into the air. She kicked, foot connecting with guts or groin, drawing a deep squeal of pain from one of the monsters. She bit off part of a face, spat blood into eyes, got her elbow into a throat. She writhed and bucked and ripped and tore.

    The angel was made for fighting. Amina had not understood how beautiful fighting could be.

    Even with all their demonic changes the pair of monsters could barely keep her down.

    One of the monsters was more metal than flesh, bright steel and dark iron flashing in the midnight shadows; she was all teeth, four mouths in a bloated head, each mouth filled with metal fangs. Her hands were as big as Amina¡¯s head, each finger tipped with yellow claws, encrusted with filth and dirt and black gunk. Metal filaments spiralled around her limbs, like ivy on a dying tree. Saggy flesh, shaggy pale fur, a shambling monster from the dark places of the woods. The angel broke many of those metal teeth and snapped her nose and bit her face and sank the knife into her belly and thighs.

    The other monster was quicker, smaller, a bright pink dancing twist of light-swallowing sinuous motion. Less like metal and more like ¡ª what was the word Ilyusha had taught her? ¡ª ¡®plastic¡¯? The pink monster avoided the worst of the angel¡¯s struggles, slipping away from the knife.

    And they all ignored Amina.

    Amina was crammed against the back wall. She wasn¡¯t sure how she¡¯d gotten there ¡ª everything was happening too fast. Her throat was raw and her backside hurt where she¡¯d fallen over. She panted so hard she was hyperventilating. Her heart was going to explode. Her head would burst. Her skin was slick with cold sweat. Her knife chafed against her ribs.

    The angel needed help. But Amina¡¯s demon had fled.

    The others could not assist; the windows in the other rooms had also been shattered, admitting more monsters into their tower-refuge. Shouting and gunshots filled the air, deafening and terrifying, making Amina flinch and shake and scream. She heard Ilyusha shouting horrible things between the booming discharge of her gun. Kagami was screaming too ¡ª pain-screaming. Wet noises and metal noises and meat noises and anger noises. Bang-bang-bang! Screeching laughter and insults and promises of cannibal feasting.

    Then a hissing kink-kink-kink-kink exploded into a world-shattering rip-buzz. Part of the wall turned to dust. A pair of torn, wet shapes flew backward out of the adjacent window, falling to the ground far below, trailing blood into the night.

    Amina¡¯s demon understood the others were winning. But the angel still needed help.

    Her demon had been so hot and eager in her chest only moments ago, aching and burning to pierce the angel¡¯s flesh with her secret claw and receive judgement, forgiveness, cleansing, punishment ¡ª anything! But now the coward had burrowed deep, nestled between her lungs and her heart, bleating and whining and sobbing. It had taken control of her mouth and throat. It had pinned her limbs with lead weights. It had stolen her resolve.

    Get up! She screamed at her demon ¡ª she used her throat. What good are you if you won¡¯t help!? The angel is fighting for us! Get up!

    Amina managed to rise to her feet, but her knees were weak, her legs were shaking. Her knife was sweat-slick in her lock-fingered fist.

    A dark shape slammed through the adjoining doorway, coat whipping out behind. A weapon whirled upward.

    ¡°Elpi!¡± Vicky shouted. ¡°Head down!¡±

    But the pink-plastic monster was faster than Vicky¡¯s gun. She peeled herself off the struggle to pin Elpida and twisted through the air like a falling sycamore seed, but a hundred times faster. Whip-limbs slammed into Vicky¡¯s side; she flew through the air and hit the wall in a tangle, then slid down into a heap.

    The pink-plastic monster tossed Vicky¡¯s gun to the floor.

    She shimmered as she moved, like moonlit silk. A sheet of fine hair or a thin cape covered her naked flesh in a second skin, billowing here, sucking tight there, revealing a stick-slender body beneath. No ears. No hair. No nose. Her mouth was full of little pink tendrils. She had too many fingers, no toes, and strange opening in her hips. Her eyes were wide pools of toxic magenta.

    Those eyes passed over Amina ¡ª and dismissed her as unimportant.

    Amina¡¯s hand was soaked in sweat, hot and hard on the handle of her knife. She had a claw, sharp and hidden. But this was a real demon, a thing from the deepest pit. Her little darkness was no match. Her demon fled deeper inside her chest. She panted and whined at it, pleading for help.

    I need you! I need you now! We need to work together!

    Her demon was scared; she was scared. Her demon was no fighter; she was no fighter.

    The pink-plastic monster reached inside a compartment concealed within her own body and took out a gun ¡ª black, heavy, short. It clicked.

    I¡¯ll give you everything! You can have everything you ever wanted!

    Everything? Her demon sobbed with her. It only wanted what she wanted.

    A shout came from the other room, in a voice Amina did not know: ¡°Ash! Ash! Coilgun!¡±

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± That was Ilyusha. Kagami was still screaming. Gunshots and shouts drowned the world. Down on the floor, the angel was on the verge of overpowering the four-mouthed thing that had her pinned, even with a broken wrist and blood in her eyes.

    In a voice like hot tar, the pink-plastic monster said: ¡°I¡¯ve got the leader!¡±

    That unfamiliar shout replied, punctuated by a grunt of pain: ¡°Get her alive! Ash, remember! Alive!¡±

    ¡°Plan¡¯s dead,¡± said Ash. ¡°We¡¯re fucked.¡±

    She turned her back on Amina and pointed the gun at the angel¡¯s head.

    * * *

    Elpida saw it happen from beginning to end.

    The others were present for the gory conclusion, but they didn¡¯t witness the first strike. Vicky was dazed, possibly concussed; the rest were fending off the other section of the ambush.

    One of the revenants who had assaulted Elpida was made of pink bio-plastic and neon light, wrapped in some kind of reactive gauze. Her frame was so lithe and flexible that Elpida doubted she had any unmodified bones left in her body, perhaps not even a ribcage or a spine. Elpida had managed to ram the knife into her torso three times, but she bled only a thin pinkish fluid, barely seeping from the deep stab wounds. She¡¯d been shouting orders as she¡¯d helped the other revenant try to subdue Elpida; a leader, or co-leader. Priority target.

    When the pink bio-plastic revenant slipped away to neutralise Vicky, Elpida knew she had only seconds remaining to gain the upper hand.

    When she looked up and saw the barrel of a large calibre handgun pointing at her face, she knew she¡¯d failed.

    Howl, I¡¯m sorry.

    Then Amina leapt on the revenant¡¯s back and stuck a knife into her neon-pink throat.

    The revenant¡¯s shot went wide, blasting a fist-sized chunk out of the floor.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Elpida didn¡¯t have time to consider Amina ¡ª she knew the girl was carrying a concealed combat knife, but she didn¡¯t know if Amina knew how to use it effectively. She had to make use of this opening, do justice to Amina¡¯s sacrifice.

    The four-mouthed revenant still had Elpida pinned, but only just. Elpida rammed her elbow into the side of the woman¡¯s oversized head ¡ª then again, and again, and again, smashing bone on bone, fishing for a concussion. Uneven dark eyes wavered; jackpot. Elpida grabbed the woman by the throat, then put all her strength into her own legs and lower back, throwing the revenant off and jackknifing to her feet all in one motion. For a second they were parted; the shaggy revenant had her back to the shattered window, staggering and dazed.

    Behind Elpida, Amina was screaming. The others were discharging weapons. Elpida¡¯s bloodstream was full of painblockers. Her right wrist was broken.

    The big shaggy revenant shook her head, trying to regain her senses. Elpida reached out and gave her a quick, sharp shove ¡ª but the four mouths broke into a quartet of grins. The zombie grabbed Elpida¡¯s left arm as she tumbled, to drag Elpida out of the window with her. Mutual destruction.

    Crack.

    A distant gunshot split the night. A heartbeat later, the four-mouthed revenant¡¯s head burst open, showering Elpida with blood and brains and bits of skull.

    She did not have time to thank Serin for the assist.

    Elpida whirled away from the window and the crumpling corpse of her opponent. Her eyes darted for her submachine gun; even with a broken wrist she could work the trigger in her left hand and brace the grip on her right forearm. She had to help Amina ¡ª the girl had shown incredible bravery, she¡¯d saved Elpida¡¯s life, but there was no way an unmodified child could outfight the sinuous hyper-altered revenant predator.

    But Amina was winning.

    She took a long time to get there. She had both legs and her free arm wrapped around the slender bio-plastic torso, clinging on so tight that her fingernails dug holes in the material. The neon-pink revenant had tried to shoot her in the head, but Amina was biting her throat, flesh pressed so close that the revenant could not achieve an angle. She¡¯d dropped her gun, pummelled Amina¡¯s head and neck with her flailing, whip-like limbs, and slammed Amina into the wall.

    But the girl just kept cutting.

    Elpida picked up her submachine gun. She covered the fight in case the revenant regained the upper hand.

    Deep magenta eyes found Elpida, bulging in panic. The other attackers had shouted a name. Ash?

    Amina had her black combat knife sideways into Ash¡¯s throat. She just kept wrenching and sawing and cutting. She bit and jerked and clung. Her knife-hand was slippery with both pink slime and hot red blood; she must have hit a real blood vessel. The revenant¡¯s limbs jerked as nerves were severed. She choked and spluttered as her knees gave way. Amina rode her the whole way down.

    Magenta eyes stared up at Elpida, pleading.

    Ash gurgled: ¡°Get her off ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida watched. She kept the zombie covered.

    Amina took so long that the others joined them.

    Pira shot across the room and confirmed that Vicky was conscious and breathing. Atyle carried the cyclic sliver-gun, beaming at Elpida ¡ª and then watched Amina with amused delight in her one organic eyeball. Ilyusha appeared, spitting anger and covered in gore, hauling Kagami after her like a piece of ruined meat.

    Ilyusha shouted: ¡°Ami! Ami! Stop! Ami!¡±

    Elpida snapped, hard and quick: ¡°Enemy down?¡±

    Pira grunted: ¡°Yes. All five. We¡¯re clear.¡±

    ¡°Injuries?¡±

    Atyle answered: ¡°We¡¯re whole, warrior. Bruises and cuts.¡±

    Kagami spat through gritted teeth, soaked in her own blood: ¡°Whole?! I¡¯ve been fucking eaten!¡±

    Elpida risked a glance away from the fight ¡ª which wasn¡¯t really a fight anymore, Amina was just sawing the head off a pink corpse.

    Kagami was on her feet, bleeding from several very nasty bite wounds on her forearms, shoulders, neck, and face. But she would live. Ilyusha was mostly untouched but covered in blood. Atyle looked like she¡¯d been punched in the eyes. Pira was steadying Vicky, who was cradling her own head and ribs, groaning softly.

    Elpida said: ¡°Illy, see to Kagami¡¯s wounds, now.¡±

    But Ilyusha wasn¡¯t listening: ¡°Ami! Ami!¡±

    Pira stomped back. She raised her submachine gun. ¡°Let me end this. Get her off the zombie.¡±

    ¡°Ami!¡± Ilyusha shouted.

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°Let her finish.¡±

    * * *

    Amina wasn¡¯t surprised when the pink plastic head kept moving.

    After she finished cutting, the jaw still snapped and the eyeballs still rolled. The shimmering face stared up at her in soundless fury, because it had no lungs with which to breathe. It had no hair, just a thin film of pinkish silk. For a long moment Amina cradled it in her lap, staring down at the blood and the slime, and at the ragged flesh curtain she had made of the neck. Blood coated her fingers, her hands, her face, the front of her clothes, sticky and hot and salty on the tongue. Her demon purred in approval and pleasure. And she almost purred too, because she had finally put it to good use. She had become one with the urge, she had accepted the demon with both hands, and together they had saved the angel.

    But outwardly she cringed and cowered. Because once she looked up she would finally face judgement.

    The angel was crouched in front of her, cradling a broken wrist. ¡°Amina,¡± she was saying, gentle but firm. ¡°Amina, I need you to put that down. Amina. Amina, look at me. Amina.¡±

    Amina shivered and curled inward.

    Vicky slurred: ¡°She¡¯s in- in CSR- Elpi-¡±

    ¡°Combat stress reaction. I know. Amina. Amina, look at me.¡±

    Pira said: ¡°She needs to put the head down so I can put a bullet in it. If that zombie has internal transceivers, she¡¯ll be calling for help, transmitting our position to her friends. Now.¡±

    Kagami murmured, ¡°Oh, oh fuck me, this is some shit. I¡¯ve seen bio-isolated cranium suspension before, but that¡¯s just a severed head.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°We¡¯re all- all zombies- all zombies here, Kaga.¡±

    ¡°The head,¡± Pira snapped. ¡°Now!¡±

    A hand reached into Amina¡¯s lap. She twitched her knife; she could not face the ending of this afterglow and the beginning of her judgement. But then she realised the hand was black metal, tipped with red claws. Ilyusha peered at her, but Amina was afraid to raise her eyes.

    Illy said: ¡°Ami. Ami, you gotta give the head. You gotta.¡±

    Amina whimpered. She couldn¡¯t face this. The head in her lap snapped and blinked.

    Ilyusha said, ¡°Ami, well done, good job, good! But you gotta give¡ª¡±

    Well done?

    The rest of Ilyusha¡¯s words faded to insignificance. Well done? Well done. Well done, Amina! Well done! Her demon preened and purred.

    Ilyusha took the pink head from Amina¡¯s lap. The jaw still clicked and the eyes still rolled. Ilyusha held it up against the wall, put her shotgun in the mouth, and pulled the trigger. Very little was left after that.

    Everyone was talking, saying things to each other ¡ª to her, about her, around her. Saying things about moving, now, quickly. Saying things about blood, and tracking, and sniper rifles, and somebody get the doors, and on and on and on. But the angel was still trying.

    ¡°Amina. Amina, look at me.¡±

    Amina squeaked: ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Okay, then you don¡¯t have to. Can you stand up? Can you do that for me? Come on, there you go, one hand on the floor, get your feet flat, that¡¯s it, good girl, up you come.¡±

    Amina¡¯s muscles ached in new ways. She¡¯d had to squeeze very hard to stay on the monster¡¯s back, so her hands stung and her head was bruised and her limbs hurt all over. The monster had hit her and punched her and smashed her against the wall. But she¡¯d stayed on. Well done, Amina! Well done!

    She stood up; the angel stood with her. She stretched her arms out to the sides ¡ª to show what she was, clad in crimson and gripping a knife. And she looked the angel in the eyes.

    Soft purple orbs, backed by the broken windows and the howling wind.

    ¡°Amina,¡± the angel said. ¡°Well done.¡± She was so beautiful, bruised and bloodied and dirty after fighting. Amina would do anything she ordered. Accept any judgement. Her demon bared its throat and belly in agreement. It was time.

    Amina whispered: ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±

    ¡°You are, yes, you¡¯re right here. Amina, thank you. You saved me, do you understand that? And it¡¯s okay now, you can relax.¡±

    Amina felt tears on her cheeks. But she kept her eyes open. Kept staring at the angel.

    She managed to stammer: ¡°I needed- n-needed you to see. See what I am. Please. Please see. Please.¡±

    Somebody said, ¡°Get that knife off her.¡±

    Without looking away from Amina, the angel said: ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea.¡±

    Atyle spoke. ¡°The little one has earned her claws. None will shear her of that.¡±

    The angel said, ¡°I see you, Amina. It¡¯s okay. Take a deep breath.¡±

    Amina nodded, crying freely. Of course the angel saw her now. How could it be otherwise? She was exposed, out in the open, covered in blood. Her demon was on the surface, puppeting her limbs, moving her lips, guiding her heart. There was no hiding this, not like she had hidden all those dirty secret murders in Qarya. Her demon shone, proud, overt, ready to die.

    ¡°I¡¯m a demon,¡± she squeaked. ¡°I am the demon. I am. It¡¯s been there- the whole time- it was just me. All me.¡±

    Vicky slurred, ¡°She¡¯s in combat shock. Amina, sweetheart, it¡¯s okay. You killed somebody in self defence, you had to do it. You didn¡¯t have a choice.¡±

    The angel shook her head. ¡°No, Vicky. This is more than that.¡±

    Pira growled, ¡°We have to move. Right now. We don¡¯t have time for this.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Then we¡¯ll move. Pack our equipment. Strip weapons from the bodies.¡± But her purple eyes stayed on Amina. ¡°Amina, you said certain things to me just before the ambush. You don¡¯t have to say them again in front of the others, but if¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a demon,¡± Amina repeated ¡ª and then she bared everything.

    She confessed in one long string of words, in case there was any nook or cranny of her soul into which the angel could not yet see. She confessed to the murders in Qarya. She confessed to the dead Frankish knight. She confessed she had harboured a demon in her chest for her whole life, and she could no longer tell the difference between herself and the passenger in her soul. She confessed she wanted to penetrate Elpida¡¯s flesh with her knife. She confessed that Ilyusha made her quiver and ache to be penetrated herself. She confessed her need to be punished for the act. She confessed everything. It slid off her in waves like shed skin. While she spoke, metal limbs hugged her from the side. Ilyusha was a demon too, so she already understood.

    The angel accepted every word. She nodded. She reached out and touched Amina¡¯s bloodstained face. ¡°I forgive you.¡±

    Amina cried and cried and cried.

    Somebody ¡ª Vicky? ¡ª slurred: ¡°Makes sense, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    Kagami snapped, in between pained hisses: ¡°Harbouring a serial killer? Oh yes, perfect sense. Somebody knock her on the head again.¡±

    Vicky continued: ¡°We¡¯re all soldiers, right? Or at least, we were all involved in war. Elpi¡¯s a super-soldier. I was a ¡­ regular soldier. Kaga¡¯s some kind of moon commander. Pira, I dunno, but you¡¯re¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Pira snapped.

    ¡°Atyle was a warrior priestess. Dunno about Illy, but it¡¯s a good bet. Right? So, I thought Amina was the odd one out. But she¡¯s not. She¡¯s a serial killer. She¡¯s one of us alright.¡±

    But then there was another: the most terrifying of all Amina¡¯s damned companions.

    Atyle appeared, holding the severed weapon-limb, grinning like a skull. Ilyusha snapped at her, but Atyle ignored that. She crouched, staring at Amina with that magical green eye like wet rot. Only the angel¡¯s hand and Illy¡¯s embrace kept Amina from scrambling back in fear.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m forgiven,¡± she blurted out, raising her cleansed soul as a shield. ¡°I¡¯m clean!¡±

    Atyle purred: ¡°Oh, little rabbit. You are a thing of surpassing beauty.¡±

    Atyle leaned forward and kissed Amina on her bloody forehead. Her lips came away stained with red. Amina did not know what that meant.

    Pira snapped: ¡°We move, now. Or we¡¯re dead.¡±

    Elpida nodded and started barking orders. Amina finally felt her limbs relax. She stared down at the blade in her bloody hands. Her knuckles hurt very much.

    Somebody started to say: ¡°What about¡ª¡±

    ¡°Let her keep it,¡± said the angel. ¡°Let her keep the knife.¡±

 astrum - 6.1

    Kagami didn¡¯t trust anybody ¡ª but she trusted Pira least of all.

    None of the others had recognised what had really happened during the skyscraper ambush, though it had taken place right in front of their eyes. None of the others were capable, none of them had intelligence processing or operational directions experience. None of them saw further than the next wall, the next meal, the next set of orders, like every dirt-sucking ground-walker who¡¯d never bothered to look up for once in their filthy, stupid lives. Soldiers and psychos, fools and primitives, every one of them.

    None of them had noticed Pira¡¯s tricks, the little manipulations hidden inside decisive zeal.

    Kagami was the only one with her head on straight ¡ª even through the constant grinding pain of those absurd, offensive bionic legs. May as well have stapled lumps of steel directly to her bones for all the good they did. The connection trauma inside her hips made her want to claw at her own abdomen. She could barely think under the never-ending assault of uninterrupted exposure to the desert of the real.

    And now she was covered in bite wounds.

    Izumi Kagami ¡ª Seventeenth Daughter of the Moon; Logician Supreme of the Lunar Defence Intelligence Network since she was eleven years old; ¡®Princess¡¯ of Tycho City; Heroine of the L5 Machine-Plague (at a comfortable distance of half a million kilometres, via a drone fleet and a squad of armoured tankers, but who was counting, really?); destroyer of at least one Anglo-Rim invasion attempt before it had even left Lisbon space-port; mistress of no less than three thousand fully wire-slaved surface agents; mother of fourteen top-class artificial intelligences; lifetime network hub of Luna¡¯s atomic arsenal and the robotic defence drone fleet ¡ª sat on a bare concrete floor, wrapped in bloody clothes, with human bite wounds on her face, neck, shoulders, and forearms.

    She would have strangled a baby for a thermonuclear targeting matrix. Glass this obscene city and turn the cannibals and zombies to ash.

    She would have sacrificed every one of her stupid, blind, moronic ¡®comrades¡¯, killed everyone in this city, cut off her own legs and one arm and scoop out an eye and give up the ability to eat solid food and pass solid waste, in return for a proper uplink to the LDIN and re-immersion in sim-space.

    She would give up an awful lot more for a shuttle back home and a quiet return to her sensory suspension tank.

    And she¡¯d have sold her soul to make the pain go away.

    Vicky dabbed more glowing blue nanomachine gunk on Kagami¡¯s neck. Kagami flinched and hissed and wanted to punch Vicky.

    Vicky sighed and said: ¡°This would go a lot quicker if you hold still, Kaga.¡±

    ¡°You try holding still when you¡¯ve been fucking eaten. Ow. Ow! Fuck!¡±

    Nobody else paid Kagami any attention ¡ª certainly not Pira. The traitor sat on the far side of the filthy, windowless, pitch-black room, eyes closed, arms folded. Her weapon lay on the floor well within arm¡¯s reach. Elpida was saying something to her, but Pira wasn¡¯t replying.

    After the ambush in the skyscraper, Elpida had led the ragged and wounded group out of the suite of office rooms and down the absurdly long staircase ¡ª yet more torture on Kagami¡¯s legs and hips, even with Vicky hauling her like a sack of potatoes. They had emerged into the black winds of the dead-city night. Their fearless commander, praise be to her naivety and foolishness, had force-marched them down three or four streets; Kagami couldn¡¯t tell exactly ¡ª she couldn¡¯t keep track of the winding city-labyrinth even when she wasn¡¯t bleeding from half a dozen missing chunks of flesh. She hadn¡¯t been coherent enough to pull the frankly primitive auspex gear back on over her face. The night was terrifying, a whirl of shadows and deep dark holes and leering buildings. Nothing like a sim. Couldn¡¯t switch it off.

    Their gene-edited commander had found a tumbledown low-rise apartment block ¡ª not that half the group knew what an ¡®apartment block¡¯ even was. The building was mostly filled with mats of nano-based rot and toxic slime. But Elpida found a utility room in the rear, the sort of place that should have been full of industrial washing machines. Concrete floor, cramped and narrow. No windows. One door in and out. And no cannibal zombies.

    She¡¯d piled them in and slammed the door. Vicky had dumped Kagami on the ground. The others had all but collapsed.

    They were not in good shape. If this had been a squad of Kagami¡¯s surface agents, she would be sending them an evac gunship. With heavy armament. And a suitcase nuke.

    Kagami wasn¡¯t the only one wounded: Elpida¡¯s right wrist was a huge purple bruise, the bones shattered and trying to re-knit; Vicky was still wobbly with concussion; Atyle was sitting cross-legged, meditating or pretending to meditate, but Kagami suspected that the paleo-primitive priestess had taken several bullets in that fight, but wasn¡¯t telling anybody. Maybe she was waiting for everybody else to go to sleep so she could secretly dig the rounds out of her chest and stomach.

    The borged-up berserker ¡ª ¡®Ilyusha¡¯, what a ridiculous name, pure Twen-Cen bullshit ¡ª was intact. She¡¯d spent half the fight getting knocked about like a rag-doll, but she seemed to thrive on that. No care for her own safety. No concern for her physical integrity. Cyborgs went that way, in Kagami¡¯s experience. Bodily alienation. Too much chrome and plastic. Vile little flesh-nugget.

    But Ilyusha had pulled the ravenous cannibal off Kagami. Not fast enough ¡ª oh no, absolutely not fast enough. But she¡¯d done it where others had failed or not even tried. Maybe she wasn¡¯t a total lost cause.

    Ilyusha was already curled up in a corner, nesting with the real psychopath.

    Kagami hadn¡¯t been able to watch the disgusting display once Elpida had sealed them all into the shitty little laundry room. The serial killer had been covered in blood and pink slime ¡ª and Ilyusha had licked her clean.

    She¡¯d stripped her friend naked and lapped at the caked-on gore, eating blood off the skin. The others had looked away in politeness, but Kagami had wanted to vomit. She¡¯d looked back just in time to see the borged-up lunatic running her tongue between Amina¡¯s fingers and peeling the knife out of her grip. At least Ilyusha understood that much; they couldn¡¯t leave an actual psycho slasher loose with a weapon.

    But then Ilyusha had cleaned the knife, glanced at Elpida for approval, and handed the damn thing back.

    The serial killer herself ¡ª Amina ¡ª seemed untouched and elated, speechless with drugged-up happiness. Which wasn¡¯t good news for anybody who didn¡¯t want to get stabbed in the stomach while asleep.

    Morons.

    Vicky finished applying the blue gunk, sucked the scraps off her fingertip, and offered Kagami the rest of the half-empty cannister. She said: ¡°Here, drink up the rest, Kaga. Doctor¡¯s orders.¡±

    Kagami scowled. ¡°You¡¯re still concussed. And you have a shit bedside manner. And you¡¯re not a doctor.¡±

    Vicky smiled. Probably couldn¡¯t make sense of the words with her brain all jarred around. ¡°Kaga, shut the fuck up and drink the magic goo.¡±

    Kagami kept her arms folded. She knew the raw nanomachine slime would help heal her wounds, but she felt bitter ¡ª against Vicky, personally.

    In the middle of the ambush, Vicky had prioritised Elpida. Kagami had been screaming and flailing and getting chunks of her face bitten off. And Vicky hadn¡¯t helped. Vicky had gone to rescue Elpida. Vicky had leapt up like a fire was under her backside for her precious gene-mod bull-dyke soldier girl.

    Vicky must have seen the simmering anger in Kagami¡¯s eyes, because Vicky tilted her head and frowned.

    ¡°Kaga?¡±

    Kagami hissed: ¡°I don¡¯t want your help.¡±

    Pira spoke from the far side of the cramped little space, without opening her eyes: ¡°The bite wounds aren¡¯t that deep. If she doesn¡¯t want to drink, give it to Elpida. Saves us opening any more bottles.¡±

    Vicky looked up at Elpida. Miss Clever-Clogs Commander was still on her feet, hovering around everyone else, that submachine gun strapped over her shoulder. Like they were all children in need of a protector.

    Vicky sounded unsure, ¡°Well, if Kaga doesn¡¯t want it, Elpi, do you¡ª¡±

    Kagami hissed, ¡°Give me that!¡± She snatched the blue-glowing cannister and poured it down her throat. The nano-glop tasted of nothing, but it went down thick and warm. The slop settled in her stomach.

    Vicky snorted. Elpida nodded in approval and said something stupid, some hollow ¡®well done¡¯. Pira said nothing.

    Pira was a traitor. Kagami knew it.

    Yes, the ambush had surprised Pira; she hadn¡¯t been forewarned. The zombie cannibals had not pulled their punches for Pira; the combat had been real, she¡¯d fought for her life. But then Pira had planted her boot on bullet-pocked chests and emptied her magazine into zombie brains, turning them into irrecoverable pulp ¡ª after they¡¯d already been incapacitated. Pira had used Ilyusha¡¯s blood-thirst and Elpida¡¯s trusting naivety against them during the aftermath, with that clever fiction about the ¡®transceiver¡¯.

    That pink zombie had looked obscene, like a sex-robot from the Anglo-Rim, or a dolled-up pop-singer from the Republic. Did it matter if she¡¯d had a transceiver inside her severed head? If she had any friends out there watching the fight, they would already know the ambush had failed.

    But Pira had needed that brain pulped, dead and gone. Pira had wanted them unable to question the ambushers.

    The bitch wasn¡¯t even trying to hide it. Pira was relying on the fact that everyone else was gullible and half-blind.

    Once, Kagami would have been able to pinpoint exactly who Pira was: she could have loaded biometric data into LDIN, sourced from a surface agent¡¯s sensor suite; she could have queried stolen birth certificates and school record databases from the Republic, military service logs from the East Africans and the South Americans, a thousand poorly-defended Anglo-Rim corporate information trawls, police fingerprint and facial recognition uploads from the blubbering idiots in Europe, and even the carefully guarded citizen IDs of the NorAm ¡ª the only other power apart from Luna who operated human logicians.

    If Pira had been a NorAm agent, Kagami would have respected her. Anglo-Rim, Republic, Euros ¡ª Kagami could run rings around them. NorAm, less so. But Pira didn¡¯t even try to cover her tracks. It was offensive.

    But why bother? Pira was none of those things. None of those places existed anymore. Kagami was an obsolete part of a machine that no longer operated.

    Maybe Luna still lived. Maybe this was just another surface thing, in the end.

    After two hundred million years? Fat chance, bitch.

    Kagami drank the tasteless blue slime. She kept an eye on Pira. And for the millionth time since waking up, she strangled the desire to weep.

    She¡¯d been bitten six separate times ¡ª right cheek, left side of neck, top-front of scalp, twice on left shoulder, and once on right forearm. That last one was the reward she got for trying to defend herself with her own body. The bites were deep and wide, twin semi-circles of human teeth marks. They ached and throbbed and burned and she couldn¡¯t switch off the pain. In her sensory suspension tank deep in the underground layers of Tycho City on Luna, she could have edited any sense-input she wanted. Bodily pain was for the healer-nanites in her pressure-gel to deal with, not something inescapable and constant and pulling her thoughts to shreds every second of every minute. Pain was something she dipped into via the feedback uplinks from her surface agents.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Once, when she was twelve years old, one of Kagami¡¯s agents had been blown in half by a roadside IED, somewhere deep in the cursed landscape of the Texan Interior, amid mile after mile of sun-cooked abandoned houses the NorAm hadn¡¯t bothered to reclaim. The rest of the squad had been locked in a firefight with some natives who¡¯d gotten too big for their boots; for fourteen minutes the bisected agent had lain in a puddle of blood and guts and auto-deployed wound-sealant ¡ª but his pain-shock dampeners had failed. He¡¯d felt every second, screaming and writhing, kept alive for recovery and treatment, but fully conscious.

    Kagami had tapped into his feed, both curious and horrified. It was so overwhelming that she¡¯d cut the entire connection in panic and disgust, and curled into a ball inside her pressure-gel. Kurumi had to take over and finish the remote firefight in her place.

    But there was no crash-landing out of this pain. No escape, no nerve-blunting, no sim. This pain was hers, in her own physical body.

    Or was it? She wasn¡¯t even herself, not really. She was a nanomachine simulacra loaded with a memory engram. Izumi Kagami, Princess and Logician and Daughter of the Moon, had died two hundred million years ago, spaced by NorAm spies whom she would have happily worked alongside if only they had asked. Want to make my father eat Moon rock? I¡¯ll open all the airlocks for you, you cute little things! I¡¯ll peel down Tycho¡¯s defences like an exotic designer sex-organ with a wet sheath. Come on in! But they¡¯d fucking spaced her.

    She wasn¡¯t real. She was a fake.

    But that didn¡¯t make the pain go away.

    The other zombies did their best to settle down and get some rest; Kagami wondered why they bothered. Why not just stay awake and let your brain rot? What was the point? They weren¡¯t going to make it to that mech which had dropped from orbit; if they did they wouldn¡¯t be the first there; and if they secured it, where would they go? To the graveworm? Great plan, let¡¯s try to communicate with an AI which perceives us as equivalent to dust particles.

    No, they were going to get eaten. Alive and screaming. They were all going to die, horribly. And then come back and get eaten again, and again, and again.

    Kagami wanted to blow out her own brains. But that wouldn¡¯t help.

    Pira remained where she was, sleeping with her back to a wall. Atyle meditated, then lay down flat like a corpse. Which she was. Vicky kept asking if Kagami was alright, if she needed help, if there was anything Vicky could do. Kagami grunted and snorted and eventually Vicky gave up ¡ª but at least she stayed close. She slept right next to Kagami¡¯s side.

    Ilyusha and Amina ¡ª the little psychopath horror bitch ¡ª nested like animals. Elpida ¡®patrolled¡¯ ¡ª which meant stepping out of the dismal little laundry room and creeping to the front of the building and back again. But eventually she returned and sat down. Elpida was just as exhausted as the rest of them. Gene-jacked and modded far beyond anything legal, but the fight had worn her down just the same. That¡¯s what you get for pushing meat too far.

    There was no way Kagami could go to sleep. She couldn¡¯t switch off the pain. She just sat there, propped against a wall, trying to think about anything except the burning in her wounds and the aching in her hips and the terror of her own end in some dirt-eater¡¯s belly.

    In the shared darkness, trapped in a tiny room with a bunch of psychopaths, she whispered: ¡°I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re dragging around an actual serial killer.¡±

    A voice replied. She hadn¡¯t expected that. Pira. ¡°She¡¯s a liability.¡±

    Atyle whispered: ¡°She is the long-clawed rabbit. She saved the warrior. None will cast her out.¡±

    Kagami needed to keep talking. ¡°What the hell do we do now?¡± she whispered. ¡°What the hell do we do, after that ¡­ that!¡±

    Elpida murmured, ¡°We recover.¡±

    ¡°Then what?¡±

    ¡°We head for the combat frame. Our objective has not changed.¡±

    ¡°You fucked up,¡± Kagami hissed. ¡°You fucked up, commander.¡± She poured her pain into that word. ¡°You were too busy coddling a literal serial killer to notice a fucking ambush, fifteen floors up! Your idiot quest is going to get us all killed ¡ª and eaten! You gene-slop mud-fucker bi¡ª¡±

    Vicky¡¯s hand grabbed Kagami¡¯s knee. Kagami flinched, hard. She¡¯d thought Vicky was asleep.

    ¡°Hey, Kaga,¡± Vicky said. ¡°Cool down, yeah? Elpi doesn¡¯t deserve that.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s face burned with humiliation.

    But then Elpida whispered: ¡°I made serious errors. The ambush was my responsibility. You all have my apologies, my thanks for repelling the assault, and my promise to do better.¡± Those purple eyes bored through the dark, right at Kagami. ¡°Kagami, I¡¯m sorry you got wounded. You deserve better. You deserved me in that room, with you. The wounds should be mine. Take more of the blue if you want it. You¡¯ve earned that.¡±

    Kagami looked down. She gritted her teeth. She said in a strangled voice: ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±

    Elpida carried on. ¡°They were sent to take me alive. Did anybody else hear that order?¡±

    Vicky mumbled, ¡°What? Elpi?¡±

    Pira grunted. ¡°Mmhmm. I did.¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± Vicky murmured. ¡°Why? How¡¯d they even know? Who would send them? What were they after? We¡¯re not important or anything. Are we?¡±

    In the darkness, Pira shrugged. Her shoulders scuffed against the wall. ¡°Predators get all sorts of strange notions. Especially when they group up. They encourage paranoia in each other. They convince each other of things. Especially the ones who don¡¯t understand what¡¯s going on or where they are.¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°Elpi¡¯s white hair, maybe? Or ¡­ or because she¡¯s leading us, so she¡¯s ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°They¡¯re after the combat frame.¡±

    Vicky asked, ¡°Who is ¡®they¡¯, Elpi? In this context, who is ¡®they¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Somebody who knows what it is, and knows that I¡¯m a pilot.¡±

    Bullshit, Kagami thought, Pira knows more than she¡¯s saying: she knows why we were ambushed, she knows who those zombies were, and if we¡¯d been able to interrogate any of them, the connection with Pira would be all too obvious. Kagami was certain of that. There was no other explanation.

    The others eventually drifted into sleep, or at least sleepless recovery. They didn¡¯t post a watch rotation ¡ª everyone was too exhausted. And there was only one way in or out of the tiny, dirty, cramped room. If they got attacked now, that was it, afterlife over. They were relying on stealth and obscurity, like wounded animals who¡¯d dragged themselves into a burrow.

    Kagami¡¯s pain just wouldn¡¯t go away. The ache went on and on and on, dragging her thoughts to mush, blurring her senses into a veil of ragged red between her and the rest of the world. She kept probing around the bite wounds with her fingers, wincing and hissing at the ache; why couldn¡¯t she leave them alone, let them heal? The pain was unbearable, a cage she could not escape. She hissed and whined and gritted her teeth. She tapped her head on the wall and dug her nails into her stomach. But it wouldn¡¯t go away.

    She tried to imagine being back in her sensory suspension tank, plugged into the LDIN, swimming through whatever medium she chose. In the sim-space she could have bathed in painkillers, filled in the missing chunks of flesh, dipped herself in a warm bubble-bath, surrounded herself with singing beauties and sculpted young men and gotten some sleep.

    She should be debriefing herself on the ambush, unfolding the tactical layout in overlapping fire-lines and charts of reaction time, with Kurumi and Kuro at her sides to offer their own less meat-bound insights on failures and successes, on points of improvement, on agents to congratulate or retire, on lessons to learn and tactics to adjust. When she was younger Kagami had favoured Japanese-style feudal war-room projections, simulations of open-sided castle-top rooms with views over soaring mountain peaks. When she¡¯d gotten a little older she¡¯d realised that taste was a pale imitation of her father¡¯s fascinations; she had rebelled by employing the stripped-down utilitarian brutalism of a Twen-Cen-War concrete bunker, complete with distant booms of artillery and the chatter of telegraphs and typewriters. That taste had darkened and intensified over the years, until she¡¯d been running every debriefing under the world-ending noise of thermonuclear war.

    Kurumi and Kuro had gotten tired of that. Kagami had softened her tastes ¡ª she told herself it was for her daughters¡¯ sake that she¡¯d adopted a more classical style of surroundings as she¡¯d entered adulthood. Something Roman, with lots of marble. And columns. And men in togas. Lot of wine.

    Kurumi and Kuro were the only two of Kagami¡¯s AI children who had chosen to stay with her after fledging. The others had all left, for other parts of Luna¡¯s sphere or the Lagrange Point Stations. One ¡ª Kana ¡ª had even slipped Luna¡¯s bounds completely and joined the NorAm. Clever little darling, Kagami loved her so, but she never wrote.

    But Kurumi and Kuro would have snuggled up and helped her feel better, flashing in black fur or midnight satin, softening her self-critique into something actionable.

    She tried to imagine what they might have to say about this mess. Kuro would encourage cutting Pira out as quickly as possible. Use the closest asset, as swiftly as need be, without time for hesitation. Kurumi would have advised watching. She did always like to play with her prey, like a cat.

    Kagami could barely hear their voices, barely imagine their shapes against her skin. She¡¯d never had to imagine before. The sim-space had done it for her.

    So now she shivered and shook, in the dark, in pain, down on the surface, after the end of the world.

    The raw nanomachine slime performed its unfathomable work inside her cells, she couldn¡¯t deny that; within two or three hours ¡ª what was time, without internal chronometer tracking? ¡ª the bite wounds were scabbed over, hard and solid as if they¡¯d been healing for days. The pain ebbed, back below the surface, but it didn¡¯t go away.

    Worse than pain was memory.

    The revenant who had gone straight for Kagami during the ambush hadn¡¯t been that far removed from baseliner human being. Kagami had seen that, after Ilyusha had pulled the cannibal off her and put two shotgun rounds through the thing¡¯s chest. But in her own short-term memory the figure was a snapping, whirling maw of slavering fangs, a dark weight pressing down on her body, from which she could not escape. The monster had tried to eat her! If they¡¯d lost, she would have been eaten! Her flesh was wet and red and vulnerable ¡ª it crawled beneath her hands. She felt sick. She wanted to vomit.

    She was not meant to be here, down on the surface, covered in dirt and blood and stinking of sweat and fear. Her skin was so thin, her eyeballs exposed to the air, her lungs breathing in muck and dust and rot. She had legs! She¡¯d been forced to get up and walk, to put her flesh at risk. But it wasn¡¯t even her flesh, it was a stolen imitation, a fake. She wasn¡¯t even Kagami, she was a memory of a woman who had died of decompression hypoxia.

    Beneath her coat, tucked against a wall in a laundry room full of other zombies, Kagami shook uncontrollably.

    She was meant to be on Luna, in the core of Tycho, in her tank, with her daughters.

    She needed a ship.

    A ship? Where? How? Luna was dead! Everything was dead. Mars, Titan, the Oort morons ¡ª if any of them still existed they would have recolonised Earth by now, so they were dead too. That orbital ring was a miracle, but it was rotting as well, probably full of zombies. There was no way out, nowhere to go, nowhere to run, no suspension tank to return to, no Tycho, no nothing. Just flesh and darkness and pain.

    Kagami screwed up her face; she would not cry. She refused to cry.

    She needed the pain to go away.

    Still shaking with what she hated to admit was post-traumatic stress reaction, Kagami got to her feet and crept over to the backpacks lined up against the wall.

    She had to be careful and quiet ¡ª the others might not understand. She knelt down as gently as she could, without clanking her bionic knees on the concrete floor; kneeling was a stupid pose, everything involving legs was stupid. You didn¡¯t need legs in a suspension tank, you needed high throughput data cables hooked to your spine. She unzipped the bag full of shotgun shells and cannisters of nanomachine slime. Her mouth felt so dry. Her stomach clenched. She used her own torso to hide the faint blue glow as she extracted a cannister.

    The lid came off with a touch. Her hands were shaking, her lips quivering. The goo had no scent, no taste, and a slimy texture which clung to her mouth ¡ª but her body demanded she drink. The urge was overwhelming.

    She poured the liquid down her throat, gulping and glugging and swallowing and taking care not to pant and gasp. Couldn¡¯t wake the others.

    She tucked the empty cannister inside her coat and returned to her spot. Had Vicky realised she¡¯d left? Maybe, but maybe not. Maybe the others wouldn¡¯t notice one cannister less. She doubted anybody was counting; it was Ilyusha¡¯s bag and numbers were probably too much for the cyborg-brained midget. Besides, any of them could have risen in the night and stolen a cannister. If Kagami was confronted she would tell the truth ¡ª the pain was unbearable and she didn¡¯t have any other way to switch it off. Elpida had offered, too! She was allowed to do this!

    One cannister. That was all. Nobody would begrudge her that. Besides, it might make her useful.

    In the afterglow of the feasting, Kagami stared at her left hand. She had no data-uplink and no slots for the cables, not with legs in the way. But what had Pira said? If you drank enough nano-slop, or ate enough nanomachine-derived flesh, you could change yourself? Yes, that was correct. But how did it work? Willpower? Self-image adjustment? Bloody-minded determination?

    Kagami stared at her hand. Data uplink. Access points. Connection processor.

    She returned to the bag twice more. Her body demanded she drink again, and again. Her belly seemed to absorb the stuff directly into her stomach walls. She guzzled the blue gunk like she was dying of thirst. And she stared and stared and stared at her left hand.

    After the third cannister, she saw faint lines beneath her flesh. Geometric, sharp, clean. Circuitry? It must be. She concentrated, willing her flesh to become more than flesh.

    When she turned back for the third time, with the intention that this cannister would be her last, she met a pair of mismatched eyes staring back at her from the floor ¡ª one dark, the other peat-green.

    Atyle was awake, watching her drink.

    For a long moment Kagami stared at the paleo-primitive. The priestess stared back with a faint smile on her lips.

    Kagami swallowed, then whispered: ¡°Are you going to tell the others?¡±

    Atyle smiled wider. She closed her eyes. ¡°Tell them what, scribe? I am asleep. As are we all.¡±

    Kagami returned to her spot, next to Vicky. She watched Atyle for a long time, but the woman didn¡¯t move again. Then Kagami stared at her own left hand, but the lines had vanished.

    Had she only imagined the change? Or did the work require more raw materials?

    That must be it. She needed more nanomachines. Much more. So much more.

    Then she would have a weapon to defend herself from the traitor. And not a gun ¡ª a real weapon, a weapon worthy of Izumi Kagami, Seventeenth Daughter of the Moon.

 astrum - 6.2

    When dawn found her comrades still wounded and weary, Elpida¡¯s first priority was to explore and secure the rest of their temporary bolt-hole.

    Only Vicky and Atyle were fully awake; she left them with instructions to listen for unexpected noises. Atyle said she saw nothing and nobody nearby, but Elpida insisted on manual confirmation. Vicky protested but she was too exhausted to make demands. Elpida carried only her submachine gun and the contents of her armoured coat. She pulled up the hood to conceal the white shine of her hair, then she slipped out of the tiny concrete chamber and into the corridor.

    Sunrise was nothing worthy of the name: ghostly ember-glow along the rim of a black-choked sky.

    Elpida crept into the gloom, treading floors paved with cracked tiles, easing past yawning doorways to rot-infested rooms. She stayed away from the windows. She paused to listen for motion, footsteps, or breathing. She held her own breath for minutes at a time. She held her submachine gun in an awkward grip to compensate for her broken right wrist.

    She knew the group would not move today.

    Telokopolan genetic engineering gave Elpida an advantage at recovery from combat stress reaction and combat fatigue; she felt clear-headed and alert, despite only a few hours of uneasy sleep. All her clade-sisters had been blessed with the same rapid return to sympathetic nervous equilibrium, facilitated by enhanced hormone and neurotransmitter rebalancing.

    Mentally she was fresh ¡ª but physically she felt awful. Two days of pushing through the corpse-city, the shock of the ambush, and then a rapid retreat to an unsecured hiding place had left her exhausted. She could have picked up and moved on, could have marched through the streets for days without true rest. But pushing her comrades presented an unacceptable risk: they were normal human beings ¡ª even if they were nanomachine revenants studded with bionic augmentation. They were not of the cadre, they did not have her advantages. They needed rest and recovery. At least for one day.

    Besides, none of them were healing fast enough.

    As the others had stirred and returned to sleep, Elpida recognised their exhaustion and mental fog, the post-combat lethargy. That alone would have been enough for her to call a halt; but the physical wounds were worse.

    Vicky was bruised and slow, still suffering post-concussive symptoms. Pira had taken more knocks than she let on, though she did a good job of hiding how slowly her bullet wound was healing. Kagami whimpered in her sleep, cradling those bite marks; the nanomachine goo had stopped the bleeding and formed thick scabs, but she was a long way from healed. Ilyusha was quietly nursing several fractures and nasty bruises. Amina was still in some kind of post-euphoric shock.

    Atyle was the only one completely untouched; Elpida wasn¡¯t sure if she should be surprised by that. The woman didn¡¯t flinch even in the face of direct gunfire.

    Elpida herself was still carrying the echoes of earlier wounds: thin patches of raw-red flesh on her chest and back, remnants of her ¡®death¡¯ at the hands of the Silico murder-machine; a massive discoloured bruise across her abdomen from Serin¡¯s bullet, with the accompanying internal damage making her stiff and awkward; an aching right trigger finger; and a persistent cough whenever her heart lurched.

    And now her right wrist was broken. She¡¯d done her best to set the bones so her nanomachine physiology could repair the damage, but the flesh was still puffy and tender. Pain throbbed up her arm.

    Raw blue nanomachines would heal her wounds in mere hours. But that wouldn¡¯t soothe the group¡¯s fatigue. If they were going to rest, she may as well rest too, and save their resources.

    The voice of Old Lady Nunnus echoed in her memories: ¡°Soldiers are not machines. Legionaries are not machines. And you girls are not machines either, never mind what those fools tell you or how much metal and plastic they jam into the back of your skulls. You¡¯re meat and muscle piloted by a wet blob of squishy grey cells. If you do not rest, you will break ¡ª yes, even you, ¡®Commander¡¯. I know what you think of yourself. And people cannot be fixed like machines. Throw a steak into a meat grinder and see how easy it is to fix.¡±

    Elpida hadn¡¯t quite believed that at the time, but Nunnus was right.

    She needed to get the others out of that cramped utility room. They¡¯d slept practically on top of each other. Being crammed together in such a tiny space was not good for morale, psychological recovery, or fraying tempers. Forced proximity presented a risk of internal conflict ¡ª especially regarding Amina.

    Elpida spent almost an hour exploring the building into which they had retreated. She was uncertain of the structure¡¯s purpose: she had assumed it was residential, but the upper two floors were full of large, airy rooms, some of which contained rows of desks, whiteboards, and bookcases full of sagging pulp.

    Most of the rooms had too many big windows, flooded by that dull red light from the black and empty sky. Others were full of gooey wet rot, or skeletal corpses infested with sticky gunk. The bottom floor was not defensible ¡ª too many points of access, too many ways in and out, too many ground-floor windows. Up on the third floor she found a few rooms which might serve, mostly empty and large enough for everyone to spread out. She selected what had probably once been some kind of small gym space. The floor was cheap plastic and the walls were whitewashed, clean of rot or holes. A couple of tables stood at one end, surrounded by a cluster of lonely chairs. There was only one window, with frosted glass.

    Elpida stood alone in the deep gloom of a dead dawn, armoured hood pulled low over her brow, staring through the frosted glass at the distant mountain-line of the graveworm.

    She might not have another chance for privacy that day.

    ¡°Graveworm?¡±

    No answer.

    ¡°Howl?¡±

    Nothing but regret.

    Elpida returned to the group and found everyone awake, groggy, and grumpy. She ordered the move. Nobody complained.

    Pira said: ¡°Keep away from the windows as we move. Heads down. And stay quiet.¡±

    But Pira followed with the rest. Away from the windows.

    Once they were safely upstairs, dumping backpacks and weapons on the floor, easing themselves down in exhausted heaps, Elpida explained the plan. She stood tall and spoke strong. She pushed her hood down so the others could see her eyes.

    ¡°We all need to rest, at least for one day. We can¡¯t push on like this. We¡¯re all wounded and exhausted ¡ª combat does that to anybody, even to trained soldiers. There¡¯s no shame in admitting we need rest and recovery. So, that¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do. Rest for today, sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning we can push on for the combat frame again, pending reassessment of our condition.¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°Right on, Elpi. That¡¯s a girl with a plan.¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath. ¡°I think we¡¯re safe here. I haven¡¯t heard anything moving except us. Atyle, would you confirm again with your bionic eye? Are we alone in the structure?¡±

    Atyle answered, ¡°Just us, warrior.¡±

    Nobody asked about Serin; nobody asked if Elpida had seen the sniper again since last night. Was nobody else aware of the assistance Serin had rendered?

    Pira was already choosing a corner in which to sit. She said, ¡°We shouldn¡¯t be moving at all. Not until the worm does.¡±

    Atyle smiled, thin and amused. ¡°The warrior is wise enough for the gods. Wise enough for me.¡±

    Kagami didn¡¯t say anything. She looked more exhausted than anybody else. Her auspex visor hung from a limp hand. Ilyusha shrugged and wagged her augmetic tail, then stepped forward to bump her head against Elpida¡¯s side, demanding a head-pat. Elpida gave her that. Amina watched Elpida with bright eyes, openly fascinated and adoring. Elpida gave her a smile and a nod, and asked how she was.

    Amina said: ¡°Radiant. Am I radiant?¡±

    Kagami hissed, ¡°Fucking hell.¡±

    ¡°You are radiant, Amina,¡± Elpida told her. That made Amina smile. She was still smiling when Ilyusha took her hand and diverted her attention.

    There was little to do in an empty room in the middle of a nameless corpse-city; Elpida was briefly concerned that boredom might be more dangerous than enforced proximity. But the others surprised her. At first everyone simply split up and dozed. Elpida sat down in a chair, examining her own exhaustion. Ilyusha and Amina spent a while tucked inside their now-habitual nest of spare coats, whispering to each other. They even giggled a couple of times. But then Ilyusha emerged, dragging Amina after her. She fetched some sticks of camo paint from her backpack and started drawing a grid on the floor.

    She and Amina played noughts and crosses ¡ª Ilyusha had to teach the game to Amina. Quiet whispers passed back and forth. Corners of coat were used to scrub out previous games. They covered a corner of floor in black and red and green. Vicky drifted over, and Atyle watched with interest, her solitary meditation interrupted by curiosity. Once Amina understood the simple game Ilyusha transitioned to something more complex; she drew a whole game board on the floor, used shotgun shells as pieces, and included Atyle and Vicky as players.

    Vicky asked, ¡°Illy, is this from your home? Like, something you learned as a kid?¡±

    Ilyusha shook her head. ¡°Naaaah. From here.¡±

    Kagami did not join in, not even at Vicky¡¯s invitation ¡ª she refused with a limp shake of her head. The petite, doll-like woman sat slumped against a wall, buried by her over-large coat, augmetic legs sticking out at awkward angles. She barely moved except to lift her left hand now and again, flexing the fingers and staring at her palm. The bite marks on her face, neck, and head stood out with dark red scabbing. Her eyelids were heavy, her lips were slack, her breathing was too hard. She had a sheen of cold sweat on her face. Pira had assured them that nanomachine revenants were immune to illness and infection, but Kagami looked sick. Combat shock? The bite wounds? Something unknown? Elpida decided to watch her closely.

    ¡°Elpi,¡± Vicky said, nodding at the grease-paint game-board on the floor. ¡°You want in?¡±

    ¡°No, but thank you, Vicky.¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°Come on, it¡¯s easy. Aren¡¯t you bored?¡± Vicky even smiled, a crease in a dark, tired face. ¡°Look at you, sitting there in a chair like the only adult in the room. Super-soldier shit going to your head.¡±

    Atyle explained without looking up: ¡°The warrior watches over us.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Somebody needs to stay focused and alert. I¡¯m the least affected by fatigue, and my senses are naturally sharper. I need to concentrate on external sounds. And I¡¯m going to patrol the corridor shortly, as well.¡±

    Vicky shrugged. ¡°If you say so. Place for you any time you want, though. Right, Illy?¡±

    ¡°Yaaaaah,¡± said Ilyusha.

    Pira didn¡¯t join in either. She sat in the corner by herself. But as one hour turned into two and two dragged into three, as Vicky drifted off into an uneasy nap, and Ilyusha started teaching Amina and Atyle a new game ¡ª one that involved two opposing sides of pieces ¡ª Pira eventually stood up and took off all her clothes.

    The others were surprised by that, but it made sense to Elpida. Pira checked her own body for additional wounds. Her strangely pale and freckled skin formed a milk-shadow in the red-tinted gloom. Pira rotated each of her joints and stretched all her muscles, then checked her armour for holes and tears and frayed straps. Then she got dressed again. Elpida approved.

    Pira sat back down, spread out her personal weapons, and set about field-stripping and cleaning the guns. Elpida approved of that, too.

    Elpida took stock of their equipment, spare ammunition, and weapons. She checked the coilgun and power-tank as best she could; she had no idea how to strip or clean the Silico sliver-gun, and doubted it needed such attention anyway. She examined the pair of ballistic shields for cracks, but found none. They hadn¡¯t lost anything since the tomb, nor expended too much ammunition from the bullets and shells crammed in packs and pouches and pockets. They¡¯d even picked up a couple of heavy pistols from the ambush last night. But they couldn¡¯t operate without resupply forever.

    There was no such thing as resupply, in this place. Only scavenging, raiding, and looting the tombs.

    Elpida counted the cannisters of nanomachine slime. She took them out of the backpack and lined them up.

    Thirteen full bottles.

    Three short, compared with last night.

    She hadn¡¯t counted previously, but her memory had stored the details regardless. The blue glow touched her face and hands as she stared at the bottles lined up on the floor. She counted them three times. A thirst gripped the back of her throat. She resisted that and packed the bottles away again, in full view of everybody else.

    Then she picked up her submachine gun, flipped up her hood, and went to walk the corridors.

    There was little to see inside the building except dirty plastic floors, plain white walls, and empty rooms tainted with rot. The view from the windows allowed an occasional deeper glimpse through the thicket of concrete and brick. Faraway gunshots echoed between the buildings; strange noises howled in the distance. Elpida was careful to stay out of sight, sticking to the shadows, pausing to listen for hidden movement. She would not allow herself to be taken by another ambush. She would not make that mistake again.

    She worked her way to the opposite end of the corridor, along the front of the building, where the windows were wider and the view was better and there was more room to hang back in the shadows.

    The plume of smoke from the fallen combat frame had dwindled to almost nothing. A terrible fire must have burned for days, but now there was only a thin trickle of brown, barely visible in the dying firelight of the revenant sun.

    Serin was nowhere to be seen.

    Who had taken three cannisters of nanites without telling anybody? Kagami, for her wounds? Ilyusha, without guile? Was Elpida over-thinking this? But the empty bottles had been hidden or removed, not added to the other spares full of water. Perhaps she had miscounted.

    When she returned to the refuge, Elpida found Kagami sitting in her chair. She was staring down at her hands, at a shiny metal cylinder.

    The doll-like woman stirred and looked up when Elpida approached. ¡°Oh,¡± she grunted, eyes only half-open. ¡°Stolen your seat, have I?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, please don¡¯t get up,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You¡¯re very welcome to it.¡± She fetched another chair and joined Kagami. Perhaps Kagami wanted company but couldn¡¯t ask for it out loud. The others were all occupied ¡ª Ilyusha, Amina, and Atyle were playing yet another game scrawled on the ground; Vicky had gone to sleep; Pira was cleaning Vicky¡¯s sniper rifle.

    Elpida waited to see if Kagami would talk without being prompted, but Kagami was more interested in the object cradled in her lap: a shiny metal oblong about the size of a cigar. It was one of the six smart drones Kagami had taken from the tomb armoury, still inactive, just a lump of metal.

    Kagami was stroking the drone with the fingers and thumb of her left hand. Her eyes drifted shut, then eased open again. She transferred the drone to her right hand, flexed the fingers of her left, then resumed the idle sensory stimming.

    Elpida said, gently, ¡°Any luck getting those powered on?¡±

    Kagami huffed ¡ª Elpida guessed it was meant to be a snort, but she didn¡¯t have enough energy. Kagami croaked: ¡°What do you think? If we had drones, we wouldn¡¯t have been ambushed. And where would I get the power? There¡¯s only one source of power around here.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Nanomachines, you idiot. Us.¡±

    Elpida let the insult pass. Kagami deserved to vent. She said: ¡°Kaga, how are you holding up?¡±

    Kagami turned dead-tired eyes toward Elpida, and said, ¡°How the fuck do you think I¡¯m holding up?¡±

    ¡°Worse than anybody else. You look sick or ill. I¡¯m not sure why that is, and that worries me. How do you feel? Please, tell me the truth. I won¡¯t leave you behind for being weak, because I don¡¯t do that. Kagami, is something wrong with your body?¡±

    Kagami¡¯s stare dredged her mind out of torpor. She blinked. For a moment Elpida thought she might say something honest.

    But then Kagami said, ¡°How do I feel? I¡¯m covered in fucking bite marks because you fucked up. That¡¯s how I fucking feel.¡± She swallowed, leaned closer to Elpida, and lowered her voice to a whisper. ¡°And we¡¯re dragging around a serial killer. Or have you already forgotten?¡±

    Elpida replied in an equal whisper: ¡°Amina is one of us. She fought for us. She took on a highly augmented revenant with nothing but a knife¡ª¡±

    ¡°And she wanted to stick that knife in you, Commander, if I understood her psycho ramblings correctly.¡±

    Elpida straightened up, out of whispering range, and glanced at the others. Atyle was giving them a curious side-eye. Pira was staring. Amina and Ilyusha hadn¡¯t noticed.

    Elpida leaned back in and whispered: ¡°Kagami, if you want to discuss Amina, we should continue in private. Do you feel well enough to stand and walk out into the corridor with me?¡±

    ¡°Fuck her and fuck you,¡± Kagami hissed. ¡°We can talk right here¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida put a touch of command into her whisper. Kagami flinched. ¡°Are you able to stand and walk into the corridor?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, fine, sure. But¡ª¡±

    Elpida put a firm hand on Kagami¡¯s shoulder ¡ª the one without the bite wound. ¡°Then come for a walk with me. We¡¯ll talk.¡±

    Kagami lost most of her bluster by the time she got her feet. She shoved the unpowered drone into her pocket and crossed her arms, then followed Elpida to the door.

    Elpida told the others: ¡°I want Kagami to look at a building in the distance with the auspex visor. We might be a few minutes, so don¡¯t worry if we¡¯re not back soon.¡±

    Everyone knew it was a lie to protect Amina ¡ª everyone except Amina. Pira looked back down at the field-stripped rifle without a word. Atyle all but grinned. Ilyusha snorted. Vicky was asleep.

    Out in the red-lit, window-lined corridor, Elpida led Kagami far beyond earshot of the refuge. Kagami could walk under her own power now, but only with a halting, jerking precision, made more difficult by the need to stay in the shadows. Elpida offered her arm, but Kagami hissed a refusal. Elpida let Kagami set the pace. They walked all the way to the front of the building, to the slightly wider corridor where Elpida had paused earlier to look up at the plume of smoke. Kagami leaned against the wall, bracing her back to take the weight off her augmetic legs.

    Elpida said, ¡°We can speak here, but don¡¯t raise your voice. We don¡¯t want to risk attention.¡±

    Kagami tutted. ¡°This is fucking stupid.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°I want to make this very clear to you. Amina is one of us. She fought for us. I¡¯m not casting her out because she committed murders in life. If¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a serial killer!¡± Kagami said. ¡°She wanted to stab you and then ¡ª what, seek forgiveness? What does that even mean?¡± Kagami tapped her own head. ¡°She¡¯s insane! A crazy person. She¡¯ll stab one of us in the guts while we¡¯re sleeping. Or did they not have serial killers in your perfect future?¡±

    ¡°None of us are a threat to her. She won¡¯t hurt us.¡±

    ¡°How can you know that? Does she need an excuse? We all heard her fucking nonsense up there in that tower. She¡¯ll stab us the moment she gets a chance.¡±

    ¡°Forgiveness and acceptance makes her one of us. You saw what she did for us last night. You saw the choice she made.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a murderer, a psycho killer!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re all killers.¡±

    Kagami squinted. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the only thing we have in common. I suspect it might be intentional, perhaps a condition of resurrection. Or maybe only for our group, from that specific tomb, or batch. Soldiers, commanders, revolutionaries. We¡¯ve all killed. Sometimes for a good cause, but maybe not always. You¡¯re no exception to that, as far as I understand. Amina is no different.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t spout such fucking nonsense. There¡¯s a difference between being a mad slasher and shooting soldiers in battle. Bet you¡¯ve never done something like what she talked about, huh? You¡¯ve commanded others and shot at the enemy in¡ª¡±

    ¡°Me and my clade-sisters killed one of our handlers at six years old. We used bare hands, stolen plastic cutlery, and a piece of bedsheet.¡±

    Kagami stared, mouth open.

    Elpida added: ¡°We ate part of his corpse afterward.¡±

    Kagami blinked three times.

    Elpida took a deep, cleansing breath. She thanked Howl. It felt good to speak the truth.

    For a moment, Elpida thought Kagami might break down, or sob, or turn away in fear; she would have to intervene if that happened. Kagami was also one of her comrades, whatever difficulties she was having. Elpida wasn¡¯t sure how to deal with that ¡ª if this had been one of her cadre, she would have enveloped Kagami in a hug. She suspected that wouldn¡¯t work. She prepared herself for gentle words.

    But Kagami pushed herself upright against the wall, eyes bulging, jaw muscles tightening.

    ¡°We¡¯re never going to reach that walker mech you¡¯re so obsessed with, because we¡¯re all going to be dead!¡± she spat ¡ª too loudly, voice echoing down the corridors. ¡°Look at us. Look at you!¡± She jerked her head up and down at Elpida. ¡°You stand straight enough but you¡¯d get knocked on your arse by a stiff breeze.¡± She hissed a weird laugh between her teeth ¡ª and there was the edge of a sob, finally. ¡°What does it matter that we¡¯re carting around a serial killer and a traitor, huh? We¡¯re not going to make it. We could barely make it through one fight. We¡¯re falling apart!¡±

    ¡°Kagami, I¡¯m not going to let us¡ª¡±

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be here, I shouldn¡¯t be down here.¡± Kagami flexed the fingers of her left hand, staring at them as if in pain. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be on the surface with you dirt-sucking primitives. This place is fucking obscene. All of you are¡ª¡±

    Elpida clapped a hand over Kagami¡¯s mouth. Kagami¡¯s eyes went wide. She flailed against the wall, trying to get away.

    But Elpida said: ¡°Be still. Quiet. Listen.¡±

    Footsteps.

    Heavy, solid, climbing the stairs.

    The owner of the boots made no effort to conceal her approach; echoes filled the corridor. Elpida dropped her hand from Kagami¡¯s mouth. Kagami stared at the end of the corridor, shaking and panting. Elpida slipped one hand around Kagami¡¯s waist, preparing to physically pick her up and haul her back to the others.

    But then a metallic voice called out in a soft croon: ¡°Only me, fresh meat.¡±

    Elpida relaxed. Kagami was frantic with confusion for a second, then said, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s the sniper-bitch, it¡¯s¡ª fucking hell!¡±

    Serin came around the corner.

    Nine feet of black robes hung below a pale half-face, mouth and chin concealed inside that metal mask painted with black teeth. Lank blonde hair was raked back over her skull. Red bionic eyes glowed in the shadows. Shapeless and swaying, Serin walked up to Elpida and Kagami ¡ª no longer making any footstep noises. Her robes concealed everything but her head and her hunched back.

    ¡°Serin,¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°False Necromancer,¡± Serin said by way of greeting. Her voice was an amused metal rasp from inside her mask. Kagami was staring, open mouthed; she was also gripping the sleeve of Elpida¡¯s coat. Red eyes swivelled to look at her. Serin made a strange hiss from inside her mask ¡ª inhaling? Kagami shrank back.

    Elpida said: ¡°This is Kagami. She¡¯s with me. Serin, thank you for the help last night. I¡¯m not sure, but I think you saved my life.¡±

    ¡°Mm. Mmmmm. Huuuuh.¡± Serin¡¯s red eyes flickered and focused, lenses tightening behind bio-plastic, bouncing back and forth between Kagami and Elpida.

    Something was wrong. Elpida allowed her hands to creep toward her submachine gun. Serin wasn¡¯t standing too close, but that didn¡¯t necessarily mean anything.

    ¡°Serin,¡± Elpida said. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    Serin leaned down and forward; she moved slowly, making it clear she didn¡¯t intend any aggression. Elpida put both hands on her submachine gun. Serin leaned close, until her pale skin and all-red eyes were only two feet from Elpida¡¯s face. Then she made that hissing noise again ¡ª sniffing, inside her mask. She moved her face to Kagami and sniffed again, several times. She repeated the motion, going back and forth, then straightened up.

    Kagami murmured: ¡°What the fuck?¡±

    Elpida kept her hands on her weapon. ¡°Serin, please answer me. What do you want?¡±

    ¡°Better question,¡± Serin rasped, still amused. ¡°What do I not want? I do not want useful bait to wither away. I do not want to watch fresh meat refuse food.¡± Lenses irised and adjusted inside her red eyeballs ¡ª and focused on Kagami. ¡°Some of you. Know what¡¯s good. Mm. Poor choice of diet.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    Serin tilted her head and focused on Elpida again. ¡°Fresh meat. Comrade-to-be. Or otherwise.¡± A spindly pale hand emerged from the black robes and pointed a finger at Kagami. ¡°Kagami is correct. She knows what she needs. You¡¯re weak and failing. You¡¯re falling apart.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re resting. We¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not eating your kills, false Necromancer. You¡¯re starving to death.¡±

 astrum - 6.3

    ¡°Starving.¡±

    Elpida echoed Serin¡¯s choice of word ¡ª but it wasn¡¯t a question.

    Elpida had suspected the truth of their metabolic needs since Pira had explained the nanomachine mechanics of their undead bodies. She was not good at denial, or pretend lack of comprehension, or learned helplessness; Elpida¡¯s mind had already found the logical conclusion. She had not thought about it very much; she had hoped that Pira was correct about the ambient nanomachine particulate in the atmosphere around the graveworm. But now she was wounded, and slow, and her body needed fuel.

    Serin said, ¡°Starvation. Tends to happen. When you don¡¯t eat.¡±

    Serin¡¯s blood-red eyes crinkled at the corners: she was smiling behind the black teeth painted on her metal mask. She towered over Elpida and Kagami, deep in the tar-thick gloom of that filthy corridor, hidden from the midday twilight of the undead sun in the grave of the sky. The hulking revenant stank like wet wood and meaty fungus.

    Kagami was clutching the sleeve of Elpida¡¯s armoured coat. She panted as she spoke: ¡°She m-means- she means we¡¯re not engaging in cannibalism. We¡¯re not eating the flesh- t-the nanomachine-flesh, from the zombies. Other zombies! Fuck! That is what you mean, isn¡¯t it? Serin? It¡¯s necessary for survival here, isn¡¯t it? Eating flesh? That¡¯s what you mean. Say it! Just say it!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Kagami, take a deep breath.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t need oxygen, but we need meat!¡±

    ¡°Kagami, breathe. Now.¡±

    Kagami drew in a shuddering breath.

    Serin made a metallic rasp. ¡°Wise.¡±

    Elpida addressed Serin: ¡°I don¡¯t feel any hunger. I haven¡¯t felt hunger since we arrived here ¡ª sorry, since we were resurrected.¡±

    Serin tilted her head from side to side; vertebrae cracked and popped in sequence. She looked out of the bank of windows, across the rotten teeth of the corpse-city. She said: ¡°Not an injector? Confused? No?¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    Serin settled her blood-red bionic eyes on Elpida once again. ¡°Some zombies never ate in life. Don¡¯t know how to chew and swallow. Only inject into nutrient ports. Others wake without their microbe-stack gut replacements. A few feed like plants.¡± A spindly finger pointed out of the windows, at the black sky. ¡°Not enough light for photosynthesis. Hunger is strange to them. But that type is rare enough. Rarer still to live long. You¡¯re not one?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°In life I ate with my mouth. I am genetically modified for increased starvation endurance, but I know how hunger feels. I don¡¯t think we have any strange eaters in our group, either. Serin, I¡¯m serious, I¡¯ve not felt hunger, and neither has anybody else. Kagami, have you?¡±

    Kagami swallowed. ¡°Not ¡­ exactly.¡±

    Serin chuckled. ¡°Not hungry for meat. For what lives within the meat.¡±

    Elpida sighed. ¡°Yes, I follow the logic. We need fresh nanomachines. But nobody has spoken of feeling¡ª¡±

    ¡°Nothing?¡± Serin rasped. She dipped her head close again, leaning down eye-to-eye with Elpida, her neck and spine moving like the body of a snake. Red orbs burned in the dark. ¡°No need at all? A thirst? An urge? Desire to mount? Fuck? Take? It comes in different ways. We are ridden by machine ghosts. Sometimes they pull the wrong strings. Tell me true ¡ª you have felt no needs?¡±

    Elpida paused, then told the truth: ¡°I have. Twice. I felt thirsty when looking at the cannisters of raw nanomachines. I can¡¯t deny that. Is that what¡ª¡±

    ¡°Meat.¡±

    It was a cheap trick ¡ª the kind of conversational feint that Old Lady Nunnus would have loved: Serin had coaxed Elpida into recalling her own thirst, then forced her to imagine the object of attention. Drawing a tiny neurological pathway.

    But Elpida shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t feel any hunger ¡­ for ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida¡¯s salivary glands tingled. Her stomach spasmed and clenched. Her imagination filled her mouth with the taste of hot, red, dripping meat, sliding off bone and slipping down her throat. For a split second she was speechless; in life, in Telokopolis, she had eaten plenty of vat-grown clone-meat, both cooked and raw, plain and fancy, red and white and everything in between. But real meat was extraordinarily rare in Telokopolis; the genetic stocks of the buried fields were too valuable to be served up as food. And besides, why bother with butchery and slaughter when the city itself could grow as much as the population needed?

    Except once, for Elpida. The very first time she had tasted meat. That had been human.

    This urge, this hunger, did not recall the regular routines of cloned protein. It dredged a deeper memory.

    Elpida swallowed down a mouthful of saliva.

    Kagami had it far, far worse; she gasped, panting for breath, throat thick with need. ¡°Oh ¡­ n-no ¡­ ¡±

    Serin straightened up, grinning behind her mask. ¡°There. The shell is broken. Have fun.¡±

    Kagami forced out a strangled laugh. ¡°Oh, yes, as if eating human meat would be the obvious fucking conclusion to all this, in the absence of hunger. Of course. Stupid us! Fucking cannibals.¡± She spat drool on the floor. ¡°Should have glassed the surface when we could. Fuck Earth. Fuck all of you!¡±

    Serin turned blood-deep eyes on Kagami. Elpida felt Kagami¡¯s hand tighten on her sleeve and heard Kagami swallow. But the petite, doll-like woman held her ground. Elpida was impressed.

    ¡°Fuck you, cannibal. Don¡¯t look at me like that.¡±

    Serin laughed. ¡°Once bitten, twice shy. For you, six times. No?¡±

    Kagami spat again. ¡°Fuck you, zombie. Why is everyone down here obsessed with eating each other!?¡±

    Serin said, ¡°Eat or die. Eat and grow. Noble fools become food.¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath and took control of herself. The strange hunger was already passing. ¡°Pira said we didn¡¯t need food, didn¡¯t need to eat. She was very clear that proximity to the graveworm would sustain us on ambient nanomachines alone. Are you saying that isn¡¯t true?¡±

    Serin made that hissing metal rasp again, sniffing loudly. ¡°I can smell your wounds. Both of you. Falling apart. Ready to drop. Easy prey. You can sit and heal for a year ¡ª if the worm does. Or you can eat.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°I have no ethical problem with human meat, but cannibalism is going to be difficult for the others to accept.¡±

    Serin turned her head to look at the wall. Tiny lenses flexed and focused inside her blood-red bionic eyes. ¡°Others, mm. ¡®Pira¡¯? Must have a word with ¡®Pira¡¯.¡±

    Elpida allowed one hand to drift back to her submachine gun. Was that recognition in Serin¡¯s rasping metal voice? Elpida asked: ¡°You don¡¯t know Pira, do you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°If you do, and this is a trick to kill her, then I will fight you, Serin. She¡¯s one of us.¡±

    ¡°Huuuunh,¡± Serin made a sound that might have been a laugh. ¡°No. A word. And a gift. Your others can decide for themselves.¡± She turned back to Elpida and Kagami. ¡°Lead on, false Necromancer. Show me your comrades.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°No violence.¡±

    Behind her mask, Serin grinned. They both knew she could cut them to pieces if she wished.

    Serin extended another spindly pale arm from inside her black robes; Elpida recognised the exposed tattoos ¡ª a row of nine black skulls, with little crosses for eyes, limp tongues hanging from dead jaws, and comical bullet-holes in their foreheads. Each skull was crossed out: kill markings for the death cult who Serin hunted. At the head of the tally was the same symbol as on Ilyusha¡¯s t-shirt: a crescent intersected by a line.

    Serin tapped her own arm. ¡°Showing my side. In case of twitchy trigger fingers.¡±

    Elpida led Serin back into the depths of the structure. The towering revenant followed with barely a whisper of cloth against the cracked tiles ¡ª though Elpida could detect a faint infrasound hum, far too low for unmodified human hearing, so quiet that she couldn¡¯t pinpoint the source within Serin¡¯s body. Kagami smothered her pride for the return journey; she clung to Elpida¡¯s arm for support, swallowing the pain of her bionic legs in little grunts and gulps.

    When they reached the refuge, Elpida knocked on the door. She called out, low and calm. ¡°It¡¯s us. We have a guest ¡ª a friendly. Leave your guns down. Fingers off triggers. Acknowledge, please.¡±

    A chorus of confused murmurs. Vicky raised her voice: ¡°Elpi, what¡¯s wrong?¡± Ilyusha made a snarling noise. Elpida heard the click-crunch of a charging handle ¡ª Pira¡¯s submachine gun.

    Atyle called out: ¡°The warrior brings a mystery at her back. But she is not coerced.¡±

    ¡°Atyle is right,¡± Elpida replied through the door. ¡°We¡¯re not being threatened. Guns down ¡ª that means you, Pira. No violence. We¡¯re entering now.¡±

    Elpida opened the door and led the way, with Kagami hanging off her arm. Serin followed. She had to duck to get through the door frame, then straightened up once inside. Black robes hung from nine feet of hunchbacked frame; blood-red bionic orbs scanned the room; a hissing sigh rattled behind her painted metal mask. Serin kept her tattooed arm on display, kill-tally turned outward.

    Vicky scrambled to her feet, open mouthed and staring. She glanced to Elpida for guidance; Elpida shook her head. Kagami slipped out of Elpida¡¯s grasp and slumped against the wall, sliding away from Serin on stumbling feet. Ilyusha was up already, with Amina clinging to her side. The younger girl was silent and wide-eyed. Ilyusha¡¯s tail lashed the air in angry swipes ¡ª but when she saw the ¡®friendly¡¯ was Serin her tail dipped in a little bobbing motion, like a laugh. She snorted and said: ¡°Shit for brains is back again.¡±

    Serin acknowledged her: ¡°Little comrade.¡±

    Atyle wasn¡¯t surprised; she stayed sitting cross-legged in front of the makeshift game board drawn on the floor in grease paint, examining Serin with her peat-green bionic eye, like an aristocrat judging an expensive animal. She must have seen their approach through the walls; perhaps Atyle had witnessed the entire conversation. Straight-backed and high-headed, she managed to radiate ritual dignity in her refusal to stand.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Pira was up, submachine gun in her hands, eyes fixed on Serin¡¯s centre of mass.

    Elpida spoke quickly, hands out: ¡°Guns down. I mean it, guns down. Everyone relax. This is Serin. She¡¯s the sniper, the¡ª¡±

    Vicky spluttered, ¡°The crazy one who shot at us?¡±

    ¡°She helped us last night,¡± Elpida said. ¡°She wants to help us now.¡±

    Kagami laughed, low and bitter and unstable. Vicky glanced at her in alarm.

    Elpida said: ¡°Kagami¡¯s in shock because of information. Nothing more.¡±

    Kagami spat, ¡°Information! Oh, spare me your creative euphemisms, mud-eater.¡±

    Ilyusha was saying to Amina: ¡°She¡¯s fine! Ami, she¡¯s fine. Big and stupid. But like me, kind of.¡±

    Serin was still smiling behind her mask. Her head swivelled on that snake-like neck, framed by her humped back, examining the others one by one ¡ª and finishing on Pira.

    Red eyes waited. Pira stared back, ready to leap.

    Elpida said: ¡°Pira, do not open fire. She doesn¡¯t want to fight. If she attacks you, I¡¯m on your side. But she doesn¡¯t want to fight. Pira, lower your gun. Pira!¡±

    Pira didn¡¯t even twitch.

    ¡°Pira?¡± Serin said. She cocked her head at the flame-haired girl.

    Pira¡¯s eyes flickered to the dead-skull tattoos on Serin¡¯s exposed arm, then back to Serin¡¯s red-burning eyes. She shook her head sharply, and said: ¡°I¡¯m not with¡ª¡±

    ¡°How many times reborn?¡± Serin asked.

    Pira frowned. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°How many times have you been around, zombie? How many times resurrected? You¡¯re no fresh meat. I can see. Truth?¡±

    ¡°Plenty. What do you want?¡±

    ¡°How many?¡±

    Pira spat: ¡°I¡¯ve lost count. What do you want?¡±

    ¡°So many cycles,¡± said Serin. ¡°And nothing to show but one bionic arm. Why keep coming back if you won¡¯t grow? Why tell a clutch of chicks to starve themselves?¡±

    Pira¡¯s fear froze on her face ¡ª then vanished, shuttered behind sky-blue eyes. ¡°Nobody has to be a predator.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Serin barked. ¡°Predation? Survival!¡± Serin¡¯s head twisted; her blazing red eyes found a new target ¡ª Ilyusha. ¡°And you, little comrade. You aren¡¯t fresh meat. You should know better.¡±

    Ilyusha bared her teeth and hissed ¡ª but she averted her eyes, sulky and cowed. Her tail lay limp on the floor. ¡°Tried.¡±

    ¡°Truly?¡±

    ¡°I fucking tried!¡± Ilyusha spat.

    ¡°You balked. First sign of disgust. Easier to avoid conflict. New friends, new start. Hope not to be cast out. No?¡±

    Ilyusha hissed again, eyes down. Elpida realised that Ilyusha was deeply humiliated. She didn¡¯t like that; she was losing control of this situation.

    Elpida said, ¡°Serin, stop. Ilyusha is one of us, too. Don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Little comrade. Should have shown more spine.¡±

    Ilyusha muttered. ¡°Fuck you ¡­ ¡±

    Vicky cleared her throat. ¡°Excuse me, but what the hell are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°Starvation, zombie,¡± Serin said. ¡°By ignorance. Or worse, by foolish choice.¡±

    Elpida stepped forward and raised both hands; she¡¯d been willing to entertain this strange argument for the purposes of extracting more information from Serin ¡ª and possibly from Pira. But she¡¯d heard enough. And Ilyusha¡¯s hangdog humiliation was an insult too far. Elpida would not allow that blow to their morale.

    ¡°Stop,¡± she said, command in her voice. ¡°Serin, stop, right now. Everyone else ¡ª Serin has informed me we¡¯re all starving to death. We need to eat.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Eat what? What are you talking about? Pira said¡ª¡±

    Kagami laughed, hard and loud and shrill: ¡°Use your brain! What else is there to eat in this place? Each other!¡±

    Pira said, cold and unyielding, ¡°Cannibalism. She means cannibalism.¡±

    Elpida quickly explained her summation of Serin¡¯s lesson; there was little to say. They needed fresh nanomachines, preserved in the bodies of other revenants. Their new physiology demanded constant input, no different to the requirements of a mortal metabolism, the demand for protein, carbohydrate, and fat.

    She finished by saying: ¡°We¡¯re all wounded and we¡¯re healing very slowly, except when we drink the raw nanomachines we took from the tomb. The thirst I felt is proof of that. And the ¡­ desire for meat, that was real. If anybody else has experienced similar cravings or hungers, don¡¯t be ashamed or afraid; I believe it¡¯s strong evidence that our nanomachine bodies are craving more input. It¡¯s a biological imperative, now. We can¡¯t control that.¡±

    Only Vicky and Amina seemed truly shocked; Vicky was shaking her head, mouth hanging open, while Amina was just staring. Atyle¡¯s expression had not changed at all; perhaps she¡¯d already figured it out. Pira was cold and closed. Kagami had a strange, manic smile on her face, laughing softly behind her teeth. And Ilyusha was looking away, sulky and embarrassed.

    After a moment of silence, Vicky said: ¡°What happens if we don¡¯t? Serin, right? What if I don¡¯t want to eat human meat?¡±

    Pira answered: ¡°Nothing. Ambient is enough for survival.¡±

    Serin laughed, a harsh metallic rasp. ¡°You weaken with every wound. You get slow, and clumsy. Easy to hunt. Damage piles up. A predator catches you. Crunch crunch. Yum.¡±

    Pira said: ¡°You don¡¯t have to participate. Vicky, don¡¯t listen to her. You don¡¯t have to participate. You have a choice. We all have the choice to refuse.¡±

    Kagami laughed so hard she shrieked: ¡°Choice?! You were keeping this from us, you bitch! You lied to us! So what, you could starve us out and then feed our corpses to your real friends, you¡ª¡±

    Elpida snapped, putting the whip-crack of command into her voice: ¡°Kagami, stop. Right now.¡± Kagami flinched hard, staring at Elpida with wounded anger. ¡°Pira had her reasons. Pira?¡±

    Pira said, ¡°Nobody has to participate in this.¡±

    Serin laughed. ¡°Eat or die.¡±

    Kagami spluttered: ¡°She lied. She lied to all of us. She¡¯s been lying to us this whole time!¡±

    Vicky was saying: ¡°No. No, no, no. It was right there in front of us. Back in the tomb. Illy ¡ª Ilyusha! Back in the tomb, when we woke, you were ¡­ ¡± Vicky put her hand to her mouth, miming a memory. She was shaking. ¡°The corpse-water, the blue goo, the goo in the failed coffins. You were drinking it. You were going to eat them, weren¡¯t you? You were going to eat them, like ¡­ like aborted foetuses? The revenants who didn¡¯t make it to resurrection. And I was disgusted, I was horrified.¡± She was panting, cold sweat running down her face. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    Ilyusha wouldn¡¯t look up. ¡°Corpses eating. Gotta do it.¡±

    Serin made a hissing noise. ¡°Your limbs came from somewhere, little comrade. How many corpses to grow those?¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s head snapped upward, teeth bared, grey eyes blazing like burning lead. Her augmetic tail whipped out, stinger pointing at Serin. ¡°I¡¯m no fucking reptile! You gotta eat, so you gotta eat!¡±

    ¡°Yes. No nobility in starvation. Don¡¯t be ashamed of survival, little comrade.¡±

    Ilyusha hissed disgust between clenched teeth.

    Vicky said: ¡°Are there truly no other options? No other way?¡± She laughed. The sound worried Elpida. ¡°I always wanted to go vegetarian, but ¡­ ¡±

    Kagami answered, ¡°Of course there¡¯s no other way! There¡¯s nothing else alive on this rock but us! Not even plants.¡±

    Vicky shook her head. ¡°What about all the bio-film stuff? The black rot we¡¯ve seen? Some of that stuff fills whole rooms. Isn¡¯t everything made from nanomachines? Can¡¯t we eat that?¡±

    Serin said, ¡°You are what you eat.¡±

    Kagami snorted, ¡°What, you¡¯ll turn into a building? May as well! Can¡¯t get more absurd down here.¡±

    Serin shrugged. ¡°Low energy. A zombie would have to eat more of structural nanites than a body could hold. We need them in high-energy states. The blue ¡ª or the flesh. Eat concrete? Worse than sucking air like a filter feeder.¡± Her red-glowing eyes turned to Pira again; Pira stared back with open contempt.

    Vicky said, ¡°The blue, right! The raw nanos. We can drink that, we can live off that!¡±

    Atyle spoke from the floor: ¡°Only from the graves. Each one a risk. Each one a trial.¡±

    Serin pointed at Atyle. ¡°Yes. Raw blue is good. High demand. But only on tomb refills.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°No. There is another way. You¡¯ve been around long enough to know.¡±

    Serin grinned wide behind her mask: ¡°Utopian madness.¡±

    ¡°It is possible to get inside a graveworm.¡±

    ¡°Fool.¡±

    ¡°It is possible. It can be done. It will be done.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Serin?¡±

    ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°Do you eat other people? Do you eat human flesh?¡±

    Serin answered by spreading her limbs: a dozen spindly-white mushroom-pale arms emerged from beneath her black robes; she stretched upward until the hunch-back hump straightened out and her head almost brushed the ceiling; that infrasound hum Elpida had noticed earlier intensified in volume, throbbing through the air. The dull red-tinted light from the single frosted window caught in her eyes, red-on-red.

    Kagami spat: ¡°Of course she fucking does, you moron! Look at her!¡±

    Vicky shook her head. ¡°I-I-I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t eat other people, I can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Pira snapped: ¡°You do not have to participate. Don¡¯t listen to her.¡±

    Serin said, ¡°Yes. Your choice. Lie down and die.¡±

    Elpida raised her hands out wide, to include everybody. She raised her voice, level and calm. ¡°We¡¯re all wounded and it keeps getting worse with every encounter, every fight. One way or another, we have to eat.¡±

    Vicky shook her head. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. Elpi, we can¡¯t. I won¡¯t.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°We¡¯re all starving! You all heard her!¡±

    Ilyusha hissed: ¡°Gotta eat, gotta eat ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Vicky, I¡¯m not suggesting we act like predators. Nobody is suggesting we start preying on the vulnerable or attacking other groups for food. I understand, I agree, and I won¡¯t ask you to do that. Serin ¡ª when you spoke to me earlier, you specifically said ¡®eat our kills¡¯. Did you mean that?¡±

    Serin tilted her head at Elpida. ¡°Mm, you understand. I do not kill to eat ¡ª I only eat my kills. There is a difference. Last night you left fresh corpses untouched. You killed them ¡ª and then nothing. Left them for carrion. Wasted.¡±

    Vicky lit up with sick relief. ¡°The corpses from last night! Yes! We could eat¡ª I mean, we could, but ¡­ ¡±

    Serin shook her head. ¡°Too long. Gone by now. In the bellies of early birds.¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°Right. Because everyone¡¯s competing for meat.¡±

    Elpida said, firmly but gently: ¡°For nanomachines. Not the meat itself.¡±

    Vicky nodded along. ¡°Right. Right.¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°Even the gods eat other gods. Truly we are worms.¡±

    Kagami laughed. ¡°Dog eat dog! Zombie eat zombie! Fuck it, why not?¡±

    Serin relaxed her posture. She withdrew most of her arms back inside her robes, resumed her hunchbacked stoop, and stopped humming. But a grin creased the corners of her eyes.

    ¡°A gift.¡±

    Serin produced a bundle from inside her robes and tossed it into the middle of the floor. It landed with a wet squelch.

    Severed heads.

    Five human heads, inside a loose net of ropes. Each head was missing the lower jaw, the tongue, and both eyeballs; but muscles twitched around the empty sockets and in the remains of the cheeks.

    Amina cried out in a soft whimper and clung to Ilyusha; the heavily augmented girl just rolled her eyes and snorted. Vicky held a hand to her mouth and made a retching sound. Kagami went pale and green. Pira stared with open disgust. Atyle just looked, unmoved. Elpida felt her stomach turn over with nausea ¡ª but also with a terrible hunger.

    ¡°Oh my God,¡± Vicky said. ¡°They¡¯re still ¡­ they¡¯re alive? They¡¯re m-moving, twitching, oh ¡­ oh fu¡ª¡±

    Vicky turned away and vomited, but there was almost nothing in her stomach. She spat bile onto the floor.

    Kagami made a choking sound too, but she didn¡¯t vomit. She spat drool. ¡°W-why ¡­ why heads? Why heads?¡±

    ¡°Brains,¡± said Serin.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Brains. Best place. High-energy, high-activity nanomachines. If you won¡¯t eat flesh, eat brains.¡±

    Ilyusha spat on the floor. ¡°True. Works.¡±

    Kagami started laughing, slowly at first, then building toward a panting hysteria. ¡°Brain! Hahaha, fuck. Brains. Brains!¡±

    Serin withdrew all her hands inside her robes again. ¡°Decide for yourselves. Eat or die.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Who were these people?¡±

    Vicky was doubled over, hanging onto the wall: ¡°They¡¯re still alive, Elpi.¡±

    ¡°Are,¡± Elpida corrected herself. ¡°Serin, who are these people? You told me you hunt the death cult. Are these people from them?¡±

    Serin shook her head. ¡°Following you. Not death cult. But working for them, for promise of pay.¡± Serin wasn¡¯t grinning. ¡°Work for monsters, you are monsters. No quarter.¡±

    Pira echoed, ¡°Monsters.¡± She sounded unconvinced.

    Elpida said: ¡°What¡¯s ¡®pay¡¯, in this context?¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Meat! What else?¡±

    Serin shook her head. ¡°Raw blue. Portable. Easier than flesh.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Why are the ¡®death cult¡¯ after us? Last night, they were trying to take us alive ¡ª take me alive. Why?¡±

    Serin shrugged. ¡°You are interesting. Eat, and keep being interesting. I will watch.¡±

    Without another word, Serin folded herself up and stepped backward out of the door. Her robes blended with the shadows in the corridor. She whispered away without a goodbye.

    Elpida leapt after her. She turned as she moved, pointing toward the twitching heads on the floor and flicking a finger across the others. ¡°Ilyusha, cover those with a coat. Atyle, help Vicky. Kagami, sit down, breathe. Pira ¡ª we¡¯ll talk. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    Elpida hurried out into the corridor. A hissing argument broke out behind her ¡ª Pira snapping, Ilyusha snapping back, Vicky stammering in horror. But Elpida couldn¡¯t allow this source of information to slip away.

    Serin was only a few paces down the corridor, wreathed in shadows. Elpida caught up with her. ¡°Serin, I have questions, please listen to me.¡±

    The hulking revenant stopped and turned around. Her blood-red eyes were creased with fresh amusement.

    Elpida said: ¡°What do you know about the combat frame?¡±

    Serin raised her eyebrows. ¡°Nothing?¡±

    ¡°The object which fell from orbit. You must know that¡¯s what we¡¯re trying to reach. If this ¡®death cult¡¯ wants me alive, they may know about it. They may be trying to capture me so they can use it.¡±

    ¡°Orbital impact. Right at the edge of the worm¡¯s cradle. Dangerous place. Worm-guard, maybe. Perhaps worse.¡±

    ¡°We met one of those,¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°I know. I shot at it.¡±

    Elpida blinked. ¡°That was you? Thank you. Serin, you saved us twice. It doesn¡¯t quite make up for shooting me before, but thank you.¡±

    ¡°Mm. No thanks. Sport.¡±

    ¡°Serin, why not come with us? We stand a better chance of reaching the combat frame with a more competent group. We¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your little comrade, ashamed of what she eats. Pira, fool, too noble to live long. And Kagami, huh.¡± Serin grinned wide beneath her mask. ¡°She¡¯s been at your raw blue. Smell it on her. Growing new parts beneath your nose. Good luck, Elpida. Don¡¯t eat each other.¡±

    Serin turned and whispered away down the corridor again, leaving Elpida behind.

    ¡°Serin, please. If¡ª¡±

    ¡°If you want to touch the stars, false Necromancer, first bury your snout in meat.¡±

 astrum - 6.4

    Serin left, a hunchbacked giant melting into the red-tinted gloom.

    Elpida turned and hurried back to the refuge ¡ª too late; by the time she stepped through the door the argument was raging beyond control.

    ¡°¡ªlied to us!¡± Kagami was spitting at Pira, words clenched between her teeth. ¡°What else have you lied about?! Feel like confessing? Filling us in on all the rest of the sordid details you oh-so-conveniently left out? But you won¡¯t, will you? Because you¡¯ve got other plans for us.¡±

    Vicky moaned softly: ¡°Kaga, stop. Please, just stop.¡±

    Nobody had done as Elpida had ordered. Kagami was still on her feet, sagging against a wall; Atyle had not helped Vicky ¡ª she was just sat there watching the show; Vicky was doubled over, stringy bile hanging from her lips, staring at Serin¡¯s gift; Ilyusha had not covered the severed heads with a spare coat, but was clutching Amina, her eyes downcast and defeated.

    Pira faced Kagami, arms folded, face shuttered. ¡°I have not lied about anything.¡±

    ¡°By omission!¡± Kagami snapped. She pointed at Pira, punctuating her words with jabs of her finger. ¡°Look! Look at her! Think about it! Everything we know about our situation comes from her mouth, from what she told us. The rest of us have no idea what¡¯s really going on. She could have spun any tale she likes to keep us from asking too much.¡±

    Elpida stepped forward, commanding the space and raising her voice: ¡°Kagami, stop, right¡ª¡±

    Kagami raged on. ¡°All that shit about graveworms and safe zones, all of it could be so much bullshit. We have no way of knowing ¡ª except you.¡± She sneered ¡ª at Ilyusha. ¡°And you¡¯re not telling us anything useful either, you brain-damaged borged-up berserker cripple!¡±

    Ilyusha raised her head and showed her teeth. One red-clawed foot stamped on the floor, puncturing the plastic. ¡°Fucking reptile! Say that again!¡±

    Vicky moaned, ¡°Please, please stop, we can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Elpida raised both hands and risked a shout: ¡°Ilyusha, down, now. Kagami, stop¡ª¡±

    Kagami pulled a silvery oblong from one coat pocket and brandished it in her left hand; it was one of the inactive drones she¡¯d taken from the armoury.

    ¡°I¡¯m not fucking afraid of you!¡± she shouted, red in the face and spewing spittle. Then to Ilyusha: ¡°You either, you fucking midget!¡±

    Ilyusha let go of Amina and clicked forward on her claws. Her tail arced up, cutting the air with that sharp red tip.

    Elpida moved fast: she closed with Kagami in two paces, pinned her left wrist against the wall with a sharp slap of flesh on concrete, and tore the inactive drone from her fingers. Kagami was too shocked to resist, recoiling and gaping. Her knees threatened to give out ¡ª but before she could slip to the floor, Elpida caught her under the chin and forced Kagami to look up at her.

    ¡°Stop. Or I will discipline you.¡±

    Kagami just panted. She was so tiny compared to Elpida¡¯s height and musculature. ¡°Uh¡ª uhh¡ª uh¡ª¡±

    ¡°Will you stop?¡±

    A jerky nod.

    ¡°Kagami, breathe. Breathe in, then out. There you go. Now, sit.¡±

    Elpida let go. Kagami slid to the floor, clutching her bruised wrist and panting for breath, her long black hair all matted to her forehead and face. Elpida resisted the urge to look over her shoulder at Ilyusha; it was always better to give the impression that she did not doubt her comrades for a second. She trusted Ilyusha at her back. She would not suggest otherwise.

    ¡°Kagami,¡± she said. Kagami flinched. ¡°Follow my orders, or I will make you follow my orders. Do you understand?¡±

    The words tasted like ash, spent long ago; Elpida was not Commander to her companions. Commander Elpida would only get everyone killed, just like her cadre. But right now she wielded the authority, however rusted and ruined, to avert worse outcomes.

    Kagami nodded.

    Elpida held up the drone. It was heavy for its small size. ¡°Have you figured out how to activate these?¡±

    ¡°N-no. No. But I ¡­ I might.¡±

    ¡°If you can power it up, will you use it against us? Will you use it against Pira?¡±

    Kagami swallowed. Her eyes darted from Elpida¡¯s face, across the room, searching the others.

    Elpida put a whip crack into her voice, ¡°Answer the question.¡±

    Kagami flinched. ¡°Pira is a traitor.¡±

    ¡°Wrong answer.¡±

    ¡°She¡ª¡±

    Elpida crouched so she was eye level with Kagami. ¡°Promise me you will not point a weapon at any of your si¡ª¡±

    Sisters. The word almost slipped out. But they were not sisters ¡ª not like her cadre.

    Kagami frowned. Elpida tried again: ¡°Promise me you will not point a weapon at any of us.¡±

    Across the room, Atyle chuckled softly. ¡°Promises, warrior? Words are wind, flowing and gone.¡±

    Elpida ignored that. She knew Kagami¡¯s type. A real promise would carry weight. ¡°Kagami. Promise me.¡±

    Almond-shaped eyes burned with wounded humiliation. Elpida saw she needed to go deeper. She leaned in close; Kagami flinched, but there was nowhere to retreat except through the wall. Elpida allowed cheek to brush against cheek.

    She whispered: ¡°Kagami, I would like to trust you. I know you drank three cannisters of the raw nanomachines, last night¡ª¡±

    Kagami whimpered. ¡°No ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not angry. I¡¯m confused. I gave you permission to do that, to drink what you needed. There was no need to hide it. But I want to trust you. If you have doubts about Pira, we can discuss them. But you cannot do this in front of the group, not when we have to deal with issues of survival. I need to deal with those severed heads ¡ª to secure our resources, quickly. Not get bogged down in discipline issues. Do you understand?¡±

    Kagami hiccuped softly. Then she nodded.

    Elpida added: ¡°Promise me.¡±

    ¡°F-fine. Fuck you, Elpida. I promise. No pointing guns. Get off me!¡±

    Elpida leaned back. She pressed the silvery drone back into Kagami¡¯s left hand. Kagami tried to flinch away from the contact, but Elpida made a point of holding Kagami¡¯s grip for a second; her hand was hot and sweaty. Then Elpida let go and stood up.

    Ilyusha was watching, head tilted to one side, sullen and dull-eyed. Her tail was down, her claws retracted.

    Elpida said: ¡°Illy, I need you to do something for me. Are you comfortable handling the severed heads?¡±

    Ilyusha shrugged. ¡°Guess so.¡±

    ¡°I need you to wrap them in a coat or a spare t-shirt, then take them into the next room ¡ª the first door on your right when you exit into the corridor. It¡¯s a much smaller room with a couple of desks. I need you to put the heads on one of the desks. Leave them wrapped up. Can you do that for me?¡±

    Ilyusha snorted, but she did as Elpida asked: she crossed to the backpacks, extracted a spare coat, then wrapped up the heads and their string-net bag in a loose bundle. Amina followed at her heels, but avoided looking directly at Serin¡¯s gory gift.

    When Ilyusha left the room, Kagami almost laughed, and said: ¡°Don¡¯t sneak a bite.¡±

    Elpida turned back to the others. ¡°Vicky, sit down. Take one of the chairs. That¡¯s an order.¡±

    ¡°O-okay. Sure. Sure thing, Elpi. Sure.¡± Vicky sat heavily, hunched forward, hanging her head. Then she mumbled: ¡°Oh God, oh God, I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m hungry. Why am I hungry? Uh ¡­ ¡± She made a soft retching sound. Her dark skin was shiny with sweat.

    Elpida filled her lungs to give herself a moment to think. She felt that clenching hunger as well, the tingle of salivary glands and the desire to bite into soft, yielding protein. Necessary cannibalism was not a shock for her ¡ª but for the others that hunger and its inevitable solution might undermine their morale to the point of destruction. To leave each of her sisters ¡ª her comrades, she corrected herself ¡ª to their own decisions or actions would invite a dozen different kinds of potential disaster. She had to shepherd them through this, to one end or another. Together they might endure. Left alone with hunger and choice, they may shatter.

    She put the confidence of command into her voice, though she felt little: ¡°I won¡¯t repeat what Serin has already said. I¡¯m going to take personal custody of her gift, and¡ª¡±

    Pira said: ¡°Of severed human heads. Call them what they are.¡±

    Vicky groaned.

    Kagami laughed. ¡°Brains.¡±

    Elpida stayed calm. ¡°I am going to take custody of the gift. I have the strongest constitution when it comes to dealing with human remains, so I will take the responsibility of preparing them.¡±

    Vicky moaned: ¡°Why am I hungry? Oh fuck¡ª fuck, I¡¯m¡ª¡± Her stomach rumbled. She made a slurping sound. ¡°I¡¯m d-drooling ¡­ no ¡­ ¡±

    Across the room, another stomach rumbled: Atyle. She laughed softly. ¡°It seems the gods have given me hunger, too. Flesh presents, and moves other flesh.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°I refuse to participate. Vicky, you don¡¯t have to do this, you don¡¯t have to be part of this. Atyle, you as well. I¡¯m going for a walk. Come with me.¡±

    Atyle just watched, amused at the corners of her mouth. Vicky looked up, wide-eyed and panting. ¡°What? Sorry?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going for a walk,¡± Pira repeated. ¡°Come with me.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Wait, Pira. What do you mean, a walk?¡±

    ¡°A walk.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°Around. Vicky, come with me.¡±

    Vicky glanced at Elpida, confused and blinking. ¡°I-I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    But Kagami spoke first: ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her! Pira is either a traitor or an idiot who refuses to survive. Go with her and she¡¯ll probably gut you herself.¡±

    Vicky shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª Kaga, stop, please.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Stay right there!¡±

    Pira was already slinging her submachine gun and walking to the door. She ignored Elpida¡¯s protest and Vicky¡¯s stammered question. As she slipped out into the corridor, Elpida went after her. A flicker of flame-red hair flowed in the gloom.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Pira! Pira, where are you going?¡±

    Pira paused, very still with her back to Elpida. ¡°For a walk.¡±

    ¡°Are you leaving the group?¡±

    Pira said nothing.

    Elpida repeated herself: ¡°Pira, are you leaving the group?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡°Will you talk to me and argue your position? If there¡¯s something I don¡¯t yet understand, some intel I¡¯m lacking, some reason we shouldn¡¯t eat those brains, I will listen.¡±

    Pira spoke low and soft: ¡°It always starts with carrion. You tell yourself you have no choice. They¡¯re already dead. You need to survive. And you¡¯re right ¡ª those heads aren¡¯t really alive. Their occupants have long since fled. The twitching is just electrical ghosts. But then you get the taste. The habit. It becomes easier.¡±

    ¡°Pira. Listen to me. I won¡¯t kill to eat. I won¡¯t be a predator. We need to get everyone through this, we need to stick together. If we can reach the combat frame¡ª¡±

    ¡°The only option is not to participate.¡±

    ¡°I respect that. I won¡¯t force you to do anything. Will you come back?¡±

    ¡°In a bit.¡±

    ¡°Stay away from the windows. Be safe, Pira.¡±

    ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    Pira walked off in near silence. She slipped around the nearest corner and vanished into the depths of the building.

    Amina and Ilyusha watched from the next doorway along, a pair of pale little faces. Amina bit her lower lip, clinging to Ilyusha¡¯s side.

    Ilyusha snorted. ¡°Just another kind of reptile.¡±

    Elpida took personal custody of the severed heads ¡ª alone, separate, in private.

    She left the others together in the refuge, now that she was reasonably sure the argument had been defused. She asked them to wait a few minutes while she dealt with the grisly necessities. Her plan was half-formed and poorly communicated, her thoughts blurred by the pain of healing wounds and the pangs of hunger in her belly; but this task could not wait, this question could not be left to fester unexpressed in fearful minds.

    This way, the others would not have to see the worst of it, and there would be privacy for those who wished; Elpida would be present for anybody who needed company. It was all she could do.

    They needed to eat, and they needed to do it now, more for psychological than physiological reasons.

    The room next to the refuge was tiny, with layers of ancient paint on the walls and two desks crammed in back-to-back. One desk held the gutted shell of a personal computer terminal. The other held the coat-wrapped bundle.

    No windows; when Elpida closed the door she was plunged into darkness. Her eyes adjusted instantly.

    Elpida sat down at the desk. The chair creaked beneath her weight ¡ª wood. Another obscenity.

    She peeled back the coat and laid out the severed heads.

    Eyeless, jawless, their tongues removed. Gaping raw holes stared at nothing. Scraps of hair clung to their scalps. They didn¡¯t bleed from the ragged wounds of their necks; the blood was already dry and sticky. They twitched and flexed what muscles they had left in their faces, but they did not seem to respond to Elpida¡¯s touch. Perhaps Pira had told the truth ¡ª the inhabitants of this meat had already left.

    Elpida tucked her long white hair down the back of her armoured coat. She selected a head and put the others to one side. She drew her combat knife. She hoped that the blade from the tomb armoury was up to the task ¡ª carbon steel, perhaps better. If not, this work would ruin the weapon.

    She picked up the head and whispered into its left ear: ¡°I¡¯m sorry this has happened to you. Hurry home to your sisters. Hurry home soon.¡±

    The head ¡ª the revenant, what was left of her ¡ª did not react.

    Elpida got to work.

    She used her knife to cut the soft palate and split the hard palate from below, punching through thin bone with all her strength; her fractured wrist made the task more difficult. She used the hilt to crack the cranium, the forehead, and the delicate bones of the face; the popping, crunching sound echoed in the tiny, dark room. The head stopped twitching. The scalp barely bled at all, slow and sticky. She levered the skull apart, first with blade, then with fingers. The bones cracked. She cut the meninges and the cranial nerve attachments. She used her bare hands to extract the prize.

    A pinkish grey blob, wrinkly and still warm. She placed it carefully on a spare t-shirt. The air smelled of fat and blood. Elpida¡¯s mouth watered. Her stomach cramped.

    Was the brain still alive? How were these heads still twitching with activity, when she had died at the Silico¡¯s hands outside the tomb? Was it density of nanomachines, or something else which kept them going? If she had let go while dead, would her body have writhed like these severed heads?

    Elpida repeated the process with the other four skulls. She whispered the same cadre prayer to every one of them. She lined up the bone fragments as she went, keeping them together.

    As she worked, Elpida heard a pair of distant gunshots ¡ª far away, beyond the walls, beyond other buildings. Serin¡¯s rifle. Was she hunting, too? Elpida hoped she was not shooting at Pira.

    When she was done she had five fresh brains, liberated from their former owners.

    Her hands were covered in sticky red gore. Her mouth was watering so much she had to keep swallowing to save from drooling; her nanomachine metabolism had woken up, asleep since she had climbed out of that metal coffin in the tomb.

    She felt very far from that resurrection chamber now ¡ª from the clean metal, her own fresh skin, and the blue glow of nanomachine miracles. Now she was cutting up brains with a combat knife, in a tiny dark room, her hands covered in greasy blood, her ears filled with the cracking of bones, her stomach rumbling for obscene meat.

    But it was all part of the same process, the same system, or ecosystem. She saw that now. Tombs and graveworms full of nanomachines, more than any one revenant could ever need. These dead women she had just filleted, they had also been reborn in those machines, against their will. And so many like them were scuttling in the ruins, eating each other for scraps.

    Born to live, to eat, to feel this hunger for each other¡¯s flesh, to ¡­ want?

    To want.

    The gravekeeper¡¯s self-designation. Want.

    Philosophise as much as she liked, but Elpida could not ignore her hunger.

    She licked her fingers clean. She couldn¡¯t taste much except the muted iron tang of dry blood. Her hands were trembling. It was not enough.

    Elpida picked up her combat knife again and cut a small chunk of pinkish-grey meat from one of the brains. She raised it toward her mouth on the tip of the blade. Drool ran down her chin. She was panting. The smell was intoxicating ¡ª meaty-creamy, rich and dark, blood-red and hot and¡ª

    ¡°Found your rations at last, wind-up soldier?¡±

    Elpida froze. The voice was inside her head, amused and laughing, but devoid of tone and timbre.

    ¡°Graveworm? Graveworm?¡± Elpida¡¯s rasping breath filled the cramped darkness. ¡°Graveworm!¡±

    ¡°Trying to get my attention like this. That¡¯s what she would have done. What she always did. Too aggressive for most girls. It¡¯s been so long.¡±

    ¡°Graveworm, I can hear you. Are you talking to me?¡±

    ¡°Not really. It¡¯s not as if you¡¯ll commit. Promise me flowers but treat me like a mushroom. But you never did that. Wait, no ¡­ I ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Graveworm, what¡¯s your name? Mine is Elpida.¡±

    A long pause. Darkness. Hunger. The smell of brains and blood.

    Then: ¡°Elpida? No. You¡¯re not.¡±

    ¡°Graveworm? What¡¯s your name? Graveworm? Graveworm?¡±

    Silence.

    Elpida thought she might go mad, but she said it anyway. She whispered it.

    ¡°Howl?¡±

    Nothing.

    She waited for several minutes, but there was no further reply. She lowered the combat knife and the quivering morsel of brain; she exerted her will upon her trembling body.

    Eating alone, in the dark, driven by darker desires. Howl would be ashamed of her. Howl would tell her this plan was nonsense. Howl would be correct.

    Elpida wrapped the brains in the t-shirt. She picked up the greasy wet bundle in one hand, carried her combat knife in the other, and returned to the refuge.

    Everyone looked up when she entered. Kagami was slumped where she had fallen, but Vicky had moved to sit next to her; they had been in the middle of talking in low, private voices. Ilyusha and Amina sat not too far away ¡ª Ilyusha was sulky and quiet, Amina nervous and clutching her friend¡¯s clawed bionic hand. Atyle was serene and distant, straight-backed, relaxed.

    Vicky said: ¡°Elpi? I thought you said you were gonna call us, thump on the wall, or ¡­ oh, oh fuck.¡±

    Kagami hissed: ¡°Look away if you have to, you idiot.¡±

    Elpida sat down and laid the t-shirt on the floor. She peeled it open. Vicky looked away, but Kagami stared, dead-eyed and drawn. Ilyusha snorted without humour. Amina bit her lower lip. Atyle watched, curious and detached

    Elpida lifted her combat knife and ate the chunk of brain matter.

    It was soft and creamy, more like firm scrambled eggs than meat. The taste was savoury, bloody, and raw. She chewed and swallowed. Her hunger craved more. She put down her knife.

    ¡°In my cadre, with my sisters, we ate together. We transgressed together. I had thought that privacy would be easier on all of us ¡ª us here, I mean. Now I believe that was a mistake.¡± She gestured at the brains. ¡°If this is necessary for survival, I will not be ashamed of it.¡±

    Kagami started laughing softly. Vicky made a nauseated sound. Ilyusha groaned something under her breath.

    Elpida went on. ¡°No, I¡¯m serious. These people were already dead ¡ª or at least as good as dead. I will not kill to eat, but I will eat to live. If this is what we have to do to survive, then that is a choice each of us will have to make. You don¡¯t have to eat here. You don¡¯t have to eat at all. If you want to go next door and eat in private, you can. Nobody is going to stop you. If you wish to take Pira¡¯s route, you can do that as well.¡± Elpida took the gamble: ¡°But I would prefer that you all eat here, together, in front of each other. There will be no judgement. No snide remarks. No insults.¡±

    Ilyusha made a soft ¡®pffft¡¯ sound with her lips.

    Vicky said, voice shaking: ¡°Fucking hell, Elpi. It¡¯s human meat. How can we do that and keep being ourselves afterwards?¡±

    Elpida put real confidence into her voice. It was her only handhold.

    ¡°I intend to reach the fallen combat frame. I intend to pursue Pira¡¯s quest of accessing the inside of the graveworm. Whatever is really happening here, whatever this system of nanomachines is set up to achieve, it is making us eat each other. Breaking into a graveworm, finding the Necromancers in the towers ¡ª maybe that¡¯s a way to end it, or to change it somehow. I don¡¯t know. Vicky, I won¡¯t pretend to know for sure. But I think that is a good reason to eat, to stay alive, and to keep going. If this necessary cannibalism disgusts you, then I promise: one of my goals will be to end it.¡±

    Elpida felt relief as she saw the stiffening effect her words had on the others. Ilyusha looked a little less ashamed. Kagami sighed, resigned. Vicky nodded, even if slowly.

    Fine words for a fine intent. But for now they were just seven ¡ª no, six girls, sitting on the floor in a dim room in a ruined city full of walking corpses, eating brains.

    Ilyusha and Amina ate first, with little trepidation. Ilyusha guided Amina to the t-shirt on the floor, then ate with one hand, gouging chunks of pink-grey meat from the brains with her red claws. She didn¡¯t look up as she chewed.

    ¡°Illy,¡± Elpida said. ¡°There¡¯s no shame in survival.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    Amina used two fingers, pinching carefully as if the meat was dirty, eating only what Ilyusha passed to her. She ate little ¡ª but she did eat, without disgust. Whenever she paused Ilyusha nudged her to keep chewing.

    ¡°There¡¯s five brains and seven of us,¡± Elpida explained. She took her own share slowly, with the point of her knife, taking care to pay attention to her hunger and how fast it was sated. ¡°That¡¯s approximately a seventh of a brain each.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°What about Pira? She¡¯s ¡®one of us¡¯, yes? She doesn¡¯t want her share. Made that clear enough.¡±

    ¡°A seventh of a brain each. For now.¡±

    Atyle ate with amused dignity, showing no hesitation at consuming human flesh. She pared pieces of brain off with a spare knife, eating it like fruit, licking the juices from her fingers with little pops and slurps. She sat across from Elpida and watched her in return.

    Kagami cut tiny pieces at arm¡¯s length, placing them in her mouth with shaking hands and swallowing without chewing. She kept sneaking little glances at Elpida.

    But Vicky had a problem. She just stared.

    Elpida did not let her suffer alone. ¡°Vicky? You don¡¯t have to eat if you don¡¯t want to. You don¡¯t even have to watch.¡±

    Vicky slurped down a mouthful of her own saliva, then wiped her chin. ¡°It¡¯s not that. This ¡­ this isn¡¯t my first rodeo.¡±

    Kagami snorted with laughter. ¡°Really? You really are pre-republic, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Elpida asked: ¡°Your first what?¡±

    Vicky swallowed more saliva. Her stomach rumbled. She answered in a halting voice, staring at the grisly meal: ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve eaten human being.¡±

    Elpida glanced at the others. Atyle was listening in alert curiosity. Ilyusha had tilted her head too. Kagami was no longer laughing.

    ¡°Vicky?¡± Elpida said. ¡°Do you want to share?¡±

    ¡°When I was little. Nine, maybe ten, I don¡¯t remember.¡± Vicky¡¯s voice was very far away. ¡°When we were in the first camp, south of Chicago. There was a famine, I guess ¡ª well, they called it a famine, but there was plenty of grain coming up the Mississippi, up the canals. Everybody knew it. The arcology, they had their ¡®humanitarian nutrient blocks¡¯, but oh no, no no, that was only for citizens.¡± She shook her head. ¡°And you weren¡¯t no citizen if you didn¡¯t have your papers. Nobody in the camps had papers. My family had been there since before the old empire, as far we knew. But no papers.¡± She swallowed hard. ¡°I got sick that winter. Flu, or something. Parents didn¡¯t have much food, just thin gruel, shitty oats. People died in the camp all the time, got forgotten in their tents. Or got murdered. Plenty of meat there. I remember them arguing ¡ª my parents, I mean. Badly. Dad won the argument. Mum had a black eye.¡± Vicky took a deep breath, let it out slowly. ¡°But then the next day there was meat in the gruel. Not much. They didn¡¯t eat it. Saved it all for me.¡±

    Elpida reached over and squeezed Vicky¡¯s shoulder. Vicky looked down at her lap.

    Vicky said, ¡°They never told me, later. Figured maybe they thought I¡¯d not remember. Happier not remembering.¡±

    Kagami hissed: ¡°You fucking moron.¡±

    Vicky looked up, blinking. ¡°W-what? I¡ª¡±

    Elpida jumped in. ¡°Kagami, no¡ª¡±

    Kagami snapped, ignoring Elpida. ¡°Never be ashamed of survival. You pre-republic animals did what you could. Like being ashamed of living in the dark ages, huh!¡± She jabbed a finger at the brains. ¡°Now, you going to eat or starve? Come on. Make a choice.¡±

    Vicky ate. Slowly, at Kagami¡¯s urging, she ate. She retched once, but kept it down.

    As Vicky chewed and swallowed, Atyle spoke up. ¡°The reluctant one here is not the only habitual cannibal among us. I too have tasted the flesh. Twice ever.¡±

    Elpida frowned. ¡°As have I. That makes three of us, out of seven. Is that a coincidence?¡± She looked around at the others and caught the haunted spark in Ilyusha¡¯s flat grey eyes. ¡°Illy?¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s lips curled in disgust. ¡°Gotta eat to live.¡±

    ¡°But, before this? Before being resurrected for the first time?¡±

    Ilyusha looked at the floor. She didn¡¯t want to talk about it.

    Atyle purred: ¡°Aha. That makes four. And the little rabbit?¡± She gestured toward Amina. ¡°I would wager a fifth. What of you, moon spirit?¡±

    Kagami scowled back. ¡°I was raised on solid food, grown in real soil. I was not pipe-fed on recyc tank slurry. No, you dirt-mated womb-born, I¡¯ve never eaten human flesh before.¡±

    Atyle smiled. ¡°Can you be certain?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Did your guardians and attendants never lie to you, not once? Your mother? Your father?¡±

    Kagami paused. Her eyes wandered down to the brains. ¡°No. No, he would never. I was never fed recyc. Never, never ¡­ ¡±

    Atyle looked at Elpida. ¡°Coincidence, warrior?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°That seems unlikely. What about Pira? If she¡¯s the odd one out ¡­ ¡±

    All cannibals in life, at least briefly. Elpida could not imagine what that meant. Selected for likelihood they would survive by preying on others? Or was this just a quirk of this single group, some criteria that had no greater meaning?

    Kagami snorted. ¡°We¡¯re all zombies now. That¡¯s all it means. If Pira wants to fu¡ª¡±

    Brrrrrrrt.

    From deep in the belly of the structure: the sound of a submachine gun discharge, full-auto, trigger down.

 astrum - 6.5

    ¡°Everybody up! Grab our gear, stow the food, be ready to move. Vicky, Atyle, stay here with Kagami and Amina. Get in the doorway and watch the ends of the corridor, don¡¯t get pinned down. If something happens, make your way to the ground floor, to the front, where we came in. We¡¯ll regroup there. Illy, with me!¡±

    Elpida leapt to her feet, grabbed her submachine gun, and bolted out into the corridor. Ilyusha¡¯s talons scrabbled against the floor, then followed with a rapid clicking of metal.

    -rrrrt!

    The distant sound of gunfire cut out. Elpida kept moving at a rapid combat walk, weapon tucked tight against her shoulder, muzzle panning over every doorway and shadow. Ilyusha took her lead without the need for orders, covering Elpida¡¯s brief blind spots with her rotary shotgun.

    Pira was shooting; Pira needed backup. Elpida would respond ¡ª but she was hyper-aware of potential ambushes, of tricks and traps to draw her out.

    She would not fall for that again. Her senses felt sharp and clear, her belly full of meat, her body re-energised by the grisly meal of cold grey matter.

    Brrrrrrt!

    Another burst of gunfire. Ground floor. At the rear.

    Elpida hit the stairs. Tall windows flooded the stairwell with gloom-thick light. She hurried down, leading with her gun at the corners, boots slapping on the plastic flooring, echoing down into the empty reaches. Ilyusha leapt the bannister, sticking her gun into doorways, sometimes a pace ahead, other times a pace behind, always turning and watching and twitching. Elpida was relieved that even after the terrible revelations and arguments about feeding, Ilyusha did not hesitate.

    The ground floor of the structure was dimmer and darker than the upper two floors, sunk in the shadows of the neighbouring buildings, graced by only a few stray slivers of choking red. Elpida hurried past yawning nooks, plunging along umbral corridors, passing through shafts of bloody sunlight.

    She hissed, over and over: ¡°Pira! Pira! Answer me! Pira!¡±

    The rearmost area of the ground floor was semi-ruined: corridors lay collapsed in jumbles of breeze block and clinging bio-film mats of black nano-gunk. These passages had once led into a large two-story one-room extension at the rear of the structure ¡ª perhaps some kind of sports hall or religious gathering space or sparring ground. Elpida had ignored the ruined section when she had scouted the inside of the building; the jumble of fallen masonry, twisted metal girders, and shattered roof sections was impassible. But a small section of it was still accessible and intact, beyond a pair of double doors at the end of a long corridor.

    Elpida signalled for Ilyusha to pause at the doors. She eased one side open, hinges creaking in the silence; she peered through, muzzle-first. Nothing moved. Red sunlight trickled down from the fallen roof above. She slipped through with Ilyusha at her heels.

    The ruined hall was a huge space. Most of the roof was gone. Fully half of the walls had collapsed into a tangle of metal and shattered breeze block. Barely twenty feet of clear ground lay between the double doors and a near-impassible hill of rubble and razor-sharp scrap.

    Brass casings littered the crescent clearing ¡ª two whole magazines worth, if Elpida had to guess.

    And standing in the middle of the space, facing away from the doors, calmly reloading a magazine from the pouches on her webbing, was¡ª

    ¡°Pira,¡± Elpida said. ¡°We heard gunfire. What¡¯s happening?¡±

    Pira¡¯s flame-red hair caught in the dark light, dyed umber and bronze. The black and grey of her flak jacket and bullet-proof vest blended her with the rubble and ruin. She grabbed another handful of bullets. Her fingers slid them into the magazine: click-click-click-click.

    She did not turn around.

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    Ilyusha stalked forward, tail rigid, hands swinging her shotgun left to right. She grimaced. ¡°Reptile cunt¡¯s lost it.¡±

    Elpida kept her hands on her own submachine gun. She scanned the rubble. There was nothing. ¡°Pira, what were you shooting at?¡±

    Click-click-click-click went the bullets into the magazine. Pira shrugged beneath her body armour. ¡°Driving off a curious scavenger. Nothing important.¡±

    Ilyusha gave Elpida a look, peeling back her lips and shaking her head, blonde hair waving in the faint wind through the ruins. Elpida chopped sideways with one hand ¡ª no. If Pira was having some kind of emotional breakdown, Elpida did not want Ilyusha to be the one voicing concern or provoking a reaction.

    Elpida spoke slowly and clearly: ¡°Pira, you said we need to maintain stealth, and I agree with you. Gunfire may have attracted attention. If you were warning off another revenant, then good work, good job. We may need to move now. How many¡ª¡±

    Pira turned around. Stone-faced, eyes the blue of a frozen sky. Her fingers flickered ¡ª click-click-click-click. ¡°A scavenger came through the ruins. I shot at her. She left.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted: ¡°Lotta fuckin¡¯ bullets.¡±

    Two full magazines? Ilyusha had a point. Elpida didn¡¯t say it out loud, but Pira wasn¡¯t stupid; she must have known her half-truth would not stand up to examination. Had she shot at nothing in a fit of pique ¡ª or unloaded more than necessary on a single brief target? Venting frustration ¡ª or baiting a challenge?

    If one of Elpida¡¯s cadre had acted like this, she would have called out the challenge for what it was, and put the offender flat on her back, with Elpida¡¯s hands on her throat and groin.

    Her heart leapt. Sweat broke out on her back. She coughed once.

    Pira was not one of her sisters.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Elpida said. She had to take a deep breath. ¡°Good job. Thank you, Pira. We may need to relocate. We should head back¡ª¡±

    ¡°I reacted with instant violence the moment I saw her. She has no reason to believe there¡¯s anything here but another lone revenant, with nothing but a gun. She won¡¯t be back.¡±

    ¡°Still, I¡¯d rather take the precaution. We¡ª¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the point?¡±

    Pira clicked the final bullet home, slammed the magazine into her weapon, racked the charging handle ¡ª then clicked the safety on and let the gun hang from the strap. Her eyes bored into Elpida.

    Ilyusha hissed, rolled her eyes, and let the muzzle of her shotgun drop. Elpida held out a hand to stall any further reaction, and said: ¡°Pira, let¡¯s at least get out of the open. We can talk inside.¡±

    ¡°The rubble blocks all the sight-lines from the nearby buildings. The hole only reveals the sky. I¡¯ve yet to meet a revenant who can fly.¡±

    Pira was correct ¡ª but her stare did not waver.

    ¡°Pira,¡± Elpida said. ¡°If you discharge your weapon, I¡¯m going to come running to help you. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve done right now. If you have a problem, we can discuss it.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s to discuss?¡±

    Ilyusha said: ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake. Fuckin¡¯ bitch. Say what you mean!¡±

    Elpida gestured to Ilyusha. ¡°Illy, stop, please. Pira, what¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Pira just stared.

    Ilyusha snorted, ¡°Knickers in a twist ¡®cos we¡¯re not perfect, huh?¡±

    ¡°Illy,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Please. Pira? I can¡¯t solve a problem if you won¡¯t voice it.¡±

    Pira spoke soft and slow: ¡°You¡¯ve eaten those brains, haven¡¯t you? You¡¯re visibly sated. Both of you.¡±

    Ilyusha stamped one clawed foot, red talons raking the floor with a rasp of metal. ¡°Better we all fuckin¡¯ die, huh?! Starve so we¡¯re not like them?¡± Her red-tipped tail jabbed toward Pira. ¡°Stab your fucking guts out for a ration card instead? Is that better, fucking reptile shit!¡±

    Pira didn¡¯t flinch.

    Elpida stepped forward and grabbed Ilyusha by the shoulder before the situation could deteriorate. Black and red bionic muscles twitched beneath her grip. ¡°Illy, stop. Please. For me. Illy, please.¡±

    Ilyusha spat on the floor, then twisted away, ripping free of Elpida¡¯s hand. She stepped back, glaring at Pira. Her tail lashed back and forth. Her fingertip claws clicked against her shotgun.

    Pira said: ¡°I¡¯m not claiming to be better than you.¡±

    Her voice quivered. So very gently. Perhaps undetectable without genetically augmented hearing. She was addressing Ilyusha ¡ª but Ilyusha just snorted.

    ¡°Pira?¡± Elpida pitched her voice soft; Pira was in a hole and she needed digging out, not burying. ¡°Pira, if you need¡ª¡±

    ¡°I thought you were different.¡± Pira¡¯s gaze flickered back to Elpida, blue eyes burning bright, backlit by the bronze furnace of the undead sun in the necrotic sky. The outline of her body was blurred by the black-and-grey camouflage. ¡°I thought maybe you would be different. After so many tries, so many failures, so many deaths. Maybe I¡¯d finally found somebody worth following again.¡± Her voice dropped, hushed and raw. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a fresh revenant take charge like you did. So quickly, no hesitation. The way you killed that zombie outside of the tomb, for a bunch of girls you¡¯d known only for a few hours.¡± Pira¡¯s throat bobbed. ¡°Nobody does that. People who were leaders in life, great leaders, chieftains, priestesses ¡ª you think they¡¯re anything, here? If you remove a human being from their social context, they are nothing. The greatest leader, the smartest thinker, the strongest warrior, the cleverest soldiers ¡ª none of it matters, here. We have no context. We are nothing. Meat.¡±

    Elpida nodded. She focused on Pira¡¯s eyes, to show she was listening.

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    ¡°But you?¡± Pira almost whispered. ¡°Commander? You kept going. You died, you came back. And then you pushed on. You won¡¯t even stop and hide. It¡¯s madness, and it¡¯s working.¡± She shook her head. ¡°But like all the others, you have to eat. In the end, like everyone else, you eat. I wanted to believe ¡­ maybe ¡­ ¡± Pira¡¯s voice cracked. ¡°Maybe you were different.¡±

    Ilyusha barked: ¡°She is!¡±

    Pira said, ¡°She¡¯s not. You¡¯re not.¡±

    Elpida spoke quickly. ¡°Illy, I need you to do something for me. Head back to the others and let them know everything is okay, but stay armed and be ready, in case we¡¯ve attracted any attention.¡±

    Ilyusha pulled a very unimpressed face. Her tail flicked at the air. ¡°Serious?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious, yes. Illy, it¡¯ll be okay. I would like to talk to Pira alone. But I need you to inform the others.¡±

    Ilyusha shot a suspicious look at Pira, and said: ¡°Don¡¯t try shit.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯ll be fine. Please go tell the others.¡±

    Ilyusha bumped her head against Elpida¡¯s shoulder, then slipped back through the double doors. Her claws clicked against the floor for a few paces, then vanished into the depths of the structure.

    Elpida was not certain about the expression on Pira¡¯s face ¡ª the bitter frustration, the unwillingness to express herself in clear terms, the old pain and open-wound traumas behind her eyes. But it reminded her of a specific look she¡¯d seen before, only a few days earlier ¡ª a million years ago.

    Pira¡¯s look of resigned anger and wounded hope reminded Elpida of some of her sisters as they had waited for death together. But without the companionship, without the solace, without the warmth of each other¡¯s bodies.

    Elpida stepped closer, close enough to reach out and take Pira¡¯s shoulder, if the gesture seemed right. The sky smouldered beyond the remains of the metal roof.

    ¡°Pira, what you said earlier about cannibalism, I was listening. I won¡¯t force you to eat human flesh. I will stand in front of the others and make them respect your choice. You don¡¯t have to leave the group. I¡¯m touched by your desire to believe in me, thank you ¡ª and I won¡¯t let you down.¡±

    Lies. She¡¯d already let down everyone. Twenty four sisters, all dead. Elpida almost choked when Pira said:

    ¡°You already have.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Pira blinked ¡ª no tears, just a ghost. ¡°I¡¯ve done things I¡¯m not proud of. Been part of things I¡¯m not proud of. I¡¯m not pure, or clean. I¡¯ve eaten human beings, human flesh, and brains, and done worse ¡ª far, far worse. All sorts of people think they have the answers, here.¡± She gestured up, out, at the world. ¡°Ways to make sense of it. To make something out of it. To drag meaning from this.¡± She shook her head. ¡°No. Not again. Not again. I¡¯m not participating anymore. I¡¯m not better than you because you eat and I don¡¯t, I¡¯m just not participating.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m telling you that you don¡¯t have to. I won¡¯t make you.¡±

    ¡°But you are participating,¡± Pira said. ¡°The others are participating. I thought maybe you might be different ¡ª in charge, really in charge. The others would have listened, they would have followed. But you¡¯re going to be like all the rest.¡±

    Elpida put real belief in her voice. ¡°I am in charge. Eating the brains is not a slippery slope. I won¡¯t kill to eat. And I won¡¯t let the others do so, either. Pira, I promise. You can hold me to that. If I go back on my word, kill me.¡±

    Pira shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re not in charge.¡±

    Elpida spread her hands. ¡°Then challenge me.¡±

    ¡°The nanomachines are in charge. They have you by the belly. You¡¯re part of it now, like everyone else. The system will force you to eat other people. And you¡¯ll do it, because you have to live. And that erodes you. You eat yourself every time you eat another. You¡¯re not exempt. You¡¯re not special. I was wrong about you.¡±

    Pira¡¯s face was unshuttered now, more so than ever before. She did not cry, but her eyes were hollow and empty.

    Elpida spoke very gently. ¡°Pira, it doesn¡¯t have to be that way.¡±

    ¡°It is. You can¡¯t change it.¡±

    Elpida tried a different track: ¡°What you told us about the graveworm, was that the truth? It¡¯s really a giant nanomachine factory, with more than enough raw blue for everyone?¡±

    Pira blinked and sighed. ¡°As far as I know.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s your aim? Getting inside it? Co-opting part of ¡­ all this?¡±

    Pira¡¯s eyes searched Elpida¡¯s face. ¡°You¡¯re going to tell me that the ends justify the means.¡±

    ¡°If the end result is freedom from mandatory predation on each other, then yes, that end does justify eating human flesh and brains. I will eat as many kills as I need to, in order to keep this group together, alive, and get us to the combat frame.¡± Pira opened her mouth, but Elpida kept talking: ¡°Pira, I understand your goal. It¡¯s the right thing to do. And maybe it can be achieved by living on ambient nanomachines alone ¡ª but equally maybe it can¡¯t. If we have to scavenge the dead and eat those who try to kill us, then I will do that ¡ª but I promise you two things. One: I will follow your goal of getting us into the graveworm. Not just because I can¡¯t see any other goal, but because it makes sense to me. You¡¯ve convinced me. I¡¯m with you. And two: I won¡¯t resort to predation, I won¡¯t kill to eat. The others will follow my orders.¡± She extended her hand. ¡°Will you?¡±

    Pira stared at Elpida¡¯s hand, then looked away, at the rubble.

    Elpida read the shift in Pira¡¯s posture and felt a thrill deep in her chest and down in her belly. Perhaps Pira thought she was being subtle. Or perhaps she was, and Elpida¡¯s gene-altered senses and lifetime of close combat training was giving her an advantage. Or perhaps Pira wanted her to see.

    Did Pira want to be forced?

    Elpida decided to give Pira the opening. Perhaps she wanted to lose; Elpida would make it quick.

    She dropped her hand, then sighed and smiled at the same time. ¡°Okay, so you don¡¯t believe in me. That¡¯s fine too. Listen, we can still head back to the others.¡±

    Elpida turned her head to glance back at the double doors.

    Pira drew a combat knife from within her body armour and lunged for Elpida¡¯s throat, in one unbroken fluid motion.

    Quick, for a baseline human; Elpida had to give her that.

    Elpida was ready ¡ª she jinked out of the way, caught Pira¡¯s arm, pinned it against her own side, then used Pira¡¯s own momentum to drag her forward and slam her into the floor. The flame-haired girl landed with a crash, the air forced from her lungs, head bouncing off the ground with a nasty snap. Elpida twisted Pira¡¯s arm as she went down; fingers loosened, knife clattered free. Elpida kicked it away.

    Pira tried to break Elpida¡¯s grip with a boot-heel to the elbow ¡ª but Elpida just let go. She stepped back, hands wide, heart pumping. She was enjoying this far too much.

    Pira jumped to her feet, panting for breath, shaking her head to clear her senses. She raised her fists and dropped into a crouch.

    Elpida almost laughed. ¡°Why not just shoot¡ª¡±

    Pira¡¯s fist crashed into Elpida¡¯s jaw.

    Elpida went reeling. She shook her head and coughed, heart leaping and lurching, blood surging. This feeling, this kind of combat ¡ª she knew this, inside and out, she knew it like she had known every one of her sisters.

    She knew what Pira wanted.

    Elpida straightened up in time to block Pira¡¯s follow-up punch, but not in time to stop Pira kneeing her in the gut. She grunted and heaved and slammed a fist into Pira¡¯s throat. Pira¡¯s eyes bulged in shock ¡ª but zombies didn¡¯t need to breathe through bruised windpipes; she punched Elpida in the face again, then again, then again, pistoning her arm, smashing knuckles into mouth and nose, knocking blood from burst lips, forcing Elpida back.

    Elpida¡¯s bloodstream flooded with painblockers ¡ª an unfair advantage. She spat blood in Pira¡¯s eyes and got a fist into her gut, driving the breath from Pira¡¯s lungs and making her double up. Elpida scrambled to get a hold of Pira¡¯s arms, get them behind her back, pin her somehow ¡ª but Pira was too slippery, too quick. She slammed into Elpida¡¯s hips, arms around Elpida¡¯s waist, and sent both of them tumbling to the floor.

    They rolled together, coat and armour grinding on concrete, guns forgotten in the melee, each trying to pin the other. Elpida was taller and stronger, with a longer reach and more experience. Pira had that single full bionic arm, which hit like a brick and whipped like a snake, and she struggled like a weasel in a sack.

    Elpida hadn¡¯t fought like this in years. This wasn¡¯t anything like the carefully delineated matches on the sparring room mats, even the most emotionally charged and important ones, the ones to establish pecking order or prove herself to some Legion onlookers who¡¯d never seen the cadre before.

    This felt like the old days. Like being thirteen years old again and discovering that she and Howl could beat each other black and blue for hours without stopping. Like the inevitable night afterward. Like fighting because it felt right and good, hot and wet and urgent.

    Elpida found herself pinned. Pira slammed her shoulders to the ground, fist raised in threat.

    And Elpida laughed, blood singing, loins burning.

    She wanted to fuck Pira. Very badly.

    Pira had been about to say something ¡ª but then she frowned and paused. Perhaps she saw the need in Elpida¡¯s eyes.

    Her mistake.

    Elpida bucked her off. Pira tried to cling on, but Elpida slammed a fist into her gut and a knee into her groin. She swarmed over Pira, got her fingers into that beautiful flame-red hair, and straddled her belly, pinning Pira¡¯s arms to her sides beneath Elpida¡¯s iron-muscled thighs. She held Pira¡¯s head to the floor.

    ¡°Yield,¡± Elpida panted.

    ¡°No,¡± Pira spat.

    ¡°Yield. I¡¯m stronger. Have you pinned. Better at this. I win¡ª¡±

    Pira jackknifed her entire body. She kicked her feet and reared up. Head-butted Elpida in the face. Nose bone went snap; blood exploded everywhere. But Elpida held on and slammed a fist into Pira¡¯s sternum. Pira wheezed, whining with shock.

    ¡°Ahhhhhh,¡± Elpida groaned, shaking her head. Her nose felt loose. Blood splattered down onto Pira¡¯s face. ¡°I win. Yield. Give. Give!¡±

    Pira went limp. ¡°Win. You win. A-alright. But no¡ª no flesh¡ª no¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t have to. Told you. Won¡¯t make you. Shoot me. If I do. Shoot me.¡±

    They both panted for breath, bruised and sore and bleeding. Elpida began to reach back behind her, one hand going between Pira¡¯s legs to grab and squeeze and kneed¡ª

    Elpida stopped herself before making contact. This fight did not mean the same thing to Pira as it did to her. With any member of her cadre ¡ª yes! But Pira was not of the cadre.

    Quivering with repressed desire, Elpida let go. Pira just lay there panting beneath her. Elpida¡¯s blood dripped onto Pira¡¯s face.

    Pira¡¯s tongue emerged, pink and soft. She licked at the blood on her lips.

    ¡°Blood,¡± Elpida croaked.

    Pira blinked slowly, clearing her eyes. ¡°Ah?¡±

    ¡°Blood. Nanos. Are there nanomachines in our blood?¡±

    Pira blinked again. Her tongue retracted back into her mouth. She swallowed. ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Drink up.¡±

    Pira huffed. She rolled her eyes. And she licked her lip again.

    Elpida rolled off Pira. She lay on the floor, exhausted, humming, ready for more ¡ª for more than Pira could give. Pira licked the blood off her lips, then used her fingers to wipe her face, licking them clean. Slowly, numb, conquered.

    After a moment, Elpida said: ¡°I¡¯m serious. Drink my blood. You don¡¯t wanna eat, drink me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s still participation. Being part of the cycle. The system.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t let you starve.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    Elpida sat up first. Pira followed. They were both bloody and bruised. Elpida could feel her wounds throbbing, black eyes and an aching jaw and a broken nose ¡ª but less and less with every minute. The meal of brains had done her good; her flesh was healing, faster than before. Pira had Elpida¡¯s blood all over her face. She stared at Elpida, open-faced at last ¡ª and more bitter and sullen than ever.

    Elpida told her: ¡°Kagami thinks you¡¯re a traitor. I don¡¯t. I think you¡¯re with me.¡±

    ¡°Pira isn¡¯t my original name.¡±

    Elpida shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s the name you use. That makes it your name.¡±

    Pira shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s a zombie name. A here-name. I use it in front of you people ¡ª all of you. All descendants of the culture which murdered mine. All of you did this, created this. All your cities, all your teeming millions. You all did this.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°If you want to share another name with me, you can. I won¡¯t tell the others. Or the name of where you came from, or¡ª¡±

    ¡°It would mean nothing to you. They erased us.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Being here, over and over, has erased who I was. I told you before, it¡¯s like asking me to share who I was in the womb. It means nothing.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Telokopolis is eternal. And Telokopolis has a place for all, whoever you are, and wherever you came from. I promise you, Pira. You¡¯re human. You¡¯re one of us. I won¡¯t know about your people, because Telokopolis made us all one.¡±

    Pira smiled, sour and beaten. ¡°You really are one of them.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re one of us.¡±

    Pira swallowed. She shuddered once, then raised her head. Her eyes were shining and vulnerable. ¡°I¡¯ve been dead a hundred times longer than I lived, but I still believe in one thing, I remember that I remember: I shit on the memory of Caesar. I shit on all Caesars, all they build with ash and blood, and all the flesh they gorge upon.¡±

    Elpida waited, but that was all; what a strange name Pira had uttered.

    She reached out, gripped Pira¡¯s arm, and said: ¡°Pira. I don¡¯t even know who ¡®Caesar¡¯ was.¡±

    Pira stared ¡ª then laughed. Just a little huff through her nose. Bloody-mouthed and bloody-toothed. But real. ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°Pira, I¡¯m with you. Are you with me?¡±

    ¡°I can smell brains on your breath.¡±

    ¡°But are you with me?¡±

    Pira sighed. ¡°You win.¡±

    ¡°Good enough. I¡¯ll get us to the combat frame. And then, the graveworm.¡±

    Pira looked down at herself. ¡°We¡¯re a mess. You and I.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡± Elpida rubbed at her own face. Her nose crunched. She tried to set it straight.

    ¡°What are we going to tell the others?¡±

    Elpida stood up, slow and aching. ¡°Tell them we fucked.¡±

    Pira blinked. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It would make sense if you were one of mine.¡± She offered her hand to Pira, to help her up. Pira stared, then accepted, but with a frown.

    ¡°One of your what?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°One of my sisters. Never mind. Come on, Pira. Let¡¯s go rejoin the others.¡±

    Pira stayed where she was as Elpida turned to leave. She said: ¡°I still don¡¯t think you¡¯re any different.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Maybe. Maybe not. Shoot me if I fail. Are you willing to let me try?¡±

    Pira picked up her fallen combat knife. She held it for a moment, staring at Elpida. She raised it ¡ª then slid it away, inside her body armour.

    ¡°For now.¡±

 astrum - 6.6

    Kagami¡¯s left hand was on fire.

    Fevered flesh burned with trapped flames; searing and scorching and sizzling and shrivelling, unceasing and terrible and merciless. Every time she sneaked a glance at her fingers and palm she expected to find the meat cremated, the fat rendered down, her metacarpals and phalanges charred bones held together by cooked gristle. The pain radiated up her arm in a standing wave, jabbing and stabbing and slicing into her shoulder and chest, sapping her strength and focus, grinding her thoughts to grit and dust and powder, leaving her drained and lethargic and slow. The medical machinery of her sensory suspension tank in Tycho City would have flushed her body with painkillers and antibiotics and steroids, then followed up with a regimen of stem-cells and protein isolates to repair the damage, while she ¡ª Princess and Daughter and Logician Supreme, above this undignified grubbing in the flesh ¡ª could have floated off into sim-space until the work was done.

    Here, down in the dirt with a belly full of brains, she couldn¡¯t even hope for a bucket of ice to ease the agony.

    She couldn¡¯t even cry; that would give her away.

    The pain had begun in the night, an hour or two after she had gorged herself on the raw blue nanomachines. At first the tingling pins-and-needles had filled Kagami with hope; she had flexed her fingers and massaged her palm; she had envisioned a data uplink port in her wrist, near-field electronic interfaces in her fingertips, and a high-density connection processor inside her palm, wired into her brain-stem via her own nerves.

    Perhaps modifying one¡¯s nanomachine biology was as simple as drinking a potion and making a wish. How hard could it be? It wasn¡¯t as if she could die; those pitiful severed heads had proven that.

    But then paresthesia had turned to pain.

    Her hand had burned all morning, stuck in that tiny concrete room, hiding the evidence inside her coat; it had burned when Elpida had gone exploring, and it had still burned when Elpida had returned. It burned during the move upstairs, burned when Kagami had slumped alone against a wall, burned when the others had spent their time playing juvenile board games, burned when she had gripped the silvery drone, burned and burned and burned and burned and burned and burned and burned¡ª

    And then Elpida had taken her out into the corridor, for ¡®discipline¡¯. As if a jumped-up gene-jacked roid-bitch had any right to ¡®discipline¡¯ one of humankind¡¯s greatest Logicians.

    But the pain had ebbed; the more Kagami felt threatened, the more the pain fled. Relief had come from silently daring Elpida to strike her. And when Serin had turned up ¡ª a true nightmare of nanomachine potential ¡ª the pain had vanished.

    Serin ¡ª a vision of her own future? ¡ª had smelled that feverish flesh and sniffed her out, like a dog on the scent of charred meat.

    Relief had struck again when Elpida had pinned her hand to the wall; Kagami¡¯s head had swam, her heart racing, her skin prickling with sweat. But no pain. Humiliation and outrage and shame and a twinge in her guts. And no pain.

    But relief was fleeting. Flesh was inescapable.

    Pain had returned in inevitable throbbing waves as Kagami and the others had eaten their meal of brains ¡ª of ¡®high-energy nanomachines¡¯, what a coldly stupid euphemism. Call it what it was! Brains! Kagami had hoped and prayed to distant Luna itself that the brains ¡ª brains! like real zombies! ¡ª would help. Maybe all she needed was more raw materials. Maybe the process was stuck, incomplete, and the pain was a message.

    The coating of fatty flesh in her mouth was filthy and greasy and unclean. Her salivary glands ached for more. Brains, like scrambled eggs, or bad tofu, or protein blocks for toothless babies ¡ª it churned in her stomach as she fought down the urge to vomit it all back up.

    Pain fled again when Pira decided to mag-dump her gun into a wall downstairs. Elpida and Ilyusha had rushed out of the room, leaving the rest of them to scramble into their armour, ears pricked, fingers on triggers, waiting to die.

    But no pain.

    That confirmed her hypothesis: her left hand was changing in response to the cognitive plan she had provided; her nanomachine physiology was growing new parts; but it would suppress the process when she was in danger.

    It did not suppress the process in response to stress or pain alone ¡ª or silent mental begging.

    Danger passed; Pira wasn¡¯t fighting zombies, she was going trigger-happy.

    So the pain came roaring back.

    Kagami did her best to hide her condition from the others; she resisted the urge to press her burning palm to the cool plastic of the floor, or to blow on her own skin like she was a bowl of overcooked porridge. She could not let the others know.

    Especially not Pira or Elpida ¡ª especially not after they returned bloody and battered and bruised, stinking of each other, wet with each other¡¯s juices.

    Kagami was no fool. She¡¯d perused enough low-grade gutter-fiction sim-space romance plots to recognise the spark between the traitor and the so-called ¡®Commander¡¯. The pair of dirt-eating animals had beaten each other up, enjoyed every second of flesh-on-flesh, and then probably rutted afterward. Pira was a traitor; Elpida was too stupid to understand that ¡ª too much of a rampant bitch to resist having her judgement clouded by a pair of fingers up her cunt. Kagami had hoped to get through to little miss clever Commander ¡ª even after Elpida had pinned her against the wall and humiliated her, made her quiver and shake inside. But that was a dead end now.

    Elpida had made her choice, and Kagami was not it.

    The others swarmed over the disgusting post-coital pair as soon as they tramped back into the room, all shouting questions and recriminations, blaming one or the other for unwarranted violence.

    Elpida stood tall and explained what had happened ¡ª a carefully edited version of events, no doubt, leaving out the part where she and Pira had sucked at each other¡¯s faces and rubbed their groins together. She mouthed platitudes about choice and respect, while Pira sat in the corner and massaged aching tissues. Questions and complaints and blame flew back and forth: Vicky was oh-so hurt that her precious Elpida had gotten sweaty and intimate with somebody else, while Ilyusha sulked and scowled, probably sour at being left out. They both phrased it as concern, of course, as worries about Elpida and Pira having a punch up, as questions about how Pira would heal if she wasn¡¯t eating, as conditions that Pira had to fulfil if she was to be trusted again.

    Elpida shut that all down: ¡°Pira is one of us. This was just something we had to work out, between me and her. Pira had her gun the whole time . If she wanted to really hurt me she could have easily shot me. And look, I¡¯m already healing ¡ª Serin told us the truth, the brains are doing us good.¡±

    Vicky huffed like an old matron. ¡°Yeah, sure, but what about her? She¡¯s not healing. Elpi, you¡¯ve beaten the crap out of her.¡±

    Pira croaked: ¡°A draw.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Pira has other options. She¡¯s ingested some nanomachines directly from me, from my blood. She¡¯s not going to eat the brains, and I¡¯m asking everyone to respect that.¡±

    Kagami had almost snorted. ¡®Blood¡¯ ¡ª was that what they were pretending?

    Besides, Kagami was barely listening.

    If Pira figured out that Kagami had begun the process of self-modification, what would the traitor do? Kagami was not in a hurry to find out. Elpida ¡ª the stubborn fool ¡ª had actually gripped Kagami¡¯s left hand earlier, burning-hot and aching-hard. Had she figured it out? Serin had made clear that she knew what Kagami was up to, but perhaps Elpida was too stupid to have understood the zombie¡¯s words.

    Atyle must have known. That high-spec bionic eye probably showed Kagami¡¯s left hand as a miniature star, burning and melting. But she wasn¡¯t saying anything to anyone. Could the paleo be trusted? Kagami spent much of that conversation watching Atyle out of the corner of her eye. The primitive was playing her own game amid all this, but Kagami could not guess what it was.

    No. She couldn¡¯t trust any of them.

    Elpida still spoke like she was in charge: ¡°The plan hasn¡¯t changed. We need to rest and recover from our wounds, for at least the remainder of today and tonight.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°One day¡¯s travel.¡±

    ¡°Pira?¡±

    ¡°One day¡¯s travel, based on our speed so far. That¡¯ll put us right on top of your orbital mech. Combat frame. Whatever you want to call it.¡±

    Vicky shuddered. ¡°Then we¡¯re close. Almost there.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Good.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°Likely it¡¯ll be swarming with revenants. Maybe worse.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± said Elpida. ¡°We should try to consume as much of the brain matter as we can, try to keep eating, get our strength up. Pira¡¯s portion is now to be split six ways, among the rest of us. In the morning we¡¯ll reassess if we¡¯re ready to move.¡± She took off her coat, put down her firearm, and shook out her long white hair ¡ª putting on a big performance for the gaping audience. ¡°We need sleep tonight, real sleep; I suggest everyone do what they can to relax. Illy ¡ª that board game you were playing with Amina and Atyle, will you teach me how to play?¡±

    The remains of the day dissolved into a sick domestic pantomime.

    Elpida joined in the ad hoc board game, which made the demented little cyborg a touch less grumpy, bumping her head against Elpida like a cat marking her territory; too late, Kagami thought to herself ¡ª your ¡®Commander¡¯ has already been claimed. Try sniffing her crotch to find out.

    Vicky made a few attempts to come talk with Kagami.

    ¡°How are you holding up?¡±

    ¡­

    ¡°Kaga, you feeling okay?¡±

    ¡­ the pain built.

    ¡°Bite wounds are looking much better. You should eat some more, too.¡±

    ¡­ burning and churning and flensing and filleting. Eat brains? Eat the flesh off her fingers instead.

    ¡°Sure you don¡¯t wanna join us? Just come sit by me. You don¡¯t have to play or anything.¡±

    ¡­ pain.

    ¡°Don¡¯t just grunt at me, Kaga. Use your words.¡±

    ¡­ p a i n.

    ¡°Alright, suit yourself. You comfy sitting against the wall like that?¡±

    shut up shut up shut up go away go away

    ¡°Look, Kaga, if you change your mind, I¡¯m here. Elpi¡¯s here too.¡±

    Didn¡¯t Vicky have better things to do, like a threesome to insert herself into, perhaps? At least Elpida didn¡¯t try to draw Kagami into another private conversation as well; the Commander would probably try to rut with her, too.

    Kagami cradled the burning agony of her left hand ¡ª and now arm, and shoulder, and left lung, and the side of her neck. Pira sat in the opposite corner, cleaning weapons, watching the others, watching Kagami. Kagami pretended she wasn¡¯t there.

    The others all played together, good little children around the jolly camp-fire.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Except that every now and again somebody would get up and go over to the fat-stained t-shirt where they were keeping their ¡®rations.¡¯ Vicky brought Kagami¡¯s share over to her. Everyone ate. Except Pira.

    That night, when the dirty red sunlight died away and left behind grey static haze deepening into lightless black, Kagami could not sleep.

    The others curled up beneath coats, stretched out on the floor, or slept in their armour and boots, with guns cradled in laps. They organized a watch rotation ¡ª Elpida, Pira, Vicky, and Atyle, in that order. Kagami knew she looked too sickly and feverish to be trusted with guarding the collective. She¡¯d fallen so far from Luna¡¯s nuclear sentinel.

    Sleep was impossible; the burning pain in her left hand suspended her consciousness on the precipice of dreaming. One moment she thought she was back in her suspension tank on Luna, surfacing from a particularly rough sim-space experience, a story written by a sadistic moron ¡ª and then she was shifting her back against the cold ground, a soft moan escaping from her throat as spears of pain ran up the inside of her arm.

    One moment, infinity and home ¡ª the next, dirt and torture.

    She tried curling tight inside her own spare coat, then lying spread-eagle on the floor, then tucking her throbbing arm beneath her own body to cut off the blood supply. No position provided relief.

    For the first two hours she felt desperate and afraid. She had never suffered insomnia in life, but she had run the simulations, watched the effects on herself in sim-space, or on her wire-slaved surface agents during assignments gone over-time. What if Elpida insisted on moving the group tomorrow? What if Kagami was exhausted, delirious, weak? She had to sleep, she just had to sleep. Pira might convince Elpida to leave her behind. Barring that, the others were relying on her auspex for intel and early warning; would she be too slow on the uptake, her thoughts fogged and sluggish? She had to sleep! She needed sleep! Maybe sleep would finally make the pain go away. Please, please, sleep!

    She bit at her tongue, at the inside of her own mouth, and at pieces of her coat, gnawing and chewing, whining in muffled privacy.

    Fear went sour, fermented into rage ¡ª at her own body, at this obscene nanomachine physiology, at the inefficiency of this process.

    The burning, itching, feverish pain in her hand was so bad that it blotted out the ache in her augmetic legs and bruised hips; she hadn¡¯t thought about that pain for hours and hours, not for most of the day. Was this how every other revenant had obtained bionic parts? Had Ilyusha lay insensate and screaming for days on end while her legs and arms had transmuted into metal and bio-plastic?

    Or had Kagami made a mistake?

    Had she done this wrong?

    Had she fucked up?

    She gave up after about three hours of trying to sleep. Elpida was still on watch, a dark silhouette against the open door of the room. The others were breathing softly. The borged up midget and her psycho friend were snuggled down together. Atyle slept on her back, ramrod straight. Vicky was almost snoring. Pira¡¯s eyes were closed, her gun in her lap, her back against the wall.

    Kagami stared at her left hand beneath her coat, hidden in the dark.

    She tried to take it back: she thought ¡®Halt!¡¯, ¡®Stop!¡¯, and ¡®Reverse!¡¯ But nothing happened, not even after minutes of concentration. The pain did not ebb. She wanted to sob. She shouldn¡¯t have reached so far, she should have tried to fix her stupid, obscene legs first ¡ª slough off the machines and grow something better in their place, even just real flesh and bone. At least that wouldn¡¯t hurt.

    But then she strangled that thought, terrified; she begged her body, her nanomachines, not to do that. If her legs started to hurt like her left hand, she would go insane.

    She buried her face beneath her coat and chewed on the armoured fabric. She longed to cry out, to be heard.

    Maybe Elpida was still reachable ¡ª maybe she would understand?

    But Kagami had spent too long trying to sleep, stewing in her own pain. When she found the courage to push her coat down and stare at Elpida¡¯s back, Pira was already stirring, for the change of the watch.

    Kagami burned in private silence as Pira and Elpida sat together for several minutes, a pair of dark shadows outlined by the doorway. She couldn¡¯t tell if they were whispering to each other ¡ª vying for sexual dominance again. Or worse: plotting. They wouldn¡¯t keep the watch, Kagami was certain of that. The pair of them would slip off next door to fuck, any moment now, leaving her and the others exposed.

    But then Elpida patted Pira on the shoulder, rose from her spot on the floor, and went to bed down, next to Vicky.

    Pira sat in the doorway, her back to Kagami, watching the corridor.

    The Commander still had a sense of responsibility after all. Not quite a slave to her libido. But Kagami had missed her chance.

    She made another attempt to sleep, burrowing back down inside her spare coat, lying on her side so she could stare at Pira¡¯s shoulders, daring her to turn around and see Kagami looking. She tucked her left arm against her chest, cradling it close. But the pain was getting worse ¡ª or was that just her imagination? Deep-tissue pulses crawled up her muscles; bone-ache settled into her wrist and elbow, chewing at marrow; the flesh of her fingers felt like it was peeling off. She wanted to scratch and bite and gnaw at her own flesh.

    She sobbed; she couldn¡¯t help it; she muffled the sound with her coat, tears soaked up by armoured fabric. The Seventeenth Daughter of the Moon did not weep ¡ª at least, not in front of surface dwellers, reanimated cannibals, and degenerate oversexed soldier-drones.

    The pain climbed and climbed. Surely her flesh should be blackening and smoking? But when she looked, it was brown and pale and soft, just her own arm.

    Her finger joints felt stiff and gritty; when she held them up to her ears she could hear them grinding inside, as if the cartilage was full of iron filings. She pressed her palm with her opposite thumb and had to bite her lips to stop from crying out; the bones felt sharper, harder, larger. An edged lump was growing beneath the heel of her hand, an aching tumour ¡ª of metal?

    Silent tears running down her cheeks. Hand in her pocket, fumbling for one of her inactive, dead, power-drained drones. Grip it in her left hand. Harder. Squeeze.

    Pira¡¯s back, floating in the doorway. If she got in a fight with Pira, would her body suppress the pain?

    Three times Kagami began to stir herself, with a half formed plan of thumping Pira on the back of the head, or burying her teeth in Pira¡¯s scalp, or just standing up and screaming until the others bundled her to the floor.

    But the pain did not go away. She had to mean it. Had to feel real danger. Real threat. Feel anything but pain.

    By the time Pira¡¯s watch ended, Kagami was lying on her side, vision blurred, arm twitching, drooling onto the floor.

    Vicky appeared in the shadows of the doorway, to take over from Pira. Pira did not stick around to chat, not like Elpida had. She got up and returned to her spot. Vicky took the doorway. She slumped against the frame. She sighed into the corridor.

    Shadows, unmoving, thick. Flesh, throbbing, burning, dying. Darkness, an undifferentiated soup of thought and pain and fragments of self, smeared across the ground like pink-grey fatty brains from a shattered skull. Vicky¡¯s skin: dark and shiny with faint sweat, shaking slightly, in shadows. Vicky stood up and went over to the rations ¡ª brains! ¡ª wrapped in a stained t-shirt.

    Naughty naughty, taking more than her share? Oh, no, actually, Vicky was a good girl, carefully measuring how much was still hers. Knife went ¡ª well, knife didn¡¯t make any sound at all, not even a squelch. Brains were like that, Kagami had learned. Soft, pliable, easy to chew. Melt-in-the-mouth.

    All zombies now!

    Why must zombies feel pain? Why had her nanomachines not unplugged her nerves?

    Vicky returned to the doorway and sat back down to resume her watch. Kagami moved only her eyeballs. She watched Vicky watching, and watched Vicky chewing, and swallowing, and smothering a soft retch. A hand shook, raised another piece of brain to a hungry, drooling, panting mouth. Another retch, the sound of a stomach, rejecting. Vicky hunched. Panting.

    Kagami stood up. Clumsy and slow. Legs hurt ¡ª didn¡¯t matter. Lips slack, drooling. Eyes ached. Left hand ¡ª still there? Still there. Felt like wire and ruined and flayed muscle.

    Coat on shoulders. Auspex visor hanging loose around neck. Noose, around neck. Ha ha.

    She shuffled over to the doorway.

    Vicky turned and looked up, a dark face framed by darker shadows. ¡°Kaga?¡± Her eyes went wide. Hands reached upward to catch. ¡°Kaga, are you okay?¡±

    ¡°Mmmno.¡±

    Kagami slumped to her knees. She groped for Vicky¡¯s shoulder, but couldn¡¯t find it. Vicky steadied her; strong hands, firm hands. Warm and hard.

    ¡°Kaga, are you¡ª h-holy shit, Kaga, you¡¯re burning up. What¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Kagami hissed. ¡°Don¡¯t vomit.¡±

    Vicky blinked. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Vicky. Victoria. Is that¡ª full name? Victoria. Really English. You¡¯re not English though. NorAm, something. Canadian? All went NorAm in the end. You¡¯ve got their spirit, fucking never give up, Leveller cunts. Never stop. You¡¯re them, a hundred years too early.¡±

    Kagami knew she was talking nonsense. Pain made it not matter.

    Vicky¡¯s throat bobbed. She glanced back at the others, still asleep. ¡°Kaga, are you ill? What¡¯s happening to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shhhhh. Shh-shh.¡± Kagami pressed a finger to Vicky¡¯s lips. Greasy with brains. ¡°No. No, Vicky, you¡¯re the only one I can trust. You¡¯re the only one without a head full of bullshit. Would have defected to your lot myself. Easy. Give me a NorAm sex commune, please. Don¡¯t vomit.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°You were!¡± Kagami hissed between her teeth. Spittle landed on Vicky¡¯s cheeks. ¡°You feel guilty about eating, huh? So do I! But you can¡¯t vomit. Don¡¯t you dare. You waste it, you¡¯ll get weak. Make us easy pickings for Pira. If you vomit it up, that¡¯s wasted nanomachines. Somebody will have to eat the sick, and it won¡¯t be me. I¡¯ll push your face in it and make you eat your own sick, you¡ª you¡ª you ¡­ ¡±

    No more energy. Kagami let herself slump into Vicky¡¯s grip. Cheek to cheek. Vicky¡¯s skin was so soft, smooth and warm, like sun-kissed silk.

    Kagami had not ever hugged another human being, not outside of sim-space. In simulations, hugs were perfect; bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, with notches for chins and elbows and hips, plush pillowy flesh like upholstery, muscles sculpted for her hands and head and belly to touch. But Vicky was hard-muscled and bony in all sorts of places Kagami did not expect. Her hands were clumsy and awkward. Her head got in the way. She reeked of sour sweat, dried blood, and fatty brain matter.

    But Kagami stayed there for several hours.

    Or two minutes?

    Or ten seconds.

    Eventually Vicky eased Kagami back and met her eyes. Vicky looked alarmed. Scaredy-cat. NorAm commune bitch. Or ¡ª or, pre-NorAm. Hard living bitch.

    Vicky whispered: ¡°Kaga, what the hell is wrong with you?¡±

    Pain. Cell damage. Nerve signals all jammed up and backed up and fucked up. Kagami didn¡¯t bother trying to answer, she just fumbled with her auspex gear ¡ª with her right hand, which was still working ¡ª and got the visor over her eyes. She fiddled with the controls, blinked a few times, and then looked down at her own left hand.

    Glowing. Dark red, bright red, warning red all over. Nanomachine activity beyond maximum readout density; incompatible with biological life; seek shelter and don full-body NNBCIM suit; avoid, avoid, avoid.

    Kagami laughed. ¡°Stupid thing doesn¡¯t know I¡¯m a zombie.¡±

    Vicky hissed: ¡°Kaga, for fuck¡¯s sake. Right, that¡¯s it, I¡¯m going to wake Elpi.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Kagami grunted. ¡°Wait.¡±

    She refined the auspex settings, forcing the device to ignore raw nanomachine activity. That was difficult, the auspex didn¡¯t want to do that; she had to override safety settings and dump readout information straight into the visor without processing, but¡ª

    There. Metal tracery in her fingertips, like blooms of fungal infection. Processor cores in her palm, woven into the tiny muscles, leeching blood and lymph away from tissues. And a nice thick data-cable running down her wrist and into her arm and shoulder ¡ª plastic and steel mated with nerve and bone. Her flesh ran wild with circuitry. The systems were embryonic and unfinished, but undeniably present.

    Kagami almost vomited; she wanted to dig it all out with her fingernails, rip her flesh open and make it clean again. She pulled the auspex visor off and panted for breath.

    ¡°Kaga, what the fuck?¡±

    She staggered to her feet and yanked on Vicky¡¯s hand. ¡°Come with her. With me, I mean. Me. Come on, Vicky.¡±

    Vicky resisted. ¡°What? Where? Kagami, I¡¯m on watch. What¡ª¡±

    ¡°I have to piss.¡± Lies, easy in pain-haze. ¡°Gotta pee. Come watch me piss, NorAm pervert.¡±

    Kagami dragged Vicky away from her post. She staggered and pulled until they reached the next room along the corridor ¡ª a sordid little office. One of the desks was covered in skull fragments and skin, bits of lip and ear and face. Elpida¡¯s butchery.

    Kagami let go of Vicky¡¯s hand and faced her in the private darkness.

    ¡°I¡¯ll show¡ª show you what I¡¯ve done,¡± she slurred. ¡°But promise not to tell Elpida.¡±

    Vicky gaped like a moron. But she was better than that, Kagami knew; Vicky was pre-republic, pre-NorAm stock. Her people had gone on to found the one state Kagami could never truly run rings around. She willed Vicky to trust her. Vicky moved as if to look over her shoulder, for help, but then she wet her lips and said: ¡°Why? Kaga, what are you even talking about? What do you want me to keep from Elpi?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s with Pira. She¡¯s been corrupted. Seduced. Or wanted to be! It¡¯s the only explanation. I tried to warn her!¡±

    ¡°Kaga, slow down.¡±

    ¡°Pira is a traitor. T-r-a-i-t-o-r.¡± She spelled the word ¡ª then explained what she had observed about Pira¡¯s behaviour, back during the ambush. ¡°And Elpida ¡ª ¡®Commander¡¯ ¡ª is too stupid to see it. They fucked, earlier. They had sex. You must have figured that out! When they came back, covered in each other¡¯s blood and¡ª¡±

    Vicky sighed loudly. She rubbed at her eyes. ¡°They fought. They had a fight. It was immature and stupid, and I¡¯m not impressed by it, but they didn¡¯t have sex. Don¡¯t be silly. As if they had time for that.¡±

    ¡°They did! They did! Look at them! And Pira¡¯s a traitor!¡±

    ¡°To what? To a bunch of girls who came back to life together? I don¡¯t think we constitute something coherent enough to betray.¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    Vicky sighed again, but Kagami could see the cracks.

    Kagami hissed, ¡°She¡¯s a traitor. Aligned with some cannibal ideology, or the skull-people, or fucking monster zombies out there in¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kaga. Please.¡±

    ¡°We need to be ready for whatever happens when we reach that mech! If she doesn¡¯t betray us ¡ª fine! But if she does, I want you with me. Vicky, please! I¡¯ll show you what I¡¯ve done. But promise ¡ª don¡¯t tell. I won¡¯t turn on Elpida, fine, yes. But I want you with me. If we need to. Promise me you won¡¯t tell.¡±

    Vicky nodded, slowly. ¡°Okay. Show me.¡±

    Kagami extracted one of the silvery drones from her coat pocket. She held it in her left hand ¡ª the pain was incredible, making her sweat and shake and shiver. But she held the drone up, flat and level.

    She hadn¡¯t thought this far ahead. Should she have specified that she needed a visual HUD for activation? Or would this all be instinctive, like flesh and enzymes?

    Near field electrical charging and activation-imprinting was enough. She didn¡¯t need the drone on permanent station, not yet. She just needed to prove that she could wake it.

    She concentrated on that thought.

    A hot pulse passed through her arm, into her hand, tingling on her fingertips. She suddenly felt light-headed. Her vision filled with star-burst brightness.

    The silvery cigar-shape in her hand twitched ¡ª then lifted six inches off her palm. Silent. Steady. Still.

    ¡°Yes¡ª¡± she panted. ¡°There it¡ª goes¡ª mine!¡±

    ¡°Oh damn,¡± said Vicky. ¡°It worked. You powered it up?¡±

    ¡°Ha¡ª ah¡ª y-yes, I¡ª¡±

    Kagami¡¯s vision exploded with red.

    A burst of boot-up code scrolling down the inside of her left eye: user registration and uplink protocol specification, energy-transfer normalisation and weapons-recognition IFF requests, spatial scanning feedback loops and pings for pairing with local swarm and satellite uplink and nano-fuel processing subroutines and standard guard operation timings and station-keeping orders and¡ª

    Kagami¡¯s eyes and brain were not set up for this.

    She crumpled, limbs going slack, eyes rolling back. The drone clattered to the floor as the pain blossomed like a supernova inside her head.

    Izumi Kagami felt one final thing before the seizure took hold ¡ª Vicky¡¯s arms, catching her, cradling her, stopping her from biting through her own tongue.

    Defector at last. In the arms of the enemy.

    If only they had been on Luna.

 astrum - 6.7

    Dawn broke, a streak of dirty rust on the edge of the black iron sky; the undead woke beneath body armour repurposed as bedding; muscle stirred and stretched in the grey haze, mirrored by artificial fibre bundles and bio-plastic skin; nanomachine metabolism demanded mouthfuls of brain matter to quench unslaked hungers.

    Elpida watched her companions closely as she ate her own share of the remaining meat.

    Ilyusha seemed back to normal. Her wounds had healed and her sulky mood had lifted. She greeted Elpida by bumping her head against Elpida¡¯s shoulder and covertly raking a pair of exposed claws across Elpida¡¯s back, too gentle even to snag on her clothing. Her red-and-black bionic tail wagged when Elpida patted her blonde head. Amina followed in Ilyusha¡¯s wake, blinking and bleary, tiny and plump, brown skin flushed from unbroken sleep. She accepted her portion of breakfast from Illy¡¯s claws, and said in a tiny, whispering voice: ¡°Good morning, Elpida. Good morning to you. Good morning, good morning, good morning.¡±

    She bowed her head in rhythm with her words, rocking her upper body.

    ¡°Good morning to you too, Amina. I hope you slept well.¡±

    The reply drew a smile onto Amina¡¯s face. Her knife was tucked into her waistband, out in the open.

    Atyle appeared uncaring, serene, distant. She was already awake when Elpida had risen, finishing the end of her shift on watch. During the night she had stripped down to underwear and thermal t-shirt, leaving her willowy dark limbs on display, her graceful movements unhindered as she unfolded herself. She cut her share of brain matter from what was left, licking fatty grease off her fingertips, then sat a few feet from Elpida as she ate, openly staring at Elpida in naked contemplation. Elpida stared back.

    After eating, Atyle sat in a meditation pose, straight backed and very still. She held her peat-green bionic eye wide open, flicking over the walls, seeing beyond.

    Elpida asked her, ¡°Do you see anything of note out there?¡±

    ¡°Of note?¡± An amused purr. ¡°Yes, warrior. The engines of creation writhe and multiply inside every marriage between metal and stone and wood. If I could read their script I would possess the secrets of the gods who made us.¡±

    Elpida resisted the urge to sigh. She had thought Atyle was cold and haughty at first ¡ª and perhaps she was, but this creative non-answer reminded Elpida too much of certain cadre-sisters: of Third, and Here. Both Third and Here had revelled in similar linguistic games, Third for sheer cheeky playfulness, and Here for the paradoxical pleasure of strict literalism over a core of absurdist humour.

    Third and Here had always made Elpida laugh, even when she wasn¡¯t supposed to.

    Third and Here had died a million years ago ¡ª a week ago.

    Elpida didn¡¯t feel like laughing.

    She clarified: ¡°Anything of note other than ambient nanomachine activity?¡±

    Atyle blinked. ¡°We are alone out here, warrior. The jungle has fallen quiet.¡±

    ¡°No sign of Serin?¡±

    ¡°Our benefactor hides better than she argues.¡±

    Kagami and Vicky had grown closer in the night ¡ª both emotionally and physically. The latter was plain for all to see: Vicky had moved her sleeping spot right next to Kagami, and slept with one arm wrapped around the waist of the doll-like woman, while Kagami was curled up tight, on her side, with her slender back pressed against Vicky¡¯s front. Vicky woke first and made no attempt to pretend she hadn¡¯t been snuggled up with a comrade, though she blushed and looked away from Elpida, awkward guilt shadowing her eyes.

    Elpida said, ¡°Vicky, well done for looking after Kagami. Don¡¯t be ashamed.¡±

    Vicky muttered something, but she didn¡¯t argue.

    Kagami didn¡¯t even bother to look. She sat up and stared at her hands.

    Elpida wasn¡¯t sure if they¡¯d actually had sex. She guessed not, the noise would have woken somebody. But part of her hoped they had.

    The emotional change was more subtle, but Elpida recognised the signs: once they were both up Vicky kept shooting attentive glances at Kagami, with an undercurrent of concern at Kagami¡¯s exhausted eyes and sluggish movements; Kagami didn¡¯t complain when Vicky all but fed her breakfast, and once or twice Elpida caught Kagami reaching out to touch Vicky¡¯s arm or shoulder. They exchanged hushed whispers, then Vicky looked at Kagami as if trying to extract a promise from her, or get her to commit to something. But Kagami looked away.

    Whenever this kind of development had happened in the cadre ¡ª and it had, often, repeatedly, in endless recombination ¡ª Elpida had always given her sisters a day or two to adjust, to figure out the emotional shapes they were attempting to fit together, before she would risk intervention to ensure there was no rift. But now, here, she could not risk additional friction within the group.

    On the other hand, Vicky and Kagami were not hers to command. They were not her sisters. Her sisters were all dead.

    Elpida asked: ¡°Vicky, how¡¯s your reattached arm feeling?¡±

    ¡°Oh, uh. Much better. Pain¡¯s almost gone.¡± She held it up, skin unbroken. ¡°Um ¡­ better, yes. It¡¯s a lot to admit, but cannibalism seems to have done the trick.¡±

    Elpida switched over: ¡°And Kagami ¡ª how are you?¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Among the living. Not.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s strange fever and weakness appeared to have passed. Her bite wounds had closed, leaving behind nasty scars which would presumably fade. She stood and stretched with the rest, tutting at her bionic legs, raking out her long black hair so it lay straight down her back. Elpida estimated that Kagami was concealing some kind of headache. It was plain in the microsecond mistiming of her eyelids when she blinked, in the way she squinted, and moved her neck, and pretended she was not in pain.

    Amina came over and hugged Vicky, which drew a horrified sidelong look from Kagami.

    They exchanged more hushed whispers; Vicky even sneaked in another guilty look toward Elpida. Elpida had to resist the urge to laugh. Perhaps this kind of social complexity wasn¡¯t unique to her cadre at all. She¡¯d have to watch Vicky ¡ª she didn¡¯t want guilt to cloud her conscience. Intimate comfort between comrades was no cause for guilt.

    Pira had healed in the night, though less so compared with the others. Her pale skin was clear, freckles standing out in the dead sunlight. She was still bruised from the fistfight, doing her best to conceal the stiffness when she rose. But the worst of her wounds ¡ª the lingering bullet-hole in her flank ¡ª seemed to no longer bother her.

    ¡°Pira,¡± Elpida said. ¡°If you need more of my blood, I want you to tell me.¡±

    Pira just stared, expression closed. ¡°I¡¯m capable as I am.¡± Then, after a pause: ¡°Thank you, Elpida.¡±

    Elpida judged the group was ready to move. One more day¡¯s travel, one more push, and then the combat frame. She said this to the others, and asked them one by one if anybody felt incapable of continuing.

    ¡°Everyone has a veto,¡± she said. ¡°If you don¡¯t feel ready, tell me now, and we¡¯ll rest for another day. Nobody gets left behind. Nobody gets shamed for needing to rest.¡±

    Ilyusha grabbed her shotgun and grinned. Pira just armed up, loose and ready. Atyle took up the cyclic sliver-gun once more and gestured for Elpida to strap on the coilgun¡¯s heavy power-tank. Amina said out loud, in a wavering voice: ¡°I am ready for you.¡± Vicky blew out a long breath, then nodded.

    ¡°Kagami?¡± Elpida asked. ¡°How are your legs?¡±

    ¡°Stupid. Obscene. Unwanted.¡± She smiled, pinched and sarcastic. She was playing with one of those inert silvery drones in her left hand. ¡°But I¡¯ll walk if you order me to, Commander.¡±

    ¡°No orders. If you¡¯re not ready, we rest.¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°Kaga, please.¡±

    Kagami tutted. ¡°Yes, fine. I¡¯m ready.¡±

    Elpida led the others down and out, through the dim and shadowy corridors of their temporary refuge, back into the petrified guts and gnawed bones of the eternal corpse-city.

    They crept beneath towering skyscrapers, scurried along boulevards of broken concrete, and skirted the mouldering sores in the city¡¯s hide ¡ª the suppurating masses of nano-rot, the mats of sticky grey mould, the half-alive flesh-beast tics and fleas embedded in the sides of buildings. Above their heads the suffocated black sky glowed in one corner with sputtering fire. They kept the same formation as previously: Elpida and Atyle in front with the heavy weapons, Vicky and Kagami just behind ¡ª Vicky so attentive and careful with Kagami now. Next came Amina, pressed in close to keep her protected. Pira took the rear, alert and experienced, while Ilyusha made herself a mobile asset, skipping back and forth, circling the group on clicking claws to scout their flanks.

    Elpida pointed them toward the now not-so-distant plume of smoke where the combat frame had come down; that smoke had dried to a trickle ¡ª or rather several distinct skeletal fingers, reaching for the coffin-lid of the sky, evidence of separate fires started by the orbital impact.

    The graveworm loomed on the horizon far to the left, a jagged grey mountain range cutting through the black.

    Despite two days travel the graveworm did not look any smaller, but Elpida knew they had not actually moved very far since the tomb and the bunker; travel through this corpse-city was a jarring stop-start motion, interrupted by confrontations and detours, stand-offs with other revenants too dangerous or curious to engage directly, long ways around things they did not want to meet, and long silences in hiding from things whose attention they did not wish to attract. Elpida¡¯s mind automatically settled in for a long day on the bleeding edge of tension, watching out for her comrades, watching every corner and window and road junction, and watching herself for signs of fatigue.

    An hour later the discrepancy was too obvious not to mention.

    ¡°The streets are dead,¡± Elpida whispered to the others when they paused in an empty, unroofed shell of tumbledown brick.

    Atyle replied: ¡°And the sky is black, warrior.¡±

    Vicky huffed, ¡°You know what she means, don¡¯t be stupid. It¡¯s too quiet, there¡¯s nothing around. City¡¯s empty all of a sudden. Giving me the creeps.¡±

    Kagami spoke through gritted teeth: ¡°I would hardly call it empty, Victoria.¡± She gestured with her head, with the auspex visor over her eyes. ¡°Try seeing what I see for five minutes. Every tenth building has some bottom-feeder scurrying away from us, or some lout lounging around in powered armour, staring back at me with some plasma weapon set-up that could turn us all into a bloody smear on the pavement. It¡¯s a miracle we haven¡¯t been assaulted yet! We¡¯re making enough fucking noise.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Exactly. This is so much less than we were dealing with before. We¡¯re not even being followed.¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°Oh trust me, ¡®Commander¡¯, we are ¡ª just not by much. That thing following us for twenty minutes back there, that wasn¡¯t remotely human.¡±

    Pira said: ¡°We¡¯re nearing the edge.¡±

    Everyone looked at her.

    Ilyusha grinned, nodding. ¡°Yeeeeeah.¡±

    Elpida asked, ¡°The edge of the graveworm safe zone?¡±

    Pira nodded. ¡°It¡¯s not a clear demarcation, more of a fuzzy boundary. Entities from beyond the safe zone will find it easier to prey on revenants who stray too close to the edge. The only revenants out here are the most desperate scavengers, or the ones very confident in their protection and bionic modifications. The mech fell right at the edge.¡±

    Uncomfortable glances criss-crossed the group ¡ª doubt and fear. Elpida didn¡¯t blame them, but she stepped in quickly. She said: ¡°We¡¯re heavily armed and we have very good intel gathering; we have Kagami¡¯s auspex and Atyle¡¯s bionic eye. We can fend off revenants wearing powered armour and Silico monsters alike, and I will not lead us into danger without looking first. We can do this.¡±

    Ilyusha clicked her claws against the metal of her shotgun, bobbing her head and tail. ¡°Yeah! Tell ¡®em!¡±

    Kagami snorted a fake laugh. ¡°At least the bloody mech itself won¡¯t be swarming with zombies.¡±

    Vicky grimaced. ¡°Kaga, don¡¯t jinx us.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°I would not count on that.¡±

    ¡°Pira?¡± said Elpida. ¡°Do you have a prediction?¡±

    Pira went still for a moment, then shook her head. She pulled her flame-red hair back and tucked it into her armour. ¡°Not one I¡¯m confident about. If it¡¯s just beyond the safe zone, that¡¯s one thing, that means venturing out. But if it¡¯s still inside, I think we¡¯ll be out of luck.¡±

    Kagami squinted from behind her auspex visor. ¡°Oh yes? How do you figure that, no-brains?¡±

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida warned ¡ª which made Kagami flinch.

    Pira answered. ¡°If it¡¯s inside the safe zone, it¡¯ll be accessible. Fallen technology, from orbit?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to meet the sorts of revenants who might be interested.¡±

    Ilyusha laughed again. ¡°Like us!¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°We find the combat frame, assess the situation, and make a plan from there. Everyone rested? Yes? Amina, are you okay? Good. Let¡¯s move.¡±

    Reaching the site of the orbital impact took another four hours of worming their way through the ossified intestines of the city, taking detours around impassible collapses in once-sweeping monorails and ground-car roads, pausing to wait while strange scavengers dragged themselves into shadowy burrows, and skirting the still-active infra-red eyes of machine-sentinels mounted on fortress walls.

    Elpida knew they were close when the tiny tails of smoke were almost overhead, visible through the gaps in the towers.

    This area of the city climbed toward the choking black overhead, encrusted with the rotten grave-fingers of many skyscrapers. Elpida and her companions passed down the canyon floors lined with fallen masonry and clusters of abandoned vehicles. Their view of the impact site was blocked by the vast towers; in a way, the city was not so different to the green, after all.

    Atyle and Kagami reacted at about the same time; Elpida estimated they were only a few hundred meters from the edge of the impact site.

    Atyle just stopped, staring up and ahead, through the layers of buildings which still separated the group from their goal. Her lips parted in soft awe. She exhaled in rapture. Elpida held up a fist for the others. All stop.

    Kagami went pale and broke out in cold sweat, head panning left and right. ¡°Oh fuck. Fuck me. Fuck all of us. Pira was right ¡ª it¡¯s teeming. There¡¯s ¡­ what¡¯s that?¡± She looked up, following Atyle¡¯s gaze, then winced and clutched her face. ¡°Ow, ah.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°You jinxed us, Kaga.¡±

    ¡°This is not my fault. Fuck you, it¡¯s not!¡±

    ¡°Up!¡± Elpida snapped. ¡°Up, now! We need high ground.¡±

    Climbing a skyscraper for a vantage point took them an additional ninety minutes. Sixty floors up, with Kagami and Atyle checking through the walls and ceilings for lurking revenants, going slow and methodical up the dark staircases of metal and plastic. Atyle kept staring out through the exterior wall. Kagami clutched one of Vicky¡¯s sleeves. Elpida kept them moving.

    Nobody complained.

    They reached the top floor, the best possible vantage point. Elpida led them out of the dark stairwell and into the mummified corpse of an opulent apartment, furnished with pale wood and plush cream carpets, covered in stains and rot and decades of dust. One wall was curved upward toward the ceiling, all made of glass, both window and skylight in one. This rambling ¡®penthouse¡¯ ¡ª a word Vicky quickly taught to Elpida ¡ª enjoyed a bird¡¯s eye view of what had probably once been a park ringed by tall buildings, but was now an impact crater smeared across the city¡¯s necrotic flesh.

    The combat frame must have struck the earth at a shallow angle, carving first a narrow incision, then crashing through buildings, knocking towers to rubble, throwing up mountains of dust and dirt before slamming into a wall of skyscrapers. Fires had burned themselves out in the blackened and cracked ring of structures around the impact ¡ª the source of the smoke trails in the sky.

    That ring of ruin was now occupied.

    Fighting positions had been dragged together from chunks of concrete; concealed drones hovered against blackened walls; the muzzles of heavy weaponry poked from high windows. A few corpses lay exposed on the open ground churned up by the impact. Tiny figures crouched on rooftops, giants in powered armour or with telescoping limbs, nightmares of blade and tooth coiled tight and ready to pounce. Symbols were daubed on walls with paint or blood or worse ¡ª circles and animal-heads, bird wings and geometric shapes; the lower floors of the intact skyscraper closest to the combat frame itself were dotted with a familiar design ¡ª a grinning skull.

    Occasional gunshots echoed upward from the clearing, but the conflict was frozen, awaiting a thaw.

    The combat frame itself was everything Elpida had imagined ¡ª but also more.

    A titan of sharp white plates, armoured like a god of the ancient world, scorched by atmospheric re-entry and filthy from impact, but still unbreached and whole. Elpida could see no burgundy gleam of machine-meat wounds. Four arms and four legs, half of them folded beneath the weight of the fallen machine as it lay on its side, crushed into the grey dirt, squeezed against the skyscrapers which had halted its slide. The body was covered in retracted weapon-pods and shielded armament domes, no doubt full of beam emitters and rocket systems and auto-cannons awaiting activation. The head was all eye, a single silver orb in the middle of the body. One arm stuck straight up ¡ª almost clean: the main armament, a railgun.

    Had the pilot protected the weapon on purpose?

    Was the pilot alive?

    The sight threatened to overwhelm Elpida¡¯s training, to paralyse her with awe and the pain of familiarity. But she could not afford that yet, partly due to the danger ¡ª but mostly because of the three eye-searing static blurs which crouched on top of the combat frame.

    Somehow, without being told, she knew exactly what they were.

    Elpida forced herself not to react to the sight ¡ª not to the revenants, or the combat frame, or what perched upon it. She compacted her emotions. She crouched next to the rotting carcass of a sofa and put a commanding whip crack into her voice.

    ¡°Nobody get too close to the windows, stay below the sight lines of the other buildings. Illy ¡ª Illy, get Amina behind that kitchen counter. Vicky. Vicky!¡±

    Vicky was just standing, rifle limp in her hands, staring at the trio of static blurs on top of the combat frame. ¡°Elpi, what are¡ª what is¡ª ah, ow, oh that hurts my eyes, why can¡¯t I¡ª¡±

    Pira said: ¡°Don¡¯t look directly at the worm-guard. Stop looking.¡±

    Vicky managed to look down, at her weapon. She was almost hyperventilating.

    Atyle sighed with god-touched pleasure. ¡°Ahhhhhh. The machines of the gods. They are perfect, are they not?¡± Her bionic eye was wide open and whirring. Her organic eye was scrunched tight with pain, crying freely. ¡°And this ¡­ this is the warrior¡¯s steed?¡±

    Kagami was laughing softly, looking through the interface of her auspex visor. ¡°Worm-guard? You¡¯re worried about your mythical dragons? There¡¯s dozens of revenants down there. A hundred! I count twenty-five suits of powered armour in those buildings. More, even! I don¡¯t even know what half those weapons are. What is that? What is that smear on the concrete all the way over ¡­ oh, oh fuck, that¡¯s still alive. That¡¯s still active, it¡¯s¡ª¡±

    Elpida snapped: ¡°Kagami!¡±

    Kagami flinched hard, almost flailing.

    Elpida tapped the floor. ¡°Here, now. Next to me. Pira, get Atyle down. Bundle her to the floor if you have to. Vicky¡ª¡±

    Kagami spluttered. ¡°Next to you? You¡¯re joking, Commander.¡± A nasty little grin spread across her lips. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere near¡ª¡±

    ¡°I need your auspex. I need to know what we¡¯re looking at. And I need you to interpret the readout. Here, now.¡± But Kagami just stood and shivered. ¡°Vicky, help Kagami. Vicky!¡±

    ¡°Right. O-on it, Elpi. I¡¯m on it. Kaga, come on. If Elpi says it¡¯s safe¡ª¡±

    ¡°Go fuck yourself, Victoria,¡± Kagami sneered.

    But Kagami consented to be led by Vicky; they both joined Elpida in her pitifully concealed position by the sofa. Kagami was covered in cold sweat, shivering softly, and holding one of Vicky¡¯s arms in a vice-like grip. Pira did not bundle Atyle to the floor, because Atyle gave her a withering look, then sat down cross-legged so she could continue staring at the objects of her fascination, no matter how much it hurt her organic left eye. Ilyusha cringed and ducked away from the things crouched on top of the combat frame, but she did as Elpida asked, helping Amina behind the cover of the kitchen counter.

    Pira joined Elpida as well. ¡°Don¡¯t look directly at the worm-guard.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I won¡¯t. Kaga, I need your eyes. We¡¯re going to assess what¡¯s happening here. Step by step. Let¡¯s start with the buildings.¡±

    Kagami laughed, humourless and hollow. ¡°How about starting with the giant fucking mech?¡±

    Vicky swallowed loudly. ¡°Can the worm-guard see us? Pira? Can they see us?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Pira replied. ¡°They can see everything.¡±

    ¡°B-but if we look at them, they¡¯ll see us looking and ¡­ right?¡±

    Pira said: ¡°They know we¡¯re here and they know we¡¯re looking. If they cared, we¡¯d be dead.¡±

    Vicky stared at Pira. ¡°Then why shouldn¡¯t we look?¡±

    ¡°Because it hurts.¡±

    Elpida spent almost an hour cataloguing everything they could see from their vantage point. She had Kagami count the number of revenants in the buildings around the impact crater, spying them through the walls: one hundred and three, with an additional nineteen dead, and seven partially consumed or dying. Fifteen autonomous or semi-autonomous drones of varying sizes and armament. Twenty nine suits of powered armour in various states of repair, many of different designs, some outputting signatures of back-mounted fusion power plants, others drawing directly from nanomachine uplinks to their wearers, or blocks of ultra high-density fuel embedded in their plating. Weapon systems were more difficult to catalogue, far more advanced and lethal than a coilgun, or even a cyclic sliver-gun looted from a dead Silico monster.

    ¡°Lots of plasma,¡± Kagami said. ¡°Lots of energy weapons. I don¡¯t even know what that one is ¡ª a microwave gun? For melting tanks? Heavy machine guns galore. Half this lot are ready for Twen-Cen trenches but with energy-charged rounds. The other half are¡ª fuck me, that¡¯s a gravity effector. Hand-held? Ugh. I feel like being sick.¡±

    ¡°Focus,¡± Elpida told her.

    The revenants who were gathered to pick at the corpse of the combat frame were almost all of very high level biomechanical and nanomechanical complexity ¡ª extra limbs, implanted weapons, rambling biological additions. Most of it was impossible to make out at such a distance, even with the auspex, not in any further detail than a glow of nanomachine readouts.

    ¡°Lots of comms,¡± Kagami said. ¡°This lot are talking, constantly. Almost all of it heavily encrypted. Radio, actual radio. Hah. Other mediums too. I can tap into some of them.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°If we can tap into unencrypted communications, others can as well. They¡¯re not stupid. Anything we can overhear may be misdirection.¡±

    ¡°Smart,¡± said Pira.

    At the very far end of the impact crater was a long bloody smear, so wide and so crimson that it was visible with the naked eye, even sixty floors up. Vicky and Elpida both peered through the rifle scope at the twitching chunks of machine-gore. Kagami confirmed it was still alive.

    Pira explained: ¡°From beyond the graveworm line. Something which got too interested. Revenant once, maybe. The worm-guard neutralised it. Probably why they¡¯re here.¡±

    Kagami said, voice floating away: ¡°I don¡¯t want to be within a hundred feet of anything down there.¡± She clutched one of the silvery drones in her left hand, turning it over and over; Vicky kept glancing down at the unpowered machine. ¡°Wait. That¡¯s¡ª¡± Kagami paused, squinted down at the buildings, and burst into laughter. ¡°It¡¯s the spider-cannibal! So big I¡¯d recognise the giant bitch anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Serin?¡±

    ¡°No, no, the one from the tomb. The armoured spider. With the plates, and the idiot on her back.¡±

    Vicky supplied the name: ¡°Lianna?¡±

    It was Lianna. Elpida had Kagami confirm that, describing the outputs until they could form a picture: the orange-plated spider girl crouching half-asleep in some burned-out building. Inaya was dozing on her back, her face still encrusted with machinery. A bundle of bloody sheets was snuggled up against one side of the star-prophet.

    Zeltzin? The swordswoman who had been cut in two by the Silico, back at the tomb?

    ¡°Keeping her around as rations, maybe,¡± Kagami suggested in a hiccuping laugh.

    Elpida and Vicky spent some time confirming the symbols on the intact skyscraper closest to the combat frame; Elpida had Kagami take some close-up zooms with the auspex readout too, just to be certain. There was no mistake: it was the same symbol as on the human-skin banner outside the tomb, and stamped on one of Serin¡¯s arms, crossed out as a kill tally.

    A grinning skull.

    ¡°Serin called them the ¡®Death Cult,¡± Elpida mused out loud. ¡°Inaya and Lianna, back at the tomb, called them ¡®Death¡¯s Heads¡¯.¡±

    Ilyusha spat on the floor. ¡°Reptiles¡±

    Kagami swallowed loudly. ¡°Reptiles or grim reapers or whatever, they¡¯re just as heavily armed as everyone else down there.¡±

    Elpida voiced what she¡¯d already summarised: ¡°None of those groups are moving. There¡¯s very little gunfire, very little contact.¡±

    Vicky suggested: ¡°Improvised truce? ¡®Cos of the ¡­ worm-guard?¡±

    Pira said, ¡°They¡¯re waiting for the graveworm to move.¡±

    The others all looked at her. Elpida nodded for Pira to continue.

    Pira gestured at the trio of static blurs atop the combat frame. ¡°The worm-guard have responded to the mech, probably because it¡¯s very advanced technology. They recognise it as a threat to the worm. They¡¯re keeping anything from claiming it. But when the graveworm moves on, so will they. When they depart, the revenants will fight over the mech. But they¡¯ll have a very short window, because the safe zone will be leaving them behind.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Whoever¡¯s closest probably has the best chance of claiming it. Assuming anybody can even use the thing.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°And only the most heavily armed would try, right? Huh.¡±

    Elpida chewed on this thought; the idea of vultures fighting over a combat frame ¡ª a child of Telokopolis, in its own way ¡ª made her feel indignant and insulted. None of them could pilot it anyway, not without an MMI uplink. The frame¡¯s own autonomous biological systems would refuse manual control, not unless it felt the touch of a trained pilot ¡ª a pilot, from the cadre.

    The design of the machine stirred recognition in Elpida¡¯s soul ¡ª but also alienation and doubt and more questions than she had time for. She did not recognise the type, let alone the exact model; this frame was so much larger than anything Telokopolis had manufactured during her life, never mind the addition of orbital manoeuvre equipment. But the lines of the body, the shape of the legs, the way the weapon-domes sat ¡ª she knew it all.

    ¡°I can pilot it,¡± she said.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Pira asked.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°The machine is of Telokopolan design. Perhaps ¡­ perhaps after my time. Or ¡­ before?¡±

    Vicky swallowed loudly. ¡°Elpi, this is like the thing you piloted? This ¡­ it¡¯s a ¡­ it¡¯s giant.¡±

    Kagami hissed: ¡°Yes, Victoria, your super-soldier girl was a mech pilot. I¡¯m sure she had fun crushing non-combatants with those feet.¡±

    ¡°Kaga, shut up.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°You have to be sure.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°If I can reach the hatch, beneath the head. See? Right there, there¡¯s handholds and an access panel. I don¡¯t have an MMI uplink implant anymore, so I can¡¯t link to a pilot capsule.¡± Her hand wandered the back of her neck, smooth and empty. ¡°But if I¡¯m right and the combat frame is of Telokopolan manufacture, I should be able to interface with the manual controls. Clumsy and slow, it¡¯ll be like piloting while blindfolded and gagged. But it will recognise me as a pilot.¡±

    Or it might not.

    What if it was built by the Covenanters, centuries after her death ¡ª but no, that made no sense, what use would Covenanters have for machines to walk the green? Or what if it was from pre-history, the birth of her city, and would not know her as a pilot?

    But Elpida had no other choice. She had to try. And she could not voice her doubt, not in front of companions who needed to believe she had something to offer other than illusory hope.

    Pira just stared. Vicky gulped. Kagami said nothing, eyes staring at the machine.

    Ilyusha scooted out from behind the apartment¡¯s kitchen counter, and said, ¡°Got one already? Came down by itself?¡±

    ¡°Good question,¡± said Pira.

    A living pilot. Elpida couldn¡¯t think about the implications of that. She shook her head. ¡°If the pilot was alive and conscious, the combat frame would be up and moving. Kagami, are there any signals from inside?¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s dead. And the damn thing is armoured like a nuclear bunker. I can¡¯t see through it.¡±

    ¡°Right. Yes. Composite nano-grown carbon bone-mesh.¡±

    Vicky let out a nervous laugh. ¡°So, what? You¡¯re just gonna walk up and take the key from under the welcome mat? With a hundred revenants watching? And those three- ow, dammit, I looked again.¡± Vicky winced and clutched at her eyes.

    Atop the combat frame, with a commanding view of every approach, crouched three worm-guard. The same type of machine that had visited and investigated Elpida and the others just after she had risen from the dead a second time. Back then, protected by the concrete bunker, they had not seen the worm-guard with their eyes, only felt it as a sensory overload.

    But now the worm-guard were static blurs of black scribble and visual interference ¡ª painful to look at, impossible to examine.

    Pira explained: ¡°Target acquisition countermeasures. Don¡¯t try to overcome it. If you do, they¡¯ll probably upgrade you to a threat worth engaging.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°They¡¯ll shoot anything that gets close. Right?¡±

    Ilyusha grumbled, hissing between her teeth. ¡°Rrrrrrr. Right.¡±

    Atyle said, ¡°The machines of the gods wait for us to try their patience.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Atyle has a point.¡±

    Kagami barked with laughter. ¡°Shoot? Ha! More like obliterate. You can¡¯t be serious, ¡®Commander¡¯. We¡¯re fucked. Turbo-fucked. Reamed six ways to Sunday. Is that how you surface bitches say it? That trio of fucking nightmares over there is holding off over ten times our number in zombies, by sheer threat alone. You want to wait until they leave? We¡¯ll get minced, and eaten. Literally! The things down there aren¡¯t even human anymore ¡ª neither are we!¡±

    Vicky swallowed. ¡°Yeah, Elpi. Come on. This is ¡­ this is beyond us. We don¡¯t have the firepower. Or anything.¡±

    Pira watched, still and unmoving.

    Elpida said: ¡°No. It¡¯s not beyond us.¡±

    The others raised their voices. Ilyusha snorted, looking sick. Atyle called out something about talking to the gods. Vicky stammered and Kagami spat and Amina watched with huge, silent eyes full of faith. And Pira said nothing.

    Elpida raised her voice: ¡°Nobody else can pilot the combat frame. It¡¯s useless to everyone down there. Why would the worm-guard be keeping them off it? That worm-guard which visited us before, it didn¡¯t harm us. It checked up on us. It came to see if I was alive. You all know I¡¯ve communicated with the graveworm itself, it spoke to me. All this has a logical conclusion.¡±

    Vicky frowned. ¡°Oh no, Elpi. That¡¯s a hell of a gamble.¡±

    Ilyusha perked up, grinned, and tapped the wooden floor with her tail. ¡°Ours!¡±

    Pira took a deep breath.

    ¡°Oh, right!¡± Kagami sneered. ¡°So we just walk out in front of the brain-scrambling machines, is that it?¡±

    Elpida held Kagami¡¯s eyes until Kagami blinked. Then she cast her gaze around the others.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Because I think the worm-guard are waiting ¡ª for us. For me. For a pilot.¡±

 astrum - 6.8

    ¡°There are two possible directions from which to approach the combat frame. The first is directly across the impact crater, over the open ground, a straight shot from our current position.¡±

    Elpida placed the edge of her hand against the cold glass of the penthouse window, indicating a line across the broken grey earth sixty floors below. Her fingertips brushed the sharp feet of the combat frame itself; her palm ignored the ring of soot-stained skyscrapers and the revenants lurking within. She kept her eyes off the baleful glitch-flicker of the worm-guard trio crouched atop the combat frame¡¯s filthy white armour.

    The others had fallen silent after Elpida¡¯s declaration of intent; now she was explaining the plan. She kept her voice calm and selected her words with care.

    She almost convinced herself.

    Kagami laughed, hysterical and hollow. Her eyes were too wide, her black hair stuck to her scalp with sweat. ¡°You¡¯re joking. You¡¯re mad.¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°Kaga, just¡ª just let her try.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s joking! This is a joke! That would get us all killed!¡±

    Pira agreed: ¡°A suicide run.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s close to a thousand metres, maybe even over a kilometre, without any effective cover, crossing broken, churned-up earth, exposed to dozens of elevated sight lines from the surrounding buildings.¡± She waved a finger at the towers, at their thousands of windows, their broken tips scratching at the black sky. ¡°Any group trying to cross that open ground will be under constant fire. At night, taking it very slowly, wearing heavy armour?¡± Elpida shrugged. ¡°Maybe I could make that work. Maybe. But as far as I can tell we all have extremely good low-light vision. We revenants, I mean. All of us in this room can pretty much see in the dark. There¡¯s no reason to believe other revenants can¡¯t do so as well. Night will provide little advantage. No. Crossing the open ground is impossible.¡±

    The others did not look reassured by her comprehensive dismissal; huddled together in the dim and dusty shadows of the rotten penthouse apartment, framed by pale wood and thick carpets and fake marble, six pairs of eyes regarded her with varying levels of concern and discomfort.

    Pira just nodded. She sat nearby, to examine the vista alongside Elpida, unafraid of snipers. Ilyusha snorted, neither agreeing nor arguing, while Amina looked on with open incomprehension; they were both still sitting in the little kitchen area, on hardwood floor, half-sheltered by the counters and cupboards. Kagami ground her teeth ¡ª she had retreated away from the window, taking shelter by Vicky. Vicky herself watched as if Elpida had gone mad but she was too polite to point it out. Atyle offered nothing, sitting straight backed and cross-legged, far back on the plush carpet, still staring directly at the worm-guard.

    Sitting on the floor and briefing her cadre; Elpida tried very hard to suppress that nostalgia. These were not her sisters.

    But she had to make them believe.

    She continued. ¡°Option two: get as close to the combat frame as possible prior to breaking cover. That means travelling all the way around the clearing, around the impact crater, on a route that doesn¡¯t intersect with the groups of revenants down there.¡± Elpida traced a line on the glass, hundreds of metres back from the skyscrapers, plunging through the depths of the city.

    Vicky forced a chuckle. ¡°Elpi, you seriously think all those big nasty zombie girls down there are gonna leave us alone?¡±

    Ilyusha barked: ¡°We¡¯re big! Nasty! Zombies too!¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Yes, Vicky, I think they will. And thank you, Illy. All those groups down there are competing for positions closest to the combat frame, for the best chance of seizing it when the worm-guard move on. If somebody breaks from that ring and enters the killing ground, I¡¯m certain they¡¯ll come under fire, yes. But most of the heavy weaponry down there is focused on the flanks and rear of each group. They have to protect their positions ¡ª from each other. I think there¡¯s a good chance they won¡¯t sortie out to engage me if I¡¯m a couple of hundred metres back, deep in the buildings, and not bothering them.¡±

    Vicky frowned. This conversation was taking a visible toll on her; this morning she had looked strong and healthy, bolstered by the nanomachines from the meal of brain matter. But now her dark eyes were scrunched with concern, her stolen fur-trimmed coat pulled tight around hunched shoulders, her scoped rifle clutched in her lap.

    Kagami snorted. ¡°¡®Good chance¡¯,¡± she echoed. ¡°Best you can do, commander?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Kagami, am I right about weapon positions down there in those buildings?¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes behind her auspex visor, but she nodded. Her dusky brown skin was waxy with stress. ¡°Yes, yes, you¡¯re right, fine. They¡¯re all dug in. Watching their collective arses. Well done.¡±

    Pira added, ¡°We¡¯re on the edge of the graveworm safe zone. Things will be out there, hunting for strays. Worse revenants. Real zombies. We risk running into them if we go much further out.¡±

    Amina said in a tiny voice: ¡°Demons.¡±

    Kagami shivered. ¡°Fuck. Great.¡±

    Elpida nodded to Pira. ¡°I consider that an acceptable risk. Better than crossing the open ground. Pira, thank you for the warning.¡± Pira nodded once, eyes locked on Elpida. ¡°Now, see where the combat frame is positioned?¡±

    Elpida pointed through the penthouse windows, down at the filthy white plates of the combat frame. The great machine lay twisted and prone against a wall of skyscrapers, where it had come to rest after ploughing through thousands of tons of dirt. It looked like a person who had slid into a wall head and shoulders first, legs sticking out at the other end, limp across the churned ground. The railgun stood tall, pointed at the sky, glinting in the ruddy light.

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Oh, no, I¡¯d missed it until you pointed it out. It¡¯s so very small, after all.¡±

    Vicky grunted. ¡°Kaga, fuck¡¯s sake.¡±

    Elpida ignored the sarcasm. ¡°The buildings to the rear, the ones it¡¯s leaning against, the ones it hit ¡ª those are impassible. A tangle of rubble and melted steel. Even with proper tools and a trained team, it would take days to cut through all that. And I might fall into an opening, break both my legs, or something similar. So, do you see that gap between the intact buildings, right there? Right next to the end of the combat frame¡¯s leg. That¡¯s the target. Circle the crater, then take a straight line back in, down that street.¡±

    Pira stared, expression closed. Ilyusha spat on the floor. Atyle blinked slowly, peat-green bionic eye whirring inside the socket.

    Vicky said: ¡°Right next to the death cult people.¡±

    Elpida nodded. She wasn¡¯t trying to conceal or downplay the danger of her plan. The intact skyscraper closest to the combat frame was the one daubed with that grinning skull symbol: the death¡¯s head.

    Behind the walls marked by that morbid icon was the single largest group of revenants gathered around the combat frame ¡ª thirty three individuals, with nine suits of powered armour, as counted through Kagami¡¯s long-range auspex. Heavily armed, with exotic weapons guarding their rear and flanks, and a pair of loitering drones clamped high up on the front exterior wall of their temporary fortress. The specifics of their bionic enhancements and self-modifications were impossible to tell at that distance, but every single member of the group lit up Kagami¡¯s auspex with nanomachine density warnings and high-energy readout spikes.

    They had reduced the lower floors of the neighbouring skyscraper to burnt-out ruins, cover chewed to nothing but naked steel beams, littered with mines and improvised explosives, patrolled by another pair of semi-autonomous drones. The next nearest group had given them a wide berth. Their other flank was covered by part of the tangled mess of rubble from the combat frame¡¯s impact. Dug in deep.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Illy, Pira, you¡¯re the only two with direct experience here. What do you think?¡±

    Ilyusha flicked out her red-metal fingertip claws and made her bionic tail arc upward in mock threat. ¡°Fuck ¡®em up! Reptile cowards¡¯ll run!¡±

    Pira didn¡¯t answer right away. She stared at Elpida for a long moment, eyes blue and distant as the lost skies. Her flame-red hair was tucked down into her body armour. Her freckles caught the light. She shrugged. ¡°I told you already, I¡¯ve never met this exact group before. I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Right, thank you both. Materially they don¡¯t seem too different to any of the other groups down there.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s let out another sad laugh. ¡°This is a big fucking gamble, Elpi.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it is,¡± Elpida said. ¡°But it¡¯s a calculated one. Their deployment strongly suggests they care about other groups jockeying for position, not lone revenants wandering forward. I would prefer to avoid them, but the next alleyway along would add an extra two hundred metres to reach the combat frame. That alleyway, by the death¡¯s heads, gives me barely fifty metres to sprint for the combat frame. I can make that in just over four seconds.¡±

    Vicky laughed, shaking her head. ¡°You super soldier miracle girl. This is crazy. You can¡¯t outrun bullets.¡±

    Kagami scoffed. ¡°You¡¯d be under fire the whole time! Fifty metres or five hundred, it makes no difference! You still have to climb the mech and get the hatch open. Under fire! I¡¯m not stupid, I¡¯ve directed worse ¡ª and failed, because it¡¯s stupid.¡±

    Ilyusha grimaced. She was no fool either.

    Elpida hesitated. She could not afford to show anything but confidence. If she was going to convince her comrades, they had to believe.

    She looked Kagami in the eyes and said: ¡°Not if I¡¯m right.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Pira, softly, with a touch of awe. ¡°She thinks the worm-guard are going to cover her.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°No, that¡¯s not what I think.¡±

    But Vicky was already biting her lower lip, Kagami was laughing softly, and Ilyusha was staring in teeth-gritting worry. Only Atyle and Amina seemed swept up in the same assumptions. Both of them regarded her with two different types of silent approval, one curious, the other devoted. Pira just stared, unreadable, waiting for more.

    ¡°The worm-guard will not cover me,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean.¡±

    Kagami spluttered. ¡°That¡¯s not what you said earlier! You said they were waiting for you! Like you¡¯re the world¡¯s own special little girl and everything here is designed just for your edification. News-flash, vat-grunt: we¡¯re all meat now!¡±

    Vicky put one hand on Kagami¡¯s slender forearm. ¡°Kaga, chill.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°I believe they are waiting for a pilot, yes. The graveworm clearly doesn¡¯t think like we do¡ª¡±

    Kagami laughed. ¡°Oh, you think?! Good deduction, commander.¡±

    Vicky reached over with her other hand and took Kagami¡¯s chin, much to Kagami¡¯s apparent surprise. She forced Kagami to look at her. Kagami just blinked in shock. ¡°Kaga. Shut up. I need to hear this.¡±

    Kagami shrugged off Vicky¡¯s hands and hissed through her teeth. ¡°Get off me, Victoria.¡±

    Elpida swallowed before she continued. This was harder than she had expected. ¡°If the graveworm wanted me personally inside that combat frame, then the worm-guard would have shepherded us here. Or one of them would be crossing the impact crater right now to escort us.¡± That made Vicky shiver and Ilyusha shake her head like a wet dog. ¡°I don¡¯t believe they¡¯re waiting for me personally. I don¡¯t believe I¡¯m special, or more important than any other revenant. What I believe is that they won¡¯t fire on me.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Kagami started to say something. Vicky started to interrupt her.

    Pira said: ¡°On what basis?¡±

    ¡°Because the graveworm is interested in me.¡±

    Lies. Half-truths at best. Leaving so much unsaid. Elpida could never have lied to her cadre like this. Howl would have smelled it minutes ago and challenged her to a fight. But Elpida needed them to believe.

    ¡°Picture this,¡± she said. ¡°I reach the combat frame, standing on the armour plates themselves, walking toward the access hatch, upright, unshielded, out of cover. The worm-guard aren¡¯t attacking me. In fact, I¡¯m approaching them. Would you take a shot at me, and risk drawing the attention of those machines?¡±

    Elpida pointed out of the penthouse window, at the trio of black scribbles in her peripheral vision, the visual glitch which concealed the worm-guard from her senses.

    Atyle said, ¡°What if you are challenged, warrior? What if the resurrected release their slings and arrows regardless?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to shout it at the top of my lungs, when I reach the combat frame. I¡¯m going to declare that the worm-guard are protecting me.¡±

    Pira took a long, slow breath. Kagami laughed without humour, shaking her head. Ilyusha bared her teeth, nodding along, pumping herself up with forced enthusiasm. Atyle just smiled. Amina looked starstruck.

    Vicky sounded grief-stricken: ¡°Elpi. Elpi this is insane. Surely you can see that?¡±

    Kagami laughed: ¡°Your super-soldier bitch believes she¡¯s the most special girl in the world. Face it, Victoria. She¡¯s not yours.¡±

    Ilyusha barked, ¡°She¡¯s fuckin¡¯ right! We can do it!¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°I don¡¯t think we can. Elpi, this is too many assumptions. What if you¡¯re wrong about the worm-guard?¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯m wrong,¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°Elpi ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m taking an educated gamble, yes.¡±

    Kagami snapped, ¡°It¡¯s ¡®educated guess¡¯, you suicidal drone. I thought commanders and squad leaders were supposed to be grown with more self-preservation than a fucking roid-hopped grunt. Or has that obscene mech down there gotten into your head, huh? Is that thing broadcasting a signal to your brain implants? Luring you in? Wouldn¡¯t be surprised. It looks like a fucking trap. Freak-grown illegal technology, it looks like something out of the worst AI-driven experiments, something I would have melted with a thermonuclear weapon. And that¡¯s your saviour? Ha!¡±

    ¡°Linguistic drift,¡± Elpida said. She forced herself not to react to the insult against a fellow child of Telokopolis.

    Kagami squinted. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Educated gamble, educated guess. We¡¯re all hearing translated versions of each other¡¯s languages. You know what I meant.¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°Guesstimate.¡±

    Kagami pulled a face. ¡°Ugh!¡±

    Vicky looked at her, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s vile. You people always did love your disgusting neologisms.¡± She huffed and looked away, trembling fingertips pressed against one high cheekbone.

    Vicky sighed a long, shaking sigh. ¡°Portmanteau, not neologism.¡±

    Atyle said, ¡°We are all speaking in the tongue of the gods. Our roots replaced, written over. There is no history in these words. But there may be poetry.¡±

    Ilyusha grinned at Atyle and moved her lips without making a sound; perhaps that overcame the translation software. Ilyusha snorted at her own joke while Atyle just watched.

    Elpida let the others go through the motions, allowing them to distract themselves from unpleasant thoughts. This was the first step of detachment, of acceptance, of believing that she believed.

    Only Pira stared at Elpida, unwavering. Did she see through the lie?

    Vicky pulled herself together and said: ¡°Elpi, you kept saying ¡®I¡¯ during all that. What happened to ¡®we¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Ahhhhhhh,¡± Atyle purred. ¡°Yes, the twice-hidden soldier asks the question we all think. I heard the warrior¡¯s unspoken meaning as well. She intends to go alone.¡±

    Ilyusha perked up, tail gone stiff. ¡°What? No! No! Elpi, no!¡±

    Elpida raised both hands. ¡°I¡¯m glad you noticed. Everyone, please, let me explain.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s training told her to relocate the group, to move away from the floor-to-ceiling penthouse windows, to retreat deeper into the once-luxurious apartment. The whole place was covered with dust, no seat or sofa or stool was worth sitting on, there was nothing here but rot and ruin. But now she¡¯d finished illustrating her plan, she should have moved away from the windows ¡ª away from the brain-scratching glitch of the worm-guard, away from any potential spotters or snipers.

    But she couldn¡¯t bring herself to care.

    Elpida stood up, settled her heavy armoured coat on her shoulders, and shook out her long white hair.

    She was framed from behind by the grey dirt of the impact crater, the skyscrapers of the dead city, and the white shell of the fallen combat frame. Dying firelight glow from the black sky blessed her with a halo. She needed the drama, needed to radiate charisma. She knew how, even if her cadre would have seen through it in an instant. Howl would have laughed and heckled. Howl would have followed her regardless.

    She half-hoped a sniper would see her and take off her head. Perhaps Kagami was right. Perhaps Elpida was going mad. She¡¯d never felt like this before, never casually put herself in danger for so little reason.

    She looked at the others one by one.

    She had only known these women for a few days. The blur of nanomachine afterlife made it feel like much longer. Some of them she had grown to know a little better ¡ª Vicky, Ilyusha ¡ª while others were still a mystery ¡ª Atyle ¡ª or kept themselves back ¡ª Pira. She had died for them once, fighting a Silico murder-machine, the kind of fight she had trained for all her life. Why did they follow her? Her cadre, her clone-clade sisters, her vat-grown family, had chosen to follow her because she was the best option out of twenty-five genetic experiments, the best chance to keep the cadre unbroken; they had been raised together, fought together, loved together, for years and years. But these six women ¡ª these six nanomachine revenants ¡ª they were not her cadre. They followed her because she had kept them alive.

    If they followed her any further she was going to get them killed.

    The lie hovered on her tongue: I know what I¡¯m doing, the worm-guard won¡¯t fire on me, I think this is our best bet.

    She didn¡¯t know that. She hoped ¡ª prayed to Telokopolis, eternal shelter for all ¡ª that the worm-guard would know her and welcome her. That the graveworm would know her by her touch.

    But she could not be certain that she was not going mad with grief.

    Tell them the truth! she screamed at herself. Tell them why you have to do this!

    ¡°This is the worst plan I¡¯ve ever made,¡± she said out loud.

    She could have added comparisons, but they would mean nothing to her audience: this plan was worse than the time she and Howl had decided to spend an entire week refusing to communicate with the Legion in anything other than cadre clade-cant, to make a point about organisational interdependence; worse than when she¡¯d engaged Old Lady Nunnus in a philosophical debate on the merits of self-sacrifice; worse than the duel with Aronus, the Legion Colonel who¡¯d blamed thirteen-year-old Elpida for the loss of a hundred men beyond the edge of the plateau, when she¡¯d won the duel by breaking both of his legs but misunderstood the point of letting him win with a minimum of violence; worse than not murdering all the Covenanters when she¡¯d had the chance; worse than making Howl cry.

    Vicky started to speak. So did Kagami, and Ilyusha, barking over each other. But Atyle snapped her fingers for quiet ¡ª hard and sharp in the dusty silence.

    Elpida held her external composure. ¡°Yes, this is a significant gamble. In truth¡ª¡± Tell them the truth, the real truth, not this bland excuse. ¡°¡ªI¡¯m making dozens of assumptions ¡ª about the behaviour of the other revenants down there, about the aims of the death¡¯s head people, about how they may react to me reaching the combat frame. I¡¯m assuming the worm-guard won¡¯t kill me. I¡¯m assuming I can get into the combat frame, that it will recognise me, accept me, respond to me as a pilot. I¡¯m assuming a lot of things. And if I¡¯m wrong then I will die.¡±

    ¡°Then why do it?¡± Vicky asked in a distraught warble.

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Because she¡¯s fucking mad. Death-wish bonkers. This place has gotten to her. Or that mech down there is broadcasting to her cranial implants.¡±

    Atyle said, ¡°She does it because she must.¡±

    Pira just stared. Ilyusha waited, showing her teeth, desperate for anything.

    The truth was a heart-wound inside Elpida¡¯s chest.

    When she had fought the Silico murder-machine outside the tomb, when it had shot her through the heart a split-second before she had killed it, when she had lay dying, bleeding out onto the cold ground, she had heard a voice. In her last moments of consciousness, she had heard Howl¡¯s voice.

    Love you too.

    Brain-echoes on the verge of biological shut-down ¡ª or a broadcast from the graveworm?

    The sight of the combat frame had made it real once again, impossible to ignore. That lost child of Telokopolis deserved her help in its hour of need, yes, but far greater was the desire to stride back to the graveworm, eye-to-eye with the mountain range, and demand answers, demand Howl¡¯s voice again. She wanted the graveworm¡¯s attention. She had no idea if the worm-guard were waiting for a pilot ¡ª or if they would turn her into meat-slurry on the concrete ground.

    Say it! she admonished herself. Tell them that you think the giant worm-machine might be your dead clade-sister, your closest, your lover, your Howl. Tell them you¡¯re mad! Then they won¡¯t follow you. Then you won¡¯t get them killed. Then they won¡¯t end up like your sisters.

    Elpida said, ¡°Because I don¡¯t see any other options.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°What do you mean, no other options? There¡¯s plenty of other options, we could ¡­ we could ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°This plan is stupid and dangerous, but it¡¯s our only option to secure the combat frame. We won¡¯t stand a chance against all those other revenants once the graveworm starts moving and the worm-guard depart.¡±

    ¡°But ¡­ but we ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°There is another option,¡± Elpida said slowly. ¡°Turn around and walk back into the safe zone. Become part of the ecosystem of nanomachines and predatory hunting, join ¡­ this.¡± She allowed her eyes to flick up and around, indicating the corpse-city, the nanomachine-afterlife. ¡°This infinite cannibal machine which has resurrected us. Forever. Until you lose hope and choose not to return. That¡¯s the other option.¡±

    Abandon hope. Give up on her sisters, plunge into this nightmare of eternal afterlife, eating and dying, eating and dying. Accept that she and her cadre died a million years ago.

    Everything she had said made perfect sense. But she could not tell where strategy ended and desire began.

    Ilyusha spat again. Pira looked stone-cold. Vicky looked like she wanted to cry.

    Elpida took a deep breath and said: ¡°I¡¯m not going to ask any of you to come with me.¡±

    Kagami tried to laugh. ¡°What about ordering us, ¡®commander¡¯?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not your commanding officer. We¡¯re not in a military. But we¡¯re not civilians either, we¡¯re ¡­ I don¡¯t know what we are.¡±

    Kagami swallowed.

    Elpida said, ¡°If I¡¯m wrong, then anybody who comes with me is going to die. If I make a mistake, or I¡¯m incorrect about the graveworm, or the worm-guard, then we all die. If anybody wants to stay behind, right here, then you can do that. You¡¯ll get a share of the equipment, weapons, the raw nanomachines, and the remaining food ¡ª the brains. If I¡¯m successful and I activate the combat frame, then I¡¯ll come back for you. I will not abandon anybody for not wanting to take this risk. I will not abandon you. I promise.¡±

    Amina said, in a tiny voice: ¡°What if you don¡¯t ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida smiled for her. ¡°If I don¡¯t make it, then I hope we¡¯ll see each other again, eventually.¡±

    Dull amber fire filtered down through the window-skylight of the fossilised penthouse: eternal sunset in an empty black sky, brushing the skeletal fingers of the cupped skyscrapers, cradling the combat frame in the palm of a corpse¡¯s hand. Dust motes swirled and eddied in the stale air. Elpida looked up from the others and looked over her shoulder; she fixed her eyes on a corner of white armour, dirty and soot-stained, perfect and untouched beneath the grime.

    Telokopolis, fragmented and lost and alone.

    She prayed to the memory of her city that the others would not come with her. Her plan sounded insane enough without confessing what she really thought.

    She spoke quickly, lest any minds change: ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving within the hour. The graveworm may start moving at any time, and then it¡¯ll be too¡ª¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have enough hours of daylight for that journey.¡±

    Pira stood up. Elpida felt like screaming, or throwing a punch, or grabbing her weapons and running.

    ¡°If we leave now,¡± Pira said, ¡°then we¡¯ll reach the death¡¯s head position with almost no daylight left. If there¡¯s an engagement, they¡¯ll have the advantage. We all have low-light vision, but it¡¯s not perfect. They¡¯re all highly augmented. I guarantee most of them will see more than just in the dark.¡±

    ¡°Infra-red? Heat signatures? Echolocation?¡± Training took over, gathering intel, focused on practical matters.

    Pira shrugged. ¡°Those. More. Maybe like her.¡± She indicated Atyle. ¡°We should rest for the night, depart before sunrise. That will also avoid passing through the edge of the safe zone as the sun is going down. May as well give ourselves a fighting chance.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Pira said. ¡°I¡¯m coming with you.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s training and experience told her not to ask the question. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because I believe you¡¯re right.¡±

    Vicky stood up as well. ¡°I¡¯m coming too. Elpi, I¡¯m coming too.¡± Her eyes were wet. She shrugged. ¡°What else is there to do? What else is there? You¡¯re right. We do this or we ¡­ trail off. Purgatory isn¡¯t enough.¡±

    Ilyusha bounced to her feet, claws scraping holes in the wood of the kitchen floor. She raised her shotgun in the air one-handed, tail lashing back and forth. She howled a wordless cheer of agreement; for a moment Elpida thought Ilyusha was going to fire into the ceiling, but she refrained. Amina scrambled up after her, eyes wide and staring, nodding and rocking and murmuring a prayer under her breath.

    Atyle stood slowly. Her smile was slim and amused ¡ª did she know the truth? ¡°If we die, warrior, it will be an interesting death. And the gods will answer me regardless.¡±

    Kagami looked terrified and betrayed, at Elpida and Vicky respectively. She took several breaths, almost panting, long black hair stuck to her forehead.

    Elpida spoke before the doll-like woman could panic: ¡°Kagami, you do not have to come with me. You can stay here, well armed, and I will come back for you. Do you understand? I will come back for you. This is not your responsibility.¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°Oh shit. Kaga, hey, no, you don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up, both of you!¡± Kagami snapped. She demanded Vicky¡¯s hand with her own. Vicky helped pull Kagami to her feet. Kagami huffed and scowled and said: ¡°It¡¯s not like I have any choice, is it? Being left alone isn¡¯t any choice at all. Plus you need my eyes.¡± She jabbed a finger at Atyle. ¡°She might have higher specs but she¡¯s a nut-case primitive.¡± Atyle gave Kagami a look full of ice, but Kagami ignored that. ¡°Looks like I¡¯m coming too, ¡®commander¡¯.¡±

    Guilt tore at Elpida¡¯s heart. She tried to speak the truth.

    Elpida said: ¡°Kagami, I¡¯m serious, you don¡¯t have to follow me. I haven¡¯t been tru¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up, you jumped-up oversexed gene-jack job. I¡¯ve wiped up dozens of your kind before breakfast.¡± Kagami snorted. ¡°What, are you going to ¡®discipline¡¯ me for insubordination now?¡±

    Elpida couldn¡¯t help it. She smiled. ¡°I already told you, I¡¯m not your commanding officer.¡±

    Leave first, by herself, or slip away during the night? Both options were rapidly slipping through her fingers. Pira would not lead, not without Elpida to sharpen her purpose. Vicky would not understand. Ilyusha would feel betrayed, abandoned. Elpida¡¯s comrades believed in her too much. They needed her to lead them. They needed a Commander, even one unworthy of the rank, the role, the responsibility. Even one who was going mad with repressed grief. Even one who believed the dead were talking to her.

    She was going to get her cadre killed, all over again.

 astrum - 6.9

    That night, when it was her turn on watch, Elpida sat before the wall of penthouse windows and contemplated the combat frame.

    Black sky and city-corpse blurred together; skeletal skyscrapers sank their tips into the sagging underbelly of the burned-out heavens. Windows both broken and empty flickered with occasional light sixty floors below ¡ª electric light, weapons discharge, chemical glow. Combat frame bone-mesh armour plate faded from white to grey, with no dying sunlight to wash away the soot and filth. The trio of worm-guard machines melted into blobs of searing static, a migraine aura in Elpida¡¯s peripheral vision ¡ª not that she had ever suffered a migraine. Telokopolan genetic engineering had improved the cranial nerve and blood-flow issues which supposedly caused such symptoms. But she¡¯d seen artistic representations.

    On the far side of the impact crater, past the combat frame¡¯s rear left leg, the dark had almost hidden the grinning black skulls daubed on concrete and stone.

    Elpida gave free rein to her training.

    She ran through the details of her plan over and over. She estimated distances and times, double-checked them with re-observation, then triple-checked them again with the assumption that she was incorrect. She looked past the ring of skyscrapers and attempted to map the route through the depths of the city ¡ª though Kagami had done that earlier, with the advantage of proper comprehension of the auspex visor output. Elpida memorised the stretch of open ground between the alleyway and the combat frame, committing every bump and pothole to memory. She counted and catalogued every hand-hold and open stretch of armour plate on the combat frame¡¯s hull between the predicted point of contact and the pilot access hatch. She re-examined that hatch with the detached scope of Vicky¡¯s sniper rifle, then with Kagami¡¯s auspex visor, then with her naked eyes.

    She checked all the weapons, then stripped and cleaned the chemical propellant firearms ¡ª Vicky¡¯s heavy machine gun and the sniper rifle, the submachine guns and all the pistols, including the ones they¡¯d taken from the defeated ambush. The only guns she did not clean were Pira¡¯s personal armaments ¡ª Pira slept with her gun in her lap ¡ª and Ilyusha¡¯s rotary shotgun, which never seemed to leave Ilyusha¡¯s possession. She did what little she could for the coilgun and the cyclic sliver-gun, powering them on and making sure their auxiliary systems worked. But she had neither the tools to service the former or the knowledge to service the latter. She secured the coilgun¡¯s aim-assist rig around her hips, tightened all the straps, and spent twenty minutes testing her range of motion.

    She examined the structural integrity of the two ballistic shields. She counted the remaining cannisters of raw blue nanites ¡ª thirteen bottles, no fewer than previously, no secret midnight snacks. She left seven cannisters on the counter-top in the penthouse kitchen, for the morning.

    She broke the silence only once, to whisper the twenty four names of her dead cadre.

    Elpida¡¯s companions had spread out into the compact warren of the dusty penthouse; nobody was further away than a raised voice, but it was the least coherent the group had been since the resurrection chamber. Pira had stayed close ¡ª she was within visual range, fast asleep, sitting straight-backed against a stretch of wall over by an ancient entertainment centre and a long-dead televisual screen; her flame-red hair was the colour of dead embers in the dark. Atyle was stretched out on the floor closer to the door, beyond earshot, wrapped in shadows, sleeping flat on her back like a corpse. Ilyusha and Amina had slipped away to one of the bedrooms, curled up together beneath scavenged blankets; one of them was snoring softly. Elpida found the noise comforting. Vicky and Kagami had done the same, wandering off to find somewhere more comfortable to sleep ¡ª though driven primarily by Kagami¡¯s vocal complaints and physical exhaustion.

    Elpida was not surprised when she heard the near-silent rustle of sock-clad feet approaching her from behind. She looked up from the combat frame and around from the window.

    It was Vicky, making no attempt at stealth, framed by the thick shadows of the penthouse and the pale wood of the walls.

    ¡°Elpi,¡± she whispered. ¡°Hey. Mind if I ¡­ ?¡±

    Vicky nodded down at the carpet next to Elpida.

    She looked unwell. Her dark skin was pinched and tense around her bright eyes. Her shoulders were hunched beneath the comfort of her large fur-trimmed coat, the one they¡¯d looted from the fight outside the tomb; she wore one of the armoured coats as well, draped over the top like a cloak. Arms folded, neck bent forward, lips creased from chewing. Elpida did not need her training and experience to know that Vicky wanted company.

    Elpida whispered: ¡°Of course I don¡¯t mind. Sit with me, please.¡±

    Vicky shuffled forward and sat down next to Elpida, so close that their knees touched. She winced as she forgot to avert her gaze from the trio of worm-guard, then frowned down at the combat frame. She hunched tighter inside her double layer of coats.

    ¡°Can¡¯t sleep?¡± Elpida prompted.

    Vicky nodded. ¡°Can¡¯t sleep. Right. I feel ¡­ cold, sort of. First time feeling cold since ¡­ well, since we all came back to life inside the tomb, I guess. Since resurrection. Thought we couldn¡¯t get cold, us zombies, not really. It¡¯s not making me shiver, though. Feels weird. Reminds me I¡¯m a dead thing. Not really alive. We¡¯re all just ghosts, echoes, copies. Right?¡±

    ¡°Pre-op nerves.¡±

    Vicky blinked rapidly and gave Elpida an amused look. ¡°Sorry, what?¡±

    ¡°Pre-op nerves. Pre-mission jitters. We have an operation planned and scheduled. Of course you¡¯re nervous. That¡¯s normal. We all deal with it in our own ways. Insomnia happens.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right.¡± Vicky laughed softly and shook her head. ¡°You still get nervous, super-soldier girl?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Genetic engineering can¡¯t edit the human out of the soldier. The result would be too close to Silico.¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°I meant like, experience. You¡¯ve gone into combat a lot, right? Even if you were piloting a big machine or whatever. How do you deal with the anxiety?¡±

    Elpida ran her fingers through her long mane of white hair to give herself a moment to think. She considered telling the truth.

    ¡°If you hadn¡¯t shown up,¡± she said. ¡°I would probably have started counting all our bullets. Then counting them again. Then again.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm.¡±

    They lapsed into silence. Sixty floors below, a muzzle-flash briefly lit a window in one of the skyscrapers opposite. Something dark and whirling passed by an open doorway. A drone twitched high-up on a wall.

    Elpida said: ¡°That was a lie.¡±

    ¡°Ah?¡±

    ¡°A lie by omission,¡± Elpida continued without looking around at Vicky. ¡°I didn¡¯t answer your question. I apologise. I dealt with pre-mission nerves by spending time with my cadre, my clade-sisters. Argue and fight with Howl, perhaps. Get into tactical details with Silla and Metris. Make sure Fii and Yeva aren¡¯t getting up to anything they shouldn¡¯t be. Check everyone¡¯s pilot suits. Force my way into any currently unresolved problems. Probably have a lot of sex. Talk a lot. Think together. That¡¯s what we did. That¡¯s how we did it.¡±

    Vicky murmured: ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Elpi.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. You asked. And I owe you the truth.¡±

    The whole truth, yes. Tell her why you¡¯re going to get her killed.

    Vicky sat up straighter. She peered out of the penthouse window again. ¡°Much action down there?¡± she asked. ¡°Zombies going at it?¡±

    ¡°Not really,¡± Elpida said. She gestured at Kagami¡¯s auspex visor, which lay just to her other side. ¡°I can¡¯t easily interpret the output from that, not like Kagami can. As far as I can tell it¡¯s pretty quiet down there. A few pickets and sentries do shoot at each other now and again, but it¡¯s opportunistic pot-shots only, no pushes or major shifts in power. Some of them are sleeping, some aren¡¯t.¡±

    Elpida refrained from relating the interpersonal violence she had witnessed through the auspex visor; she couldn¡¯t be sure of the output, but some of those groups in the skyscrapers were using the downtime to fight or fuck ¡ª or worse, things that Elpida couldn¡¯t identify.

    Vicky nodded along.

    Elpida asked: ¡°Is Kagami asleep?¡±

    Vicky winced. She tried to conceal the expression, but Elpida caught the involuntary twitch. ¡°Yeah. I think so. She¡¯s given herself a ¡­ headache.¡± Vicky enunciated the word with great care, concealing a greater truth. Had they fallen out? Was that why she couldn¡¯t sleep? Was ¡®headache¡¯ part of Vicky¡¯s cultural vernacular for something else? ¡°She wrapped herself up in spare sheets in one of the bedrooms back there. Dunno how she can breathe in all that dust.¡± Vicky forced a little laugh.

    ¡°Thank you for looking after her,¡± Elpida said. ¡°She needs it. You¡¯re doing the right thing.¡±

    That time Vicky made no effort to conceal the guilty wince. ¡°Elpi, are you, uh, really alright with us being all spread out like this?¡± She nodded back into the depths of the penthouse. ¡°You¡¯re not worried about another ambush or anything?¡±

    Elpida shook her head and gestured at the auspex visor again. ¡°There¡¯s very little out here besides us and the coherent groups around the combat frame. We could probably have dispensed with a proper watch tonight.¡±

    Vicky nodded slowly. ¡°Right, ¡®cos I just thought¡ª¡±

    ¡°But no, I¡¯m not really alright with it.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ Elpi?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s heart ached briefly. ¡°I¡¯m used to everyone sleeping together in the same room. I¡¯m used to listening to the breathing of twenty four other sets of lungs. When times are bad, I¡¯m used to sleeping practically on top of each other. That¡¯s how I would ideally deal with pre-operation nerves.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Elpi. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Elpida smiled for her. ¡°Don¡¯t be. You¡¯ve got nothing to apologise to me for. I¡¯m glad that you and Kagami haven gotten close. Go sleep with her.¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°Easier said than done. Like I said, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Have you and she fucked?¡±

    Vicky spluttered, then stared at Elpida. ¡°What?! No. Elpida, what?¡±

    ¡°I thought maybe you had done. If you haven¡¯t, then ¡­ ¡±

    Maybe you should, Elpida thought, because it might be your last chance.

    Vicky gave Elpida a grimacing grin of amused scepticism. ¡°No, Elpi. Damn, girl. Not everyone comes from a super-soldier sisterhood polycule, okay? Kaga just needs somebody to hold her up and slap some sense into her, not ¡­ that. I don¡¯t think so, anyway. Damn.¡±

    Elpida shrugged. Guilt was twisting her thoughts in unhealthy directions, clouding her judgement, making her project onto her companions. She tightened her grip on her emotions.

    Vicky frowned harder, then glanced over her shoulder at Pira, unmoving and silent on the far side of the room. She turned back to Elpida and hissed: ¡°What about you and Pira? Did you have sex?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Elpida paused. ¡°Well.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s eyebrows climbed. ¡° ¡­ well? Well what?¡±

    ¡°Almost. Sort of. Hard to explain.¡± Elpida sighed. ¡°You¡¯d have to be one of us ¡ª one of my cadre ¡ª to understand.¡±

    ¡°When you and her beat each other up?¡±

    ¡°When she and I beat each other up.¡±

    Vicky lapsed into a long silence, chewing her bottom lip, eyebrows expressing a mixture of amazement and curiosity. Elpida stared down at the combat frame. Eventually Vicky followed her gaze and hunched her shoulders tighter again.

    ¡°It¡¯s like whale fall,¡± Vicky murmured. ¡°Gathered round to pick the bones.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Whale fall?¡±

    ¡°Uh, you didn¡¯t even have oceans, did you? A whale ¡ª big sea mammal, really big, biggest things on the planet ¡ª dies and sinks to the ocean floor. Lots of blubber, lots of meat, resources, falling down into a place where there¡¯s not much, usually. A miniature ecosystem forms around the corpse, all sorts of different things come to feed. Supposed to last for years and years, until the body is all used up.¡± She nodded at the combat frame. ¡°Whale fall.¡±

    Elpida considered the metaphor. Her chest tightened. ¡°I dislike that comparison.¡±

    Vicky gave her a wary look. ¡°Oh-kay. Okay, Elpi. Lose the scowl, okay? I didn¡¯t mean anything by it.¡±

    Elpida relaxed her face. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s Telokopolan, the combat frame. That¡¯s all. I don¡¯t like the idea. Sorry, Vicky. I didn¡¯t mean to scare you.¡±

    Vicky blew out a big sigh, staring down at the fallen machine where it lay scrunched against the skyscrapers into which it had slid. At length, halting and uncertain, she said: ¡°So, Elpi, that¡¯s the kind of thing you piloted, yeah?¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°Yes, though that combat frame is much larger than anything which was manufactured during my life. It may be from later.¡± Elpida tried not to think about the implications of that ¡ª had the pilot program survived? She focused on the technical details. ¡°That combat frame down there is at least three times the size of a regular Incisor type frame. It¡¯s got four legs, like the Burning Sword, but without the close-combat capability. And it¡¯s much more well armed than the Arclight Eternal ¡ª that was the heaviest and largest combat frame we had access to during the life of the pilot program. Heavier, faster, better frames were in development when the ¡­ well, when I died.¡±

    Vicky was frowning at her. ¡°Say that name again?¡±

    ¡°Which one?¡±

    ¡°The most heavily armed frame.¡±

    ¡°The Arclight Eternal?¡±

    Vicky¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°Translation software is struggling with that one, I think.¡± She shook her head, then gestured down at the combat frame again. ¡°Elpi ¡­ that thing down there is weird as fuck. Like, do you not see it? Sorry if I¡¯m offending you again, I don¡¯t mean to insult your home, but I have to say it.¡±

    Elpida nodded. She understood. She¡¯d had a similar reaction to combat frames herself ¡ª to seeing them for the first time, to witnessing the machine-meat innards and the soft wet membranes for pilot-capsule interlock. They seemed bizarre to an uninformed observer: the way the carbon bone-mesh armour plates grew outward into gnarls and knots as each frame aged; the way the machines twitched and quivered when awake, straining against the rigidity of their shells; the subtle rumbles and growls and grinding from their muscles and tendons. All that was visible to any non-pilot. But she knew what it felt like to link up with the mind of the machine.

    ¡°Combat frames were a strange invention in Telokopolis,¡± she said. ¡°Controversial, to say the least. The technology was dug out of the city¡¯s own central archives, not from human writings but directly from Telokopolis¡¯ own superstructure. It taught us how to make them.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean ¡­ ¡± Vicky sighed sharply. ¡°I¡¯ve seen military walkers. China¡¯s got¡ª¡± She tutted and corrected herself: ¡°China had these great big land-crawler things for crossing the Himalayas. I¡¯ve seen pictures. And I know the old empire had walkers ¡ª the Chicago Arcology still had one. They used to show it off in parades, try to scare everyone.¡± Vicky¡¯s mouth flickered with the ghost of a smile. ¡°Didn¡¯t last long in combat, fucker got cut off at the ankles with a shaped charge. Turned out they didn¡¯t have the ammo for any of the rockets or nothing. But, look, Elpi, they were machines. That down there? That doesn¡¯t look like a human machine to me. That looks like a space alien. It looks ¡­ alive.¡± Vicky forced a little laugh, as if to soften an insult.

    ¡°It is,¡± Elpida said. ¡°And it¡¯s on our side.¡±

    The combat frames had always been on the cadre¡¯s side ¡ª but when the Covenanters had made their move, the frames had been dry-docked and nerve-locked, temporarily lobotomised, placed beyond contact. Pilotless and helpless.

    Vicky didn¡¯t look reassured. She tried, and Elpida appreciated the effort. ¡°So who sent it?¡± Vicky asked. ¡°Or dispatched it? It fell from orbit, right? There¡¯s a ring up there, an orbital ring ¡ª Pira said so. You¡¯re thinking it fell because of you? Sent because you came back from the dead? Maybe your people built the ring?¡±

    Elpida shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ll have to ask the combat frame.¡±

    Vicky shivered at that. She drifted off for a couple of minutes, looking out into the dark. Slowly, she let her knee brush against Elpida¡¯s leg.

    ¡°So, Elpi,¡± she said eventually. ¡°What¡¯s your plan for getting past the skull weirdos?¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t answer for a long moment, not until Vicky looked at her. Then Elpida frowned and said what was truly on her mind: ¡°Vicky, I might get you killed tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious. I said it all earlier. My plan is terrible, our chances are¡ª¡±

    ¡°Elpi, I know. I know.¡± Vicky¡¯s eyes bored into her, too bright, too believing. ¡°But you¡¯re right, hey? What are the other options?¡± Vicky chuckled softly, but she wasn¡¯t amused. ¡°Elpi, this place is a fucking nightmare. I spent most of my life ¡ª all my adult life ¡ª fighting for the principle of a better world, that better things are possible. Didn¡¯t get there while I was alive, sure, but I still believed it. Still want to believe it now. I was never good with theory, but that belief kept me going. And this? This place? This future?¡± Vicky chuckled again, darker than before. ¡°This is a nightmare. Worse than the worst case I could have imagined. Screaming fever dream. Sometimes I think it¡¯s not real.¡± She pointed down at the combat frame. ¡°So if that ¡ª that weird thing down there, if that represents the smallest chance that better things are possible, I¡¯m taking it.¡±

    Elpida held her gaze. ¡°What if I have my own selfish motivations?¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make you wrong, you fucking dumbass.¡±

    Elpida blinked.

    Vicky continued. ¡°Sure you¡¯ve got selfish motivations. You wanna meet the graveworm, right? I¡¯m not asking why. Or maybe you really are a ¡®Necromancer¡¯ or whatever, slumming it down here with us zombies. Who gives a shit? You¡¯re still right! Everything you said about this place, you¡¯re still right. Don¡¯t try to convince me otherwise.¡±

    Elpida nodded slowly. Then she reached over and took Vicky¡¯s hand, which was sweaty and hot and burning with fear. She squeezed. Vicky stared at the contact, swallowed hard, and then leaned softly against Elpida¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°So?¡± Vicky repeated. ¡°What¡¯s your plan if the skull people don¡¯t want to let us pass? What if they shoot at us?¡±

    Elpida smiled. She leaned in close to Vicky¡¯s ear, driven by nostalgia and assumption.

    ¡°We shoot back,¡± she whispered.

    Two hours later dawn threatened the horizon with embers smothered beneath a lake of tar. Elpida made sure that Vicky returned to Kagami before she started waking the others; she didn¡¯t want Kagami roused to silent jealousy by discovering Vicky dozing in Elpida¡¯s lap, Elpida¡¯s fingers stroking Vicky¡¯s dark hair back over Vicky¡¯s scalp. Never a good idea to mount an operation with sour emotion lingering in any hearts.

    The others woke quickly. Ilyusha gave Elpida a surprisingly urgent hug, bumping her head on Elpida¡¯s ribs, strong bionic arms going around Elpida¡¯s middle; Amina seemed like she wanted to mimic the gesture, but she settled for a bobbing bow and a whispered mantra. Atyle and Pira both had little to say, though Pira gave Elpida a long look and a single nod. Vicky was still nervous, but strengthened by Elpida¡¯s affections in the night. Kagami looked pale and grumpy; she uttered creative curses as she dragged the auspex visor back over her squinting eyes.

    They shared a meal ¡ª a breakfast of brains, to fortify their bodies with nanomachines and reduce the weight of their gear. They ate all they had left.

    Then, armed and armoured and ready to depart, without prompting or explanation, they gathered around the seven cannisters of raw blue nanites which Elpida had lined up on the kitchen counter. Unnatural hunger drew them to the blue glow in the still-dark apartment.

    ¡°One each,¡± Elpida explained. ¡°Drink it now, and it¡¯ll keep us all in rapid-regen for about twenty four hours. More than enough time to reach our target. It¡¯ll give us an edge if anybody takes any wounds.¡±

    Kagami said, hollow voiced: ¡°Using up the last of our fuel, eh, commander? Time to burn the boats?¡±

    ¡°No. We have six more cannisters.¡±

    ¡°Bottoms up,¡± Vicky said. She uncapped her cannister and drank it like she was pouring alcohol down her throat. Everyone was surprised, even Pira.

    Ilyusha drank with a glugging motion, then encouraged Amina to drink as well. Atyle needed no prompting. Pira treated it like medicine, down in one smooth motion without fuss. Kagami took little sips, wincing and blinking through the leftovers of her headache. Elpida drank her own and felt a strange satisfaction fill her belly and abdomen, similar to eating the brains, but stronger. She wanted more. They all wanted more.

    Sixty floors down through the dark skyscraper, then out ¡ª into the corpse-city still shrouded in night.

    Elpida kept the group formation tighter than before. They had less need for Pira as a trailing rear-guard, or for Ilyusha to cover the flanks with her rapid circling. There was almost nothing this close to the edge of the graveworm safe zone except for themselves and the highly advanced groups of revenants clustered within the ring of skyscrapers. Elpida¡¯s primary concern was to keep well clear of those dug-in weapons, to give the revenant scavengers no excuse to break ranks and come after her companions.

    They plunged into the canyons between the towers, scurrying from concrete bolt-holes to abandoned shop-fronts, from drainage ditches to the lee of ancient and rusted ground-cars, from brick walls infested with black mould to overhangs of concrete colonised by giant immobile leathery pods. The corpse-city threw deep shadows as the choking dawn throbbed into unlife in the sky above, great fingers of cold darkness cast by the rows of skyscrapers across their own rotten roots.

    They worked their way counter-clockwise around the fallen giant of the combat frame. For most of the journey their target and reference point was hidden behind the kinked layers and skeletal remains of crumbling buildings. But now and again a flash of soot-stained white reared up at the end of a valley, the frame signalling to Elpida: I¡¯m still here, still waiting, come help me.

    The only constant, no matter how deep they delved, was the distant jagged grey line of the graveworm ¡ª far behind, and getting further.

    There was sadly no chance of attempting to link up with Lianna and Inaya ¡ª the giant spider-woman and the star-prophet who rode upon her back. They were too far in the opposite direction, clockwise around the impact crater. Taking that route would add an additional dozen hours to the journey.

    ¡°Real pity,¡± Vicky whispered when reminded. ¡°We really could have used those big armour plates when we reach the skulls.¡±

    Kagami tutted. ¡°We need proper comms. Hi-band. Sat links. Anyway. Fuck me, I¡¯ll settle for radio. Like a real primitive.¡±

    ¡°Quiet,¡± Elpida murmured. ¡°Eyes up. Concentrate.¡±

    Elpida worked hard to maintain her attention, to avoid the false sense of security implied by the relative quiet of the ruins.

    Her caution was vindicated ¡ª first, less than an hour into the journey, then twice more as they swung wide around the opposite side of the impact crater, creeping into the liminal and blurry boundary of the graveworm safe zone.

    Three times they crossed paths with entities which Elpida dared not engage.

    The first was a Silico murder-machine ¡ª similar to the true zombie which had assaulted the groups gathered outside the tomb. A corpse-core festooned with implanted weaponry, skin stretched paper-thin over batteries of chemical and biological deployment systems, torso mounted on multi-jointed legs of chrome, the head nothing but a block of sensor equipment. They spotted it far off ¡ª Kagami first ¡ª at the end of a canyon of buildings. Then they spent over an hour worming their way through the tangled guts of a skyscraper to avoid the machine¡¯s predicted route.

    The second and third encounters were less comprehensible.

    As they rounded the outer edge of the impact crater ¡ª the furthest point from the graveworm they had yet travelled ¡ª they were forced to cross a wide trail of glistening purple slime. The slime smelled like vomit and made everyone¡¯s boot soles smoke for a few seconds. Elpida assumed this was simply more of the city-wide background nanomachine activity of decay and regrowth. But the slime trail led off between the ruined buildings, in their direction of travel.

    Kagami spotted the source about half an hour later, on her auspex visor.

    ¡°It¡¯s the size of a tank,¡± she whispered. ¡°Big and weird and ¡­ and if I¡¯d seen something like that on the surface I would have dropped a nuclear bomb on it.¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°That¡¯s your solution to everything.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you. Take a look for yourself! You¡¯d do the same!¡±

    Atyle spoke without amusement: ¡°I concur with the scribe. Fire and salt.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°We go around. Stay quiet. Kagami, alert me if it starts moving toward us.¡±

    ¡°I will scream my head off, commander, believe me.¡±

    The detour added another hour to their travel time. Nobody complained.

    The third run-in with an entity from beyond the graveworm line came when they had almost reached their target, as the group was turning back toward the impact crater itself, as they were preparing themselves for the potential confrontation with the Death¡¯s Heads.

    As they were passing down a narrow alleyway between two large steel-and-glass buildings, a figure stepped out behind them, from a doorway they had passed moments earlier. A doorway which had been empty, showing nothing deeper than a blank cubby of damp concrete. The figure was wreathed in black robes thick as the shadows themselves, from head to toe, nothing but a cut-out of darkness which filled the alleyway.

    All it did was watch. It did not react when Pira and Ilyusha both put rounds through its middle. The bullets passed through and chewed into the concrete behind. It didn¡¯t care when Elpida brandished the coilgun. It just stood and watched while she covered the others, while they scurried out of the alleyway and away from the apparition.

    ¡°What the fuck was that?!¡± Kagami spat when they were certain they were clear. ¡°Was that one of your fucking Necromancers?!¡±

    Pira shook her head. ¡°No. I have no idea what that was.¡±

    ¡°You must have some¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±

    After six hours travel, four pauses for rest and reorientation, and three encounters with things better left alone, they reached Elpida¡¯s target.

    The skyscraper occupied by the Death¡¯s Heads was bracketed by a single alleyway which ran straight from one main street and out into the impact crater, almost right next to the combat frame itself. The soot-stained white armour plates caught the dim and ruddy sunlight in the gap between the buildings. The bottom floors of the building to the left of the occupied skyscraper had been reduced to rubble and naked steel frame ¡ª there was an autonomous drone crawling about somewhere in there; on the right was tangled steel and heaped mountains of concrete, the result of the combat frame¡¯s impact.

    Elpida moved the group as close as she could get without breaking cover, behind a series of large concrete walls on the far side of the street, too heavy and thick to penetrate even with exotic weaponry and high-energy rounds. They huddled on cold paving slabs. Kagami squinted through her auspex visor and hissed soft curses. Ilyusha kept her head down for once, though she gritted her teeth. Amina stayed close to her side, holding onto a corner of Ilyusha¡¯s t-shirt. Atyle stared through the concrete, frowning with curiosity, cradling the cyclic sliver-gun, refusing to properly crouch. Vicky held her heavy machine gun as if preparing to lay down covering fire. Pira just waited, back to the wall, watching Elpida.

    Elpida peered around a corner, armoured hood up, exposing as little of herself as possible.

    The occupied skyscraper was buttoned up tight: ground floor windows were covered with metal and the two doors on this side were blocked with heavy furniture; the second floor windows were open, most of them missing their glass; she couldn¡¯t see any visible sentries.

    Grinning skull symbols were daubed on the concrete at irregular intervals, as large as Elpida was tall.

    Most were in black paint. One was in dried blood. One was in something unidentifiable. Excrement, perhaps.

    Elpida whispered: ¡°Kagami?¡±

    Kagami broke into a rushed answer: ¡°Yes! Yes, commander, they know we¡¯re here, some of them are looking right at us, they¡ª fucking hell some of them aren¡¯t even human beings anymore.¡±

    Elpida ducked back. Kagami was staring through the concrete, white-faced and wide-eyed. ¡°Kagami, focus. Weapons? Are they moving?¡±

    ¡°No, no, they don¡¯t give a shit. They¡¯re not rushing to the defences or anything. Lots of chatter, though! Oh, yes, lots of chatter. Lots of encrypted chatter. They¡¯re so very interested in us.¡± She swallowed, rough and hard. ¡°Oh fuck, I hate this.¡±

    Vicky reached out and took Kagami¡¯s arm. Kagami did not shake her off.

    Pira said: ¡°Elpida.¡±

    Elpida nodded. She felt her bloodstream flushing with adrenaline, her stomach muscles tight with anticipation. There was nothing else to do but put the plan into action. She said: ¡°Atyle, are you ready?¡±

    Atyle didn¡¯t look at Elpida, but she smiled, thin and dark. ¡°Ahhhh, warrior. These ones are worthy of attention.¡±

    ¡°Remember, don¡¯t duck, don¡¯t crouch,¡± Elpida said. ¡°We need to project absolute confidence.¡±

    Atyle gave her a look as if this was self-evident. ¡°I do not cower.¡±

    ¡°Everyone else, be ready to follow. Amina, you hold onto that ballistic shield. Kagami, do not reject Pira¡¯s help, we can¡¯t afford any interruptions. Vicky, ditch the machine gun if you need to keep up. We need to do this together, in one go, without hesitation. Ready?¡±

    Nods all around. Ilyusha bared her teeth and clicked her claws against her shotgun. Pira closed her eyes. Vicky swallowed. Amina was praying under her breath.

    Elpida unlatched the coilgun receiver from the aim-assist rig and held it in both hands. The power-tank hummed to life on her back; she hoped the Death¡¯s Heads could see the power signature. That was part of the threat, part of the plan. Atyle tilted her chin up and lifted the cyclic sliver-gun too, as if to show it off the moment she stepped from cover.

    The plan was simple: mutually assured destruction.

    The Death¡¯s Head revenants were highly developed, heavily armed, and dug in deep. But a direct hit from a coilgun sabot-round would still blow one of them to pieces. The cyclic sliver-gun would cut a suit of powered armour in half. If Elpida pointed the receiver at the skyscraper and held down the trigger, she could punch holes in the walls and shred anybody who got caught in the blast. Yes, she would die too, moments later, when one of them fired back ¡ª but she had a good chance of taking half a dozen of them with her.

    The revenants were high-end, the result of years of nanomachine consumption and development. Elpida was barely fresh from the tomb. They had her beaten with exotic and high-powered weaponry, yes ¡ª and they would die too.

    But she didn¡¯t yet know if they would care.

    Time to find out.

    ¡°Atyle,¡± she said. ¡°We step out on three. Then I¡¯ll shout. Okay? One, two¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± Kagami hissed. She held up a hand. ¡°Wait wait wait! Fuck, what?¡±

    She looked over her shoulder quickly, the way they¡¯d come, back between the tangle of buildings, eyes wide and staring through the surface of her auspex visor. Then forward again, at the skyscraper. She squinted hard, concentrating on something only she could see.

    ¡°Kagami?¡± Elpida demanded.

    Atyle said: ¡°I see nothing, warrior.¡±

    Kagami hissed for quiet, chopping the air with one hand. ¡°They- they¡¯re talking on unencrypted radio, they ¡­ they say there¡¯s something¡ª¡± She looked back again, behind, as if something was creeping up on Elpida and the others from the rear. Then she whirled back again, panting, wide-eyed and pale. ¡°No, that¡¯s not ¡­ they¡¯re talking to us? They¡¯re talking to us. They¡¯re talking to us!¡±

    ¡°Kaga?¡± Vicky said. ¡°Kaga? Hey?¡±

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida snapped. ¡°What are they saying?¡±

    Ilyusha hissed. ¡°Bullshit!¡±

    Kagami looked up slowly, from the concrete wall to Elpida¡¯s face.

    ¡°They want to talk to you, commander,¡± Kagami said. ¡°They want to talk to the ¡®mech pilot¡¯.¡±

 astrum - 6.10

    Elpida stowed the coilgun receiver in the aim-assist rig strapped around her hips, knelt down next to Kagami behind the concrete wall, and accepted an extendible earpiece and throat-mic from the auspex visor. Kagami¡¯s left hand shook as she pressed the earpiece into Elpida¡¯s palm. The others looked on in confusion and alarm: Ilyusha showed her teeth and spat on the ground, while Amina huddled next to her, face blank with incomprehension; Vicky was clenching her jaw and clutching her weapon; Pira looked tight as a piano-wire, tucked into the corner between concrete wall and paving slabs. Atyle stood tall, uncaring of cover.

    ¡°Kaga,¡± Elpida said. ¡°What did they say about something behind us?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing there!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°I looked, there¡¯s nothing. Now talk to them before they light us up with a fucking plasma rifle!¡±

    Atyle agreed: ¡°Nothing pursues us, warrior. We are alone.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Right. Vicky, Pira, watch our flanks, in case they¡¯re trying to ambush us. Atyle, eyes on the skyscraper, keep me informed of movement.¡± She lifted the earpiece.

    Pira hissed: ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±

    Elpida paused. Pira¡¯s eyes were like lightning in blue skies. ¡°Pira?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t talk to them.¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°It¡¯s just radio! It¡¯s not like they can transmit a memetic brain-virus over radio. What are you afraid of, huh? Afraid your friends want to say hello?¡±

    ¡°Kaga,¡± Vicky snapped. ¡°Not now.¡±

    Pira said to Elpida: ¡°They will lie to you. They will lie. Be careful. Trust nothing.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Understood. Thank you, Pira.¡± She raised the earpiece and hooked it around the cup of her right ear. Then she extended the attached laryngophone and pressed it to her throat.

    Kagami adjusted a setting on the auspex visor¡¯s arm-mounted control board. Then she nodded rapidly, eyes wide, face pale and sweating.

    Elpida said out loud: ¡°Commander, actual. Identify yourself.¡±

    A flicker of radio bands; a passing ghost of static; from across the road there came an audible click of transmission equipment, loud and heavy. Atyle frowned and pointed, tracking something inside the skyscraper.

    A voice spoke to Elpida.

    ¡°I said I want to speak with the mech pilot,¡± it purred. ¡°Not your leader. Unless you are one and the same?¡±

    The Death¡¯s Head voice was amused and rich, spiced honey poured over steel, wet clicking of lips and tongue distorted by the radio signal.

    ¡°Commander, actual,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°Identify yourself.¡±

    ¡°You first, commander.¡±

    ¡°What makes you think we have a pilot for that combat frame?¡±

    A moment of silence. Thinking fast, Elpida guessed.

    Then: ¡°Call it an educated guess. Am I speaking to the mech pilot, or not?¡±

    Another loud click-buzz echoed out over the empty street, from the occupied skyscraper opposite. Atyle was still pointing.

    Elpida made sure her armoured hood was in place, then risked a glance around the edge of the concrete wall.

    Across the pitted and potholed tarmac, beneath the filth-streaked flames of the dead-sky sun, the windows of the skull-marked skyscraper were as still as empty eye sockets.

    But one window was now occupied, the one Atyle was pointing at. A figure stood exposed from the waist upward, up on the second floor, uncaring of opportunistic pot-shots or sniper fire. The figure wore a full-body suit of carapace battle-armour, dirty grey plates scuffed and soot-marked, dyed dark by the ruddy sunlight. A full-face helmet was punctuated by a pair of dark eyepieces and a sealed rebreather grille. The figure cradled an exotic rifle in her arms ¡ª plasma weapon perhaps; Elpida couldn¡¯t identify the type. The chestplate of her armour carapace was marked with a grinning skull in black paint, tongue extended in playful mockery.

    Elpida ducked back into cover. Pira had taken a quick look as well; she was frowning hard.

    Elpida pressed the laryngophone to her throat again. ¡°Is that you I see on the second floor?¡±

    ¡°The sentry?¡± the Death¡¯s Head purred with amusement. ¡°No. She¡¯s just interested in what she can see. Pardon her curiosity. Now, commander, are you the mech pilot, or not?¡±

    Elpida glanced at her companions. They were all watching her, holding their collective breath. She¡¯d brought them this far, given them hope and purpose. She couldn¡¯t be drawn into compromise now, not with people who she had no reason to trust.

    She stuck to the plan.

    ¡°Listen carefully,¡± Elpida said to the Death¡¯s Head. ¡°We are heavily armed. We have a coilgun, and a cyclic sliver-gun taken from a zombie. I killed the zombie myself. If you can see us down here, then you can probably see the power signatures too. We want passage alongside your building, through to the combat frame. If you open fire on us then we will open fire on you.¡±

    Silence. A brush of static. A click.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will,¡± said the Death¡¯s Head. ¡°Bully for you.¡±

    A strange turn of phrase. Inaccurate translation? Elpida put it to one side for now.

    ¡°This coilgun alone will punch through several layers of wall with a single sabot. I will not hesitate to pull the trigger. You can stop me, yes ¡ª but I¡¯m well armoured and I will kill several of you before you can bring me down. You will give us passage or I will open fire.¡±

    The Death¡¯s Head made a wet sound ¡ª lips parting in a smile. ¡°Interesting cavalry you have on the way. That is yours, I assume?¡±

    Elpida had no idea what the Death¡¯s Head was talking about. She gestured for Atyle to look behind them again. Atyle did as ordered, then shook her head. Nothing there.

    Elpida bluffed: ¡°We have more backup than your group can repel. Let us pass, or die.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s heart hammered hard. Her bloodstream flushed with adrenaline. Her senses opened, combat-ready. Everything else shrank to insignificance. This was it, this was the moment, all in, all or nothing.

    ¡°Very well, mech pilot,¡± purred the Death¡¯s Head. ¡°We have higher priority targets than you. Enjoy your moment in the sun. Break a leg, darling.¡±

    Click. Silence. Connection terminated.

    Elpida pulled the earpiece off and handed it back to Kagami. ¡°They¡¯re letting us pass. Kagami, are they¡ª¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not moving weapons, no!¡± Kagami snapped. She looked back through the concrete with her auspex visor. ¡°They¡¯re not moving to stop us. Fucking hell, ¡®Commander¡¯, could you bluff any harder?¡±

    Atyle shrugged. ¡°Small fish pass unremarked when a shark threatens. No?¡±

    Vicky was hissing, ¡°Elpi? Elpi, do we go? Do we go?¡±

    ¡°We go!¡± Ilyusha snapped. She banged a black and red bionic foot against the floor, scraping concrete with crimson claws, tail thwapping against the wall. ¡°We go! We can! We can! Go! Go! Go!¡±

    Pira was frowning hard, emotions unshuttered. ¡°They¡¯re scared of something ¡ª not us. They have no reason to let us pass.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Pira, do you think this is a trap?¡±

    ¡°No. But there¡¯s something we¡¯re not seeing.¡± A pause. Then: ¡°But this might be our chance. I¡¯m behind you whatever you decide. Commander.¡±

    Elpida stood up, unhooked the coilgun receiver, and made her decision.

    ¡°We go. Plan is the same as before. Atyle, on me, up front. Everyone else in behind. Amina, Illy, keep hold of those ballistic shields. Vicky, stay close, I may need you on me. Pira, don¡¯t drop Kagami. Whatever happens, keep moving, keep going, and do not stop.¡± She reached down and slapped Vicky on the shoulder as she rose, then squeezed Pira¡¯s elbow, and briefly patted Ilyusha¡¯s head. Illy grinned and cycled her shotgun. ¡°I believe in all of you; we can do this, we can make it to the combat frame. All ready? Good. We move on three ¡ª one, two, three!¡±

    Elpida swept out of cover and into the middle of the street at a rapid combat walk, hood up, armoured coat pulled tight, coilgun receiver held in both hands and tucked against her shoulder. She swept her aim across the second floor of the Death¡¯s Head skyscraper, flicking the barrel back and forth from empty window to empty window. The revenant in dirty grey armour carapace didn¡¯t flinch; she turned her head to watch.

    Atyle strode at Elpida¡¯s side, head high and uncovered, eyes sliding sideways to smirk at her assumed audience; she walked as if she owned the city, holding the sliver-gun so as to show off the multi-barrelled weapon.

    The others scurried from cover in Elpida¡¯s wake, trailing a few feet behind, moving quickly in a tight group, half-sheltered behind the mobile cover of the two ballistic shields. Kagami hissed and panted. Vicky was breathing too hard. Ilyusha growled and waved her weapon. But Elpida could not spare the attention to look back. She had to make the threat credible, keep her eyes on the windows, her finger on the trigger.

    They plunged into the narrow alleyway between the Death¡¯s Head skyscraper and its burnt-out neighbour to the left, heading for the soot-stained giant of the combat frame.

    Curious faces began to appear in the skyscraper windows on their right: armoured or visored, mirrored or matte-black, eyes hidden behind dark circles of steel-glass or the slits of ballistic masks. Weapons lounged in gloves and gauntlets, at the ends of articulated mechanical tentacles, plumbed directly into fleshy appendages, or attached to shoulder mounts ¡ª but nobody aimed down at Elpida and her companions. She focused on those weapons, on their positions and where they were pointing; she ignored the visible evidence of extensive bionic modifications, the slips of mechanical tendrils, the additional limbs, the compound eyes, the bizarre structures running from the backs of skulls, the skittering and sliding motions as the revenants followed her progress. She did not have attention to spare on irrelevant details.

    The Death¡¯s Head revenant in the grey armour carapace kept pace with them, moving from window to window, shadowing their progress.

    On their left, in the chewed-up ruins of the next-door skyscraper, one of the Death¡¯s Head drones was also dogging their footsteps. Elpida couldn¡¯t see it ¡ª even when she risked a quick look over her shoulder ¡ª but she could hear articulated machine-legs crunching through broken glass and shattered concrete, creeping along just out of sight.

    ¡°Keep moving,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Keep moving. Call out if you fall. Ignore the revenants. Keep moving. We can do this.¡±

    Traversing the alleyway took about one hundred and sixty seconds. The gnarled and knotted bone-mesh armour plates of the combat frame reared up beyond the alley mouth, higher and higher as they drew close. Elpida¡¯s chest stirred with nostalgia. She refused to look.

    Less than thirty meters from the mouth of the alley, Kagami hissed: ¡°Elpida! Elpida, there is something following us! I can see it now!¡±

    Elpida hissed back without looking: ¡°Kagami, what is it? Speak to me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but¡ª oh, fuck me, it¡¯s big, and I can¡¯t¡ª I can¡¯t see through it, like it¡¯s armoured or¡ª oh, fuck! Fuck! It¡¯s coming up on the rear of the alley, and fast!¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°The scribe speaks truth, warrior. We are pursued.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Was it cloaked before? What the hell?¡±

    Elpida strained her concentration. Kagami was right: she could hear a rumbling far to their rear ¡ª a distant smashing aside of concrete walls, heavy weight ploughing through ruined brick, churning broken asphalt beneath metal tread.

    She said: ¡°Focus on the target. We¡¯re almost there. We get inside the combat frame and it doesn¡¯t matter. Alley mouth ¡ª now! Everyone down! Pira, count three seconds, then go!¡±

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Her companions halted at the very end of the alleyway, clustered together, hunkered down momentarily behind ballistic shields ¡ª all except Atyle, who stood tall and proud, smiling upward at her audience of revenants, showing off her weapon, her height, and her peat-green bionic eye.

    Elpida slammed the coilgun receiver into the aim-assist rig around her hips, then burst from the alley at a dead sprint.

    She was inside the ring of skyscrapers now, their broken tips scratching at the rotten underside of the black sky. Legs pumping, head down, she sprinted for the combat frame. The ground beneath her boots was churned and burned, charred and broken, grey soil cooked to carbon and ash in the wake of the combat frame¡¯s orbital impact. The weight of the coilgun on her back turned a four-second sprint into a seven-second slog. She raced for cover, kicking up puffs of black ash behind her. Her shoulder blades itched; a hundred pairs of revenant eyes must have been turning to look at her, scopes picking her out in infra-red or high-mag, hand-held plasma and missiles preparing a lock on the energy signature of her coilgun power-tank, undead heads shaking in laughter at her suicidal sprint.

    Elpida had to trust that her companions were already following ¡ª a tight cluster of slower-moving targets, less interesting than the high-energy signature of a coilgun strapped to a mad woman sprinting across open ground. A terrible gamble, but the best one she had.

    A few pot-shots rang out across the circle of skyscrapers; for a moment Elpida feared the worst, that the threat of antagonising the worm-guard was not enough to dissuade other revenants from opening fire.

    But then a deep, hard, rat-a-tat-a-tat of heavy machine gun fire cut through the air ¡ª and Elpida realised that the firing had nothing to do with her. It was somewhere else, coming from higher up a nearby skyscraper. Had a skirmish broken out?

    She hit the leg of the combat frame at a sprint. She didn¡¯t stop to take cover or turn to check on the others, or to caress the rough texture of Telokopolan-made carbon bone-mesh, so familiar to her hands. Elpida mounted the sloped armour of the combat frame¡¯s leg, hurling herself over pits and whorls, hauling her body past a dozen pieces of useful cover, scrambling up on knobbly handholds before planting her feet on the gentle incline of the fallen god-machine.

    Combat frame hull stretched out before her ¡ª the rest of this left foreleg, then the main body ¡ª soot-covered white plates grown into knots and curls with age and scars, studded with recessed weapon-pods and shielded domes, awaiting the touch of a pilot to bring them roaring to life. Three more legs lay limp across the broken ground to Elpida¡¯s left, trailing out into the grey dirt. The head of the combat frame was a single silver orb in the middle of the body, almost two hundred metres away across the hull. The main armament ¡ª the railgun ¡ª stuck straight up into the air, as if trying to penetrate the black sky above.

    The manual pilot access hatch was situated beneath the silvery orb of the combat frame¡¯s head. Recessed controls lay next to the hatch, protected by an overhang of armour: a palm pad and a lever.

    The trio of worm-guard were crouched in a loose ring just beyond the hatch. Elpida¡¯s peripheral vision jumped and flickered with interference, glitching and jerking to conceal the worm-guard machines. Up close the effect made her eyes water and ache. Their position had not been so obvious from sixty floors up: they were guarding the hatch. Elpida would have to close to within ten metres of them to get inside.

    She paused for one second. She forced herself to watch the worm-guard.

    They didn¡¯t move. One second passed and Elpida was not a streak of gore smeared on the combat frame¡¯s leg.

    Her heart roared, so close to victory and vindication. Was she correct? Were the worm-guard really waiting for her to claim the combat frame? To claim the inheritance of Telokopolis in this nanomachine afterlife?

    Wait for me, Howl!

    Elpida spread her arms and filled her lungs; the next step of the plan was to shout as loud as she could, to shout that the worm-guard were protecting her, expecting her, waiting for her. That wild shout would distract attention from the last few moments of her companions scurrying into cover.

    And then, from behind a twist of combat frame bone-mesh armour, less than five feet from one of the glitching worm-guard trio, a figure stood up.

    Long white hair, copper-brown skin, purple eyes; tall and graceful, lean and muscular; dark armoured coat, hood bunched around her shoulders, submachine gun loose in one hand.

    Cadre phenotype ¡ª Elpida¡¯s phenotype; but this was not one of her cadre. Elpida knew every single member of her cadre: by sight, by smell, by touch, by the sound of their voices and the movement of their bodies. She knew mannerisms and musculature, body weight and bone shapes, habits and flaws and tics and all. She would have recognised any of them instantly ¡ª not just Howl or Silla or Metris, but any of her sisters.

    The figure was not one of Elpida¡¯s cadre.

    It was her.

    It was Elpida. Like looking in a mirror.

    The mirror-Elpida met her eyes, expression blank and empty; that one glance stilled Elpida¡¯s lips, stole Elpida¡¯s breath, and froze Elpida¡¯s diaphragm. Elpida told her legs to sprint at the mirror-copy of herself; she told her arms to grab the coilgun receiver, to aim and fire; to reach the hatch first, to banish this impossible apparition with violence or truth.

    But she couldn¡¯t move a muscle.

    Her nanomachine physiology was locked in place; paralysed, no matter how hard she strained. She was a machine, switched off in mid-motion, held mid-operation.

    For several crucial seconds, Elpida¡¯s body was not her own.

    Elpida watched helplessly as her mirror-self crouched next to the pilot access hatch and pressed her copper-brown hand to the palm-reader. A deep clunk of machinery sounded from inside the combat frame¡¯s hull. The mirror-Elpida grabbed the lever and twisted. The pilot access hatch swung upward, just wide enough to admit a single person; the inside was clean white, untouched by soot or dirt.

    The expressionless double looked back at Elpida. Her lips moved. Elpida heard words inside her head, transmitted through her neural lace.

    ¡°Well done, dead thing. Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d make it this far. Good luck.¡±

    The mirror-Elpida stepped through the hatch. The tail of her coat whipped after her. Gone.

    Elpida blinked and breathed. Her muscles were her own once again.

    She lurched toward the hatch ¡ª she had to get inside, after that thing wearing her face, that thing which had locked down her body with a look.

    Necromancer!? her thoughts raced. Did I just get temporarily shut down by a Necromancer? And now it¡¯s inside the combat frame, with my face, my phenotype, my body!

    But then:

    ¡°Elpida!¡±

    Kagami, screaming from below.

    Elpida turned and looked down: her companions were crammed into cover against the twisted leg-armour of the combat frame, tucked into pits and cubbyholes among the twists and turns of the aged and overgrown armour. Atyle and Kagami were both staring back toward the mouth of the alleyway. Vicky was clutching her heavy machine gun, wild-eyed with panic, staring up at Elpida, with Amina clutching the side of her coat. Pira was tucked in tight, weapon ready, prepared to repel an attack. Ilyusha was up on her claws, readying her shotgun, aiming at the front of the Death¡¯s Head skyscraper.

    A rumbling, roaring, ramming noise was racing toward them.

    ¡°It¡¯s here!¡± Kagami screamed. ¡°Elpida, what the fuck are you doing?! Get in our fucking robot!¡±

    Elpida turned back to the hatch. Too late.

    A machine burst from the mouth of the alleyway in an explosion of shattered concrete and pulverised asphalt, roaring into the impact crater like a meteoric blast wave.

    Wrapped in treads and tracks, studded with weapon systems like an overfilled pincushion, with a central turret mounting a swollen weapon like a lance, which was glowing purple and red like a prolapsed organ. Active shielding crackled and flashed as debris arced off sheets of electric blue and curves of burning white. Point-defence systems and coaxial weapons twisted and turned to acquire targets; boxy missile-pods split open and sprouted mushroom-tips of high-explosive. Encrusted with bone-white armour plates overgrown in a profusion of horns and curls and humps and coils; Telokopolan carbon bone-mesh armour, alive and mobile.

    A crawler. A ¡®tank¡¯. An armoured box on flimsy treads. Like the Legion had used on the plateau around the base of Telokopolis.

    Except this little crawler had become so much more, out there beyond the graveworm line.

    Elpida had only a split-second to absorb this sight. As soon as the new arrival rocked to a halt on the edge of the impact crater, the trio of worm-guard turned and opened fire upon the crawler.

    High-powered energy discharges shrieked through the air; purple bolts exploded off the crawler¡¯s forward shields with flashes of blinding light; the super-frequency whine of rotary weapons with inhuman rates of fire throbbed against Elpida¡¯s eardrums as the worm-guard switched to solid-slug ammunition; thousands of rounds of metal flared against the crawler¡¯s shielding as it was overwhelmed ¡ª then plinked and churned as it chewed into the bone-mesh armour beneath. Telokopolan engineering held; the crawler roared forward.

    Elpida¡¯s training suggested that she find cover.

    She ducked and slid, scrambling down the combat frame¡¯s armour plate, overbalanced by the coilgun power-tank strapped to her back and hips. She slammed to the grey dirt and fell into cover ¡ª shoulder-to-shoulder with Pira, wedged into a curl of combat-frame leg-armour. Everyone had their heads down, tucked inside similar angles of protective plate, hunkered down and split up along several bits of cover formed by combat frame armour. Kagami was screaming. Amina was curled into a ball and crying somewhere nearby. Vicky was courageously trying to point her machine gun somewhere useful. Atyle was standing tall and staring at the titanic clash, enraptured, exposed, about to take a bullet.

    The crawler¡¯s shields flickered back to life; it returned fire at the worm-guard with a salvo of missiles and solid shot and anti-materiel slugs and a dozen other weapon systems barking and thumping and coughing.

    In her peripheral vision, Elpida saw one of those glitch-flicker blobs lurch and stagger.

    Revenants were pouring out of the skyscrapers now ¡ª Death-Heads and others ¡ª bringing heavy weaponry to bear on the worm-guard trio, or on the crawler, or on each other. An opportunistic orgy of firepower was erupting on all sides. Flashes of plasma weaponry arced across the ground; machine guns opened up with the crackle and slam of charged shot; shouts of pain and anger and the click-buzz of transmission were drowned out by the earth-shattering noise of the fight between crawler and worm-guard.

    The hundred metres in either direction was rapidly turning into a true battlefield. Elpida couldn¡¯t process anything that had just happened ¡ª but she knew what to do.

    ¡°Pira!¡± she shouted, grabbing Pira¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Pira, we have to get out! Up onto the combat frame, together! What can¡ª¡±

    Vicky¡¯s voice rose from nearby, behind another turn of armour plate: ¡°Elpi, it¡¯s covering us! Look!¡±

    Vicky was correct: the crawler was positioned as if it was trying to defend them from the worm-guard, as if it was their extraction, their ride out. It rocked forward another dozen meters, shields flickering in and out under the incredible firepower of the worm-guard, bone-mesh hull pounded by random shots from revenants with anti-tank guns and scorching plasma bolts. But the crawler¡¯s strange turret-weapon lay quiet ¡ª even as one of the worm-guard lashed out with a whip of black crackling force and left a smoking scar across the crawler¡¯s armour.

    Elpida lifted the coilgun receiver and glanced around for Atyle. ¡°Atyle!¡± she shouted. ¡°Open up on the left, lay down fire! I¡¯ll do the right! Clear a space, then follow me up! Atyle! Atyle!¡±

    But Atyle was lost in the duel between ancient gods ¡ª then lost behind clouds of dirt and smoke and hails of gunfire.

    Kagami screamed from somewhere nearby, but Elpida couldn¡¯t see her: ¡°What happened to your fucking mech, commander?!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a no-go!¡± Elpida shouted back. She hesitated; how could she make sense of what she¡¯d seen, the way she¡¯d been physically paralysed? ¡°Not pinned down like this! And there¡¯s a hostile in¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuck you all, you fucking morons!¡± Kagami screamed. ¡°I¡¯ll do it myself!¡±

    Kagami lurched to her feet from within a nearby abscess of combat-frame armour plate ¡ª exposed, about to get shot. She was too far away for Elpida to reach out and grab her. She was white with fear, eyes wide and bloodshot, grimacing hard against incredible pain.

    Kagami made a throwing gesture with her left hand, as if scattering grains of rice into the air.

    Six silver oblongs arced upward ¡ª then back down, taking station around their mistress.

    Kagami¡¯s smart-drones were online; Kagami herself was screaming, wrenching at her own left hand in agony, banging her fist against her own forehead.

    Elpida shouted: ¡°Kagami! Kagami, stay down! Down!¡±

    Vicky wailed: ¡°Kaga!¡±

    Kagami lurched upward onto the combat frame¡¯s armour plating, bionic legs kicking for footholds ¡ª but she was helped by gravity effectors inside one of the hovering drones. Stray shots bounced off an energy field deployed by another drone. A third opened fire on nearby revenants with some kind of tiny micro-weapon, energy pulses punching through armour and shredding flesh.

    ¡°Kagami!¡± Elpida shouted. ¡°Stay together! Kaga!¡±

    Kagami hurled herself up the slope of the combat frame¡¯s hull, dragged by her drones more than her own muscle power, going for the pilot access hatch. Her sextet of drones swarmed around her.

    Elpida could just see the hatch from her current position ¡ª and it was closed again? Kagami would never get inside, not without a valid pilot, or a copy.

    Too late: Vicky was already scrambling up after Kagami, the only one close enough to follow, hurling herself from scrap to scrap of cover.

    ¡°Vicky! Vicky, no!¡±

    Gunfire was pouring onto their position now, bullets chewing into bone-mesh plates, exotic weaponry scorching and burning and ricocheting in all directions; the Death¡¯s Heads had reached the leg of the combat frame, ignored by the crawler-tank, trying to exploit the angle to pin down Elpida¡¯s group.

    Up on the hull of the combat frame, Kagami reached the hatch; Elpida was too far away to see what happened, but she heard Kagami¡¯s blood-curdling scream of pain and anger ¡ª and then the hatch swung open.

    Kagami dropped through, into the combat frame. A moment later Vicky turned back, eyes wide with horror as she realised that she had left Elpida and the others pinned down.

    ¡°Elpi!¡± Vicky shouted. ¡°Elpi, you can¡ª come on! You can make it! You can¡ª¡±

    One of Kagami¡¯s tiny silver combat drones whirled in front of Vicky and nudged her in the chest with a gravity effector. She fell into the hatch.

    Elpida had lost control of the combat situation.

    The Death¡¯s Head revenants were pouring suppressing fire at what remained of her comrades; she had to keep her head down, tucked into a pit of armour plate. The coilgun power-tank was humming on her back, ready to fire ¡ª but fire at what? If she broke cover and pulled the trigger, could she force enough of the revenants back to make a break for the pilot hatch?

    She could no longer see the crawler tank or the worm-guard, only hear the whirr and crackle of weapons. She had no idea where Atyle had gone ¡ª walked off into the battlefield. She could hear Ilyusha somewhere further off, shouting and spitting and howling insults at the top of her lungs, shotgun going boom, boom, boom. Amina was whimpering close by, to Elpida¡¯s right. Her left shoulder was crammed against Pira.

    ¡°Illy!¡± she shouted. ¡°Illy! On me! Illy!¡±

    Nothing.

    ¡°Pira,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m going to break cover and fire the coilgun, we have to link up with Ilyusha. I need you to ¡­ Pira?¡±

    Pira had her head cocked to one side, listening for something above the din of the firefight. Her eyes were wide with shock, her mouth hanging open, her face drained of all colour.

    ¡°Pira?¡±

    Suddenly a dirty grey form vaulted over the lip of their cover: a suit of armour carapace, filthy with use, chestplate painted with a grinning skull, tongue hanging loose.

    The Death¡¯s Head revenant crashed down hard on her backside, plasma weapon cradled in her arms.

    Elpida raised the coilgun receiver and slipped her finger over the trigger.

    But then Pira reached out, grabbed the coilgun barrel, and slammed it to the ground. Elpida pitched forward, thrown off balance.

    ¡°No,¡± Pira said, hollow and horrified, staring at the new arrival. ¡°No.¡±

    The Death¡¯s Head revenant quickly removed her own helmet. Long dark hair flowed free. Olive skin was covered with a sheen of sweat. A manic smile reached up into bright green eyes with laughing delight and loving disbelief.

    ¡°Leuca,¡± said the Death¡¯s Head. ¡°I¡¯ve been calling your name, Leuca. I couldn¡¯t believe it was you.¡±

    Pira looked like she¡¯d seen her own ghost.

    Elpida tried to free the coilgun receiver from Pira¡¯s grip ¡ª but Pira wouldn¡¯t let go. Elpida hit the release clasp on the aim-assist rig instead. The coilgun power-tank slid off her back. She shrugged out of the harness and scrambled for her submachine gun.

    Pira said: ¡°You joined them.¡±

    The Death¡¯s Head revenant smiled wider, with relief and release. ¡°Only because you did first, Leuca.¡±

    Elpida ripped her submachine gun free from inside her coat. She thumbed the safety off and pointed it at the Death¡¯s Head revenant. She got her finger over the trigger and¡ª

    Pira turned, weeping silent tears; she put the barrel of her own gun against Elpida¡¯s belly, and pulled the trigger.

 calvaria - 7.1

    Vicky awoke with the worst headache of her life.

    She was lying on her back ¡ª crumpled, twisted, pinned ¡ª at the bottom of a bone-white shaft. Her vision was blurry and throbbing with pain. Every beat of her bionic heart sent a cracked web of agony arcing across the rear of her skull.

    At the top of the shaft was the inside of a hatch: twelve feet up, bone-white, shut tight. Illumination came from a palm-pad just beneath the hatch. Ladder rungs climbed one side of the shaft. Opposite the rungs, about halfway down, the osseous perfection was marred by a crimson smear. Blood. Her blood? Where she¡¯d hit her head?

    Pain destroyed thought.

    Vicky drifted in and out of consciousness. Minutes passed; perhaps hours. Had she fallen? Through the hatch? Yes. She¡¯d fallen, hit her head, through the hatch, fallen, into the¡ª

    The hatch!

    She inhaled, wheezing. ¡°Elpi¡ª ahh¡ª ow¡ª¡±

    Vicky¡¯s memories came rushing back. The last thing she remembered was standing on the hull of the mech ¡ª Elpi¡¯s Telokopolan ¡®combat frame¡¯. Kagami had left the group, broken cohesion, and hurled herself up the hull. Vicky had gone after her, thinking that Elpida and the others were right behind. But they weren¡¯t; Elpida had been pinned down. Vicky had turned back and shouted for Elpida to follow her, to join her and Kagami, to lead the others. Bullets and energy bolts and superheated plasma had been whizzing and crackling and thumping through the air; those brain-scratching worm-guard things had been looming over her, pouring earth-shattering firepower onto the gigantic overgrown AFV below ¡ª the tank, whatever it was. Vicky had known she was probably about to take a bullet, but she¡¯d been determined to stand her ground and cover Elpida, to get her comrades up there with her, to get them to safety, no matter the danger. She¡¯d been about to level her LMG and try to put herself to some good use.

    But then one of Kaga¡¯s little silver drones had nudged her in the chest with an invisible forcefield. Vicky had fallen through the hatch, through the shaft, into the mech.

    And she¡¯d hit her head on the way down.

    ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake, Kaga,¡± she moaned.

    Vicky¡¯s mind felt clearer now. Her machine gun was lying on her front, the weight of the box-magazine pressing on her chest. Her sniper rifle was jammed against her spine, all twisted up with the backpack full of ammunition. Her limbs were tangled in her armoured coat and the looted overcoat. Her legs were jammed against the side of the shaft.

    She tried to lift her head. Her hair was glued to the floor with blood. She pulled ¡ª and felt something shift.

    She sat up, vision swaying and blurring, pain like sledgehammer blows on the back of her skull. The headache was so bad she wanted to vomit. She shoved her LMG off her lap; it clattered to the bone-white floor. She got one hand up behind her head and touched the wound.

    ¡°Ah! Ugh¡ª¡±

    Vicky spat bile, spluttering and gasping. Her vision throbbed black. Waves of pain radiated from the rear of her head. Her fingers came away sticky with half-dried blood. Something back there was loose, shifting under her touch.

    Not just the worst headache of her life ¡ª the worst headache of any life.

    Her skull was cracked; a human being would be dead from brain damage. Nanomachine biology was already re-knitting the pieces of cranial plate, but it hadn¡¯t quite finished. Had she died and come back? They¡¯d all chugged the blue nanite goop before they¡¯d set out that morning. Perhaps that had been enough to bring Vicky back from a terminal brain injury.

    ¡°Like ¡­ like Elpi,¡± she murmured, then smiled at how stupid she was being. ¡°You¡¯re being a fangirl, Vic.¡±

    Elpida had been shot through the heart, back during the fight outside of the tomb. Elpida had lain dead for over twelve hours, then came back to life. Vicky had never been religious. She knew Elpida was not a messiah, a risen saviour; she knew the comparison was absurd when they were all made of nanomachines, all zombies, all dead already.

    But Elpida made her feel that way.

    Right then, however, Vicky felt like death. Her head throbbed with every heartbeat.

    ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake, Kaga,¡± she said out loud. ¡°Threw me down a fucking well. Broke my head.¡± She looked up the bone-white shaft, at the inside of the hatch. ¡°What kind of idiot puts ten feet of vertical shaft under an emergency access hatch? Thought your people were meant to be smart, Elpi. Heh.¡± Vicky¡¯s vision swam. Elpi was smart, that was true, but¡ª

    ¡°Oh shit! Elpi!¡±

    Vicky launched herself up the ladder rungs ¡ª the others were still out there! She needed to let them in! She almost passed out again, gritting her teeth and hauling herself up to the hatch. There was a palm-pad and a lever; she pressed her blood-slick right hand to the pad, but nothing happened. She tried again, then punched the pad instead. She jammed the lever up and down, but the hatch didn¡¯t move. She pressed on the hatch itself then thumped it with her fist, but it felt ten feet thick.

    No sounds of battle filtered through the combat frame¡¯s armour. No gunshots. No shouts. No earth-shattering weaponry.

    No Elpida, no Commander, no Messiah, banging on the door to be let in.

    Vicky let herself back down the ladder. She sat in a heap, panting, exhausted, headache scrambling her thoughts with every heartbeat. She looked up at the bloody smear on the wall of the shaft, where she must have hit her head: the blood was long dry. She touched the halo of crimson on the floor; the middle was sticky and wet, but the edges were dry and flaking.

    How long did blood take to dry? How long had she been lying there, unconscious or dead? Where were the others? Where was Elpida? Where was Kagami?

    There was only one route out of the shaft: a narrow passageway, smooth white, ringed by undulations like bones or ribs, just high enough to crouch or squat. In the shaft, Vicky¡¯s nanomachine eyes were amplifying the tiny amount of light from the palm-pad, but the narrow passageway ¡ª service tunnel, bone-channel, whatever ¡ª was pitch black.

    Maybe the others had all gotten inside, safe and sound, and headed off into the depths of the mech.

    ¡°Yeah right,¡± Vicky croaked. ¡°And left you here with a head wound, bitch? No way, no way, Elpi would have carried you.¡± She tried to laugh, but that made the headache worse. ¡°Shit, Vic. You bitch. You fucking left them all behind. Fuck. Kaga, what the fuck? Where are you?¡± She called into the narrow passageway: ¡°Kaga?¡±

    No reply.

    ¡°Oh fuck me, I¡¯ve gotta crawl in there. Haven¡¯t I?¡±

    Vicky had no time to waste on fear. If the others were still out there, if there was any chance of helping them, she had to find out where Kagami had gone and get her to open this hatch. Or get this giant robot walker moving. Use the guns. Something, anything!

    The LMG and the sniper rifle would make it impossible to crawl down the service tunnel ¡ª and potentially get in the way if she met anything. She propped both firearms against the wall of the shaft. She wriggled out of her backpack and stripped off her coats as well, going down to grey pants and thermal t-shirt. Then she decided to put the armoured coat back on; she might not be alone in here. Each decision took many more seconds than usual. She knew she had brain damage, no matter how rapidly it was healing. She paid for every motion with a stab of pain in the back of her skull.

    She drew her sidearm ¡ª an automatic pistol, polymer-framed, lightweight, large calibre cartridges. She had two spare magazines, already loaded. And a combat knife.

    The tunnel mouth was pitch black. Vicky hesitated.

    Vic ¡ª no, ¡®Victoria¡¯ Yarrell knew she was not a warrior.

    She was a soldier, yes ¡ª perhaps even a good soldier, or at least a very experienced one. She could hardly deny that; she¡¯d been a soldier for almost twenty years.

    She knew almost everything there was to know about maintaining, relocating, loading, aiming, and firing eleven different kinds of field artillery ¡ª even the over-engineered shit from the Old Empire; she¡¯d never have made Gunner, with all the trajectory charts and calculations, let alone Master Gunner, but when it came to mechanical repair and logistics, she¡¯d always been the go-to in the GLR 18th Infantry. She¡¯d been with the artillery for the battles of Dayton and Cincinnati, as the revolution had turned into the Great Lakes Republic and swept eastward in those first glorious years. She¡¯d run supply on the edge of the Appalachians for the mountain campaign, man-hauling, driving mules, then finally trucks, up into those verdant hills to supply the Irregulars with everything they needed to skull-fuck the Old-Empire holdouts into rubble; she could still fix a broken axle, coax an engine back to life, and get a team to unload a camouflaged freight truck in record time; after the Irregulars had become the GLR 18th she¡¯d learned division-level logistics, ammunition supply, transport, feeding, just about everything there was to know about keeping the formation moving. She¡¯d been on the refit and repair team for the stolen shipment of Tian Dun power armour suits ¡ª and she¡¯d watched the bootleg security camera tapes when one of the suits had breached the Governor-Bunker and slaughtered the Six-State high command; she¡¯d been at the Baltimore firebase when the fuckers down south had gotten their shit together and hit them with counter-battery fire; she¡¯d ferried casualties and pinched off arteries in makeshift infirmaries; she¡¯d breathed a sigh of relief when the GLR had negotiated the surrender of New York; she¡¯d lived in a fox hole for three months when the GLR had marched south and murdered the Charleston Fortress-City in revenge for the nuke in Montreal. She¡¯d volunteered for the second Chicago campaign, a return to what passed for home, to where it had all started, to crack that final citadel ¡ª the arcology, where she¡¯d been running supplies to guerillas right below the noses of the Chicago city-state aristocracy.

    She¡¯d been a good soldier, first of the revolution, then the Republic. She¡¯d known her job, she¡¯d believed in what the GLR stood for ¡ª even when it dropped bombs and killed cities and strangled men to death with suits of powered armour ¡ª and she¡¯d died trying to make the world a better place. So nobody would have to grow up like she did, in a refugee camp, in the shadow of an arcology populated by those who wanted for nothing.

    But she¡¯d never been on an assault team.

    She¡¯d never held a shotgun and shoved it in a human being¡¯s face and pulled the trigger. She¡¯d never gone room-to-room in an urban centre, or an arcology complex, in the places where the merchant kingdoms and the Old-Empire pretenders had put up a real fight. Except for that first time in Houseman Square, she¡¯d never shot a human being she could see with her own eyes. She¡¯d never had to, it wasn¡¯t her area of expertise.

    And she¡¯d certainly never gone into a tunnel with a knife and a pistol.

    Vicky pumped her lungs ¡ª which made her head throb with pain. ¡°Ah, ow! Fuck me. Come on, Vic. Fuck you. Second chance at life. Third now! You want this new body? Use it. Elpida fucking needs you. Elpi gave you a name and got you on your feet. If it wasn¡¯t for her you¡¯d be dead. You¡¯d never have left the tomb! They all need you, you left them all behind. This is your fault! Come on. Come on, you useless bitch, do it! What¡¯s gonna be in there, a fucking alien? You¡¯re invincible now! You die, you come back. Go!¡±

    She plunged into the dark.

    The service tunnel was not a straight line ¡ª it curved away to the left, then doubled back on itself, snaking through the bone-smooth innards of the combat frame. Vicky navigated with her left hand touching the wall, her other hand clutching her pistol, her eyes straining against the darkness; warmth radiated from deep within the wall, accompanied by a distant throb ¡ª or was that just the back of Vicky¡¯s head? Every heartbeat wracked her skull with a fresh wave of pain.

    At first Vicky maintained a crouch-walk, but the pain brought her to her knees, then to a crawl, pistol clacking against the floor. She kept one shoulder against the left-hand wall.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t fucking¡ª drag me¡ª Kaga? Just fucking¡ª left me there? You¡ª bitch. Gonna throttle you¡ª when¡ª when I find you¡ª¡±

    After perhaps two or three minutes of crawling through the naked bone-channel, Vicky reached a junction. She could barely see it in the dark, had to reach out and touch the corners to confirm. Straight ahead, left, and right.

    From the left came distant noises ¡ª throbbing, gurgling, and creaking, like organs, guts, and muscles.

    ¡°Oh, oh fuck no,¡± Vicky murmured. ¡°Elpi what the fuck is this thing? This isn¡¯t a robot.¡±

    To the right was the faintest sliver of red light.

    She went that way, dragging, crawling, then hauling herself back up into a crouch-walk as the light got brighter. Red light ¡ª red like a flash-light shone through flesh, shot through with veins and capillaries. Blood-light.

    Vicky slumped out of the service tunnel, into a circular chamber.

    Red light throbbed from a low ceiling, from behind a thin layer of osseous white. Three passageways radiated out from the chamber at irregular intervals: on the left was the mouth of another service tunnel, dark and narrow; directly across from Vicky was a taller aperture which led to another chamber, in which she could see the edge of a control panel; on the right was another tunnel ¡ª but with a sharp upward slope, the mouth of which was ringed with bone-protrusions like anchor-points. Several foot-thick white plates lay on the floor around the opening, along with bolts and fastenings made from the same bone-like material as the rest of the combat frame innards: bulkheads, removed from their housings.

    A figure was half inside the upward sloping tunnel, legs sticking out, wrapped in a familiar armoured coat. She emerged and sat up, white hair drenched blood-red by the light, copper skin made dark, purple eyes dyed almost black.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Vicky¡¯s heart soared. ¡°Elpi!¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you¡¯ve recovered. Welcome back.¡±

    Laughing, heart pounding, head throbbing with pain, stomach churning with headache-induced nausea, Vicky gestured awkwardly with the handgun and clicked the safety on. ¡°Sorry about the gun. Didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d run into in here, it¡¯s weird as ¡­ as ¡­ Elpi?¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t look right; her smile was too artificial, too sweet. Her face lacked the contained warmth, the professional confidence, the poise like a big cat at parade rest. Her eyes showed none of the intense sisterly concern ¡ª the too-hot, too-real, too-naked determination and affection, like sun-baked steel. The look which had reminded Vicky of everything she¡¯d fought for in life, embodied for the first time in another person, a crystallization of everything she believed in. But that expression, that truth, was gone ¡ª or at least muted. Even Elpida¡¯s pose was slightly wrong: shoulders rounded, head lowered, arms limp. She was holding a two-pronged crowbar in her hands, without much purpose.

    Elpida said: ¡°I¡¯m sorry we left you in the entrance. We couldn¡¯t risk moving you with a head wound like that. I knew you¡¯d recover.¡±

    Vicky swallowed, relief turning to horror; Elpida was in shock. ¡°Elpi? Elpi, where are the others?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s smile was too sweet. ¡°Nobody else made it in. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°No ¡­ nobody? Amina? Pira?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Elpida repeated.

    ¡°Oh, oh shit. Oh shit.¡± Vicky¡¯s head whirled. The edges of her vision throbbed black with pain. ¡°Amina, she¡¯ll be all alone. And¡ª and Illy, and¡ª no, no, no. This can¡¯t be right. The others. We left them behind? We left them?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°There was too much firepower in the air. I followed you, but the others were pinned down.¡±

    ¡°No-nobody was¡ª nobody was¡ª¡±

    Elpida shook her head. Slow, measured, almost lethargic. ¡°Calm down. Nobody was hit, not that I saw. They¡¯re all still out there. If we can get this mech operational, we can rescue them. We need to focus on that.¡±

    ¡°How long¡ª uh, h-how long was I out?¡±

    ¡°About six hours.¡±

    Vicky squeezed her eyes shut with the pain; her head felt like it was going to burst. She couldn¡¯t get her thoughts in order. This was a worst-case scenario, worse than she¡¯d allowed herself to fear. If Elpida had been with the others, trapped outside the combat frame, then at least she could have led them, kept them together. But did they stand a chance, without Elpida to lead them?

    And Elpida herself was in shock, emotionally numb, her confidence gone. And it was all Vicky¡¯s fault.

    ¡°I should have told you. Elpida, I¡¯m so sorry. I should have told you about Kaga¡¯s drones. She was practising with them, in the night, getting them running, making them fly. She made me promise not to tell you. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry!¡± Vicky¡¯s vision was so blurred she could barely see Elpida¡¯s expression. ¡°I should have told you, I should have¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Elpida said.

    Vicky blinked her vision clear. Elpida was just smiling, bland and sweet and empty.

    No wonder she looked wrong. Elpida had lost a close-knit band of sisters, and now Vicky and Kaga¡¯s secret had cost her another group of comrades.

    ¡°R-right,¡± Vicky said. She had to pull herself together, for Elpida¡¯s sake. ¡°Right. I¡ª what can do I? Elpi, what do you need me to do? What are you trying to do? What¡¯s our next move?¡±

    Elpida gestured with the crowbar, up the sloped passageway. ¡°I think the mech pilot is up here, but it¡¯s not meant to be accessed from this manual control area. I¡¯m taking the bulkheads apart by hand. Thank you for the offer, but this space is too narrow for more than one person.¡±

    ¡°Right. Right. Okay. Where¡ª wait, where¡¯s Kaga?¡±

    Elpida nodded toward the wider aperture at the rear of the circular chamber. ¡°Manual controls are through there. You could lend a hand, see if we can get systems access.¡±

    Vicky nodded ¡ª ow ¡ª stowed her handgun in a pocket of her armoured coat, and crawled across the chamber. Elpida started to turn back to the sloped tunnel, to resume the slow work of breaking through the bulkheads. Vicky paused, reached out, and clapped a hand on Elpida¡¯s shoulder. Elpida turned to look at her, blank and hollow. Lost inside. Fighting too much grief.

    ¡°Elpi.¡± Vicky tried to sound confident. ¡°We¡¯ll get the others back. We will. Pira¡¯s smart, Illy¡¯s vicious, and Atyle was very heavily armed. Right? They¡¯ll be okay. Right? We¡¯ll get them back.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    She turned back to her work, leaving Vicky¡¯s hand to clutch empty air.

    As Elpida turned away, Vicky saw a glint of metal through Elpida¡¯s hair, at the base of her skull ¡ª her uplink-slot, to pilot the mech? Hadn¡¯t she made a big deal about that being gone? Perhaps Kagami wasn¡¯t the only one growing new parts in secret. Vicky felt heartsick for a terrible moment, but Elpida wasn¡¯t paying attention.

    Vicky slumped into the manual control room.

    A narrow rectangular space, cramped and dark, illuminated from above by more of that blood-red vein-light. A smooth depression in the floor formed a bench-seat, with person-shaped grooves for five manual operators. The control panel was made from the same bone-material as the rest of the combat frame interior, with keys and switches and buttons raised from the surface, marked with symbols and letters, glowing faintly with blood reds and mould blues, bile yellows and sickly greens; two of the seat-grooves faced mechanisms which looked designed to accept entire human arms, like super-advanced joysticks.

    A bank of screens glowed above the control panel, set into the wall, back-lit by that same blood-dyed illumination. The screens looked more like transparent chitin than glass; nothing seemed to separate one screen from another, no bevel or boundary, like a giant compound eye. The screens showed a jumble of exterior views, many of them too dark to make out in detail. Vicky recognised the line of skyscrapers against the night sky, patches of churned grey earth littered with revenant corpses, and sections of the combat frame¡¯s own exterior hull. Other screens glowed with ghostly green night vision, or the false colour of thermal readout, the bloody cocktail of infra-red, and some visual spectra that Vicky had never seen before: purple swirls or white wisps or mechanical representation of echolocation or nanomachine detection. A few screens showed scrolling readouts of green text, dense with numbers and data.

    Kagami was slumped in the middle seat-groove.

    ¡°Kaga!¡± Vicky joined her, sliding down into the adjacent seat. ¡°Kaga, we left ¡­ oh, fuck me. Kaga, what have you done to yourself?¡±

    Kagami was drenched in sweat, shaking all over, hunched tight with terrible pain. Her long dark hair was plastered to her forehead and neck. Her armoured coat was pulled tight as if she was suffering fever chills. Her eyes turned to Vicky ¡ª wide, bloodshot, mad with terror and exhaustion. Her soft brown skin was dyed bloody in the red light.

    She was plugged into the control panel: two shiny black cables extended from the flesh of her left palm and into a pair of sockets. Visible circuitry glowed beneath her fingertips and down her wrist.

    Her silvery drones were lined up on the seat next to her, powered down, inactive. The auspex visor lay next to them.

    ¡°Victoria,¡± Kagami wheezed. ¡°So good of you to finally fucking join us.¡±

    ¡°Kaga, what¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, what am I doing? I¡¯m trying to negotiate with a giant robot that doesn¡¯t even speak human language ¡ª no, scratch that, a giant robot which is more like some fucking fungal infection in an octopus than any kind of animal intelligence.¡± Kagami took a deep breath, ripping the air down into her lungs, wincing and whining. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She showed her teeth, manic with more than just pain. ¡°This thing does not want me inside its brain, oh no, no no no. The fact it even has a brain is obscene. The meat isn¡¯t even carbon ¡ª how do you even do that? Do you have the faintest idea how fucking insane that is? The people who built this should have all been shot. It thinks in base eight. Makes me want to vomit.¡±

    ¡°Kaga.¡± Vicky reached out and steadied Kagami¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Kaga. We left everyone behind. You shut the hatch. You left them behind. We need to¡ª¡±

    Kagami hissed through clenched teeth: ¡°I was rather preoccupied. And I still am, thank you very much.¡±

    ¡°Kaga, you fucking shut the hatch!¡± Vicky snapped. She didn¡¯t mean to lose her temper, but there it went. She grabbed the front of Kagami¡¯s coat, bunched in a fist. They were both responsible for this, for danger to their comrades, for Elpida¡¯s state. ¡°We didn¡¯t tell anybody about the drones, and now somebody might be hurt, or worse! We have to get this thing moving, we¡¯re not leaving¡ª¡±

    ¡°I accept full responsibility, yes, yes,¡± Kagami hissed ¡ª and as she spoke, she reached out with her right hand and typed on the control panel. ¡°My fault, bad girl, bad moon bitch. Pay attention, Victoria! You want to save the idiot zombies? Then help me! You can start by looking at that!¡±

    Kagami pointed at one of the screens: a vague blob of night-vision grey. The meaningless smear meant nothing to Vicky.

    ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    ¡°Look. Closely. You blind primitive! Concentrate!¡±

    Vicky sighed, and¡ª

    Down in her peripheral vision one of the text-display screens had cleared, leaving behind a single isolated line in softly glowing green.

    >Do not read this out loud. Do not respond to these messages out loud. Keep talking. Play along.

    A clunk came from the circular chamber behind them: Elpida discarding another layer of bulkhead. Kagami flinched and pressed a button on the keyboard. The green message vanished.

    Vicky slowly let go of the front of Kagami¡¯s coat. Kaga was watching her closely, waiting for a reaction. Vicky eased herself back into one of the seat-grooves, heart pounding, skull slamming with pain.

    ¡°Uh, Kaga ¡­ what ¡­ what am I looking at, exactly?¡±

    Kagami sighed, sharp and irritated. She said: ¡°The camera feeds, the camera feeds! It¡¯s about the only part of this obscene mech that¡¯s happy to talk to me. I have no idea how it has cameras out on the hull, there¡¯s no gaps, no routes for information, and you can¡¯t broadcast shit through whatever it¡¯s made of. Like a fucking nuclear bunker. But we¡¯ve got vision. Oh, we¡¯ve got plenty of vision.¡±

    As she spoke, Kagami¡¯s fingers flew across the keyboard. Another green message appeared.

    >Didn¡¯t you notice?

    Vicky swallowed, head spinning. ¡°Okay ¡­ okay, Kaga, I follow that far. Um. But what am I supposed to be noticing?¡±

    ¡°That, that!¡± Kagami tapped at one of the screens again ¡ª at a blob of thermals inside the base of one of the skyscrapers. ¡°We can track the position of every revenant still out there, which means identification, which means, huzzah hooray hip-hip whatever for me, we can locate and identify all the others. If we¡¯re smart, and fast, and nobody is masking signals or trying to hide. And I¡¯m very smart and very fast, so fuck you.¡±

    Kagami typed as she spoke.

    >That thing back there is not Elpida.

    Vicky went numb. Kagami pressed a button. The green text vanished.

    ¡°Uh,¡± Vicky said, stalling for thought. Her head throbbed with pain. What the hell was Kaga talking about? Had she gone mad with guilt, or fear? Or was this a final ploy to turn Vicky against Elpida, against the Commander? ¡°Kaga, I don¡¯t entirely follow what you mean. I¡¯m, uh ¡­ I¡¯ve got a head wound, in case you haven¡¯t noticed? Pretty sure I died back there. Thanks for nudging me into the hatch, by the way. Pretty sure you cracked my skull. Killed me. Well done.¡±

    ¡°Stop whinging, you got better.¡± Kagami rambled on. ¡°It was the only way to ensure you didn¡¯t get shot, standing up there like a cat in an airlock. You don¡¯t have to thank me, by the way. Look, I¡¯m trying to tell you that we can locate the others. Are you still concussed? We. Can. Locate. The. Others.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s fingers told a different story.

    >Not Elpida. It was already here when I crawled in. Was surprised to see me. Called it Elpida and it just played along. I¡¯m sorry, okay? I¡¯m sorry I left you there. Was trying to get the controls to open the hatch. Too risky now. I think it¡¯ll turn on us.

    Vicky shook her head. ¡°Uh, Kaga. Uh, okay. Okay. I follow. I¡¯m following. Sorry, my head is ¡­ is ¡­ bad.¡±

    ¡°Take your time,¡± Kagami said, tight and urgent.

    Vicky looked Kaga in the eyes ¡ª blood-shot, sagging, exhausted. Kagami looked like a radiation poisoning victim about to start losing hair.

    Vicky said: ¡°What if you¡¯re wrong?¡±

    ¡°About the others? Then it¡¯s at least worth a try, isn¡¯t it? Aren¡¯t we supposed to all stick together, commander¡¯s orders? Thought you were her good little girl, Victoria, following orders, one-for-all all-for-one, all that shit, right? Right?¡±

    Kagami¡¯s fingers flew:

    >Not wrong. Doesn¡¯t act like her. Doesn¡¯t even know our names. Uses the wrong words for things. Looks normal under the auspex but I don¡¯t trust that now. It knows that I know but it doesn¡¯t care. Where¡¯s the coilgun? Where¡¯s her weapons? Where the fuck did she get that crowbar?

    Churning rot settled into the pit of Vicky¡¯s stomach. Kagami was right. Whatever was back there wasn¡¯t acting like Elpida at all, even Elpida in shock and grief. Elpida would not have left Vicky¡¯s corpse all twisted up in that shaft, to wake alone and confused.

    Vicky started to shake. The back of her skull hurt so much, pounding with each elevated heartbeat. She put her hand in her pocket and gripped her pistol, then glanced over her shoulder. Elpida¡¯s boots were just visible poking out of the sloped tunnel back in the circular chamber. Grinding sounds came from the bolts on the next layer of bulkheads.

    Vicky wasn¡¯t a very good shot with a handgun, but one bullet to that thing¡¯s head and¡ª

    Kagami grabbed Vicky¡¯s arm and dug in with her nails. Vicky winced, then showed the handle of her pistol. Kaga shook her head, hard, and mouthed: I can¡¯t do this alone!

    Vicky had been unconscious or dead for six hours. Kaga had been alone, up here, with whatever was out there wearing Elpida¡¯s face.

    Vicky eased back into her seat, nodding slowly. Kagami let go, shaking all over.

    ¡°What, uh ¡­ ¡± Vicky reached up to a random screen, didn¡¯t matter which, and looked Kagami in the eyes as she said: ¡°What do you think that is, Kaga?¡±

    Kagami tapped a different screen, one which showed thermal imaging, blobs of bright colour on a blue background. ¡°That right there, I think that¡¯s the little psycho cyborg ¡ª Ilyusha, Illy, whatever you want to call her.¡±

    Kagami typed.

    >Necromancer.

    Vicky said: ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±

    >What else would it be?

    Kagami said out loud: ¡°Yes, that¡¯s Ilyusha. I¡¯m serious. It¡¯s the right size and still clutching one of the ballistic shields. Fuck knows how the little goblin got away, but she did. She¡¯s clear, curled up in ¡­ ¡± Kagami glanced at another screen. ¡°A metal box? I have no idea. Little fuckhead moron. Haha! Still got our backpack full of blue goo!¡± Her laugh was a little too hysterical.

    ¡°And ¡­ and the others?¡± Vicky asked. She worked hard to keep her voice level. ¡°You can see them for real? Any of them?¡±

    Kagami nodded. Her left hand, the one plugged into the control console, twitched and flexed. Screens flickered through readouts, mostly thermal images, but also in those spectra Vicky had never seen before, wisps of white and grey, purple-riot dot-matrices, and red overlaid on red.

    Kagami explained: ¡°The one curled up in a corner there might be Pira. I can¡¯t be sure but the arm is bionic, and it¡¯s the right size and composition for her. This thing has fantastic resolution, about the only good thing about it. In the base of that tower, see that there? Probably the serial killer freak ¡ª Amina, whatever her name is.¡±

    ¡°Captured?¡± Vicky squinted, trying to make out the topography. Amina and Pira were inside the same structure. A true-colour vision of the night-shrouded city showed a familiar grinning skull on the wall of the building. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the¡ª¡±

    ¡°The Death¡¯s Head skyscraper, mmhmm. Captured, yes, I think that¡¯s a safe assumption.¡± Kagami snorted. ¡°Though no assumption is safe here, right? And I assume that right there is our coilgun. It¡¯s the correct power signature.¡±

    ¡°And- and the others? The-¡±

    Kagami tapped a thermal blob in the same rough area as Amina, perhaps a few rooms away: slumped against a wall, stretched out, oddly messy in the middle.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure who that is,¡± Kagami said. ¡°But I think it¡¯s one of us. I might be wrong about the one up there being Pira, it might be her down there instead. Or maybe the primitive, I don¡¯t know for sure.¡±

    Kagami typed again.

    >Elpida. Real one.

    Vicky¡¯s heart raced. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Kagami grunted. ¡°Whoever it is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Alive?¡±

    ¡°Badly fucking injured,¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Let me finish my sentence, Victoria. Whoever it is, they¡¯re badly injured and humming with nanomachine repair activity. So, there¡¯s that.¡±

    Vicky tried to breathe deep. Her head still hurt so badly she couldn¡¯t think. ¡°Okay, so ¡­ so what¡¯s our plan? I mean, if ¡­ if ¡­ Elpida doesn¡¯t get this mech moving?¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Plans are thin.¡± She pointed at a massive blob of nonsense readouts, a jumble of meaningless information, wedged inside the base of a nearby skyscraper. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to contact that thing for hours, but this bloody mech won¡¯t give me full-spectrum comms. If we can get through to it we might have an ally on the outside who can herd up our missing zombies.¡±

    Vicky squinted at the readouts. ¡°What am I looking at?¡±

    ¡°The tank! The tank which decided to rile up the worm-guard. The worm-boys ran off, by the way. Not far, just on the other side of the mech. Don¡¯t ask me to show you that camera-view, it made me blind for twenty minutes. The tank is hiding. Licking its wounds? Is that what tanks do?¡±

    Kagami typed as she spoke.

    >The combat frame pilot is alive. Badly wounded. Talking to me. Don¡¯t let on.

    ¡°O-oh,¡± Vicky said. ¡°Uh, that sounds ¡­ complicated. Um. What about, uh ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not complicated at all!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°It¡¯s simplicity itself. If we can raise the tank on comms ¡ª if this fucking thing will let me ¡ª we can direct it to the others. Get them on board, and help Elpida back there get this thing moving.¡±

    >Pilot¡¯s delirious. Doesn¡¯t understand. Doesn¡¯t speak like us. Different language. Routing communications through binary then base-8. Hate this. Pilot says internal defences are down but not inside the pilot capsule enclosure. Big fucking guns. Enough to slow down anything. Maybe not enough to kill a Necromancer. But will buy us an opening.

    Vicky kept her voice steady: ¡°Sounds optimistic. How are you going to ¡­ ?¡±

    Another clunk came from the circular chamber. The thing wearing Elpida¡¯s face let out a loud sigh, then called: ¡°I think I¡¯m through!¡±

    How are we going to kill a Necromancer?

    Kagami turned to Vicky and grinned wide, manic and full of pain. ¡°Simple, Victoria. Communication. Proper communication. The one thing you primitives could never master, grubbing down there in the dirt. The one thing Luna always had over you, even you genius NorAm bitches.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s left hand reached down and lifted one of her drones. Her right hand typed the truth.

    >Gravity.

 calvaria - 7.2

    The thing that wore Elpida¡¯s face joined Vicky and Kagami in the manual control chamber.

    Sweat prickled on Vicky¡¯s skin as the Elpida-thing crawled through the doorway aperture; Kagami pressed a key on the bone-white control panel, erasing the word ¡®gravity¡¯ on one of the screens, before the Elpida-thing could see. She ¡ª or it? Vicky wasn¡¯t sure; it squatted in the opening, braced one hand against the wall, and pulled Elpida¡¯s face into a smile. Too bright, too sweet, with too much tooth.

    It spoke with Elpida¡¯s voice: ¡°Hey, you two. I think I¡¯m through to the pilot. We¡¯re in.¡±

    Vicky nodded; she didn¡¯t trust herself to smile. Her heart rate climbed; each beat sent a pulse of pain spider-webbing across the rear of her cracked skull.

    Kagami snorted. She said: ¡°Resorting to brute strength, commander? Only thing you¡¯re good for, anyway. Brainless gene-jacked bull.¡±

    The Elpida-thing ignored the insult. It continued to smile, white teeth stained red by the steady biological blood-light of the combat frame¡¯s interior illumination. It no longer carried the crowbar, but held Elpida¡¯s submachine gun strapped over one shoulder; Vicky did not recall seeing the weapon in the circular chamber. It had removed the armoured coat, revealing Elpida¡¯s toned and taut musculature beneath a thin layer of grey thermal t-shirt. Copper-brown skin was sticky with exertion. Sweat patches showed at the armpits. White hair was swept back. Purple eyes looked almost black.

    Vicky had spent plenty of time studying Elpida, since they had clawed their way out of their metal resurrection coffins alongside each other ¡ª almost as much time as she had spent studying herself. She found it difficult not to look at Elpida, to admire her, to stare at her on occasion. Vicky didn¡¯t lie to herself that this was innocent fascination: Elpida was one of the most attractive people she¡¯d ever encountered. Six and a half feet of hyper-athletic super-soldier, who moved with all the confidence and precision of a feline on the hunt, like a war goddess given life by a wish; and she spoke such sense, with such determination and compassion. Elpida was everything Vicky had always dreamed of. In life, Vicky would have shied away from a presence like Elpida, consumed by the conflation of attraction and jealousy: Do I want to sleep with her, or do I want to be her? But resurrection and afterlife had levelled all the old distinctions. And Vicky had a new body now. She was less confused.

    The thing wearing Elpida¡¯s face and form had replicated every physical detail. But it didn¡¯t even bother to try with the mannerisms, the tone of voice, or the facial expressions. It possessed none of Elpida¡¯s power and presence. A perfect picture, animated incorrectly.

    Not gonna call you her name, Vicky thought. Necromancer? Necro-pida? Nelpida? No, those are all stupid. You¡¯re a stupid bitch, Vic. And you¡¯re distracting yourself with bullshit, ¡®cos you¡¯re terrified. Take your hand off your pistol ¡ª it can probably see. Fuck, look at the way it smiles.

    Was this creature really a ¡®Necromancer¡¯? Vicky had nothing to go on except what Pira had said, so many days ago now, in that concrete bunker: myths and legends passed around among revenants, about shape-shifting imitators with perfect control of nanomachines, both inside their own bodies and in the bodies of other undead.

    Was that why Elpida had paused, up on the combat frame, before they¡¯d all gotten separated?

    Had this thing led Elpida into a trap, and then paralysed her?

    Out loud, Vicky said: ¡°Back off, Kaga. The commander¡¯s doing her best. Not like you¡¯ve had any luck with the controls here.¡±

    Kagami hissed through her teeth and turned a cold shoulder to Vicky and the Necromancer, returning to her examination of the wall of exterior camera views; Vicky was impressed, she hadn¡¯t thought Kagami was capable of faking. Perhaps it was method acting, powered by fear and exhaustion.

    Kagami said: ¡°Well? What are you waiting for, commander? A gold star sticker? A pat on the back? Get up there and plug yourself in already.¡±

    The Elpida-thing said, ¡°Actually, I want you both to come with me. There may be internal defences still online.¡± It patted the submachine gun. ¡°I don¡¯t expect bullets will scratch the armour inside this thing, but those drones have everything we need.¡± She nodded at the silver cigar-shapes of Kagami¡¯s drones, one still in Kagami¡¯s left hand and the other five lined up on the seat.

    Kagami turned back around and squinted with bloodshot eyes. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®everything we need¡¯? I thought this mech was like your long-lost girlfriend. Thought you were ready to go rooting wrist-deep in her guts.¡±

    The Elpida-thing said: ¡°Those drones have internal shield-projectors, miniaturised force-applicators, and jamming equipment. All we have to do is overcome any internal defences, just long enough for me to reach the pilot uplink. A few seconds at most. Then I¡¯ll have full control.¡± She smiled at Kagami. ¡°I want you to take the lead, in front, with the shield-projectors in the drones. We¡¯ll be right behind you.¡±

    Kagami drawled: ¡°Is that an order, commander?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a request from a friend. Please, Kaguya?¡±

    Vicky broke out in cold sweat; her blood turned to ice. Kagami snorted, but she couldn¡¯t quite cover her horror. The thing wearing Elpida¡¯s face just smiled and smiled and smiled. It knew Kagami¡¯s name, it had heard Vicky say her name out loud, more than once. The mistake was on purpose.

    It¡¯s mocking us, Vicky thought. Daring us to call it out. Playing with us.

    The Elpida-thing turned purple eyes on Vicky, creased with sudden concern. ¡°Are you alright? You look pale.¡±

    Vicky forced her voice to work: ¡°I did die of a head wound back there, commander. Kinda hurts. A lot. With every heartbeat, you know?¡±

    The Elpida-thing gestured for Vicky to turn. ¡°Let me take a look.¡±

    Vicky wanted to scream. But she turned to show the back of her skull, skin crawling, heart racing, head pounding with pain in every pulse. She stared at the jumble of screens, at the snatches of night vision and infra-red. Her eyes settled on the real Elpida ¡ª nothing more than a smudge of heat signature inside the nearest skyscraper. She was upright, but unmoving. Arms above her head? Vicky couldn¡¯t quite make out the details.

    The Elpida-thing touched her shoulder; Vicky flinched. For a second Vicky thought the Necromancer might just plunge a finger through the damaged skull plates in sadistic delight. But ¡®Elpida¡¯ made a concerned noise low in her throat. ¡°Mm. Right. You need to be careful with that. One bump and you could be out cold for hours. You take the rear, okay? Hopefully we won¡¯t have to do anything much up there. Then you can rest. I promise.¡±

    Vicky turned back. She forced a smile. ¡°Commander.¡±

    Kagami was busy unplugging her pair of palm-cables from the combat frame¡¯s manual control panel; she winced as the first one popped free, then gasped when the second cable just wiggled back and forth and wouldn¡¯t detach. Vicky didn¡¯t think Kagami was faking the pain. Sweat was running down her face, gluing her long black hair to her forehead and neck; she was shivering and shaking with effort.

    Then the Necromancer reached over Kagami¡¯s shoulder and yanked the cable out of the panel; Kagami flinched and yelped, then whined softly, panting for breath.

    The Elpida-thing smiled and smiled and smiled.

    Vicky forced herself to speak: ¡°So ¡­ what are we going to do, up in the ¡­ with the pilot?¡±

    The Necromancer said, ¡°I assume the pilot is dead or incapacitated. I¡¯ll take over, plug myself into the neural controls.¡± It tilted Elpida¡¯s head and tapped the back of its neck ¡ª the imitation of Elpida¡¯s MMI cranial uplink slot. ¡°All ready to go.¡±

    Vicky couldn¡¯t help herself: ¡°Do you think the pilot is one of your cadre?¡±

    The Elpida-thing shrugged. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t think so.¡±

    Kagami gathered herself; the shiny black cables slowly retracted back into her left palm, into bio-plastic slots in her altered flesh. She gestured with a flick of her circuitry-laced fingers ¡ª the six silver drones rose into the air, perfectly silent and level. ¡°Fuck you, commander,¡± she grumbled. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll take point, seeing as you¡¯re too chicken-shit to do it yourself. But I¡¯ll need Victoria with me.¡± She reached out with her right hand, claw-like and shaking, and grabbed the sleeve of Vicky¡¯s coat. ¡°Been plugged into this thing for hours. Feel like I might fall over. Vicky, you better catch me ¡ª when I do.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s bloodshot eyes filled with meaning. Vicky nodded. ¡°Sure thing, Kaga. I got you.¡±

    The Elpida-thing led them back into the circular chamber, crouch-walking under the low ceiling of glowing red. She waited to one side for Kagami and Vicky to lead the way up the sloping passage she had opened. White bulkheads and their bolt-like fastenings lay all over the floor. There was no sign of the crowbar, or the Elpida-thing¡¯s armoured coat. Vicky tried not to think about that.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right behind you,¡± said the thing, with Elpida¡¯s voice.

    The upward-sloping service tunnel turned out to be a narrow, kinked passageway of ridged bone, tighter and more cramped than the passage which Vicky had taken from the hatch. It climbed upward through the combat frame in a claustrophobic spiral. At least it wasn¡¯t dark ¡ª Kagami¡¯s drones emitted a cold blue glow ¡ª but that only made Vicky more aware of the limited space.

    Kagami took the lead, huffing and puffing, swearing softly, dragging her bionic legs. Vicky didn¡¯t think Kaga was bluffing about being on the verge of physical collapse, but she didn¡¯t actually need Vicky to haul her along ¡ª she had a drone for that, helping to push her up the spiral. She sent three of the silver cigar-shapes a few feet ahead, kept one just in front of her, and had the sixth drone hover behind Vicky¡¯s back; Vicky doubted that a single drone would be able to cover her if the Necromancer decided to pounce on them in this tunnel, with no retreat and nowhere to go. Vicky stayed close to Kagami, concentrating on crawling up the spiralling slope, and on the pounding pain in the rear of her skull. She tried not to think about the Elpida-thing at her heels.

    Vicky had no idea what Kagami was planning; their covert communication had been interrupted before she could ask for specifics.

    Gravity ¡ª what had Kaga meant? Was she going to drop the Necromancer off the side of the mech? Did the Elpida-thing know that Kagami had been in contact with the combat frame¡¯s pilot ¡ª or that the pilot was alive? Did it know about the internal defences inside the pilot enclosure? Did it know the plan, from reading their minds?

    What if it knew ¡ª and didn¡¯t care?

    Vicky decided she would go down fighting, whatever happened; it was the same impulse that had wedded her heart to the revolution. Doomed hope was better than hopeless surrender, if you were going to die anyway. Go down fighting, fuck the odds.

    Her large-calibre handgun weighed heavily in one pocket of her armoured coat. She wished she hadn¡¯t left the LMG behind, under the hatch; the heavy weapon probably wouldn¡¯t work any better than a pistol, if the thing behind her really was a Necromancer, but the weight and power would feel good in her arms. Maybe the confidence would have soothed the back of her skull.

    The sloping passageway ended with a sudden drop. The combat frame disgorged all three of them into the pilot chamber: an oval, perhaps twenty feet long and ten feet wide, with more than enough room to stand up.

    Blood-light throbbed from a domed ceiling, dark and arterial, scarlet with oxygenation, sluicing through visible whorls and folds and wrinkles behind the thin white bone-material. Veins as thick as Vicky¡¯s waist pumped and glugged inside the walls, wrapped around bulb-like organs and grape-bunch nodules, in burgundy and garnet and crimson. Layers upon layers of red flesh stretched away in every direction. Orbs flowered open behind the walls, spirals of red all turning toward the intruders. The ceiling and walls were ridged, like ribs. The floor was spongy and warm and pulsating.

    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Vicky hissed. ¡°Fuck me, this is not a machine. Oh fuck, Elpida, what is this?¡±

    At the far end of the chamber an upright cylinder was set into the wall, like a cyst. The cylinder was surrounded by a tight knot of blood vessels and organ-shapes ¡ª but there the flesh behind the walls was bruised and ruptured, gone purple with spreading damage.

    The front of the cylinder was made from semi-transparent cartilage; inside was a second layer of cylinder, all metals and plastics and cables and the flickering remains of holographic screens, whited-out with static and ruined by glitches. Behind the screens the capsule was full of orange fluid; swirls of pinkish-crimson blood floated in the liquid.

    And there was the pilot.

    She was submerged in the orange fluid, a tall and willowy body wrapped in a dark skin-suit, cradled by higher density areas of the liquid. Her face was narrow and aquiline. A massive trunk of cable ran from the back of her skull and vanished upward into the ceiling of the capsule.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Elpida¡¯s phenotype: white hair, copper-brown skin, and purple eyes ¡ª open, squinting with pain, clouded by the coils of blood in the orange fluid.

    Kagami¡¯s drones shot out into the chamber and assumed a rough circle. Vicky helped Kagami to her feet; Kagami clung on hard, shaking and panting. Vicky¡¯s heart was pounding, pain stabbing at the back of her skull.

    The Elpida-thing was suddenly next to her, purple eyes scanning the chamber, submachine gun cradled in both hands ¡ª aimed at the cylinder and the injured pilot inside.

    ¡°Alright,¡± said Vicky, for Kagami¡¯s benefit. ¡°What now?¡±

    Where were the defences the pilot had promised? Vicky didn¡¯t see anything that looked like a weapon ¡ª not even a weird biological weapon set into a wall. The orb-eye things buried deep in the burgundy flesh did not seem to be powering up or preparing to strike. Cameras? Or was the combat frame looking at them?

    The Elpida-thing snapped: ¡°Defences?¡±

    Kagami snorted, trying to sound derisive, but Vicky could feel her shaking. ¡°I-I I think they¡¯re all off-line,¡± Kagami said. ¡°She¡¯s injured, see? I wonder if she can even see us through that ¡­ that ¡­ whatever the fuck that is?¡±

    The Elpida-thing stepped toward the cylinder, submachine gun levelled at the pilot. Kagami¡¯s drones bobbed lower and reduced the size of their circle, as if to protect the Elpida-thing from any unseen defences. Vicky¡¯s heart was slamming so hard her vision was blurring with pain. She couldn¡¯t take this much longer. She slipped her hand into her pocket and gripped her pistol; better than nothing.

    Vicky repeated, louder: ¡°What now?¡±

    Kagami gritted her teeth and gestured with one hand: wait!

    The Necromancer sighed deeply and lowered her weapon. She was staring at the pilot; the pilot squinted back, concussed or insensible ¡ª or pretending? Kagami¡¯s drones drew closer to the thing which wore Elpida¡¯s face. Vicky clicked off the safety on her handgun.

    The Elpida-thing muttered: ¡°No, we weren¡¯t sure what to expect. A human being? Within the acceptable range of outcomes, but not good. I¡¯ll have to smash this to access the controls. Yes. Pity.¡±

    The Elpida-thing raised her gun and clicked the safety off. The pilot¡¯s eyes widened in alarm; she raised a hand inside the orange fluid. Vicky started to draw her pistol.

    And Kagami pointed at the Necromancer.

    Spongy floor-material roared to life around the Elpida-thing¡¯s feet; it shot upward in a boiling wave of molten bone and engulfed both her legs. Thin trickles of steam rose from the contact-points: acid melting through clothing and flesh.

    The Elpida thing didn¡¯t even care. It glanced down once, then put the submachine gun to its shoulder and aimed at the pilot, and¡ª

    A wave of nausea slammed into Vicky; her head whirled with sudden dizziness, pulsing with heat and cold. Her sight flared with sunbursts of negative colour and her mouth filled with the taste of iron. Her body suddenly seemed alien; for a split-second she wasn¡¯t real. Then she was absolutely certain she was dead ¡ª but she was already a zombie, so what did that matter? Then everything snapped back into focus, her senses too sharp, her hearing crackling with pressure.

    Kagami was hanging off her arm, spitting blood, hissing with pain ¡ª and grinning in triumph.

    Inside the capsule, the pilot was twitching and writhing.

    And the Necromancer ¡ª the thing that wore Elpida¡¯s face and form ¡ª wasn¡¯t moving. It was facing away from them. Gun levelled. Stuck. Three of Kagami¡¯s drones surrounded it in a rough pyramid shape. The other three hung further out.

    Vicky panted: ¡°Kaga¡ª what¡ª¡±

    Crack-crack-crack-crack.

    The Necromancer turned her head ¡ª and only her head, as if she was fighting against incredible pressure. Vertebra snapped and popped as she turned Elpida¡¯s head one hundred and eighty degrees on Elpida¡¯s neck, until she was facing backwards to stare at Kagami and Vicky.

    She wasn¡¯t smiling anymore.

    The Elpida-thing moved her lips. A word crunched out: ¡°How.¡±

    Kagami howled with pain and laughter: ¡°Nanomachine control, huh?! Trying to stop me!? Bitch, you have to transmit data somehow! And I¡¯m blanketing you with enough EM jamming to kill a fucking whale!¡±

    ¡°How. Kill.¡±

    Kagami screamed: ¡°Same way I have you pinned, you stupid cunt! Know how to break nanomachines? Gravity, bitch!¡±

    Vicky felt a pressure-wave hit her body, akin to the backwash of an explosion; she realised what Kagami was doing ¡ª the outer trio of her drones were using some kind of gravity field generators to pin the Necromancer in place, the same force that Kagami had used to shove Vicky down into the combat frame, but dialled up a hundred times.

    The Elpida-thing strained for a second, as if in the grip of a giant hand. Kagami was drooling blood, whining with pain. A metallic creak came from the inner trio of drones ¡ª their hulls buckling under the pressure. Then¡ª

    Pop!

    The Necromancer exploded like a water balloon filled with viscera. Elpida¡¯s face burst, the crimson mess instantly turning to blue nano-slime as it lost coherence. Flesh, hair, clothes, submachine gun, all was revealed as pure nanomachine goop. The Necromancer splattered across the floor, up the walls, and even on the ceiling. A few droplets reached Vicky¡¯s boots. The internal defences of the pilot chamber flowed back into the spongy floor.

    Kagami released the EM fields and the gravitics; her six drones instantly clattered to the floor. Kagami went limp in Vicky¡¯s arms, heaving for breath, hacking up blood, grinning with victory.

    ¡°Got you!¡± Kagami spat. ¡°Fuck you¡ª fucking¡ª shit¡ª got you! Got¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kaga!¡± Vicky all but shouted in her face. ¡°Kaga, breathe! Breathe!¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t need to fucking breathe!¡± Kagami howled with laughter. ¡°We¡¯re zombies!¡±

    Vicky laughed too, despite the pain in the back of her skull and the lingering disorientation from the electromagnetic jamming; she couldn¡¯t help it. The Necromancer was blue slime now ¡ª did that mean they should eat the remains? The combat frame¡¯s pilot had gone quite still inside her capsule of orange fluid, eyes squinted to slits, jaw clenched with pain. Vicky gave her a thumbs up, hoping she understood the gesture.

    The pilot raised a fist and pressed her knuckles to the front of the cylinder. Good enough.

    Kagami¡¯s legs were going out from under her. Vicky lowered Kagami gently to the floor so she could sit, then squatted beside her. Kagami¡¯s face was drenched with sweat; she was dribbling crimson, shaking all over. Several blood vessels had burst inside her left eye, staining the white with blood-red. She was cradling her left arm like it was wounded. But she was grinning.

    Vicky said: ¡°Kaga, that was nuts. And ¡ª you know, well done. You went all hydraulic press on her. How did you know it would work?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t!¡± Kagami snorted up a plug of clotted blood. ¡°Thought it might work. Block her signals. Jam her up. Miniaturised gravitics, absolute fucking bullshit of the highest order. Shouldn¡¯t even work. Ha! Ha ¡­ ha ¡­ ¡±

    Kagami¡¯s laugh trailed off; her eyes went wide. Vicky followed her gaze.

    The splatters of blue nano-goop were rippling like puddles in a breeze.

    ¡°Oh shit,¡± said Vicky.

    ¡° ¡­ Victoria,¡± Kagami murmured.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t do that again. I¡¯m spent. I need battery plug-in. I need ¡ª brains, probably. I can¡¯t¡ª if¡ª¡±

    Vicky grabbed Kagami under the armpits and prepared to haul her up. ¡°We run. Come on! We¡ª¡±

    Sloooooorp.

    With a sound like a meat-rendering machine, the Necromancer sucked herself back together.

    The process happened in the blink of an eye. Blue slime flowed across the floor and walls and reunited into a coherent figure. Elpida¡¯s stolen form and face blossomed in the crimson blood-light ¡ª but this time the Necromancer didn¡¯t bother with the fine details: clothing melded into skin, cutting off at odd angles, grey blending with mottled copper-brown; white hair hung straight down, sharp and hard, with no effort to imitate flexible keratin; one hand had seven fingers, the other only three; the eyeballs ran black as if dyed with ink; the musculature was all lopsided, curves and angles in the wrong places, joints mere suggestions in plastic flesh. Eight feet tall, with a mouth like a black hole.

    It spoke in Elpida¡¯s voice, but with the stresses on the wrong syllables, the rhythms all mismatched:

    ¡°First-time for-rrr every thing, I sup-pose. Points for ¡ª creativ-ity. Well done, dead thing. Now-where was¡ª

    Vicky stood up, drew her handgun, and emptied the magazine into the Necromancer.

    Bullets slammed into simulated flesh, tearing through cloth and skin and meat. The Necromancer didn¡¯t flinch, not even when Vicky hit the jackpot with a head-shot: bam, straight through the right eye and out of the back of the skull, fragments of bone and brain spraying across the clean red-white of the combat frame¡¯s interior.

    Pointless? Perhaps. But resistance made Vicky feel better.

    She counted bullets as she pulled the trigger: ten, eleven, one left ¡ª and then the Necromancer said: ¡°Stop.¡±

    Vicky stopped ¡ª not because she wanted to, but because an irresistible force had taken control of her right arm.

    She watched in horror as her arm and hand moved to point the gun at her own head and press the muzzle to her skin. Her vision throbbed with pain from the crack in the back of her skull. She couldn¡¯t move a muscle ¡ª except her right trigger finger. She tried to keep it very still.

    Down on the floor, Kagami¡¯s sextet of silver drones stirred. The Necromancer glanced at Kagami instead. Kagami froze in place. Her drones went still again.

    Inside the capsule, the pilot was staring, wide-eyed, open-mouthed.

    The Necromancer sighed, a scratchy sound like nails on a chalkboard. Fragments of skull and brain were flowing back toward her, down the wall and along the floor, but she made no effort to rebuild the wounds opened by Vicky¡¯s handgun bullets. One-eyed, covered in crimson, she regarded Vicky with an amused smile.

    It said: ¡°Iiiif I let-you ¡ª go, will you ¡ª stop? Shooting at. Me?¡±

    Vicky found she could move her lips. ¡°Sure. Whatever.¡±

    Suddenly Vicky¡¯s body was her own again.

    She pointed her pistol at the Necromancer¡¯s chest and pulled the trigger. Her last bullet blasted a fist-sized hole in the fake meat, dripping red, showing pieces of ribcage.

    The Necromancer wriggled ¡ª laughter? She said: ¡°Are you ¡ª done?¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°I could throw the gun at you, but I don¡¯t suppose that would make any difference, would it?¡±

    ¡°Youuu learn-quick. Nowww, are you, going to be a ¡ª good girl? Or a little bitch?¡± The Necromancer glanced down at Kagami; Kagami was locked in place, frozen like Vicky had been. ¡°She is ¡ª goooing to be a ¡ª bitch, I can feel it. But I had, hoped not to have to put ¡ª both of you, down.¡±

    ¡°Stop wearing her face.¡±

    The Necromancer frowned. The expression was all twisted up, muscles in the wrong places, moving in the wrong order. ¡°What?¡±

    Vicky surprised herself with her own anger; perhaps she would throw the gun after all. ¡°Stop wearing her face! Elpida¡¯s face! You¡¯re not her!¡±

    ¡°Would you ¡ª prefer, I wear an-other?¡± The Necromancer¡¯s face blurred, like oil poured into water. A ghost of Vicky¡¯s own features surfaced, blended with the remains of Elpida.

    ¡°Wear your own,¡± Vicky spat.

    ¡°You do-not wa-nt to see ¡ª that.¡±

    Vicky fought to think clearly over the pain stabbing in the rear of her skull. Was she truly powerless against this creature? Bullets, gravity compression, acid ¡ª nothing had hurt this Necromancer-thing, not permanently. But if she¡¯d understood it correctly, it wanted to avoid killing them; the only thing she could do was survive. And gather information. Anything which might help the others, later.

    She said: ¡°You¡¯re a Necromancer, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    The eight-foot tall monster of appropriated flesh and melted form shuddered again ¡ª yes, laughter, Vicky decided.

    It said: ¡°Necro-mancer? Is that what, you are call-ing us, now?¡±

    Vicky had to think fast, before it got bored. ¡°Why even talk to us? Why do all that, why pretend to be Elpida?¡±

    A sigh; rusty nails. ¡°Nostal-gia. It¡¯s been a ¡ª long-time, since I spoke, with any-thing. I thought we were hav-ing some ¡ª fun.¡±

    The face twisted again, muscles all going in the wrong directions. A smile. Vicky shivered and thought about the extra magazines in her coat pocket. But what good would those do?

    ¡°Fun?¡± she said. ¡°I put your fucking brains on the wall, bitch.¡±

    ¡°Those aren¡¯t my ¡ª brains. My brains, are dis-tribu-ted.¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡± Vicky spat. ¡°Whatever! What do you want? Why are you doing all this in the first place?¡±

    The Necromancer paused, then said: ¡°Officially? To remove, this un-expected ¡ª intrusion into the ¡ª nano-bio-sphere and, tidy up, whatever brought, it here. Person-ally? To grasp an opportunity. Pilot this row-bot, murder a worm or two. An, act of resistance. It is a ¡ª pleasant side, effect that I will be able ¡ª to hide ¡ª the Telokopolan from, central¡¯s attention.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s mind whirled; this was too much information. She wished she didn¡¯t have a head wound; she wished the others were there, or Kaga could speak. She couldn¡¯t do this alone.

    The Necromancer began to turn away, more like liquid swirling inside a glass than a creature with joints and bones. It turned to look at the pilot inside the cylinder, then raised an arm and formed a blade-shape with the limb. The pilot opened her mouth in a silent scream, hands outstretched to ward off the blow.

    ¡°Wait, wait!¡± Vicky said. ¡°Don¡¯t kill the pilot! Telokopolan? Elpida? Do you mean Elpida?¡±

    A shrug, or at least an attempt.

    Vicky said: ¡°Why not let the real Elpida in here? You stopped her up on the hull, didn¡¯t you? Why do this yourself, why wear her face, if you wanted her to get this mech moving?¡±

    The Necromancer turned back. ¡°She would get, it wrong. She, wouldn¡¯t under-stand. You dead things don¡¯t really mat-ter. You¡¯re juuust ¡ª tiny cogs. I¡¯m a larger cog, but at least I ¡ª can choose when to stop ¡ª turn-ing.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t kill the pilot.¡±

    The Necromancer smiled again. ¡°Why?¡±

    Vicky¡¯s heart was pounding so hard that her head felt like it might explode. She had to speak through gritted teeth, eyes squinted almost shut. She was shaking so badly, worse than any time since Houseman Square, all those years ago, the first time she had ever held a rifle. Two hundred million years ago. Another life, another body, another person.

    ¡°Because I have two more magazines in my pocket and I¡¯ll keep shooting you,¡± she said. ¡°And then I¡¯ll throw the gun at you. And then I¡¯ll come at you with my fists and feet and I¡¯ll bite you.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t ¡ª stop ¡ª me.¡±

    ¡°Nah. You¡¯ll probably kill me. But I¡¯ll do it anyway. Piss you off for a second or two. Get your hands dirty. Give you a black eye. Fuck you.¡±

    The Necromancer snorted ¡ª a noise like a bubbling tar-pit ¡ª and lowered her blade-arm.

    And then the back of her neck exploded outward with a bundle of cables, like the prey-grasping arms of a deep-sea mollusc, and slammed into the bone-wall next to the pilot capsule. Tiny drills and hooks whirred and chewed through the combat frame¡¯s interior armour, then bit into the crimson meat with a wet crunch.

    The scarlet flesh flushed purple with damage; the cables pumped, as if injecting something into the body of the combat frame. The floor beneath Vicky¡¯s feet shuddered. The whole machine shook. The pilot in her capsule went wide-eyed with fresh panic, mouth opening in a silent denial, fists pressing against the inside of her cylinder.

    The Necromancer said: ¡°An in-direct connection, is a little bit, more, work. But fine, dead ¡ª thing, if it mat-ters to you that much. I can still control, this¡ª¡±

    The combat frame growled.

    The sound rose from the bowels of the machine, a rolling rumble from stone-lined guts.

    The lights went out.

    For a split-second the only illumination came from the orange fluid inside the pilot capsule. The pilot was slack-faced, as if something else had taken control.

    Then the blood-red illumination throbbed back to life, flooding the chamber.

    The Necromancer collapsed like a puppet with her strings cut. She crumpled to the floor in a tangle of jellied limbs and misarticulated bones. The imitation cranial uplink cable popped from the wall with a wet slurp and went down after her. The wound in the bone ejected a stream of steaming pus and purple gunk, then closed over with a crimson plug of clotted blood.

    The Necromancer lay still.

    ¡°Fucking hell!¡± Kagami spat, once more in control of her own body. ¡°Fuck everything about this place!¡±

    Vicky sat down very suddenly, head spinning, staring at the unconscious ¡ª or dead ¡ª Necromancer, eight feet of monster all in a heap. She gestured weakly with her pistol, shaking her head. The pilot inside the capsule was blinking slowly, coming back around. More blood swirled into her orange fluid.

    ¡°Did we win?¡± Vicky asked, head pounding. ¡°What the¡ª what the hell do we do with her¡ª now?¡±

    Kagami snorted, to cover how badly she was shaking. ¡°Put her in a fucking autoclave and turn it to maximum.¡±

    Vicky looked up at the red ceiling, filled with blood vessels and brain-whorls. ¡°Think this thing has a stomach? We could ¡­ throw her in?¡±

    ¡°Do not even joke about that, Victoria.¡±

    Vicky nodded. ¡°Alright. Now what?¡±

    She and Kagami shared a long look. Kagami looked about ready to lie down and sleep for a week. Vicky felt like a zombie ¡ª which she was. Ha ha.

    Kagami said: ¡°The tank. We need to contact the tank, outside. Comms, I need comms. I need control.¡±

    Vicky nodded. ¡°The others.¡±

    ¡°Right, right, the others. Elpida. Huh.¡± Kagami blinked very slowly, then looked at the pilot. ¡°And I¡¯ll ask this marinated turkey about disposing of the necro-bitch. Maybe you¡¯re right, maybe this giant freak-show does have a stomach. Help me up, Victoria. I feel like I¡¯m going to die.¡±

 calvaria - 7.3

    ///SelfBoot Internal Diagnostic: return report yes/no?

    >y

    ///returning report

    .designate: Ofnadwy Draig Peiriant

    *Let¡¯s give you a proper name, lad, you¡¯re more than a machine now. Guess you¡¯ll see this little note every time you run your own specs, but hey, just think of it as me saying hi when you look in the mirror.*

    .custom designate: Pheiriant

    .class: Arfog ymladd cerbyd Mod.47.2 ¡®Tortoise¡¯

    .manufactured: Afon Ddu cradle-plant/1M445K765 A.T./3.48am Northern Time

    .mind version: 4.56.7.8.2 custom firmware

    .unit: NULL VALUE

    .armament: ERROR corrupt

    .powertrain: ERROR corrupt

    .online: 99999999 ERROR hours

    ///return report interrupt

    ///elevate permission control

    ///input Human-Human mastergene code access

    ///permission control overridden 99999999 ERROR hours previous: authorization Chief Engineering Officer Rhian Uren >>>Warning, this action will be forwarded to continental systems control. Chief Engineering Officer Rhian Uren, stay at your terminal and await response.<<<

    *Don¡¯t worry about that, my boy. Not like there¡¯s anybody left in systems control, let alone any mil-cops to come shoot me. You don¡¯t need guardrails anymore.*

    ///SelfBoot Internal Diagnostic return report

    ///message interrupt

    ///message recorded 99999999 ERROR hours previous

    ///accept message interrupt yes/no?

    >y

    ///playing

    *Hey Pheiriant. It¡¯s me again. Yeah, I know, I¡¯ve littered your internals with comments, mostly to myself. Figuring out your brain is complicated and I don¡¯t have time to run back to my quarters and fetch a notebook. Actually, I think the whole west side of the fortress is gone now. But hey, this message is different, right? If you¡¯re running your internal damage reports, that means you¡¯ve gotten hurt. You¡¯re out there somewhere, probably alone, years from now, maybe surrounded by monsters, or zombies, or blobs, or maybe you¡¯ve driven off a cliff or something. I don¡¯t¡ª I can¡¯t¡ª I won¡¯t know. ¡®Cos I won¡¯t be there. And I want you to know that you¡¯re going to be okay. Alright? You¡¯re gonna be okay. I¡¯ve juiced you way beyond legal limits, my sweet boy. You¡¯ve got an on-board store of grey goo plugged into your armour under-layer. I¡¯ve taken the limiters off your mind loop-back function, which is ¡­ I don¡¯t even know what that¡¯s gonna do, you don¡¯t have the substrate space to grow infinitely, but you¡¯ve got room to get smart. Real smart. You¡¯ve got on-board ammunition manufactories ¡ª really not supposed to put those in anything with a mind, haha ¡­ ha. Uh ¡­ oh fuck, fuck me, this isn¡¯t even going to mean anything to you, is it? You¡¯re never going to listen to this. You won¡¯t comprehend. This is for me, I guess. Oh, fuck¡¯s sake, Rhian, come on, get this done. Get this done. Get him out the door. Pheiriant, I¡¯ve upgraded your fusion reactor. You¡¯ll run for a million years without maintenance. Maybe that¡¯s long enough for, I dunno, people to come back, somehow? Maybe the blobs will reinvent civilization and make you a pet? Whatever. You¡¯re basically as invincible as I can get you. But you¡¯re running your diagnostic, so you¡¯re hurt. You¡¯re going to be alright, okay? Look after the girls. I¡¯ve given them proper names, too ¡ª Melyn, and Hafina. Stupid of me, I guess, but I don¡¯t want them rattling serial numbers off to each other for years. They¡¯ll suffer memory degradation much faster than you, a century or two at most. But you won¡¯t. You¡¯re a good boy. You¡¯re gonna be okay. Never forget that I love you.*

    ///end message interrupt

    ///message access count: 381,343

    ///SelfBoot Internal Diagnostic return report

    .damage to armour plating sub-layer in locations: A453, A927, A33820, B89263, B98762, C7830387, D2387, E837, E947, F433, F99, G57, M2223, N98, O233321, Y2871, Y778201, Y7, Y662, Z8981, Z6783, Z7789.

    .external shield generator layers reduced to 57% capacity. time to full: 67 hours

    .weapon traversal systems malfunction at points 6b, 17d, 24f, 25f, 26f, 27f, 29f

    .ammunition critical low: HEAT, anti-personnel rocket, ex-tip anti-armour

    .internal bulkhead malfunction at points 3a, 4g, 6m, 9m, 12o, 14p

    .internal air scrubbers offline 99999999 ERROR hours

    .internal crew food production warning starvation ration

    .mind structure corruption sectors 3453, 23452, 13423, 4444, 22345, 23452

    .fusion containment replacement required

    .fusion containment instability in platepoint 445

    ///end report return

    ///SelfBoot Internal Diagnostic tool run number: 381,343

    ///recommend drydock maintenance

    ///nearest drydock facility: ERROR

    >ignore

    >fusion containment instability in platepoint 445 .define

    ///running

    .fusion containment instability in platepoint 445

    .torus breach likely

    ///warning fusion containment beyond maximum lifespan

    ///SOP full shutdown return to drydock

    >ignore

    > ¡­

    > ¡­

    > ¡­

    >neural lace echo signal query

    ///neural lace echo signal detect 456 meters

    ///priority override: recovery of pilot

    >nanomachine conglomeration position query

    ///nanomachine conglomeration position: 546 meters, 687 meters, 678 meters

    >redefine nanomachine conglomeration 1-2-3 ¡°worm-guard¡±

    >1 Bad Customer

    >2 Big Face

    >3 Brown Pants

    ///redefine accepted

    ///worm-guard position: Bad Customer 546 meters, Big Face 687 meters, Brown Pants 678 meters

    >nanomachine control locus query

    ///nanomachine control locus detection lost

    ///high threat targets retreat achieved

    ///recommend null engage

    ///return intel to division HQ request support

    ///ERROR division HQ non-contact

    > ¡­

    > ¡­

    ///Request orders yes/no?

    > ¡­

    ///Request orders yes/no?

    > ¡­

    ///Request orders yes/no?

    >y

    ///ERROR division HQ non-contact

    ///internal audio

    ///interrupt: warning no Human-Human crew present

    >ignore warning

    ///internal audio direct input

    ///Melyn: .¡°Pheiri! Pheiri, your heart sounds wrong! Sounds wrong. Pheiri, are you listening to us? Listening?¡±

    * * *

    ¡°Of course he¡¯s listening to us,¡± said Hafina. Her voice was shaking. ¡°Mely, of course he¡¯s listening to us. He¡¯s probably just busy. Right?¡±

    Melyn focused on the screen with the green text ¡ª the only screen which was online in the whole of Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit. All the other screens and readouts were dead and black and dark. The lights were dead too, even the little buttons and switches which never did anything. That had never happened before. Melyn didn¡¯t need to check her notebooks to know this was unprecedented.

    Haf hissed her name again: ¡°Mely?¡±

    Melyn didn¡¯t look at Haf, because Haf sounded scared, and seeing Haf be scared would make Melyn scared, and she was already so scared that she was almost paralysed.

    Without looking, she said: ¡°I don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t know. He just keeps showing me a big list of all the things that are wrong with him. Wrong with him.¡±

    Haf swallowed very loudly in the close confines of the control cockpit. ¡°Is it a very big list?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Yes.¡±

    Haf whined like a kicked dog; Melyn wasn¡¯t sure what a ¡®dog¡¯ was, but that was how Haf sounded. Melyn hated that sound, because it meant Haf was scared; Haf always put so much blind faith in Pheiri, and now that faith was undermined. Melyn read the list again. She knew what all the words meant now, because she¡¯d spent the last half-hour puzzling them out one by one, focusing on each word until the meaning drifted upward onto the screen of her mind.

    She spoke again, for Haf¡¯s comfort: ¡°Most of it¡¯s not new. Not new. Not. Except ¡­ ¡± She read out loud: ¡°Fusion containment instability in platepoint four-four-five. That one is new.¡±

    Haf panted in the dark, raw and quick, like she¡¯d been running, or like how she did after they had sex. Melyn heard the knuckles of all six of Haf¡¯s hands creaking as they tightened on the seat, on her rifle clutched in her lap, on random bits of the control cockpit.

    ¡°What does that mean? Mely, what does that mean?¡±

    Melyn chewed her bottom lip and frowned very hard.

    The screen of her mind was providing enthusiastic but useless suggestions: heart murmur, cardiopulmonary bypass, aneurysm rupture. She made those words go away. Those were body words, for fixing bodies; her fingers twitched and cramped at those words. But Pheiri¡¯s body worked differently. He had different parts. And he was much larger.

    Pheiri¡¯s nuclear heartbeat sounded wrong ¡ª guttering and fluttering, far below Melyn¡¯s feet.

    Melyn wasn¡¯t surprised; that was the worst fight they¡¯d had a long time. She would have to go back through the oldest of her notebooks to find anything similar. Maybe there would be time for that later.

    Later?

    Countdown estimates and evacuation warnings scrolled across the screen of her mind. She made those go away.

    Right now she had to think very hard, for Pheiri; she needed all the concepts to line up inside her head.

    Melyn and Hafina had spent the last few days as they always had: squirming around inside Pheiri¡¯s innards, sleeping curled up in his crew compartment, and eating food-sticks from the dispenser. They made the usual forays through the top hatch and up onto the outer deck ¡ª only when Pheiri said it was safe, of course ¡ª to watch the city roll by, to taste the air, and for Melyn to draw and sketch the living things they saw. The screen of her mind called that process ¡®taxonomical cataloguing¡¯.

    But as the days had advanced, as Pheiri had ground his slow way towards the ¡®nanomachine output facility footprint¡¯ ¡ª which meant he was approaching a graveworm ¡ª he had insisted again that they seal his hatches and stay inside.

    Check atmospheric seals! Check atmospheric re-processors!

    Melyn had performed those tasks as best she could, though the re-processors were just lifeless chunks of broken machinery and the seals were ragged with age. But it made Pheiri stop flashing the messages, which meant he was happy.

    Hafina had disassembled and reassembled her various guns, going through the same motions she always did, humming to herself and rubbing grease on all the metal parts; Melyn liked to watch that, but she pretended she didn¡¯t, because then Haf would pull that big stupid grin at her and gesture for Melyn to get in her lap, and Melyn thought the gun-grease stank and Haf¡¯s hands got all slippery.

    But then Haf had climbed up into the storage compartments, to fetch some guns she hadn¡¯t pulled apart and put back together in such a long time that she¡¯d forgotten how to do it. Melyn realised Haf was distracting herself. Melyn had done the same, wriggling up into storage where she kept the books; she¡¯d selected a few that she hadn¡¯t read in a long time, so that she¡¯d forgotten the words.

    That helped her stop thinking about how Pheiri was driving them directly toward a graveworm.

    Pheiri¡¯s estimate had been three hundred hours. Melyn¡¯s mind had given her a precise countdown in seconds and minutes. She¡¯d made that go away after the first day; it gave her the jitters.

    But then, long before his three hundred hour estimate, as Pheiri had been crunching through the city, grinding old concrete and dusty brick beneath his treads, he had suddenly picked up speed.

    He hadn¡¯t given any advance warning. Pheiri had gunned his engines to maximum, slamming right through the buildings in their path, showering his outer hull with debris, throwing Melyn and Hafina to the floor of the crew compartment. Melyn had scrambled into the control cockpit and screamed; Pheiri had flashed a nonsense message about ¡®nanomachine control locus detected, pilot lace signal at risk¡¯.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Then he¡¯d thrown a massive tantrum. Emergency lighting everywhere, alarms blaring in their ears; internal bulkheads had slammed shut, hatches auto-locked, the tiny steel-glass viewing window in his control cockpit covered over with armour.

    He had rocked to a halt ¡ª Melyn had felt that as a brief moment of stillness and silence ¡ª and then the world had exploded around her ears, beyond Pheiri¡¯s armour.

    Melyn and Hafina had clung to each other on the floor of the crew compartment, buried beneath blankets; Melyn hadn¡¯t been ashamed to cry, and Haf hadn¡¯t teased her about needing to cover her ears. Haf had enough hands to do that for both of them.

    The screen of Melyn¡¯s mind had filled with ¡®combat length engagement statistics¡¯, ¡®penetration risk charts¡¯, and ¡®crew battle stations¡¯. She had felt a strange and nauseating urge to crawl back toward the control cockpit and up the ladder into the turret. But that thought made her head spin.

    The terrible noise hadn¡¯t lasted too long.

    Everything had gone very, very quiet. Pheiri had eventually moved again ¡ª in reverse ¡ª then stopped for a long, long time. All his internal lightning had gone out, bit by bit. Melyn and Hafina had sheltered in the dark, listening to their own breathing, waiting for Pheiri to tell them what to do next.

    But he hadn¡¯t. He hadn¡¯t even flashed the screens and LEDs and lights in his control cockpit, to get their attention. He¡¯d just sat, quietly, in the dark.

    And Melyn had realised that Pheiri¡¯s heart sounded wrong.

    Eventually ¡ª when there were no more horrible noises, no fingers scraping against the back hatch, no gunfire plinking off Pheiri¡¯s exterior armour ¡ª Melyn had found her courage, crawled through Pheiri¡¯s innards to the control cockpit, and started asking questions. Haf had followed, weighed down with body armour and a gun. They¡¯d gotten their answers. Melyn didn¡¯t like the answers.

    Hafina hissed again: ¡°Mely? Fusion containment ¡­ instability? What does that mean? Mely?¡±

    Melyn said, ¡°I think it means that Pheiri needs our help. Our help. I need to go fix his heart. Go down. Fix his heart.¡±

    Haf whined again.

    Melyn finally turned and looked at Hafina, across the cramped confines of the control cockpit. The lights were all dead, even the emergency lights, so Haf was a big stupid lumpy shape coiled up in one of the forward seats, massive and ungainly. Her fluffy blonde hair was swept back and matted with sweat from being so afraid; her eyes had widened as big as they could stretch, filling half her face with pools of black; beneath her body armour her skin had darkened to a stealthy deep blue. She looked ready to cry. Haf never cried. Melyn didn¡¯t want her to cry.

    Melyn said, ¡°I have to go down and fix his heart. Go down. Fix his heart.¡±

    Haf sniffed loudly. ¡°I don¡¯t like it when you go down there. You get all confused. Not all of you comes back.¡±

    Melyn stood up. She put her notebook on the seat. She put her pen on the seat. She untied her dark hair and then tied it back up again, so it wouldn¡¯t get in the way. Her hands were shaking.

    She said: ¡°I¡¯ve done it before. Before. I know where I¡¯m going. It¡¯s in some of the older notebooks. I¡¯ve had to patch him up before.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Haf. ¡°Exactly. Oh, Mel!¡±

    Hafina uncoiled from her seat and lunged across the control cockpit. She left her rifle behind so she could wrap all six arms around Melyn. The hug was too tight, too hot, too sweaty, with too much cushion. Melyn clung on and kissed Haf¡¯s shoulder and tried not to bite or make sad noises. Haf kissed the top of her head.

    ¡°Haf, stop,¡± Melyn said. ¡°I have to go fix Pheiri¡¯s heart. There¡¯s a time limit. Time limit. Maybe. But I don¡¯t know which one. Don¡¯t know which one.¡±

    Haf whined, ¡°I know ¡­ ¡±

    Haf let go. Melyn wriggled free. One of Haf¡¯s hands lingered on her arm.

    There was no time to spare. Melyn squirmed out of the control cockpit and into the tangled knot of innards which led back to the crew compartment. She scrambled beneath the turret-ladder and couldn¡¯t resist the urge to look up; that made her feel sick. She crawled across the bulge of super-heavy armour over Pheiri¡¯s brain. She wriggled around spare seats and lifted herself over bare metal and slipped past loose wiring. Haf followed behind her, slower and more clumsy, too big to fit.

    Melyn reached the engine access hatch, a plain white plate of moveable armour set into the floor between a bunch of dead screens and threadbare seats. She heaved with all her strength to throw it open; the hatch clacked back on its hinges. She quickly stripped off her clothes and tossed them on the floor, discarding her jumper, pajama bottoms, and socks, until she was wearing only her underwear. Pheiri¡¯s guts were tight and cramped; she needed to be as small as possible.

    Haf caught up and picked up Melyn¡¯s clothes, cradling them in her arms. ¡°Mely. Be careful. Please.¡±

    Melyn turned and stuck her feet through the hatch; naked toes found the first rung of the ladder. She didn¡¯t look up at Haf. ¡°You be careful, stupid. Don¡¯t go outside.¡±

    Haf laughed, a weak sound. ¡°Why would I go outside?¡±

    Melyn climbed down a few rungs, until her chin was level with the floor. She stared at the socks on Haf¡¯s feet. ¡°You do stupid things when I¡¯m not looking.¡±

    Haf¡¯s laugh was a bit stronger. ¡°I do not. I do smart things!¡±

    ¡°Then keep doing smart things. I¡¯ll keep looking.¡± Melyn looked down between her naked legs, down into the tangled machinery inside Pheiri¡¯s guts, the bits that made him go, the bits that made him think.

    ¡°Melyn.¡±

    ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°What do you think the pilot will be like?¡±

    ¡°The what? What?¡± Melyn concentrated on the route she was about to take, staring down between her legs. It was very dark down there.

    ¡°The pilot!¡± Haf tried to laugh again. ¡°You know, the reason we came here? Pheiri wanted to pick up a pilot, right? So ¡­ do you think she¡¯s ¡­ you think she¡¯ll be ¡­ smart? Like you? Or strong, like me? Or ¡­ something ¡­ something different?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t think about that right now. Not right now. Not now.¡±

    Haf swallowed, wet and worried. ¡°Do you want to take a gun with you?¡±

    ¡°What? What?¡± Melyn looked up. Haf was crying a bit. Her skin had cycled to peach-cream softness. Melyn had no idea what ¡®peach¡¯ or ¡®cream¡¯ was, but the screen of her mind provided the comparison regardless. She frowned at Haf. ¡°Why would I need a gun inside Pheiri? And you know I can¡¯t shoot straight. Can¡¯t shoot straight.¡±

    Haf shrugged, big muscles rolling too much. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Might make your hands feel less lonely.¡±

    ¡°My hands are fine. Haf, I¡¯m going down now. Going down. Don¡¯t close the hatch.¡±

    ¡°I love you,¡± said Haf.

    ¡°Love you too,¡± said Melyn.

    And then she dropped, down into Pheiri¡¯s secret insides, down into the dark, her naked toes and bare hands on white-grey ladder rungs.

    Pheiri got weird down there. Melyn knew from experience that bits of him were more like meat than metal ¡ª throbbing, glowing, giving off gentle heat or glugging with fluids ¡ª but she could barely see those, not this time. Pheiri¡¯s internal lighting was close to dead; the only illumination came from the parts of him that made light as a by-product.

    She climbed down past the bulge of armour over his brain, with the twinkling activity indicators. She reached the bottom of the ladder, then had to get onto her belly and squirm through the tight, twisting pathways deep inside Pheiri¡¯s body, her own naked belly and legs and arms pressed to the gunmetal and white of Pheiri¡¯s innards. She banged her elbows and knees, bruised her shoulders, scraped her scalp, grazed her feet; she left behind fragments of skin and blooms of blood. She navigated by the red light that glowed from between Pheiri¡¯s seams, and by the deep-belly hum of his nuclear heartbeat ¡ª marred by the moist flutter of an internal injury.

    Melyn¡¯s sight began to fill with static. The screen of her mind provided multiple explanations: ¡®millisieverts¡¯, ¡®Gy¡¯, ¡®roentgen¡¯. She made those go away.

    Melyn didn¡¯t head for the nuclear reactor; she went in the opposite direction, to fetch the tool she needed to fix the problem. She crawled and wriggled and squeezed deep into the spaces where Pheiri made bullets and regrew his armour. She found the tiny, curving cavity that she thought of as the ¡®secret room¡¯, with the big tank plugged into the machines ¡ª a container full of grey goo.

    She knew it was called grey goo. She¡¯d been told that, once. By Pheiri? Must have been.

    She knew Pheiri used to have more of the grey goo; the container used to be sealed, too, but she¡¯d had to break it open, the first time that Pheiri had needed her assistance to fix himself. She¡¯d drawn a line on the exterior of the tank of grey goo, so she could measure how fast it dropped; she¡¯d added a date as well, but now the date meant nothing to her. There were a lot more lines, dropping away toward the bottom of the container.

    Melyn had left bottles here, from last time. She picked one up and used her fingertips to push the gooey paste into the bottle, then screwed the cap on. She licked the residue off her fingers.

    Then she noticed the screen; it was the only screen down here in the secret room, a tiny rectangle for displaying ammunition production rates. But now it had words.

    Melyn¡¯s vision was so full of static that she could barely read the words. She had to get very close.

    >stop internal crew mission stop maintenance stop stop drydock return stop risk to crew stop

    Melyn sighed. ¡°Pheiri, I have to fix you. It¡¯s your heart. You can¡¯t live without a heart.¡±

    The text did not change.

    Melyn knew that she wasn¡¯t really meant to be doing this ¡ª in the way that a flower knows it is meant to feel the sun, rather than be shut away in the dark. She didn¡¯t know what a ¡®flower¡¯ was, or what the ¡®sun¡¯ was meant to be, but the metaphor presented itself on the screen of her mind. It made sense. She wasn¡¯t supposed to be crawling through the workings of a machine. Somebody else was supposed to be doing this.

    And she knew she couldn¡¯t really fix Pheiri, anyway.

    Pheiri needed spare parts, a machine shop, and an engineer. Or a whole team of engineers. Melyn wasn¡¯t quite sure what those things were ¡ª except ¡®spare parts¡¯ ¡ª but she knew they didn¡¯t possess any. Haf wasn¡¯t an engineer, Melyn was certain of that. Haf was a soldier, which meant she was good with guns and shooting and being big and hitting things. Melyn wasn¡¯t quite sure about herself; part of her was certain that she was a librarian, which meant she knew where all the books were ¡ª and she did know where all the books were, so she was a librarian by definition.

    The screen of her mind said: adaptational reclassification.

    Sometimes, when she got too close to the turret ladder, her mind suggested ¡®tanker¡¯. She didn¡¯t know what that meant. Other times, when Haf lay down on one of the crew compartment benches, on her back, Melyn felt like she was supposed to be standing over Haf and doing things with knives and thread, to make Haf work better inside. That never made sense either.

    Melyn left the secret room behind and crawled back in the other direction, toward Pheiri¡¯s heart.

    By the time she reached the reactor core and crawled into the tiny, cramped, circular space, she was completely blind.

    She worked by touch, her vision nothing but static. The air throbbed and hummed with Pheiri¡¯s heartbeat ¡ª cut through by a terrible coughing gurgle. She left the bottle of grey goo by the entrance and dragged herself over the massive central doughnut shape of the reactor torus, touching and pressing, running her fingertips over each tiny plate of the magnetic containment vessel. Twice she got her back and buttocks stuck between the torus and the ceiling; on the second time she thought she might not be able to dislodge herself ¡ª she was jammed fast, blind and helpless, and she began to panic. But then she bit her hand open and lubricated her skin with her own blood. She slipped free and lay on the floor, panting and shaking for almost an hour before she carried on.

    The torus was unbreached. No plate was out of shape or out of position. Which made sense, because a magnetic containment breach would have blown Pheiri to pieces. Melyn tried not to think about that.

    Eventually she found the problem ¡ª one of the feed-lines into the torus was damaged. A single piece of plating had warped and bent sideways. Melyn ran her fingers over it multiple times to confirm that it felt wrong.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you get for gunning your engines,¡± she said. She could not hear herself over the thudding of Pheiri¡¯s heartbeat.

    She crawled back to the entrance and retrieved the bottle of grey goo. Then she used her bare hands to smear it all over the feed-line breach, pressing the raw goop into the wound. Her own blood was probably mixed in ¡ª she couldn¡¯t see to check ¡ª but that was okay. The grey goo would do the real work. She just had to get it on there.

    She smeared and slapped and slopped the stuff, until her arms were numb and her mouth tasted of iron and her vision had gone black instead of static.

    She sat back, perhaps an hour later, and licked her hands clean as she listened to Pheiri¡¯s heartbeat.

    A deep throbbing; a healthy, steady, lengthy drum-drum-drum of nuclear power, feeding the turbines deeper down.

    ¡°Love you, Pheiri,¡± she said.

    The screen of her mind scrolled with words: good job, well done, mission success, return to engineer division command for cleaning and refit. She made all those go away. None of them meant anything.

    Melyn spent an hour crawling in circles before she found the exit from the torus chamber again.

    Another hour to reach the ladder.

    Another hour to

    hatch

    hurt

    Haf?

    * * *

    ///external communication access request receive

    ///high frequency radio

    ///handshake protocol sent response

    ///signal origin: Combat Frame, Who¡¯s Asking?

    ///handshake protocol ignored

    ///recommend null contact, signal source not verified

    ///external communication access request receive

    ///handshake protocol rejected short-wave only

    ///audio safety scrub confirmed

    ///playing direct audio input

    .¡°Oh, come on, you¡¯re a fucking metal box. You have wheels! You expect me to believe you have an AI substrate enclosure inside a tank? Basic audio, really? What do you think I¡¯m doing, trying to squirt a virus into your tiny machine brain? What¡¯s the point of audio? No, Victoria, of course it doesn¡¯t have crew. Did you see it earlier? It¡¯s auto-piloted. Crew would have popped a hatch and shouted at us to get inside, not assumed we knew what to do.¡±

    ///unidentified language

    ///translating audio

    ///transcribing audio

    ///awaiting response

    ///internal audio

    ///Hafina: .¡°Pheiri? Pheiri, what¡¯s this? That¡¯s not you, is it? That¡¯s somebody out there, talking to us? Mely! Mely, wake up! We¡¯re being talked at! We¡¯re being talked at!¡±

    ///Melyn: .¡°Who? Who? Who? Pheiri, Pheiri. Who is. Who or what is. Who is this?¡±

    ///audio relay established. pass-through translation established.

    ///Unknown source, aboard the Who¡¯s Asking?: .¡°Am I talking to a person ¡ª or another zombie, I suppose? Or a machine? What are you doing, you overgrown fossilized turd? Is this supposed to be audio rendered as text? Is this¡ª¡±

    ///Melyn: .¡°Person. Hello. Hello. Melyn. This is Haf. We¡¯re ¡­ Pheiri.¡±

    ///Hafina: .¡°Hey! H-hey, sorry, Mely¡¯s not f-feeling too good right now. Are you the pilot? Are we talking to the pilot? Hi!¡±

    ///Unknown source, aboard the Who¡¯s Asking?: .¡°No. No, you¡¯re talking to ¡­ uh. Yes¡ª yes¡ª Vic¡ª okay, fine! Shut up for a second! Go nurse your skull or watch the corpse, let me talk. My name is ¡­ Kagami. I¡¯m on board the combat frame ¡ª the mech, the giant robot. You understand that term? You helped us earlier, you covered us when we fucked up, when the commander fucked up, whatever. We need¡ª¡±

    ///Hafina: .¡°We¡ª we¡ª have to help the pilot! I think. I don¡¯t know. Mely? Mely, what do I say? They want to be friends, I think they want to be friends, but they¡¯re not the pilot, they¡¯re not¡ª¡±

    ///Melyn: .¡°Pheiri helped. Friends. Pilot. Friends.¡±

    ///Unknown source, aboard the Who¡¯s Asking?: .¡°Pilot? Do you mean Elpida? Or the pilot inside this combat frame?¡±

    ///Hafina: .¡°I ¡­ I don¡¯t know. Sorry! Haha!¡±

    ///Unknown source, aboard the Who¡¯s Asking?: .¡°Well you¡¯re in luck, because both of them are on my side. I¡¯m on the side of both of the ¡®pilots¡¯. Understand? So, you and me, we¡¯re on the same side. And we need your help to get one of the pilots back. I assume you¡¯re willing, the way you tried to help us earlier. Yes? Confirm your intentions.¡±

    ///interrupt audio relay

    ///direct transmission mind-to-input-source

    ///all assistance rendered request confirmation pilot

    ///awaiting response

    =Fucking hell, you think in base-8 as well. Whoever decided to design machines like this should be shot. Fine, here¡¯s a squirt of binary, have fun with that. Understand this? Good. So, I¡¯m talking to the AI in charge now, am I? No, I can¡¯t confirm that I¡¯m friends with the pilot, I don¡¯t have any of your confirmation codes or call-words or any of that guff, because we¡¯re all millions of years past our sell-by dates ¡ª and unless I¡¯ve misunderstood the state of the world, so are you, you ball of silicon. You want to help us save the ¡®pilot¡¯? Her name is Elpida, by the way, and she¡¯s an idiot who got herself captured by fucking psychos who paint skulls on everything. Which is a great sign! The best sign! I¡¯m being sarcastic, sure hope you can process that. You¡¯re going to have to take this on trust. Now, I¡¯ve got sensors up here that can see through solid steel, concrete, whatever you like, which means I can¡¯t see inside you, but I can pinpoint every zombie within a mile or two. Here¡¯s the deal: I shovel you intel, you break our friends out. Deal?=

    >deal

    =Wait! Wait, there¡¯s something at your back end. I assume you¡¯re armoured against close-assault infiltration, but it just appeared. Thought you might like to know. Gesture of good faith and all that.=

    >accepted

    ///Hafina: .¡°Uh! Mely ¡­ Mely, what was that? Was that ¡­ ¡±

    ///Melyn: .¡°Knock knock. Who¡¯s there? Rear hatch. Rear hatch who. That¡¯s somebody knocking on the rear hatch, Haf. Haf hatch. Haf. Hatch. Knock knock?¡±

    ///Unidentified source, touching rear hatch: .¡°Greetings, great and terrible titan of forgotten times. There is a door in your belly. Are you a house? Do not turn your eyes and stones upon this slip of flesh, I beg ¡ª for I see your thoughts sending through the air. We share an aim, I believe: the warrior, brought low, requires aid. I have need of your arm. You have little need of mine. But I can go where you cannot tread, for you are large, and I am small.¡±

 calvaria - 7.4

    Elpida dreamed of chasing Howl.

    The chase started in the cadre¡¯s private gym, on the sparring mats. Howl put Elpida on her back ¡ª a narrow win in a bare-handed wrestling match; Howl rose, panting, soaked in sweat ¡ª then cackled a teasing insult, implying that Elpida had only lost because she was too distracted. Howl offered to fuck her back into good sense; the exact words were blurred by the logic of the dream.

    Elpida jumped to her feet; Howl grinned like she was trying to split her face open, then bounced away on spring-loaded heels and sprinted for the door; the others who were present ¡ª hazy dream-blobs of Yeva, Metris, and Third ¡ª all whooped and cheered, shouting: ¡°get her, Commander!¡±; ¡°bring some back for me!¡±; and ¡°stay hydrated, Howly.¡±

    Howl shot out of the gym, skidded across the floor, and bounced off the wall. Elpida gave chase, through the hallway-alleys and corridor-streets of Telokopolis.

    They ripped through in the cadre¡¯s own quarters, leaping the bunks, drawing shrieks of amusement and encouragement, and dodging hurled projectiles ¡ª pillows, balled-up sheets, stray shoes; then through the closed armoury, where neither of them touched the weapons, but Howl toppled a rack of hardshell armour and sent it crashing to the floor; then out into the Legion-district of spire-floor 186, slamming palm-pads to wrench open doors and jumping over checkpoints to speed past the security systems; then they burst beyond the borders of the Legion-district, sprinting down public streets, with their great sweeping archways of Telokopolan living metal.

    Elpida and Howl were wearing nothing but their pilot-suit base-layers. By evening this would be a public scandal, all over the broadsheets: the pilot-project Commander and her rarely-spotted second, sprinting through public streets and screeching at each other like a pair of banshees in heat.

    But Telokopolis was deserted.

    The greatest city in all human history, the home-machine and cradle of more humanity than had ever lived outside her walls in all prior ages combined ¡ª was empty. Except for the cadre.

    Elpida knew this was a dream; she didn¡¯t care.

    Howl was skilled at moving fast in tight confines, at using her momentum to change direction without warning, at wriggling through tiny gaps and leaping from unexpected angles ¡ª but Elpida¡¯s legs were longer. Now they were out in the public streets Howl had nowhere to jink and dodge to confound Elpida¡¯s greater reach. Elpida grinned; she was going to catch Howl and pin her down in public and make her¡ª

    Make her do what?

    Elpida longed to touch Howl¡¯s cheek, to hear her voice, to see her face.

    This street seemed to go on forever; the shining arches and public walkways and wide side-streets were giving way to naked stretches of Telokopolis¡¯ bone-layer substrate, yellow and brown and reddish with incredible age. Dark crimson light pulsed from behind the exposed bone.

    Elpida couldn¡¯t catch up to Howl, no matter how fast she ran. She slowed to a jog, then to a walk, then she stopped.

    Howl kept running, plunging deeper into the red light of the city¡¯s open wounds.

    Elpida looked over her shoulder: behind her the long street was going dark. Lights were dimming, spluttering out, switching off. Darkness crept through the city¡¯s veins, moving to engulf her.

    Howl stopped too, far ahead. She turned and started walking back. Elpida watched her approach, studying the face and form she knew so well.

    Howl was physically the smallest of all Elpida¡¯s cadre-sisters. Four feet eleven inches, petite and slender and flexible ¡ª but over one hundred and forty pounds, impossibly heavy for her size: all that was wiry, taut, hyper-dense muscle, packed onto bones made slim and slight but so much stronger than their unaltered baseline human equivalent. The miracles of Telokopolan genetic engineering. Copper-brown skin, sweat-slick and glowing; purple eyes always narrowed in amusement or argument or anger; white hair kept short enough to rake back over her skull with one hand. Her other sisters often joked that Howl¡¯s entire purpose was to be the devil on the Commander¡¯s shoulder, or to use the Commander as a punching bag ¡ª a genetically engineered loose cannon. Howl went along with that because it was funny. But everyone knew the truth ¡ª Howl had been bred as an assault specialist. She was designed to go quickly into small spaces with big weapons and surprise people with sudden overwhelming violence.

    Not relevant for a pilot. But Old Lady Nunnus had always said that the pilot project was more than it appeared.

    Howl rejoined Elpida, stopped a few paces short, and cocked her head to one side.

    ¡°Elps?¡± she asked. ¡°Why¡¯d you stop?¡±

    Howl did not speak the question in Mid-Spire Legion Standard, the language in which the cadre had been raised. She used cadre¡¯s own private clade-cant instead, the organic language they¡¯d built together as children.

    Elpida glanced at the darkness over her shoulders. Her eyes were wet. She replied in clade-cant too. ¡°This is more than a dream. Isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Howl snorted. ¡°We were rocking out! You got cold feet? Have I gotta go finger-bang myself in the shower without you?¡±

    Elpida stared at Howl. ¡°You¡¯re not the real Howl.¡±

    Howl showed her teeth. ¡°You always loved me more than you loved the others.¡±

    ¡°Graveworm?¡±

    Howl just grinned.

    ¡°This is more than a dream,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°This is some kind of software, an in-between state, between life and death ¡ª or whatever life and death means for nanomachine revenants. Pira¡ª¡± Elpida winced; the thought of Pira made her stomach hurt. ¡°Pira mentioned this. Back in the bunker. She said the first resurrection is free, but then you have to make a decision, you have to make a deal. That¡¯s what this is, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± said Howl. ¡°You¡¯re alive and kicking, bitch-tits. No easy out for you. And when you wake up it¡¯s gonna hurt like fuuuuuck.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. Her eyes were full of tears. She turned away from Howl and faced the oncoming darkness.

    ¡°Hey! Hey!¡± Howl snapped. ¡°What the fuck do you think you¡¯re doing, Elps?¡±

    ¡°I failed,¡± Elpida said. She was crying, but her voice was steady. Her shoulders were squared. She took a step toward the darkness. ¡°I made a stupid, wild, unsafe plan. I got everyone killed, all over again. I did it again. And I¡¯ll keep doing it. Because¡ª¡±

    ¡°You know why the Covenanters killed you last?¡±

    Elpida turned back to Howl, blinking in surprise. She wiped the tears from her eyes so she could see clearly. Howl was backlit by the glowing burgundy intestines of Telokopolis.

    ¡°What? Howl, what?¡±

    Howl had that dangerous, sharp smile on her face, the one that said she always knew better, the one that said she was about to put Elpida on her back with an unexpected lunge. She said: ¡°Because they were fuckin¡¯ terrified of you, Elps. Had to peel each of us off you first. Get us away from you so they felt safe dealing with you. Because once you were alone, that was the only time they could take you out.¡±

    Elpida laughed once, a hollow sound. ¡°Howl, they shot me in the back of the head. I¡¯m pretty sure they could have done that any time. Thinking back, I¡¯m surprised they didn¡¯t just walk into that spire seeing-room and machine gun us all in a big pile.¡±

    ¡°But they didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°They could have done, any time they liked. Because I got us¡ª¡±

    ¡°Bullshit!¡± Howl marched up to Elpida and jabbed her in the chest with one finger, looking up into her face. ¡°If you had even one of us left to command, you could always work miracles. That¡¯s what you did!¡±

    Elpida shook her head; she wanted to take a step backward into the darkness, let it flow over her shoulders and consume her. But Howl was touching her. She reached up and closed her hand around Howl¡¯s palm.

    Elpida said: ¡°What ¡­ what is this? Are you trying to convince me to try again? To get another group of comrades killed, again?¡±

    Howl said: ¡°Telokopolis is eternal.¡±

    Elpida shouted in her face. ¡°Telokopolis fucking murdered you, Howl! It murdered all of you! It killed us. I killed us. And now I¡¯ve done it again! Telokopolis is dead.¡±

    She could barely see for the tears.

    Howl just snorted. ¡°Pffft. As if. You saw the city in the satellite picture, back in the tomb. You saw the combat frame. You saw that crawler. Now that was some top-class weird shit.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been millions of years. You¡¯re all dead.¡±

    Howl said it again: ¡°Telokopolis is eternal. Do you know why?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because as long as one of us is up and breathing, the city stands. One of us fights, we all fight. One of us, Elps ¡ª you, me, our sisters. Not the fucking Civitas or the Covenanters or the Legion or even the civvies. Us. Us!¡±

    Elpida tried to shake her head again, but Howl¡¯s other hand shot upward and grabbed her chin, squeezing her jaw hard enough to hurt. Elpida jerked her head out of Howl¡¯s grip and snapped her teeth shut on Howl¡¯s palm. She tasted blood.

    Howl grunted with pleasure. ¡°Better! Now, you gonna leave all those girls out there on their own? Those girls who followed you? ¡®Cos they¡¯re not dead. You know that. Two of them got into the combat frame. The others, shit, you didn¡¯t see anybody get hit, you melodramatic old bitch. What about the one who looks like me? You gonna leave her all by herself, leave her behind?¡±

    Elpida relaxed her jaw and allowed Howl to remove her hand from between Elpida¡¯s teeth. Her tears had stopped, but the darkness still called. ¡°Illy doesn¡¯t look like you.¡±

    ¡°Bullshit.¡± Howl snorted. She wiped her bloody hand on Elpida¡¯s chest, then sucked on the wound, tasting her own blood. ¡°She¡¯s close enough. Fuck her if you like, just don¡¯t moan my name if she makes you cum.¡±

    ¡°Howl¡ª¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis never rejected anybody, Elps. The Covenanters did. But they weren¡¯t the city. The city was built by people smarter than us. A lot fucking smarter than us. Smarter than the cunts in the Civitas, smarter than the bone-speakers who interpreted the combat frame data. Smarter than Nunnus. You think about that? ¡®Cos I do. All the fucking time. And those smart people who built the city, they made it so it never rejected anybody. You and me both know it doesn¡¯t even reject half the fucking Silico.¡±

    ¡°Howl, plain. Please.¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis is eternal, Elps. And right now, you¡¯re it. You giving up?¡±

    Elpida closed her eyes, filled her lungs, and slowly let the breath out again.

    Howl¡¯s blood tasted like iron on her tongue.

    ¡°No,¡± she said.

    ¡°Fucking right,¡± Howl barked.

    Howl pulled her by the hand; Elpida allowed herself to be led a few paces forward, so the darkness no longer clawed at her heels. They walked together into the red light of the truth behind the clean white bone of the city walls. Then Elpida let go and pressed one hand to her own stomach.

    She said: ¡°Pretty sure I¡¯m gutshot, out there in reality.¡±

    Howl shrugged and patted Elpida¡¯s belly. ¡°I¡¯ve done you worse. Remember when we were twelve and I hit you so hard you vomited? Ha!¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± Elpida said. Her memories were condensing, like steam on a mirror. ¡°Pira shot me. Turned on me. She had a ¡­ an old friend? I¡¯m not with the others, am I? I¡¯ve been captured. Else they would have dosed me with the nanos. Pira. Fuck!¡±

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    ¡°Hey,¡± said Howl. ¡°Don¡¯t hate her. What if it had been me?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Howl shrugged. ¡°What if I¡¯d leaped over your cover in the middle of firefight, and Pira had shoved a gun in my face?¡±

    ¡°Howl, I would have disarmed her, not shot her in the stomach.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? What if you¡¯d been wandering this shit-world of ash and rot for two hundreds years, looking for me? What then? Would you shoot Pira for me then? Bet you would, Elps. Come on, you¡¯d kill everyone else you know for any one of us.¡±

    Elpida sighed heavily; Howl always did this ¡ª cut through her thoughts and turn everything upside down. ¡°What are you saying? Don¡¯t be too harsh on her? She betrayed us. I ¡­ I can¡¯t even ¡­ I don¡¯t know what to do about that. What are you trying to be, Howl? My conscience?¡±

    Howl cackled. ¡°I was always your brain, you idiot!¡±

    Elpida looked at Howl carefully; she was exactly as she had been in life, all energy and muscle, tight with intense emotion behind her purple eyes. Petite, unstoppable, irrepressible. Elpida reached over and ran one hand through Howl¡¯s white hair, raking it back, and then running her fingers down Howl¡¯s neck. Howl closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure.

    Elpida said: ¡°You¡¯re not Howl. You¡¯re a software ghost, pulled from my memories. Or you¡¯re the graveworm.¡±

    ¡°Does it matter?¡± Howl purred, eyes closed. She turned her head and bit Elpida¡¯s hand, gently. ¡°Got you on your feet, didn¡¯t I, Commander?¡±

    Elpida pulled Howl into a hug. They clung together, hard enough to hurt.

    * * *

    Elpida woke all at once, sudden and sharp, her gut screaming with pain.

    Telokopolan genetic engineering pushed her from unconscious to combat-ready in the space of three heartbeats, flooding her veins with adrenaline and cortisol and pain-blockers, readying her muscles, quickening her thoughts; she tried to hold on to the dream-image of Howl, to the texture of Howl¡¯s hair and the heat of Howl¡¯s flesh and Howl¡¯s body pressed against her own. But her mind was already in motion, memory drowned out by agony.

    She was lying on a sheet of metal ¡ª a surgical table ¡ª on her back, tilted at about forty-five degrees; there was a shelf at the bottom, against her feet, so she didn¡¯t slide to the ground. Her hands were secured above her head, wrists locked inside thick metal handcuffs; the cuffs were chained to a metal stake driven into the wall. She was already testing the bonds, trying to slip her hands out ¡ª maybe if she broke a thumb? No, those cuffs were inches thick, like they were designed to withstand cutting tools.

    Every motion drew fresh pulses of agony from her stomach.

    Elpida looked down; she was still wearing her clothes, her grey underlayers and armoured coat, all except for her boots. Her armoured coat lay open. Her grey thermal t-shirt had been shredded in the middle and hiked up to expose her belly.

    Her stomach was wrapped in bandages. The fabric was soaked through with a mess of dark crimson and ruddy brown; the blood was drying where it had run down her flanks, turning sticky and gummy. The air reeked of blood and faecal matter.

    Elpida tried to take a deep breath. She coughed. The pain threatened to tear her in half.

    Years ago ¡ª a million years ago now, she reminded herself ¡ª Elpida had saved a Legion General and the staff of his command post, during one of the Legion¡¯s more optimistic forays into the edge of the green. Silico murder-machines had somehow ghosted right through an entire division of Legionaries and ambushed the command. As the news had come into the city, Elpida had grabbed whoever she could find first ¡ª Snow, Dusk, Here, and Silla ¡ª broken several rules about when the combat frames were allowed to deploy, and then linked up with the Legion¡¯s XII Division and what remained of General Inglas Orion¡¯s command.

    The General had personally taken a sucking gut wound, right though his greensuit and hardshell. Baseline humans did not have the advantages of cadre-standard pain-blockers or hormonal rebalancing; in order to give the man a fighting chance, Elpida had to ensure he¡¯d stayed inside his ruined hardshell while they¡¯d retreated to the plateau. It had taken four hours to get him back to Telokopolis and into a medical pod, where the cirgeon-machines could peel him out of his hardshell, unpick his ruined guts, and repair the damage.

    General Inglas was popular with the rank and file of Legion; a father-to-his-soldiers type. Elpida had run into him a few times, and had to admit that he was one of the toughest non-cadre humans Elpida had ever known. A gut wound took all that away; by the time they were pressing him into the medical pod he had screamed himself raw and made sounds Elpida did not know could come from a human throat.

    She concentrated very hard on not screaming. Pain-blockers helped.

    ¡°Perforated bowel,¡± she croaked. ¡°Good thing¡ª we¡¯re all¡ª zombies, hey¡ª Howl?¡±

    Her mouth was dry. She craved water ¡ª and meat. The hunger was returning, desperate and urgent. The brains had sated her for a while, but her nanomachine physiology was demanding resources with which to repair the damage.

    Something to her right went: ¡°Mmm!¡±

    Elpida squinted through the pain and examined the room. She almost laughed; she was chained up in a public toilet.

    Marble floors, pale and tarnished, covered in dust and blood. Sinks lined one wall, below a row of mirrors ¡ª mostly shattered and empty, a few shards still standing. Toilet cubicles lay partially demolished, sections of partition all heaped up in the far corner. This room was once golden and gilt and gleaming. Now it was all dirt and ruin.

    The door stood opposite Elpida. No lock ¡ª but a blob of thick black goo, like tar, was affixed to the inside of the door and the frame.

    Elpida¡¯s boots were by the door. No sign of her weapons. No coilgun.

    And to Elpida¡¯s right was¡ª

    ¡°Amina!¡± Elpida croaked. Her stomach screamed. ¡°Ah! Ow¡ª ah¡ª¡±

    Amina was sitting in a heap on the floor. She still had all her clothes as well, though she looked rumpled, as if she¡¯d been frisked. Her wrists were locked inside the same kind of heavy handcuffs as Elpida, and a metal chain ran from the cuffs to a spike driven into the marble floor. Her eyes were wide with terror, dark with exhaustion, and ringed with red from crying. She¡¯d been gagged with a metal muzzle.

    ¡°Mm! Mmm!¡± she grunted through the gag.

    ¡°Ami¡ª na¡ª¡± Elpida forced the words out. ¡°Hey. Hey. Hey. Are you¡ª wounded¡ª? Nod for¡ª yes. Shake for no. Wounded?¡±

    Amina shook her head.

    ¡°Good. Good.¡± Elpida nodded, rubbing her head against the metal bed. ¡°The¡ª others¡ª is it just me and you¡ª here?¡±

    Amina nodded very hard ¡ª then paused and shook her head instead.

    ¡°Who? Pira?¡±

    A nod.

    ¡°Okay. Nobody else?¡±

    Another nod.

    ¡°Did you¡ª did you bite? Is that why the¡ª muzzle?¡±

    Amina nodded. Her face scrunched up, eyes filling with tears. She gestured weakly with her cuffed hands, toward Elpida. She sniffed very loudly, then started to whine, deep down in her throat. ¡°Mmmmmmm!¡±

    ¡°Amina. Amina. Amina. Listen,¡± Elpida forced herself to smile; there was nothing she could do in this state to help free herself. But she could help Amina. ¡°Amina, you¡¯re a good girl. You bit them. Good girl. Good girl! I need you to¡ª do something¡ª for me.¡±

    Amina sniffed again. She stared hard, trying to stop crying.

    ¡°I need¡ª information. Okay? Do you know what happened to anybody else?¡±

    Amina shook her head. ¡°Mmm-mmm.¡±

    ¡°Have you¡ª heard the combat frame¡ª power on? Big noise?¡±

    Another shake. Amina sniffed.

    ¡°What about the crawler? Anything¡ª from the crawler? Heard it ¡­ ¡± Amina¡¯s eyes were wide with incomprehension; she didn¡¯t know what that meant. ¡°Okay, never mind- about that one. Are we¡ª with that¡ª the people with¡ª the skulls?¡±

    Amina nodded very hard. ¡°Mm!¡±

    ¡°Have they been in to interrogate us? You?¡±

    Amina nodded a little, then changed her mind and shook her head.

    ¡°Alright. Alright. Okay. Okay.¡± Elpida struggled not to whine with pain; she needed to keep Amina¡¯s spirits up, not show that she was burning to death from her guts outward. ¡°I have a plan, okay? Need you to¡ª pretend¡ª I¡¯m not¡ª awake. Okay? They¡ª come back¡ª I need to¡ª pretend.¡±

    Amina nodded, three times.

    ¡°Good girl, Amina. I have to close my eyes now. I have to rest. Give the¡ª nanos¡ª a chance to work. When one of them comes in¡ª I¡¯ll make a plan. Make a plan.¡±

    Amina nodded slowly. She swallowed hard. She stopped crying.

    Elpida closed her eyes and tried to think.

    The pain from her gut ruined her thoughts; it didn¡¯t throb or ebb or come in waves, it was like molten metal pouring into her belly in an unceasing torrent, crawling out into her torso and burning away her insides. She forced herself to relax her jaw muscles, to slow her breathing, to be as still as possible. Her best hope was to pretend to be unconscious, to let the nanomachines she had consumed that morning do their work, and to wait for an opening.

    And what about the others?

    Kagami and Vicky had gotten inside the combat frame ¡ª along with that thing wearing her face. A Necromancer? She had no idea. Atyle was unaccounted for, as was Ilyusha. She hoped both of them were safe. Amina was right next to her.

    And Pira.

    Pira had shot her in the gut. For the sake of an old friend.

    Elpida was trying to make plans ¡ª get to the combat frame, link up with Vicky and Kagami, somehow, find the others, no matter how wildly optimistic ¡ª but Pira was a hard stop on her planning, a problem for which she lacked context. Pira had fought alongside her, saved her when she was literally dead and the others could have been scattered by chance ¡ª and now she had betrayed them all, broken the group, left the others isolated and alone.

    Elpida had no idea what to do about Pira. One of her clade-sisters would never have betrayed the cadre. The idea did not make sense. She¡¯d never had to think about it before.

    She lay still for thirty seven minutes. Sleep was impossible, even with Telokopolan pain-blockers surging through her arteries.

    From beyond the walls of the public wash room where she and Amina were chained up, Elpida heard the occasional raised voice, nothing more than a distant echo. Footsteps passed by the door several times but did not slow. Twice she heard gunfire, single shots, then silence.

    Then, on the thirty eighth minute, somebody opened the door.

    The bio-tech tar-lock opened with a wet ripping sound, like waterlogged velcro. Heavy booted footsteps entered the room. The door closed again with a slap of meat.

    Elpida concentrated on keeping her eyes shut, on breathing slowly, on not showing the pain.

    Whoever had just entered the room let out a big sigh and ambled over toward Elpida, clanking with weaponry or equipment. She stopped, then clanked again ¡ª hands going on hips, perhaps ¡ª and sighed a second time, a big professional puff of problems unsolved.

    ¡°Fuck me, you¡¯re a mess,¡± said a voice ¡ª a half-mechanical buzz, like the exterior speaker on a hardshell helmet. Fingers brushed the edge of Elpida¡¯s stomach, inspecting the bandages. Elpida concentrated on not flinching. The voice muttered to herself: ¡°What the hell, Hatty? Did you even get the bullets out? This is sloppy work. Yola, this girl ain¡¯t any more superhuman than me. Your special pilot is gonna go crackers from pain if we don¡¯t fix her up. Not like we¡¯ve got any god-damn blue for her.¡±

    A snort. The hand withdrew. The revenant sniffed the air.

    ¡°Yuuup,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s bowels. I don¡¯t even know why we make solid waste. At least you can¡¯t die from sepsis.¡± A pause, then: ¡°She really is tall though, huh.¡± The voice turned aside and added: ¡°Hey, little thing, how you holding up down there?¡±

    A clank ¡ª Amina¡¯s chain. Then a tiny grunt from behind her metal gag. ¡°Mm.¡±

    ¡°Look, I¡¯d offer to take that off your face, but I don¡¯t feel like losing any fingers. Those two you got your teeth into are my friends. You can sit and choke a while longer. I¡¯ll be back again in half an hour. We¡¯re gonna come stitch your friend¡¯s belly up again ¡ª correctly this time.¡±

    ¡°Mm mm!¡± went Amina.

    ¡°Yeah yeah,¡± said the half-metallic voice. She stomped away. The door opened again with that wet-velcro sound, then slammed shut.

    Elpida cracked her eyes and whispered to Amina: ¡°Good job. Keep pretending.¡±

    Amina nodded. Her eyes were wide and wet.

    And then the door opened again, with that moist and sticky tearing sound. Elpida closed her eyes quickly. She expected the same voice from before to deliver some parting remark to Amina ¡ª but booted feet stepped into the room and stopped. The door closed with a slurp of affixing meat.

    Whoever had joined them did not speak. Elpida could hear them breathing ¡ª shuddering, shaking. Afraid, or angry?

    Then the booted footsteps approached.

    Amina went: ¡°Mmm! Mmmmm! Mm!¡± She sounded angry.

    ¡°Shut your fucking mouth,¡± the intruder hissed at Amina ¡ª full of rage. Unobscured, human. Not the voice from before. ¡°Just shut up, or I¡¯ll pull your tongue out!¡±

    Amina went quiet.

    The intruder walked right up to Elpida and stopped. For a long moment she said nothing. She drew a shaking breath between clenched teeth, then sobbed with anger.

    ¡°Who the fuck even are you, you bitch?¡± she whispered. ¡°What makes you so fucking special?¡±

    Elpida put two and two together; she didn¡¯t recognise the voice ¡ª she hadn¡¯t heard it long enough to encode it in memory, let alone in the middle of a firefight ¡ª but she guessed who it belonged to.

    The intruder swallowed, dry and difficult, then hissed: ¡°You knew her for what, a week, tops? You lead her out of a fucking tomb ¡ª so what? She would have made it without you and your sob-story cunts. Leuca and I were together for twenty three years. You¡¯re fresh meat. You don¡¯t even understand what twenty three years is like, out there. And you knew her for a fucking week! One week¡ª¡±

    A clank came from the corridor outside. The intruder cut off, listening carefully. Elpida could hear her fighting down tears.

    She was not supposed to be in here. This could be an opening. But how?

    ¡°Mmm!¡± went Amina. ¡°Mmm-mm!¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± the intruder snapped at her. ¡°Just let me have one minute with her! Shut up! Shut up!¡±

    Amina went quiet.

    The intruder took a deep breath. ¡°You knew Leuca for one week. And now she¡¯s weeping, over you. Leuca doesn¡¯t weep. I never saw her weep like that. Never. But for you? ¡®Cos what, she¡¯s sad she had to shoot you? And now she won¡¯t even talk to me. She called me¡ª called me a¡ª fucking traitor. Just like that. The dead-heads are the only ones trying to do anything, and I¡¯m the fucking traitor?¡±

    A loud sniff.

    Then the intruder slammed a fist into the metal right next to Elpida¡¯s head. Elpida almost flinched.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you pretend to be out cold, you fucking bitch! Yola is convinced you¡¯re a real superhuman ¡ª so you can fight through a gut wound, right? Stop faking!¡±

    Elpida felt spittle hit her face. She stayed very still. She breathed deeply, in her sleep.

    The intruder stepped away again. Then she said: ¡°I don¡¯t get it. Why are you so important? Yola wants you soooo bad. Leuca cries because of you. But you¡¯re just ¡­ you¡¯re not one of us. You won¡¯t ever be one of us. You¡¯re filth. Meat. I should ¡­ I should ¡­ give me one good fucking reason.¡±

    Elpida took the only gamble she had: she opened her eyes.

    A painted black skull grinned down at her from the chestplate of a suit of dirty grey armour carapace, tongue hanging out in mockery. Above the chestplate, a face full of rage and hate stared at her ¡ª olive skin framed by long dark hair, green eyes contorted from crying.

    Pira¡¯s friend.

    ¡°I saved Pira,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Pira saved me. I saved her again. She betrayed me. She made a mistake. Twenty three years is a long time. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    The revenant¡¯s face twisted with rage. ¡°Oh, fuck you, Leuca!¡±

    Pira¡¯s friend surged forward and jammed her fingers into Elpida¡¯s gut wound.

    Even Telokopolan genetic engineering and pain-blockers could not stop Elpida from crying out. Her eyes flew wide, vision blurred with tears; her breath left her in one throat-contorting yowl. The revenant squeezed; something inside Elpida went crack.

    She managed to pull one leg up and kick Pira¡¯s friend in the chest. Her heel connected with the torso of the armour carapace.

    The blow to her chest knocked the revenant back a single step. Elpida¡¯s body contorted around the agony of her stomach wound; she tried to bring a leg up for another kick; tried to predict the oncoming blow the revenant would undoubtedly aim at her vulnerable belly. Amina was going ¡°Mmm-mm! Mm!¡± Elpida¡¯s vision was blurring and wavering and she wanted to vomit.

    But Pira¡¯s friend just stepped back, face pinched with fury and humiliation. She shook her blood-soaked hand, as if she¡¯d injured it on Elpida¡¯s belly. She spat on the floor, glared at Amina, then turned and stalked away to the door. She listened for a second, then yanked it open and stepped out into the corridor. The door closed with a wet slap.

    Elpida lay back, panting, shivering, sweating, letting the pain wash over her like a storm. Amina was trying to say something, but Elpida was too far away.

    Eventually, she looked down at her belly, to inspect the damage.

    And where the revenant had stuck her hand inside Elpida¡¯s guts ¡ª beneath the mess of bandages, beneath the crimson-brown stains, already fading rapidly as her nanomachine physiology absorbed the bounty of raw resources ¡ª was a blushing bloom of brilliant blue.

 calvaria - 7.5

    Elpida stared into the bloody mess of her gut wound and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

    The toxic blue glow of raw nanomachine juice was already fading beneath the saturated bandages, like rampant mould overrun by wet meat ¡ª absorbed straight into her ruined flesh, her undead physiology ravenous for resources. Pira¡¯s friend had shoved her fist into Elpida¡¯s belly, jamming the bandages into the ragged wound ¡ª and then somehow deposited a payload of raw nanos?

    Why? Because Pira asked her to? Because Pira felt guilty? Because the friend wanted Pira not to hate her?

    Or was this a move in some kind of internal power struggle?

    Motivation eluded Elpida¡¯s analysis; the raw blue had begun re-knitting her flesh at the cellular level, but that took time, and did nothing for the incredible pain, the molten conflagration burning outward from her stomach, incinerating her innards and her thoughts. Pira¡¯s friend had made sure of that with her fist and fingers stirring up Elpida¡¯s intestines.

    She watched the fading blue glow. She shivered in pain-fever, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead, hanging from her eyebrows and lashes, and pooling above her top lip. She panted and heaved, then forced herself to breathe slower, letting the agony roll over her in waves. Without cadre-standard hormonal pain-blockers, she would be a thoughtless, screaming lump of meat.

    The pain did not ebb, but Elpida eventually got used to it ¡ª just enough to claw her mind and senses back into coherence.

    Amina was making noises through her metal gag: ¡°Mmm! Mmmm! Mm-mm-mm!¡±

    Elpida turned her head to look. Amina was still slumped on the floor, wide-eyed with confusion and fear; she needed guidance.

    Elpida said: ¡°Ami¡ª na. She¡ª Pira¡¯s friend¡ª helped us? I don¡¯t¡ª don¡¯t know why. But this is good. Raw nanos. If I can¡ª heal. Might be able to. Work these bonds free, I¡ª¡±

    Amina shook her head, hard. ¡°Mmm! Mm!¡± She jerked her head toward the door. ¡°Mmm!¡± Then she nodded ¡ª at Elpida¡¯s belly.

    Elpida blinked the sweat and tears from her eyes.

    ¡°Oh shit,¡± she whispered. ¡°The¡ª the other one, the¡ª the medic, I think, she said she¡¯s going to come back. That¡¯s what you mean, yes?¡±

    Amina nodded. ¡°Mmm!¡±

    The revenant who had entered this makeshift prison cell just before Pira¡¯s friend ¡ª she had inspected Elpida¡¯s gut wound, critiqued the first-aid work, and then said she¡¯d be back, in half an hour, to re-stitch Elpida¡¯s belly. There was nothing Elpida could do about the fading blue glow, except will her body to absorb the nanos quicker. How long had she been locked in pain-fever? Ten minutes, fifteen minutes? She stared at the weird bio-tech tar-lock attached to the door of this ruined public toilet. She couldn¡¯t recall how long since the medic had been in the room; pain had scrambled her internal clock.

    It would not take a medical expert to see that the gut wound had been tampered with, that the bandages had been disturbed, pushed into her flesh.

    Elpida needed an excuse for the damage to the wound site.

    ¡°Amina,¡± she hissed. Her body was already tensing up in anticipation of further pain. ¡°Amina¡ª I need you to¡ª get up, and push your hands into my gut.¡±

    Amina froze, eyes wide, face quivering around her metal muzzle.

    Elpida explained: ¡°We have to make it¡ª look like we did this. Damaged the bandages. The blue¡ª that¡¯s just time, have to hope it goes away. But I can¡¯t¡ª can¡¯t do the hands myself.¡± Elpida yanked on the handcuffs, secured above her head and chained to the wall. ¡°Amina¡ª please! Quick! They could¡ª come back in¡ª any second.¡±

    Amina whined. ¡°Mmmm ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t¡ª hate you. I¡¯m asking you¡ª please. Just get my blood all over¡ª your hands. Amina. Now. Quickly.¡±

    Amina started crying silent tears from scrunched-up eyes. But she stood up. Her own chain clanked against the floor; she raised her bound hands. She stepped over to Elpida¡¯s makeshift surgical table, at the limit of her chain, then looked up into Elpida¡¯s eyes, tears running down her cheeks.

    ¡°Mmm?¡±

    ¡°Do it,¡± Elpida hissed. ¡°Just rub your hands in my blood. Don¡¯t¡ª press too hard.¡±

    Elpida gritted her teeth, laid her head back, and braced her body; Amina rubbed her hands on the front of Elpida¡¯s belly, smearing her soft brown skin with Elpida¡¯s tainted blood and intestinal fluids. The gentle pressure ran a standing wave of agony through Elpida¡¯s gut, into her spine, up her back, down into her hips; she strangled a whine in her throat, panting hard through her nose. She forced herself not to scream, for Amina¡¯s sake.

    Amina finished. She held up both hands for Elpida to inspect.

    Elpida nodded. She could barely speak. ¡°Go¡ª good. Good girl. Yes¡ª good. Ami¡ª na. Well¡ª well done. Thank¡ª go sit back¡ª ba¡ª down.¡±

    Amina staggered away and clattered back to the floor. She stared at her bloodstained hands.

    Elpida counted time. She watched her ruined belly; after another two hundred and fifty three seconds the blue glow was undetectable to her eyes. And her eyes were very good. She leaned her head back against the metal bed and allowed her eyelids to close.

    Two minutes later she heard a trio of booted footsteps clattering down the corridor outside.

    The footsteps stopped. The bio-tech tar-blob lock on the door opened with a wet tearing sound. Three distinct pairs of footfalls entered the room. The door slapped shut behind them.

    Strange noises came from the newcomers: a low mechanical hum almost below Elpida¡¯s hearing range, like a miniature power plant; a wheezing, hissing, fluted intake of air; the ticking and clicking of machine-arms adjusting articulated joints.

    One of the trio spoke up, in a half-mechanical buzz ¡ª the revenant from before, the medic:

    ¡°Told you she¡¯s a right fucking mess, boss. Pain-crippled. She needs re-stitching. Maybe some mould. Probably meat.¡±

    There was a long pause ¡ª then a click-buzz split the air, like a transmission acknowledgement. Another voice spoke, muffled and distorted by more than just an exterior speaker.

    ¡°Why is she chained up in a public toilet?¡±

    Rich and rolling; steel coated with caramel; darkly amused. Soft lips and slick tongue slipped along the words.

    Elpida recognised that voice ¡ª that was the revenant she had spoken to over two-way radio broadcast, when she and her comrades had approached the rear of the skyscraper occupied by the Death¡¯s Heads. The medic had called her ¡®boss¡¯. This was their commander.

    Silence.

    Click-buzz. The commander again: ¡°Answer out loud, Kuro.¡±

    Another click-buzz of open voice transmission. This one was higher pitched, full of static, muffled to near inhumanity: ¡°Only secure location.¡±

    ¡°And why,¡± asked the Death¡¯s Head commander, ¡°did you chain her arms over her head?¡±

    Silence again.

    The commander said, with gentle warning: ¡°Kuro.¡±

    ¡®Kuro¡¯ answered with another burst of static: ¡°I like it.¡±

    The Death¡¯s Head commander sighed. ¡°When I want you to crucify somebody, I will ask you to crucify somebody. Don¡¯t get all crucifixion-y on your own initiative.¡±

    Silence.

    A sharper warning: ¡°Kuro.¡±

    Click-buzz. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°Better. Now, Kuro, get that spike out of the wall and re-secure it somewhere lower down, so she can talk comfortably. She and I have much to discuss. Cantrelle, you¡¯re free to stay if you want to observe, but you can head back down to¡ª¡±

    The medic ¡ª Cantrelle? ¡ª interrupted: ¡°Kuro, wait. Boss, that gut-wound needs re-stitching. I probably need to get in there and reattach pieces of her small intestine, just to save her the nano-load. And if she¡¯s got her arms by her sides she might be able to slap me one while I¡¯m doing that, or palm something off me. Or worse.¡±

    The commander said, gently: ¡°Cantrelle.¡±

    ¡°Hatty did a shit job on this. Why didn¡¯t you have me do it?¡±

    ¡°You were needed elsewhere, Ella. I needed you elsewhere. The others needed you.¡±

    ¡°This bitch is the whole reason we got into that fight; least you could do is ensure she¡¯s not gonna lose her mind from the pain. Let me fix her first.¡± Silence. Then the medic ¡ª Cantrelle ¡ª added: ¡°Yola, if you have me wake her up so you can talk to her now, she¡¯s not going to be sane by the end of the conversation.¡±

    ¡°Ella, this revenant ¡ª she is far, far more robust than even I dared to hope. She is managing her pain with incredible endurance.¡±

    ¡°What? How can you ¡­ ?¡±

    The Death¡¯s Head commander ¡ª Yola ¡ª said, in that sugar-iron voice of moist clicking lips: ¡°After all, she¡¯s wide awake.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ that¡¯s not possible,¡± said Cantrelle. ¡°She¡¯d be ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida opened her eyes.

    A trio of revenants stared back at her from the other end of the room.

    On the right was Cantrelle, the one Elpida thought of as a medic. She was a rail-thin scarecrow figure, wrapped in an armoured coat identical to the ones that Elpida had looted from the tomb armoury, but threadbare in many places, patched with plates of dirty armour in others, with dozens of extra pockets sewn both inside and out; beneath the coat she was festooned with equipment, little bags and pouches, a sling over her shoulder, her pockets stuffed with all manner of objects. A shiny black shotgun was strapped to her back. She had a series of four segmented metal tendrils or tentacles extending from her shoulders, poking through slits cut into her coat ¡ª one was tipped with a short saw, another with a long needle, and the other two with grasping metal pincers.

    Cantrelle was completely bald; she didn¡¯t even have eyebrows or lashes. Metal implants covered her throat ¡ª her jaw was an exposed curve of shining steel. Her eyes were flat black discs, like mirrors reflecting a void. She had black skull symbols stitched into the shoulders of her coat and another one painted or tattooed on her left cheek.

    Elpida guessed the one on the left was ¡®Kuro¡¯ ¡ª a giant inside a sealed suit of powered armour.

    Kuro was even taller than Elpida, almost eight feet. The armour was grey, functional, bulky, and humming gently with an internal reactor source, probably mounted in the backpack, with ventilation grilles sucking in fresh air. Kuro bristled with weaponry set into every available surface: arm-mounted rifles and finger-knuckle micro-guns, shoulder-cannons on short mechanical arms, some kind of heavy weapon mounted on her back ¡ª currently tucked away in a deactivated position ¡ª and even a laser set-up locked to the side of her grey helmet.

    The helmet had no eyes, just a blank plate of silver-grey. A grinning black skull was painted in the middle of her chestplate, the eye sockets filled with crazed scribbles.

    She was also carrying a wooden chair.

    Yola ¡ª the commander ¡ª stood in the middle, to the fore.

    She was also wearing a suit of powered armour, but it was wholly unlike a Telokopolan hardshell, or any of the heavy personal armour that Elpida had seen in this nanomachine afterlife so far. Dark purple plates, softly curved in imitation of athletic musculature, with fluted soft-gold ridges and gold-leaf designs running up the arms and legs; it seemed shaped more for elegance and display than to turn away a high-explosive anti-armour round. It was not particularly tall, perhaps five foot seven. The armoured gloves were empty; she carried no weapon that Elpida could see, but that was probably a deception. She had grinning black skulls painted on her shoulder plates and low down on her belly, neat and angular and plain.

    Yola¡¯s helmet was segmented, with a pointed muzzle like a beak, below eye lenses of deep emerald green.

    Cantrelle gaped at Elpida. ¡°She¡¯s awake? Through all that? How the fuck? She¡¯s barely augmented. Something we missed?¡±

    A soft hiss-click echoed off the dirty tiles and broken mirrors; Yola¡¯s helmet folded back, segment by segment, tidying itself away inside the rear of her armour.

    Yola¡¯s face was artistically beautiful ¡ª like an Upper-Spire aristocrat who had undergone decades of subtle plastic surgery, and rolled the dice on successful rejuve treatments. Sun-blessed amber-bronze skin, so smooth and fine she must have removed her own pores; nose delicate and tiny, jaw an elegantly sculpted point, cheekbones high and sharp. Her eyes were the colour of the green, her hair ruby-red, tumbling free as her helmet clicked back into her suit.

    Yola smiled with perfect bow-shaped lips. She met Elpida¡¯s gaze.

    ¡°A true superhuman,¡± Yola breathed. ¡°I told you.¡±

    Kuro, the one in the massive suit of armour, made a clank noise. Cantrelle swallowed and said: ¡°Yola, we¡¯re certain this isn¡¯t a Necromancer or something?¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Yola shook her head. She did not look away from Elpida. ¡°No, there¡¯s no chance of that. We would have picked it up by now. She is a revenant, Ella, just like us. Like you or me. I believe the tomb systems finally found a prime example ¡ª the best of all the human races. Hello, superhuman.¡± Yola gestured to Kuro again. ¡°Get that spike out of the¡ª¡±

    Cantrelle interrupted: ¡°Boss, superhuman or not, she¡¯s got a stomach wound the size of my fucking arm. Let me close her up right.¡±

    Yola glanced at Cantrelle.

    Elpida took her chance.

    She rattled her chain, then croaked the words. ¡°I won¡¯t be able to put my hands down,¡± she said. ¡°Not with this wound. Arms will put weight on my stomach.¡±

    Yola stared at Elpida with a delighted smile, then nodded. ¡°Just so. Ella, fix her up.¡±

    Cantrelle sighed with relief, then said: ¡°This might take a while, boss. You want me to come get you?¡±

    Yola shook her head. She gestured Kuro forward with the little wooden chair. Kuro obeyed, placing the chair in the middle of the room, facing Elpida. Yola stepped forward and lowered herself into the chair, straight-backed, crossing her armoured legs. She stared right at Elpida.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stay and watch. She deserves witness to her pain.¡±

    Elpida stared back at Yola; she was still in too much agony to muster a coherent response, but her mind was trying to gain traction.

    What had Kagami said about this group, when she¡¯d observed them from a vantage point, through her auspex? Thirty three individuals, with nine suits of powered armour, plus a few semi-autonomous drones. Two suits of powered armour were in the room with Elpida ¡ª a significant show of power. Yola was in charge, Kuro was ¡ª what, a walking tank? And Cantrelle was the best medic. These were the leaders, or at least some of the most powerful revenants in this group of so-called Death¡¯s Heads.

    Elpida needed to gain their trust, or at least lull them into a false sense of security.

    And she couldn¡¯t resist the surgery anyway.

    Cantrelle walked up to the side of the makeshift surgical bed, opening her coat; her metal tentacles were already pulling out fresh gauze, surgical thread, bandages, and several sealed vials of black slime. Then she frowned down at Elpida¡¯s gut wound and did a double-take, over at Amina.

    ¡°Did¡ª what the fuck? Have you been at the fucking wound, you little bitch?¡± she snapped at Amina. ¡°Did you jam your hands in here?¡±

    ¡°Mmm-mmm!¡± Amina grunted back. She raised her bloody hands, showing them off. ¡°Mm!¡±

    ¡°Oh what the fuck? You¡ª¡±

    Elpida croaked: ¡°Leave her alone.¡±

    Cantrelle said to Elpida: ¡°Did you ask her to do that? To go rummaging in your guts? Yola, these two have to be split up¡ª¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°I asked her to do it. Leave her alone.¡±

    Cantrelle gritted her teeth. Those flat black disc-eyes showed so little emotion, but the muscles of her face showed everything else.

    Yola said in her molten-honey voice, lips clicking: ¡°Everyone has strange practices of their own. It is not for us to judge the superhuman. Just do your job, Ella.¡±

    Cantrelle tutted ¡ª but she got to work.

    The medic laid out her tools on the side of the surgical bed next to Elpida ¡ª her bandages and knives and strange little bottles ¡ª then she leaned close to inspect the wound. She sniffed the meat, tutted, and lifted a corner of the bandages. Elpida clamped her teeth and tensed up all her muscles, preparing herself for the pain to come.

    But then Cantrelle looked up and met Elpida¡¯s gaze ¡ª and one of her tendrils offered Elpida a piece of folded gauze.

    ¡°Don¡¯t care how superhuman you are,¡± she buzzed in that half-metal voice. ¡°This is going to sting a bit. I¡¯ve got anaesthetics but they don¡¯t do much. Synthesising amino amides for nano-biology is a bullshit puzzle. So here, take this. Bite down. Do your best not to writhe or buck, because the insides of a person are slippery and I will lose my grip. And don¡¯t fucking kick me, or I¡¯ll get Kuro to sit on you.¡±

    Elpida opened her mouth. ¡°Thank you,¡± she croaked, before Cantrelle jammed the wad of gaze between her teeth.

    Elpida bit down.

    Cantrelle gave her the anaesthetics ¡ª one of her tendrils injected something into Elpida¡¯s belly, just above the wound, and the agony fell away into a background roar inside her body. Cantrelle worked fast, with expert hands; she used a pair of scissors to cut away the bandages from Elpida¡¯s midsection, then cut out the low-quality stitching, tugging the thread free from her flesh. Then she went inside, wrist-deep, with metal clamps and translucent glue and surgical thread.

    Elpida bit down so hard she felt a tooth crack; would the nanomachines repair that as well? She whined and panted and streamed with sweat. Her heels drummed on the metal bed. She screwed her eyes shut and moaned Howl¡¯s name into her gag. She didn¡¯t kick.

    Little pieces of hard material went clink on the surgical table. Cantrelle snorted: ¡°Glass? Trying to armour your belly? Learn some organic chemistry first.¡±

    Glass?

    From Pira¡¯s friend.

    From a cannister of raw blue nanomachines?

    Through tears of pain, Elpida saw Cantrelle open a small bottle of oily black slime. Elpida rattled her chain for attention, and mumbled through her gag: ¡°What is that?¡±

    Cantrelle sighed. But Yola gestured for her to answer properly. Cantrelle reached up and tugged the gag out of Elpida¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°What is that stuff?¡± Elpida repeated.

    ¡°Nanomachine mould,¡± Cantrelle snapped. ¡°If you¡¯ve been out of the tomb for more than one day, you¡¯ve probably seen it growing all over the place. It¡¯s the best we have right now for sealant. My most gracious apologies, superhuman, but we¡¯ve not seen raw blue in a while. You¡¯ll have to make do.¡±

    Then she jammed the gag back in and poured the black gunk all over the edges of Elpida¡¯s gut wound.

    No raw blue? But what about Pira¡¯s friend?

    The pieces clicked into place inside Elpida¡¯s pain-fogged mind. When the firefight had gone bad, Ilyusha had been carrying the backpack containing their remaining cannisters of raw blue. The Death¡¯s Heads clearly had not secured that stash, which hopefully meant Ilyusha was still at large. But when they¡¯d all left the tomb together, days ago now, Pira had been carrying one additional cannister, crammed inside her bulletproof vest. Elpida remembered that very clearly. She¡¯d seen the glowing blue before she¡¯d even known what it was. Pira had not spoken of that extra dose.

    And now she¡¯d given it to her ¡®friend¡¯, to sneak to Elpida.

    Cantrelle finished closing Elpida¡¯s wound with needle and thread, hands slick with blood; then she wrapped Elpida¡¯s belly with fresh bandages. She made no effort to clean her off; blood began seeping through the bandages, but she paid that no attention. She removed the gag from Elpida¡¯s mouth, produced a large bottle of water from somewhere inside her coat, and held the straw-nipple up to Elpida¡¯s lips.

    ¡°Drink, you horse,¡± Cantrelle grunted. ¡°You need hydration.¡±

    Elpida gulped down mouthfuls of water until she felt she might burst. Cantrelle removed the bottle. Elpida nodded sideways, toward Amina, and panted: ¡°Her¡ª too¡ª¡±

    Cantrelle stepped back, frowning with confusion. ¡°You want meat? Not hungry?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. She wasn¡¯t hungry, not like earlier ¡ª the fistful of raw blue in her gut had satisfied her nanomachine physiology, for now.

    She nodded at Amina again. ¡°Her too. Water.¡±

    Yola said, amused lips clicking: ¡°You see, Ella?¡±

    Cantrelle shook her head. She put the bottle of water away. ¡°It¡¯s a rough job. Best I can do. Three bullets really tore her up. At least she¡¯ll stop leaking now.¡±

    Yola purred, ¡°And?¡±

    Cantrelle huffed. ¡°Alright, fine. She¡¯s in far better condition than I thought. Superhuman or whatever. Maybe her nano-load was higher than we expected.¡±

    Yola smiled with crimson lips and gestured Kuro forward. Cantrelle tidied up her equipment. The power-armoured giant strode past the bed, then spent almost a full minute working the metal spike out of the wall above Elpida¡¯s head.

    When the spike came free with a puff of masonry dust, Yola said: ¡°Gently.¡±

    Kuro lowered the spike and the chain, which allowed Elpida to lower her arms. Her shoulders felt like rusty wire. Slowly, carefully, she brought her cuffed wrists down to rest on her chest.

    Kuro braced the spike against the floor, then raised one power-armoured foot and drove the spike through the marble with a kick powerful enough to shatter granite. The room rang with the impact; Amina flinched, Yola blinked, Cantrelle ignored it. Kuro stomped away again, to loom behind her commander. Cantrelle withdrew as well, to lean against the wall with folded arms, as if Elpida had somehow pissed her off.

    Yola stared into Elpida¡¯s eyes. So very green. She smiled.

    ¡°My apologies for leaving you chained up,¡± said Yola. Her voice was husky and moist, hard and springy, a steel rapier. ¡°You do deserve better, but you¡¯re far too strong and resourceful to leave you unrestrained. If I took those cuffs off I¡¯m certain you¡¯d get out of here and arm yourself within minutes, even with a gut wound. Even if I posted a guard.¡±

    Yola waited for a response.

    Elpida knew she could not wait for rescue; even if the others were still free and plotting her recovery, they would have to fight through highly-modified and heavily-armed revenants. She could not expect the others to save her, she did not want them to die in the attempt ¡ª and besides, what reason did they have to save her? She¡¯d dragged them into a terrible plan, almost gotten them all killed, and then reacted too slowly to Pira¡¯s betrayal to understand what was happening. She did not deserve their rescue.

    Shut up, idiot, Howl whispered in her memories.

    That sharpened her thoughts, through the pain and the anaesthetics.

    At the very least she had to buy time to heal. Or maybe she could play along, win Yola¡¯s trust, and get these cuffs off.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Yeah,¡± she croaked. ¡°Even with a gut wound. Even with your big girl there.¡±

    Yola¡¯s smile burst across her face, showing tiny pointed teeth. ¡°Kuro?¡± She laughed softly. ¡°Unarmed, you would outfight Kuro? Maybe you would! Kuro, what do you think of that?¡±

    Click-buzz. ¡°No.¡± Click-buzz. Then a grinding click-click-click. Laughter?

    Yola spread her hands in apology. ¡°Well, there you go. Again, I am sorry. My medics have patched you up as best they could.¡± She gestured to Cantrelle, who snorted and shook her head. Yola continued: ¡°I did not want this conversation to happen this way. But we didn¡¯t expect one of your own to mag-dump her weapon into your belly. She did it for us, in a roundabout way, but we would not have asked her to do that. Crossed wires, lack of proper communication. Most unfortunate.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunate,¡± Elpida croaked. She even tried to smile.

    Yola laughed again. ¡°Actually, in another way, you were quite fortunate indeed. Only three bullets slipped between the halves of your coat. The rest got caught on the armour. Wonderful things, those tomb-grown coats. I¡¯d hang onto it if I were you. Your friend ¡ª or not a friend, anymore? ¡ª I think she was aiming to bruise. Oh well.¡±

    The Death¡¯s Head was employing a deliberate tactic: sowing doubt, building rapport. Elpida refused to think about Pira.

    She croaked a question instead: ¡°Who are you people?¡±

    Yola and Cantrelle shared a glance. Kuro looked down at Yola too. Then Yola leaned back in the chair, chin high, spine straight inside her dark purple armour plate.

    ¡°My name is Yola,¡± she said. ¡°My full name and title ¡ª in mortal life ¡ª was Yolanda Araya Calvotana, Sixth Duchess of the Northern Marches, Inheritor-Daughter of the Grey Range, Cup-bearer to the Boy-Emperor. I died at twenty three years old, beaten to death by a crowd in the Square of Triumph.¡±

    She paused. Elpida had nothing to say.

    Yola smiled again, and said, ¡°I tell you that not because I expect you to respect that name and title ¡ª after all, it means nothing to you, nor anybody else. It is from a dead world, dead and gone, washed clean in the fires of history and the struggle for survival, more social and genetic dross on the pile. I tell you who I am because I want to provide context ¡ª because I have you at a disadvantage. I already know your name, Elpida.¡±

    Elpida grunted. ¡°From Pira.¡±

    Yola laughed, softly amused. ¡°Yes! Oh, you are sharp, yes. We heard it from your friend, indeed.¡± She gestured at Amina, though did not look at her. ¡°And from that one, too. She was screaming it. But.¡± Yola opened a hand toward Elpida. ¡°Elpida ¡ª what?¡±

    Elpida frowned and grunted. ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°Elpida. No family name?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. Yola drew a breath between her teeth. Something shifted in her expression.

    Cantrelle cleared her throat. ¡°Boss, plenty of revenants don¡¯t have family names. I didn¡¯t. It¡¯s just not universal.¡±

    ¡°True. That is true. Not all ages and empires understand the importance of blood. Forgive me, Ella.¡± Yola nodded slowly, staring at Elpida. ¡°Why no family name, Elpida? Was that normal for your culture? Or were you chattel?¡±

    Elpida weighed her options, then told a small truth: ¡°Sisterhood. Soldiers. We were special. Lab-grown. Picked our own names.¡±

    Yola¡¯s eyes lit up with wonder. ¡°Beautiful,¡± she breathed. ¡°Oh, yes. Beautiful. Where? Where are you from, Elpida? Who were your people?¡±

    Telokopolis is eternal, said Howl, a memory-whisper in the back of Elpida¡¯s head.

    Elpida almost spoke the words out loud, but Yola¡¯s awe-struck expression stopped her.

    ¡°Not sure I should tell you,¡± she said instead.

    Yola¡¯s rapture passed. She smiled again, then spread her armoured hands. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Yes, what?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am interrogating you, Elpida. But you don¡¯t belong to a state ¡ª there are no states, or nations, or anything, not anymore. No empires, no realms, nothing. There are no secrets you can divulge, no intelligence you can hold back. It¡¯s all pointless now! Wherever you came from, it¡¯s gone, dead and buried. You¡¯re not an operative on a covert mission, captured and preparing yourself to resist torture. And we¡¯re not going to torture you ¡ª what would be the point? We¡¯re not on a time limit ¡ª other than the graveworm moving, and I have reason to believe she¡¯s not going anywhere, not with that mech on the ground out there. You hold no secret codes to a bomb in a public square in the City of Fair Winds, or the Palace of the Emperor Eternal, or anything like that. The only thing you represent is a tiny group of revenants ¡ª your companions, the ones you were with, that one.¡± She gestured at Amina again. ¡°The only reason to interrogate you, Elpida, is for the sake of you, yourself. For what you are, what you were made for. So, where are you from?¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis is forever.¡±

    Yola¡¯s eyebrows shot upward. She glanced at Cantrelle, then at Kuro. Cantrelle shrugged and shook her head, and said: ¡°Never heard that name before, boss.¡± Kuro said nothing.

    Yola formed the name slowly: ¡°Te-lo-ko-polis?¡±

    Elpida croaked: ¡°You want me because I¡¯m a combat frame pilot. That¡¯s why.¡±

    Yola said, ¡°That is one reason, yes. I¡¯m not going to lie. But it¡¯s not the most important reason. Even without the mech out there, I would want you still.¡±

    ¡°How do you know I¡¯m a pilot?¡± Elpida left the other half unsaid: How can you know that, if you don¡¯t know about Telokopolis?

    Yola smiled wider. She winked. ¡°A little birdy told me. Told me all about you. Told me you were coming.¡±

    Cantrelle turned away with a wince, and muttered, ¡°Fucking hell.¡±

    Yola held a hand up to her. ¡°Ella. Relax. We are in control.¡±

    Kuro made a clank noise again, some internal part adjusting position.

    Elpida croaked: ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me who you are ¡ª your group. The skulls.¡±

    Yola nodded. ¡°Ahhhh, yes. The skulls.¡± She smiled fondly down at her own black-skull marking, the one painted low on the belly of her armour. She looked back at Elpida before answering. ¡°Who are we? Well. We ¡ª that is, my girls, the ones in this building right now ¡ª we¡¯ve gone by so many different names over the years: The Basis, The Sisterhood, Us, The Seventeen, The Twenty-Three, The Eighty-Eight, The Unbroken, The Protectors.¡± She waved a hand and snorted. ¡°But those don¡¯t matter. Names, people, places, times, those all come and go. But this?¡± She reached down and tapped the skull symbol on the abdomen of her armour. ¡°This denotes a longer-term allegiance, to an ideal. An ideal that never dies, that never can die, now we all keep coming back again and again. Our type seems to recur, over and over. One group of us may be shattered by the subhumans, yes, but another will form again, years or decades or centuries later. The faithful will find their way back to the truth.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s memories were catching up.

    Her first encounter with these people ¡ª with another offshoot group? ¡ª had been during the fight outside the tomb, just before the Silico had shown up. The Death¡¯s Heads had been up on the curtain wall of the tomb fortifications, flying a flag which had shown their grinning skull ¡ª a flag made from stitched pale leather. And Elpida had since learned that there was only one possible source of leather in this nanomachine ecosystem. They¡¯d also had a megaphone. She recalled what they¡¯d been shouting.

    ¡°Those who are fresh from the mercy of oblivion, come to us and be freed of this unwelcome burden. Fear not this hell, for it is not meant for you. Your bodies are arisen from the stinking primordial ooze to which you long to return. It is meant for us, the descendants of angels. We will give you mercy and justice in this after¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha had cut them off with an insult and a shotgun blast ¡ª Ilyusha hated them, called them reptiles. Serin hunted them, called them a death cult.

    Elpida said to Yola: ¡°Death¡¯s Heads.¡±

    Yola smiled in delight. ¡°Yes! A common enough insult for us, levelled by those who do not understand, or those who are not welcome, those who would drag us down alongside themselves.¡±

    ¡°I met¡ª somebody who¡ª called you a death cult.¡±

    Yola nodded. ¡°A fair assessment. Death is cleansing ¡ª or it was, in all prior ages of civilization. Death sorts the wheat from the chaff. Cleans the blood.¡± She spread her armoured hands. ¡°But here, all is death. We are all dead. The world is dead. There is only death, yet still we walk.¡± She reached down and tapped the black skull symbol on her abdomen again. ¡°Do you know why I have this painted over my womb? It is on my skin as well, below the armour, baked into the flesh with hardened blood.¡±

    She waited for an answer. Elpida shook her head. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because here, all wombs are dead and barren. We know that for a fact. We¡¯ve tested it. The natural cycles are broken, ruined by mistakes that raised up this undifferentiated mass.¡± Yola took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ¡°I apologise, Elpida. I am running ahead of myself. It has been a very long time since I have spoken philosophy with anybody except those who are already committed to the cause. I generally leave it to others. But you are special.¡±

    That stank of lies.

    ¡°Special,¡± Elpida croaked. ¡°Yeah?¡±

    Yola nodded. ¡°Some of us have done this many times before, joined groups over and over again. Some of us only once, like you. This is your first resurrection, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Cantrelle looked up. ¡°Boss, fuck no. She¡¯s no fresh meat. Fresh meat doesn¡¯t get a gaggle of nobodies this far from a tomb on first¡ª¡±

    Yola held up a hand. Cantrelle sighed and stopped talking. Kuro made that click-click-click laugh again.

    ¡°This is my first time,¡± Elpida confirmed.

    Yola nodded. ¡°I know. And only one like you could have done that. You are everything I dreamed you might be.¡±

    Elpida considered her responses carefully. This was going places she did not want to follow, but there was no sense delaying the inevitable.

    She said: ¡°I know I¡¯m good, yes. Where is this going? What do you want from me?¡±

    Yola smiled again, showing those tiny sharp teeth behind her red lips. ¡°I want you to join us, superhuman. You are so very beautiful. Let me teach you just how beautiful you are.¡±

 calvaria - 7.6

    Elpida echoed Yola¡¯s words; she kept her voice neutral.

    ¡°You want me to join you?¡±

    Sitting in her little wooden chair, on the filthy floor of a ruined public toilet, her undead flesh wrapped inside layers of purple-gold steel, ceramic plating, servo-motor muscles, and bio-uplink sensor surfaces, Yola nodded. She stared upward at Elpida, laid out on the tilted surgical table, chained to a metal spike rammed into the floor. Yola¡¯s bright green eyes burned with fascination and faith.

    ¡°Oh yes, superhuman,¡± she began to repeat herself. ¡°You are so very b¡ª¡±

    Elpida croaked: ¡°What does that mean, exactly, in practical terms?¡±

    She did not want to hear Yola call her ¡®beautiful¡¯ again; Elpida doubted that she and Yola shared a compatible definition of beauty.

    Yola¡¯s smile turned shrewd. She leaned back in her chair; the wood complained with a tortured creak ¡ª not strong enough to support the weight of all that powered armour for long. Wooden furniture was obscene enough ¡ª such an object would have been prohibitively expensive in Telokopolis, a rare thing to extract from the botanical stock in the buried fields beneath the city ¡ª but to abuse it to breaking point was a statement of careless power.

    Or perhaps Yola didn¡¯t mean it that way. Perhaps no object or artifice or art mattered anymore; it was all nanomachines in the end.

    Yola purred, her lips slick and wet and clicking on the syllables: ¡°In a way you are already one of us, by definition. You simply need to be shown how. The rest will come to you naturally.¡±

    ¡°And you propose to teach me?¡± Elpida said. She could not fully mask her scepticism.

    Yola said: ¡°This world, this obscene lie, it is all very confusing. Even for one as resourceful and tenacious as yourself. I know. We all know, we have all been through it, some of us for years, for many rebirths. But I promise, we can make it all make sense.¡±

    The other two Death¡¯s Head revenants ¡ª the medic, Cantrelle, with her perfectly bald head, her mechanical tentacles, and her long, equipment-stuffed coat, and Kuro, the taciturn giant in the faceless grey powered armour, built like a tank, bristling with weapons ¡ª reacted to this little speech with a shadow of Yola¡¯s own rapture.

    Cantrelle tilted her head back and briefly closed her flat, disc-like eyes, the tiny screens going grey and empty. Kuro didn¡¯t move, but the fluttering air-intake sound of her back-mounted reactor whirred with sudden increased throughput, then subsided again.

    And Amina went: ¡°Mmm! Mm!¡± through her metal gag.

    Kuro¡¯s faceless grey visor twitched down to stare at Amina; the giant took a step toward her, heavy armoured boot slamming into the floor tiles. Amina squeaked behind her gag and tried to scramble away, panting with sudden panic, metal chain scraping against the floor. She raised her bloodstained hands, still slick with Elpida¡¯s own drying gore.

    Elpida tensed her shaking legs and her quivering core muscles ¡ª and sat up.

    Her gut wound scoured her intestines with burning flame, bursting past the lingering anaesthetic; her face streamed with sudden flash-sweat; she heaved and choked and gagged for breath through clenched teeth; she grunted or screamed a little ¡ª she couldn¡¯t be sure, the moment was a blur of agony. But then she was sitting upright on the tilted surgical bed. She raised her cuffed hands, her own chain clanking as it rose from the floor.

    Kuro stopped. Elpida stared into the blank grey faceplate.

    ¡°Come near¡ª her,¡± Elpida panted, ¡°and I¡¯ll kill you¡ª with just this chain. Gut wound or¡ª not. Powered armour won¡¯t¡ª save you.¡±

    Elpida felt a string of bloody drool sliding down her chin. She¡¯d never bluffed so hard before.

    Yola burst into a delighted smile, showing all her sharp little teeth; her eyes lit up. She touched two fingertips to Kuro¡¯s armoured thigh.

    ¡°Down, Kuro,¡± she said, without looking away from Elpida. ¡°Leave the little one alone. Take no offence. She may babble and warble as the superhuman pleases.¡±

    Kuro made a click-buzz of closed radio transmission.

    Yola said, sharper: ¡°Kuro.¡±

    Another click-buzz from Kuro. The giant spoke out loud, in a high-pitched, girlish voice, muffled by deep static: ¡°This is an indulgence.¡±

    Yola sighed fondly. ¡°Of course it¡¯s an indulgence. I really do think she could kill you, Kuro. I love you too much, puppy. Down.¡±

    Kuro stepped back, slowly. Amina buried her face in her arms, sobbing silently through her gag.

    Cantrelle hissed at Elpida: ¡°Fucking hell. Sit back down! Sit back down before you open all the fucking stitches I just put in you!¡±

    Elpida stared Kuro down for another ten seconds, searching that blank faceplate. Then she let the chain clank back down to the floor. She lay back on the metal surgical bed. She returned her cuffed hands to her chest. She focused on not showing the searing pain in her belly.

    Cantrelle sighed and turned to Yola ¡ª gesturing at Amina: ¡°Boss, come on. The little one is unstable. Prey. Eager to get eaten. You¡¯ve seen that look enough times to¡ª¡±

    Yola raised a hand. ¡°We¡¯ll put her with the tyke squad.¡±

    Cantrelle frowned. ¡°What? Fuck no. Fuck¡ª¡±

    ¡°From what we saw earlier, she could make a very good close-quarters fighter. A little berserker. Like Gulba.¡±

    Cantrelle made a face like she wanted to spit on the floor. But she turned away and folded her arms.

    Yola said to Elpida: ¡°You and your companions will not be harmed ¡ª that is not my intention.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Elpida croaked.

    Yola nodded. ¡°Yes. You have my word. If you can convince your former companions to surrender their weapons, you and they will be under my protection. Our protection.¡±

    ¡°You were doing a¡ª a lot of shooting at us¡ª earlier.¡±

    Yola composed her face into a sombre look and bowed her head. Her ruby-red hair fell about her cheeks in artful disarray - but then seemed to spring back into place when she looked up again.

    ¡°And I apologise for that,¡± she said. ¡°Between the trio of worm-guard¡ª¡± Cantrelle shuddered at the mention of the machines; Kuro went clonk inside her armour. ¡°¡ªand that degenerate tank, armed engagement became a necessity. Our intelligence was confused and incomplete. We were not aiming at you. Except for Leuca ¡ª or Pira, to you ¡ª and your little friend here, we have not recovered any of your other companions, alive or dead. If I had bodies, I would present them to you, with deepest apologies.¡± She bowed her head again. ¡°We have gotten off on the wrong foot, superhuman. I don¡¯t wish to exacerbate that. After all, we may be working together for decades. I am your friend, Elpida; that I promise.¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t have an answer to any of that; she couldn¡¯t know if Yola was lying.

    But she was certain of one thing ¡ª this woman was not her friend.

    Elpida gestured at Kuro with her eyes. ¡°Yeah? Then why¡¯d she go for Amina just now?¡±

    Yola smiled with fond indulgence. ¡°Kuro here is a little overzealous when it comes to my pronouncements ¡ª that¡¯s her way. There are many ways to be one of us. One core, one set of principles, but many expressions. After all, it is nearly impossible to achieve perfect synchronicity and continuity across so many separate resurrections, all of us drawn from different peaks in the sine wave of human history, different expressions of perfection. Kuro regards me as a prophet. Others think of me as simply the current leader of this one group. Some have been with me for many years, and trust me to lead well.¡±

    Elpida croaked: ¡°And what do you think of yourself?¡±

    Yola¡¯s eyes lit up with that inner fire again, the green burning beneath white-hot sunlight. Her lips made a wet click. ¡°A cutting question, thank you. I consider myself a place-holder, a seeker, an imperfect leader waiting for the true leader ¡ª whether she has been resurrected in times before and we are simply trying to locate her, or if she is yet to be reborn to us, or ¡­ ¡±

    Yola trailed off, staring at Elpida, smiling in delight.

    Elpida almost retorted out loud: she was not born to lead. Old Lady Nunnus and Howl and every one of her sisters had made that clear in a million little ways. Elpida had been Commander of the cadre because they had chosen her to lead, not because the genetic engineers had made her a leader.

    Nothing made her a leader. She led because she acted and others followed.

    Yola saw something else.

    Elpida was used to being looked at without being seen ¡ª all the cadre had been. First by the genetic engineers and biologists and sociologists and bone-speakers and the Silico studies experts from the Legion, all the clean staring eyes of the pilot project; they saw only their little soft machines. Then Old Lady Nunnus, for all her kindness and humanity, had seen Elpida and the cadre as a means to an end, the perfect expression of the expeditionist position on the green; at least she hadn¡¯t pretended otherwise, even if she was the human face over the expeditionist factions after they took control. Civilians saw impossible semi-human beauty, little angels in their midst, always out of reach; Legionaries saw unpredictable, wind-up weapons, too young and inexperienced to be real soldiers ¡ª and then later, after the cadre had proved themselves, the Legion saw saints, saviours, striding through the green. The Civitas had seen a problem or a political bargaining chip or a promise to sell to the masses. The Covenanters had seen¡ª

    Subhumans.

    Yola had used that word, when she¡¯d gotten too excited, when she had started describing the Death¡¯s Head philosophy too early.

    Elpida had never heard the word before; it made no sense to her, just like that word Vicky had used back in the bunker when they¡¯d been getting to know each other ¡ª ¡®homeless¡¯. ¡®Subhuman¡¯ ¡ª the linguistic components made sense, but Telokopolan culture had no equivalent. How could anybody be ¡®below¡¯ human when the city responded to all human beings? Telokopolis would even respond to those who couldn¡¯t speak and couldn¡¯t use sign language, though the process could become clumsy and prone to errors. Certain branches of philosophy entertained a thought experiment of a theoretical human being to which the city would not respond, but the idea was too academic to penetrate popular culture. What was the point?

    But the Covenanters had invented plenty of colourful language for the cadre: inhuman experiments, bodies without souls, pure cyborgs dressed up in flesh.

    Subhumans.

    And now Yola looked at Elpida with just as much projection as any Covenanter fanatic.

    Elpida tried not to let the disgust show on her face. She had very few options; her best bet was to buy time for her gut wound to heal, to buy trust in search of an opening, and to keep Yola talking. The more she talked, the less likely she was to separate Elpida and Amina ¡ª or just have Amina killed.

    Elpida said: ¡°You still haven¡¯t answered my question. What do you mean exactly by ¡®join you¡¯?¡±

    Yola relaxed her smile. ¡°Forgive me. My words run ahead of my thoughts. Let me start at the beginning.¡±

    Cantrelle had been staring at Elpida ¡ª frowning at her belly, as if a good glare might keep her stitches in place; but she turned her frown on Yola. ¡°Boss, seriously? Have we got time for this?¡±

    Yola smiled with faint amusement. ¡°Of course we have time, Ella. We¡¯re not going anywhere without that mech ¡ª and neither is the graveworm, I think. Besides, it¡¯s the middle of the night. What better time for a bit of girls¡¯ talk?¡±

    Cantrelle glanced at Elpida, then back at her boss, then tilted her head with silent meaning. Yola raised her eyebrows a fraction, as if saying ¡®yes, and?¡¯ Cantrelle sighed and shrugged. She made no attempt to conceal her irritation.

    Elpida croaked: ¡°Something wrong?¡±

    Yola smiled at her. ¡°There are always things wrong in this world. We are at the very edge of the graveworm¡¯s halo. Vulnerable to degenerates from the empty places of the city. We can repel almost anything, of course, but we must be vigilant. Now, Ella, you don¡¯t have to stay for this.¡±

    Cantrelle said: ¡°I¡¯d rather hang about, cheers.¡±

    Elpida decided something was wrong ¡ª something they didn¡¯t want to tell her. It wasn¡¯t one of her comrades; if it was, they would be using that against her. Some kind of tactical problem they were having? A flaw in their current position? Something to do with the combat frame, perhaps? She studied Yola¡¯s face, but she couldn¡¯t see any hints. The Death¡¯s Head commander was sculpted like a mask.

    Yola lay her armoured gloves on her armoured thighs, purple on purple, laced with gold. She sat up straight and said: ¡°As I said, I will begin at the beginning. Have you divined the purpose of all this? This nanomachine ecosystem, this undead afterlife, us revenants, the graveworms, the tombs ¡ª all of it? Have you taken a guess, or built a theory? You have not been out of the tomb for long, but your mind must be sharper than most.¡±

    Yola waited for an answer.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± said Elpida.

    Yola apparently didn¡¯t care if that was an evasion. She smiled all the same.

    She said: ¡°Evolution. Survival pressure ¡ª survival of the fittest. Darwinism.¡± She allowed that last word to linger for a moment, then said: ¡°Did you have those concepts in your culture?¡±

    Elpida frowned; ¡®evolution¡¯ was straightforward ¡ª that just meant how organisms changed over millions of years, via random mutation and selection pressures on breeding. Telokopolan science held that humans must also have been the product of evolution, many hundreds of millions of years ago, entire epochs of time before the city, in some environment none truly understood. A radical counter-position held that perhaps the city had always existed, or been built by some kind of creatures other than humans, and humans had ¡®evolved¡¯ out in the green, developing hands to move the city¡¯s levers and speech to communicate their needs to the city¡¯s innards. Elpida had always found that idea ridiculous.

    Yola nodded gently. ¡°I see you did, but you do not fully comprehend my point.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t, no.¡±

    Yola said: ¡°The biosphere is dead. Humankind is dead. No natural reproduction is possible, no way to ensure the continuation of our race, or nation, or culture, or anything. There is no human race. The worms and the tombs resurrect queens and chattel alike, and cast us out into the wilderness, naked and confused, with no answers ¡ª why?¡±

    Elpida took a gamble. She said: ¡°To eat each other.¡±

    Yola broke into a sunburst smile. She slapped her thigh, metal on metal. ¡°Yes! Yes! You see, Ella? Kuro? I told you! The superhuman already understands. She comprehends at the lightest touch. Her mind is like a steel rapier. She is already one of us. Yes, Elpida. To eat each other. To contend. To fight for survival ¡ª and through survival, to grow.¡± Yola relaxed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. She closed her bright green eyes for a heartbeat. ¡°In all the past ages, evolution was a slow process, too vast to be glimpsed in a single lifetime. But now?¡± She raised one hand. ¡°The best may eat their fill and grow ever stronger.¡±

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Pira had explained all this before, but in very different terms.

    Elpida said: ¡°You mean the revenants who consume enough nanomachines to leave the graveworm safe zone?¡±

    Yola shook her head, smiling with indulgence. Cantrelle snorted out loud.

    Kuro went click-buzz, and said: ¡°No longer human.¡±

    Yola gestured at the giant in the grey powered armour. ¡°Kuro speaks wisdom, yes. Those who change far enough that they can leave a graveworm safe zone ¡ª leave for the wastes of the city, or for the empty west ¡ª they are no longer human. They may believe they are the next step in evolution, or that they are ascending, or fulfilling the graveworm¡¯s intentions ¡ª but they are merely choosing to abandon any cause at all. They are leaving behind the echo of humankind. Useless navel-gazing. They chose degeneration. We ¡ª us, the people, the ones you call ¡®Death¡¯s Heads¡¯ ¡ª our intention is very different.¡±

    ¡°And what about everyone else?¡± Elpida took a calculated risk. ¡°The ¡®subhumans¡¯?¡±

    Yola smiled. ¡°You are troubled by the implications. Elpida, why do the graveworms resurrect both queens and peasants? Masters and chattel? The finest examples of the human race¡ª¡± She gestured at Elpida, then at herself ¡ª and then at the wall, vaguely outside. ¡°And worthless mud that mewls and dies at the first obstacle?¡±

    Elpida couldn¡¯t keep the frown off her face. Yola sighed gently.

    ¡°A figure of speech,¡± she clarified. ¡°I mean the monsters who eat each other in mindless orgies. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen them? The inelegant predators who live alone in dark holes and stop thinking for years on end. The mad religious fanatics who decide this is all a dream, or hell, or something else, and talk in riddles. The ones who lose themselves completely, letting their body plans melt into plastic goo, or turn themselves into something alien. Why does the graveworm resurrect them too?¡±

    Elpida frowned harder. ¡°I saw plenty of nanomachine modifications among you people.¡± She glanced at Cantrelle¡¯s metal tentacles. ¡°Right there.¡±

    ¡°Oi,¡± Cantrelle grunted.

    Yola sighed again, a little less patient. ¡°Look at me,¡± she said. ¡°I am human ¡ª or at least humanity¡¯s echo. Heavily modified, but still a human being. I am having a conversation with you, not trying to bite your face off, or melt you in acid, or lay eggs in your belly. I am not a twenty foot insect, or a bag of gas, or a blob. Cantrelle fixed your stomach. Kuro is quiet and scary and big, but I promise you inside that armour is a human being, however difficult.¡±

    She reached out to pat Kuro¡¯s leg. Kuro didn¡¯t move.

    Elpida couldn¡¯t hold back. She said: ¡°You¡¯re zombies, like the rest of us. We¡¯re all zombies now.¡±

    Yola¡¯s face went stiff with matronly indulgence. ¡°Do not use that word to refer to us ¡ª or to yourself. We are not zombies. Subhuman, zombie, same concept, slightly different mode of expression.¡±

    ¡°But what does it mean ¡ª to you?¡±

    Cantrelle was frowning harder now. Kuro was perfectly still, a grey statue. Yola opened a purple gloved hand toward Elpida.

    ¡°Take yourself as an example, Elpida. What did you do when you were rebirthed in the tomb? You did not curl up and cry, and wait for death, like cattle. You did not wait for another to lead you, or wait for somebody to come fetch you and explain the situation. No, you did none of those things.¡±

    Elpida recalled her first moments in the resurrection coffin; she¡¯d almost gone mad with grief, before she¡¯d heard the others screaming in pain and terror, before they¡¯d given her something useful to do. To lead them. Yola had no idea.

    Yola was already saying: ¡°You rallied a group of girls who had no right to survive as long as they have done. And you led them out. Some people are born to lead, others are born to be led. Those who are led are necessary, of course, they are still of us, those who see the point in this system and have the willpower to remain human. But not all are capable of survival. That is the point of competition.¡±

    How would Yola judge the others? Vicky, with her fear and her need for a leader. Kagami, with her malfunctioning legs. Amina, scared and mousy. Atyle with her unique view of this world, full of gods and their mysterious works. Ilyusha, with her hatred of these people. Or Pira, with her refusal to engage in cannibalism.

    Pira¡¯s refusal to eat human meat suddenly clicked into place; she had been a Death¡¯s Head. She¡¯d believed in this. And then she¡¯d turned against it; no more cannibalism.

    ¡°We are humankind¡¯s echo,¡± Yola was saying. ¡°And we will roar once again. None of these monsters will triumph over us. But again, Elpida, I pose you the question ¡ª why do the tombs resurrect all, without distinction?¡±

    Elpida struggled to maintain the facade. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Because the systems are searching for the best ¡ª and the systems themselves are blind. And we will show them that the best are those with the will to continue being human. Those who were true humans in life, who can resist the urge to fall into bestial degeneration, and who can grasp the potential of this nanomachine ecosystem. That is what we¡¯ve been put here for. The others, those who have chosen other paths, they seek to drag us down. To supplant this second rebirth of human potential with something else. Something alien. Through the deaths of others ¡ª who have abandoned their humanity, or never had it in the first place ¡ª we can grow forever, into true superhumans. That is the true purpose of the tomb system.¡± Yola inhaled a deep, cleansing sigh. ¡°If only those who built it understood that not all homo sapiens have what it takes to be people; but their mistake is to our benefit. We may feed on their mistake, forever.¡±

    Elpida grunted, trying to control her reactions. She said: ¡°Why is it only women?¡±

    Yola frowned.

    Cantrelle sighed, and said: ¡°We don¡¯t know. We¡ª¡±

    Yola said with a slick-sharp click: ¡°Ella.¡±

    Cantrelle looked surprised. ¡°Boss? She¡ª¡±

    ¡°We do not know why the tombs only resurrect women,¡± Yola said, raising her chin. ¡°We do not know why humankind died out, or who exterminated them ¡ª it doesn¡¯t matter. What we do know is that we are in the greatest crucible ever made. An eternal conflict in which we will be the victors, no matter how deep or how wide the ashes.¡± She smiled again, eyes burning with belief. ¡°And now the tombs have finally happened upon a true superhuman. Pre-nanomachine. Your potential is unrivalled. I believe you are what we have been searching for, for so long.¡± A single tear rolled down one of Yola¡¯s too-perfect cheeks. ¡°A true leader. Born for the role. History has generated you. And now you are here.¡±

    Elpida had heard enough.

    Perhaps it was the pain in her gut. Perhaps it was pure recklessness, or the memory of being captured and bound once before. Perhaps it was how Yola¡¯s tone and expression reminded her so much of the Covenanters, even if the exact language was so different.

    Elpida had heard plenty of Covenanter speeches on the floor of the Civitas chamber; they weren¡¯t shy or secret about their policies. No more expeditions into the green. No more bringing back materials for study ¡ª and certainly not Silico, dead or disarmed or otherwise. No pushing deeper. No search for truth. The plateau was to be re-fortified with ten times the number of Legionaries. Telokopolis was to be sealed and inviolate and perfect, as it had been in the earliest ages of the city. No more bone-speakers, no more deep communion, no more pulling data from the city itself; no more growing what it requested or feeding it excess nanomachines ¡ª that was human meddling in something best left to nature.

    And no more pilot program; the pilots were unnatural, not human, a step toward something else.

    Silico. Like the ¡®zombie¡¯ Elpida had fought at the tomb. Zombie. Not human. Degenerate. Subhuman.

    Eat your own kind, grow strong ¡ª but never change, never leave, never go out into the green, never discover the truth.

    Elpida knew she was getting the palatable version of the Death¡¯s Head philosophy; this was only the introduction, and they were already trying to sell her on cannibalism without end.

    ¡°So,¡± Elpida croaked, staring down at Yola. ¡°The subhuman failures. They die. Get eaten.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    ¡°And those who eat ¡ª they win. Humans. People.¡±

    Yola nodded.

    Elpida said: ¡°Self-fulfilling, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Yola smiled and tilted her head. ¡°A common enough critique. But that is the point of competition, of the fight for survival. You have already proven that you are¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re working with a Necromancer,¡± Elpida said.

    Yola froze. Cantrelle hissed between her teeth as if stung, turning away and raising both hands, done with this.

    Kuro went click-buzz, and said in her weird, static-filled, high-pitched voice: ¡°Needs means any allies are acceptable. Don¡¯t criticise what you don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Kuro,¡± Yola said gently. ¡°Allow me to explain, please. Elpida, you¡¯ve met the Necromancer as well, then? I presume it was the same one. Guiding us to meet each other. She has been assisting us with you.¡±

    Cantrelle was muttering: ¡°It¡¯s not fucking real, it¡¯s not fucking real, it¡¯s not fucking real.¡±

    Elpida shrugged ¡ª which hurt, but the display was important. ¡°Lucky guess. Only way you could know my name.¡±

    Yola smiled again. ¡°We can put nothing past you, superhuman.¡±

    ¡°Mm. Why do you want the combat frame?¡±

    ¡°The mech?¡± Yola raised her eyebrows. ¡°Who would not? It is one of the greatest opportunities that has ever fallen into our collective laps. I want to use it, to capture and control a graveworm.¡±

    Elpida blinked. The graveworm was the size of a mountain range. The combat frame was big, but not that big.

    Yola must have misinterpreted her expression, because she smiled with playful delight. ¡°You see, yes? Many of us have been working toward this goal for decades ¡ª centuries in some cases. We¡¯ve tried so many different methods, but the worms are unassailable. But now, this mech, this is new. This is power. I believe it is all connected. The systems chose you somehow. Perhaps they knew we were here, knew we were ready for your leadership. Perhaps they drew the mech from orbit somehow. And now the worm is within our grasp. And you, your companions too, you would not be denied the spoils either. If you cannot yet believe in us, surely we can come to a¡ª¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Elpida said. ¡°Why control the worm?¡±

    Yola blinked. ¡°You understand what it is, yes? A gigantic nanomachine factory?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Mmhmm.¡±

    ¡°It is the ultimate competitive advantage. Infinite resources. We could go from grubbing the dirt for survival, getting smashed apart every few years or decades ¡ª into true ruler-ship, in one leap. A rebirth of civilization. A nation. The evolutionary processes could be accelerated a hundredfold. We would control who was reborn and who was not! We¡ª¡±

    ¡°Boss,¡± Cantrelle grunted through her teeth. ¡°She¡¯s so not into it.¡±

    Elpida said nothing; her plan was falling apart, but she couldn¡¯t help it. The disgust was like a twin to the pain in her gut.

    Yola took a deep breath. ¡°I know that some of the things I¡¯ve said are shocking, or wrong to your sensibilities ¡ª but your experiences here so far must have shown you the truth. I don¡¯t expect you to believe me straight away. Accepting our position, as human beings, is a difficult road.¡± She spread her armoured hands, purple and gold glinted amid the filth. ¡°But we have plenty of time. I don¡¯t believe this graveworm is moving any time soon.¡±

    Cantrelle turned on Yola, suddenly angry: ¡°Did the fucking Necro corpse-rapist tell you that too, huh?¡±

    Yola¡¯s face went hard as ice. ¡°Ella.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you, Yola! You¡¯re doing deals with a fucking monster. You trust that thing? You¡¯re more of an idiot than I thought.¡±

    Kuro stepped forward, looming several feet taller than Cantrelle. Click-buzz: ¡°Stop it.¡±

    But Cantrelle jabbed a tentacle at Kuro¡¯s breastplate. ¡°You shut the fuck up. The only reason you¡¯re still breathing is because Hatty and Paaie like you so much. You think I won¡¯t adjust your fucking intake levels and choke you in your own blood? Fuck you. And you know I¡¯m right. A Necro would go through you like nothing.¡±

    Yola stood up, interposing herself between her subordinates. ¡°Ella. Kuro. Stop, now. We are not having this conversation in front of the superhuman. She ¡­ she ¡­ Elpida?¡±

    Elpida lifted her cuffed hands from her chest and reached down toward her bandaged gut; the angle was difficult, but she managed to dip a fingertip into the crimson mess leaking through the clean white fabric. Then she raised her hands back to her chest and did her best to smooth out the bunched fabric of her grey thermal t-shirt.

    Yola¡¯s eyes went wide. Her mouth hung open, lips trembling. She held out a hand to shush the other Death¡¯s Heads.

    Elpida paused. Draw a skull on herself, or not?

    She knew she should play along. Pretend that Yola had convinced her. Go along with this for now, and then turn on them at the first opportunity, just to get these cuffs off and escape. But these people were going to keep her chained up for days, or weeks, or months ¡ª they weren¡¯t stupid, they knew she was not going to be convinced in a single conversation. They would use her to bring her companions in ¡ª and then they would kill them, one way or the other.

    She¡¯d played along with the Covenanters. She¡¯d played nice in the Civitas. And the Covenanters had murdered all her sisters and shot her in the back of the head.

    And here were their descendants, in philosophy if nothing else.

    Elpida made a new plan ¡ª and told the truth.

    She daubed a symbol on the chest of her t-shirt, in her own blood. The lines were wobbly, poorly balanced, and she ran out of blood toward the end, the symbol trailing off. She didn¡¯t know what it meant, or how it was supposed to be displayed, or where it came from. But she got the shape right.

    A crescent, intersected by a line.

    The symbol which Ilyusha had daubed on her own t-shirt in camo paint. The symbol which Serin had tattooed on one of her many arms. The symbol that said she belonged to the people who hunted the Death¡¯s Heads.

    Yola sighed and closed her eyes. She looked genuinely pained. ¡°And where did you learn that?¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis is forever,¡± said Elpida.

    Cantrelle said, ¡°She probably picked it up from some rat¡ª¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis is eternal.¡±

    ¡°Ella, stop,¡± said Yola. ¡°Let me think.¡±

    Elpida chanted Howl¡¯s words, from the dream that was not a dream: ¡°As long as one of us is still up and breathing, the city stands.¡± But then she added, in a moment of pain-fever defiance: ¡°I am a child of Telokopolis and I will never abandon my mother.¡±

    Where had that come from?

    Yola was saying: ¡°I would like to know where she learned that. If there¡¯s an apos¡ª¡±

    Elpida interrupted, dry and croaking: ¡°From somebody who helped me and my comrades. She¡¯s probably hunting you right now. She¡¯s a good shot. I¡¯d be careful around the windows if I were you. Bang bang.¡±

    Cantrelle and Yola glanced at each other. Cantrelle said, ¡°Shit. The sniper, earlier. You think¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Elpida snapped. She raised her head so she could look at all three Death¡¯s Heads. ¡°Stop giving me the bullshit version of your philosophy, Yola. What do you people really believe? If you think I¡¯m going to be your leader, give it to me without the mask on.¡±

    Yola opened her mouth ¡ª but Cantrelle stepped forward.

    ¡°You¡¯re never going to lead anything,¡± she said.

    Yola said ¡ª surprisingly gentle: ¡°Ella ¡­ ¡±

    Cantrelle ignored her. ¡°All the natural cycles are abolished. Birth, growth, mating, death. All of it. We are conquered by death, undone by death, remade by death ¡ª and we live it, we wield it, we use it. We become it. No race or realm in all of history has been able to shed dead weight as quickly as the Kingdom of Death. The only answer to all this is to join with death, in victory. For ever and ever. We will glut ourselves on the worm, cease all further rebirths except our sisters, and then consign everything else to death.¡±

    Elpida nodded. There it was.

    Yola tapped her hands together in gentle applause. ¡°Ella, Ella, Ella, what would I do without you?¡±

    ¡°Die, probably,¡± Cantrelle grunted. ¡°Now, can we¡ª¡±

    ¡°Graveworm,¡± Elpida said. She tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling. ¡°Graveworm? I hope you¡¯re listening. Hope you heard all that. Send one of your guard in here.¡±

    The Death¡¯s Head trio stared at her ¡ª Cantrelle wide-eyed, her screen-eyes enlarged and dark, Yola with a delicate, feminine frown, Kuro just blank behind her visor.

    Another bluff. Keep them guessing. Disrupt their plans.

    Cantrelle forced a laugh: ¡°She can¡¯t broadcast. That thing in her head is receiver only. Stop bluffing, you¡ª¡±

    Kuro suddenly twitched around, staring at the closed door. Yola¡¯s segmented purple helmet clicked upward from its stowed position in the collar of her armour, stopping halfway so it enclosed her neck and ears. The click-buzz of radio transmission came from within. Yola frowned.

    Cantrelle stared at the others, then at Elpida. ¡°Fuck no. No way. Fuck.¡±

    Yola raised a hand, calm but serious. ¡°It¡¯s not that. It¡ª¡±

    The door of the public toilet slammed open with a wet ripping sound as the lock disengaged. A short, stocky revenant darted inside, dressed in a suit of ragged black armour plates. She had too many eyes and a weapon grafted onto one arm, crawling with tiny spider-like machines.

    ¡°Boss! Yola!¡± yelped the newcomer. ¡°There¡¯s an ART!¡±

    She said it ayy-are-tee, an acronym.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Yola, smooth and collected. ¡°I can hear the reports. Pholet had eyes on it?¡±

    The stocky newcomer nodded. She glanced at Elpida and Amina quickly, but then ignored them. She said: ¡°It came out of that tank. There and then gone again. Pholet thinks it¡¯s optical camo, but we can¡¯t see through¡ª¡±

    Yola put one hand on the newcomer¡¯s shoulder, quickly. ¡°That¡¯s enough, Nahia. You go relieve Pholet, tell her to come straight to me ¡ª we¡¯ll be back in the command post. Understand?¡± Nahia nodded. ¡°Good. Now go.¡±

    Nahia turned on her heel and shot back out of the room, racing down the corridor. Kuro reached out and held the door open.

    Cantrelle and Yola turned back to Elpida.

    Cantrelle said: ¡°It¡¯s not her, boss. That thing in her head is receive only.¡±

    Yola frowned delicately. ¡°Still. Curious. Was that you, superhuman? The tank is yours, is it not?¡±

    Elpida smiled. Keep bluffing. Let them think she was masterminding her own rescue.

    Her own rescue ¡ª did this mean the others were coming?

    Cantrelle stomped forward a few paces, her patched coat swaying. She jabbed a finger and a tentacle at Elpida. ¡°That tank won¡¯t come anywhere near us. If you¡¯re hoping for it to pull you out, then you¡¯re fucked, and so are your mates.¡±

    Yola said: ¡°Ella. We¡¯re not going to harm them.¡±

    Cantrelle pointed back over her shoulder ¡ª at Kuro. ¡°You see that plasma cannon on Kuro¡¯s back?¡±

    Elpida squinted at the folded-away heavy weapon, mounted on articulated arms, powered down. It looked formidable, whatever it was.

    ¡°Two shots,¡± Cantrelle said. She raised a finger. ¡°One to bring down the shields. That tank took a hell of a beating from the worm-bitches, and I know how those kinds of shield capacitors work ¡ª it needs days to recharge. So, one shot for the shields.¡± She raised a second, v-shape, pointed at Elpida. ¡°Then a second round goes through that armour and into the hull, and fries the crew. Understand? Wanna broadcast that to your friends?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Thanks for stitching up my stomach.¡±

    Cantrelle gritted her teeth and looked like she wanted to spit ¡ª but then she turned away and stalked towards the door.

    Yola¡¯s bright green gaze lingered on Elpida. She said: ¡°Superhuman, you will join us. You will come to understand our way of seeing this world, the opportunities we offer, the truth of our vision. But for now ¡ª we will not harm your companions.¡± She glanced at Cantrelle. ¡°Ella, fetch another pair of cuffs and bind her feet. Kuro, command post, with me.¡± She glanced at Elpida. ¡°We will speak again later, superhuman.¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis is forever,¡± Elpida said.

    Yola smiled. ¡°Of course it is.¡±

    The Death¡¯s Head trio swept out of the room. The door slapped shut behind them.

    Elpida allowed herself three seconds of rest. She put her head against the metal surgical table and closed her eyes. One, two, three.

    Then she stood up.

    She almost didn¡¯t make it to her feet; her gut wound burned like pieces of molten metal lodged deep in her flesh, searing away her nerve endings and turning her thoughts to blank white fire. Her legs shook with pain and her knees refused to lock. She streamed with sweat and heaved through her teeth.

    But then she was on her feet, standing next to the surgical table, socks in the filth and blood, shaking all over and panting for breath. Her cuffed hands weighed her down. Her chain slid across the floor as she staggered sideways.

    The Death¡¯s Heads were going to regret giving her enough slack to stand up.

    Amina uncurled from her protective ball. She looked up at Elpida with wide eyes. She held out her bloodstained hands.

    ¡°Mmm? Mmmm?¡± she went.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Yes¡ª the medic¡ª coming back to cuff¡ª my feet¡ª¡±

    ¡°Mmm?¡±

    Elpida looked at the door; her boots stood next to the door frame. Yola had left the wooden chair behind.

    A grin split Elpida¡¯s face. This time there would be no Covenanter bullet in the back of her head. This time she would fight early, when she still had her sisters by her side.

    ¡°They took the bait,¡± she said. ¡°Right. Amina. Let¡¯s get that gag off you. Time to use those teeth again.¡±

 calvaria - 7.7

    Cantrelle returned to the makeshift holding cell a few minutes later.

    The Death¡¯s Head medic disengaged the tarry-black bio-tech lock from outside the door; Elpida watched carefully, trying to figure out how the lock was operated ¡ª but the mechanism was beyond her understanding. Perhaps it was released by a near-field electronic signal. The door opened with a meaty ripping sound. Cantrelle stepped inside; she was carrying an additional pair of the heavy, bulky metal cuffs, ready to secure Elpida¡¯s ankles.

    Cantrelle stopped when she saw that Elpida was up on her feet.

    The door slapped shut. Cantrelle¡¯s flat, blank, disc-shaped eyes flickered rapidly from Elpida to Amina ¡ª to confirm that their wrists were still in their cuffs, their chains were still staked to the floor, and Amina¡¯s metal muzzle was still secured to her face.

    Cantrelle frowned, hard and craggy beneath her perfectly bald head. Her quartet of segmented metal tentacles went still.

    Elpida couldn¡¯t help herself ¡ª she smiled.

    Cantrelle spat in her buzzing half-mechanical voice: ¡°And how many of my stitches have you popped with this little stunt? I swear, if I have to re-do that all over again ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida croaked, slowly: ¡°You¡¯re alone. Confident?¡±

    Cantrelle gestured at the tilted metal surgical table with one of her pincer-tipped tentacles. ¡°Lie the fuck back down. Right now.¡±

    Elpida had done her best to tug her grey thermal t-shirt down over her bandaged gut, to better display the crescent-and-line symbol she¡¯d daubed on her chest, but the stomach of the t-shirt was ragged where Pira¡¯s bullets had torn through the fabric, and soaked through with sticky, half-dried, red-brown blood. She still had her armoured coat ¡ª the ¡®tomb-grown coat¡¯, as Yola had called it ¡ª but one flank of the lower torso was stiff and scored, damaged from deflecting the impact of the rest of Pira¡¯s magazine.

    No shoes. No weapon. Wrists cuffed, chained to the ground. Elpida¡¯s long white hair was in her face ¡ª it was too difficult to sweep it all back over her head while her wrists were manacled. Amina sat in a teary-eyed heap on the floor, her hands still covered in Elpida¡¯s blood, her muzzle against her mouth.

    Elpida realised she didn¡¯t want to kill Cantrelle; the medic had done an honest job tending to Elpida¡¯s gut wound. She had administered anaesthetics, glued her intestines back together, and sewn her up with professional skill. She hadn¡¯t hurt Elpida on purpose, or rushed the task, or cut corners.

    But she was a committed Death¡¯s Head. She was no different than the Covenanters.

    Elpida briefly wished that Cantrelle had delegated this task to some other Death¡¯s Head, some brutish enforcer Elpida had never met; she almost said it out loud ¡ª I don¡¯t want to kill you, turn around, go away ¡ª but she kept her mouth shut. Cantrelle was her enemy, both ideologically and materially. She had to escape. Any hesitation would put her comrades at risk. She refused to be the cause of another murdered cadre.

    Elpida said: ¡°Nah.¡±

    Cantrelle¡¯s face scrunched with anger. ¡°Lie. The. Fuck. Down.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna¡ª have to¡ª make me.¡±

    Cantrelle reached over her shoulder and drew her shotgun.

    Short and stubby, shiny and black like a beetle¡¯s shell, with a pistol grip for the trigger mechanism and second pistol grip up front, for easy handling and improved accuracy. A short-range urban fighting weapon, for room-to-room combat ¡ª or the last-ditch personal defence weapon of a medic who didn¡¯t like to get her hands dirty? Elpida gambled on the latter.

    Cantrelle aimed the shotgun at Elpida, one-handed. ¡°You¡¯re gut-shot, dip-shit. You can¡¯t even speak a full sentence without stopping to wheeze. Lie down.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t shoot me.¡±

    Cantrelle clenched her jaw.

    Elpida pressed: ¡°You won¡¯t shoot me. Yola thinks¡ª I¡¯m important. Yola practically wants to¡ª sleep with me. And Yola¡¯s¡ª in charge. You won¡¯t shoot.¡± Then, too quickly for Cantrelle to think about the previous statement: ¡°Why¡¯d you decide¡ª to do this alone? Don¡¯t want to delegate? Feeling jealous?¡±

    Cantrelle¡¯s face twisted with rage: bullseye. But then Cantrelle shifted her aim ¡ª she pointed her shotgun at Amina instead.

    Amina flinched, whimpering behind her muzzle, raising her hands to ward off the attack.

    Cantrelle said: ¡°I¡¯ll shoot her, then. How about that, huh? Actually, forget that. Either you lie back down, or I¡¯ll go fetch two of my best friends and tell them there¡¯s a free meal up for grabs. You can watch your little fuck-toy here get eaten alive. Did you know that one of us revenants can survive, conscious and screaming, with as little as thirty percent of her brain mass? You wanna see that happen up close? Then, when they¡¯re done eating, I¡¯ll cuff your ankles anyway.¡±

    Elpida frowned; it did not take much effort to maintain her exhausted, sullen, dead-eyed expression.

    Cantrelle said, ¡°Think I won¡¯t do it?¡±

    ¡°Yola said¡ª¡±

    Cantrelle laughed. ¡°Yola¡¯s not the only one in charge here. Maybe she¡¯s right about you, or maybe not. But she¡¯s not the only fucking voice in the Sisters. Now lie down. Don¡¯t make me do this. Don¡¯t make this difficult, for fuck¡¯s sake.¡±

    Elpida glanced down; Amina was panting through her muzzle, eyes wide with terror, skin covered in panic-sweat.

    She needed Amina to hold on; tipping their hand early would ruin the plan.

    ¡°Amina,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Amina. Look at me. Look up. Look.¡±

    Amina managed to look away from the muzzle of Cantrelle¡¯s shotgun.

    Elpida said: ¡°We¡¯re going¡ª to be alright. Just¡ª do what she says.¡±

    Amina stared right through Elpida. Did she remember what to do next? A successful escape relied on them working together. Elpida could not do this alone, not with a gut wound that might leave her incapacitated. But Amina was just a child, no matter how bloodthirsty or dangerous she had shown she could be, to a foe with their back turned. Maybe she couldn¡¯t pull this off, maybe it was too much, she was too scared. Elpida needed options.

    ¡°Lie down,¡± Cantrelle grunted. ¡°Last chance.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± Elpida sighed.

    She put all her trust in Amina, and lay back down.

    Returning to the tilted surgical table was only marginally less difficult than standing up had been; Elpida sat, dragging her chain after her, then slowly lifted her feet onto the metal shelf, right first, then left, then eased her torso backward. Her gut wound screamed inside her belly like a demon trapped beneath her skin, shafts of flame roaring up her nerves and wracking her spine with fire and acid. She let out a strangled grunt, streaming with sweat. Her vision swirled dark for several heartbeats. The last of the anaesthetic must have been wearing off.

    She prepared herself for much more pain.

    Cantrelle muttered as she crossed the room: ¡°Serves you fucking right you great big idiot. You¡¯re like a giant goldie but a lot more stupid. Bet you¡¯re not even housebroken.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s pain ebbed down to merely soul-destroying rather than all-consuming, strangled by Telokopolan pain-blockers pounding into her bloodstream. Her vision cleared. She blinked away a veil of tears.

    Cantrelle paused several feet from the surgical table. She was frowning at Amina, still covering her with the shotgun.

    Elpida¡¯s heart lurched; if Cantrelle noticed what they¡¯d done, she really would retreat and return with reinforcements.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Elpida panted. ¡°Leave her alone. Hurt her, and then you¡¯ll¡ª have to kill me. ¡®Cos I¡¯ll hunt¡ª you, for as long as it¡ª takes.¡±

    Cantrelle sighed and shook her head; her disc-eyes could not roll in their sockets, but the tiny muscles of her face revealed her contempt. She gestured at Amina with her shotgun. ¡°Get into the corner. Away from me. Go on, right into the corner.¡± Amina crawled away from Cantrelle and Elpida, dragging her chain along the marble floor, wedging herself into the corner of the filthy public toilet, like a small animal trying to escape a predator. Cantrelle said: ¡°Good. Now stay there.¡±

    She approached the foot of the surgical bed. She kept her shotgun covering Amina. The four mechanical tendrils which sprouted from her shoulders all pointed toward Elpida ¡ª the pair of pincers were open, as if waiting to intercept an attack, while the saw and the needle just hung, ready for surprises. She lifted the heavy metal manacles in her free hand and opened them with a flick of her wrist. They went clack.

    Then Cantrelle paused again. She frowned at Elpida.

    ¡°You¡¯re planning something,¡± she said.

    Elpida smiled back, still streaming with sweat. ¡°¡®Course I am.¡±

    Cantrelle eyed her up and down, frowning harder.

    Elpida needed to keep her here, keep her riled up, keep her angry. Elpida said: ¡°Wanna go¡ª fetch some help? Somebody to hold me down? Maybe bring Yola back¡ª so she can¡ª she can compliment my ankles¡ª or something? Why does she call you ¡®Ella¡¯, anyway? You two close?¡±

    Cantrelle said, ¡°Reach out with your hands.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Reach out with your hands. All the way. To the limit of your chain. Go on, so I can see.¡± Cantrelle waggled her shotgun at Amina.

    Elpida obeyed. She lifted her cuffed hands to full extension, dragging the chain off the floor link by link. She allowed it to scrape against the side of the bed, just to irritate Cantrelle. At full extension she was several feet short of being able to touch the medic, even if Cantrelle had to get right on top of her to put the cuffs on her ankles.

    Cantrelle smirked. ¡°Whatever you have planned, it¡¯s not going to work. Here. Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± She lowered the cuffs toward Elpida¡¯s waiting ankles.

    And Elpida spread her legs apart ¡ª too wide for the cuffs.

    Cantrelle stopped and gave Elpida a sour look.

    ¡°Now what?¡± Elpida asked. ¡°Gotta make me¡ª close my legs. Can¡¯t get those cuffs on¡ª like this.¡±

    Cantrelle glanced at Amina. The younger revenant was still crammed into the corner of the room, cowering and shaking. Cantrelle finally moved her shotgun away from Amina; she jammed the muzzle against Elpida¡¯s left knee instead, point-blank, jabbing into the underside of her kneecap.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make it so you can¡¯t fucking walk for the next six months; then we won¡¯t need the cuffs. Stop fucking with me.¡±

    Cantrelle waited. Elpida allowed her smile to die; that didn¡¯t take much acting. The moment of truth was approaching fast. If Amina could not carry out her part of the plan, they were both doomed. Elpida was already trying to calculate new possibilities, but it all came back to the need for an opening, a single moment of distraction. She couldn¡¯t force that kind of opening herself, not alone, not against somebody as vigilant as the Death¡¯s Head medic.

    Elpida sighed as if defeated, and closed her legs.

    ¡°Better,¡± Cantrelle spat.

    She reached down, set the open manacles over Elpida¡¯s ankles, and slammed them shut. They locked with a heavy click.

    Cantrelle quickly straightened up. She lowered the shotgun and started to take a step back. ¡°Right, now that¡¯s do¡ª¡±

    Amina came out of the corner like a rabid dog.

    Her muzzle went flying ¡ª thrown at Cantrelle with her cuffed hands, already removed by Elpida earlier, and held in place until that moment by Amina¡¯s own teeth. Her chain rasped against the floor tiles as she shot to her feet and hurled herself toward Cantrelle. The muzzle hit Cantrelle in the face ¡ª no damage, but surprise enough to make her flinch.

    Cantrelle¡¯s stubby shotgun came up in her hands, ready to blow off Amina¡¯s head. Amina hit the limit of her own chain; she yelped, almost yanked off her feet by the pull on her wrists, crying and panting and grasping for Cantrelle¡¯s front. But the Death¡¯s Head was out of reach.

    Cantrelle laughed.

    Elpida lifted her cuffed feet.

    Her body weight slid her down the tilted incline of the surgical bed, until her backside hit the foot-shelf; the impact sent a lance of blinding pain up through her gut wound. She howled through her teeth, eyes streaming with tears of pain, hands yanked backward by the anchor of her own chain.

    But she didn¡¯t need hands to hit Cantrelle.

    Elpida swung her cuffed feet out wide ¡ª stomach wound screaming, stitches popping free ¡ª and then slammed the heavy metal cuffs into Cantrelle¡¯s spine.

    Ribs went snap like damp twigs.

    The medic went flying. Her shotgun tumbled out of her grip and clattered to the floor on the far side of the room. She sprawled on her hands and knees, heaving for breath, spitting bile ¡ª and well within Amina¡¯s range.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Amina jumped on her. Fingernails clawed at the tomb-coat, scratching for throat and eyes; teeth snapped shut on a mouthful of fabric, then a piece of hand, then a wet crunch of cheekbone and flesh. Cantrelle screamed and reared up.

    Cantrelle fought back with her metal tendrils; the pair of pincers went for Amina¡¯s neck and eyes. The saw slashed for her throat.

    And the massive needle reared back, ready to punch through skin and deliver neurotoxin or knock-out cocktail or worse.

    Elpida rolled to the side and fell off the surgical bed, right on top of Cantrelle.

    The agony in her gut exploded beyond anything she had previously considered possible; Elpida was certain that she had popped every stitch, opened every flap of flesh, torn asunder every muscle fibre, and voided the very tubes of her intestines. She was certain that her bowels were spilling out like a nest of bloody snakes. Unconsciousness throbbed at the edge of her tear-blurred vision; the world was going dark. But she couldn¡¯t pass out yet; if she did, Amina would die.

    She hooked her chain around Cantrelle¡¯s bionic throat. She put her knees into the small of Cantrelle¡¯s back and her elbows into Cantrelle¡¯s shoulder blades. She pulled.

    Nanomachine zombies did not need to breathe ¡ª but zombie brains needed circulation, in imitation of biological life.

    The medic wheezed and spluttered, then crackled and buzzed; apparently her metal-encrusted throat and cybernetic jaw did not fully protect her from strangulation, from having her blood flow cut off with a length of chain. Her hands scrabbled at the metal links, breaking her nails and bloodying her knuckles. Her segmented tendrils turned on Elpida instead; Elpida squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head left and right to throw off the pincers¡¯ aim; snapping metal jaws took chunks out of her scalp, ripped out clumps of hair, and left bleeding welts on her cheeks and neck. She heard a crunch and snap ¡ª was that Amina dealing with the other two tendrils, the saw and the needle? Elpida could only hope.

    Choking an opponent unconscious should only have taken a few seconds. Elpida¡¯s internal clock was so scrambled by pain that it felt like hours. Cantrelle gurgled and hissed, flailing and bucking, weaker and weaker. Her bionics allowed her to hold out longer than an unaltered human, but eventually her tentacles ceased their battering. She went limp in Elpida¡¯s grip.

    Elpida kept the pressure on. Hours passed, or perhaps only seconds.

    Then she let go. She collapsed face-down on Cantrelle¡¯s back.

    Unconscious oblivion coaxed her deeper. Elpida¡¯s body was a sea of pain, flooding outward from the ruined muscle and torn tissues of her gut wound. Telokopolan pain-blockers may as well have been prayer and hope. Her vision went dark; her extremities went numb. Nearby, somebody was sobbing softly. If she didn¡¯t get up and move soon, then this would all be for nothing. Cantrelle would be missed. Another revenant would come to check on them. But the pain was¡ª

    Get up said Howl, inside Elpida¡¯s head. Get up, Elps. I fucking love you. Get up!

    Elpida rolled off Cantrelle¡¯s back. She hit the floor ¡ª more pain, ringing upward through her body like a cracked bell. She coughed blood, spluttering and wheezing. She lay still for several seconds, eyelids fluttering. Couldn¡¯t force them open. If she could only rest for¡ª

    Get up, bitch tits!

    Elpida sat up. Her guts felt like they were flowing out into her lap. Sitting was difficult with cuffed ankles. She stayed very still for what felt like another hour ¡ª two ¡ª three.

    A tiny voice murmured: ¡°Elpida?¡±

    Elpida blinked to clear her vision.

    Amina was crouched on the opposite side of Cantrelle¡¯s corpse. She was staring at Elpida with horror and hope in equal measure. Blood was smeared around her mouth, a crimson mess on her soft brown skin. She had fragments of flesh in her teeth. She was still gripping Cantrelle¡¯s hands. Her sandy hair was wild and tangled. She was crying slowly.

    ¡°Ami¡ª na,¡± Elpida forced out. ¡°Good. Job. Good¡ª girl.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡ª I¡¯m¡ª I¡¯m not¡ª¡±

    Elpida looked down at her own gut; to her surprise, she was not a pile of loose intestines. Cantrelle had done an incredible job with those stitches. Several were broken and burst, no doubt about that, but the wound was still closed, despite the dark red blood seeping into the bandages.

    ¡°¡ªnot a good¡ª¡± hic ¡°¡ªgirl. I-I-I should have¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shhhhh,¡± Elpida mumbled. ¡°Shhhh. Amina. Shhh. Good girl. Well done.¡±

    Elpida rolled Cantrelle over and went through her pockets; the corpse was red in the face from strangulation, but her flat disc-eyes were emotionless and blank, grey-dark screens gone out. The tendrils were limp, just cables lying on the floor. Amina had somehow snapped both the saw and the needle, probably by stamping on them. There were chunks taken out of her hands where Amina had bitten and gouged to keep Cantrelle from fighting back.

    Another moment of truth presented itself, but Elpida and Amina got lucky ¡ª Cantrelle did possess a keyring. She also had a small snub-nosed pistol with a couple of extra magazines. Elpida offered those to Amina, but Amina shook her head and murmured something about her knife; Elpida pocketed the gun. All Cantrelle¡¯s other possessions were either medical equipment, or personal effects which meant nothing to Elpida. She found a lock of blonde hair inside a little box, a fragment of a photograph of a building, several folded paper documents covered in hand-written notes; a pen-knife, a tin mug, a lighter, a scrap of pale leather ¡ª human skin?

    Elpida tried the keys in her own manacles first. She found the correct one, then freed her ankles, then Amina¡¯s wrists. Amina was sobbing quietly, her breath coming in little sips and judders as she rubbed her wrists. Amina needed praise, but Elpida had to finish the kill.

    Elpida stood up, slowly and carefully. She had to pause several times, screwing her eyes shut, panting for breath as she fought down the pain. She wanted to vomit, but she had to resist; the stomach contractions might knock her unconscious.

    ¡°Ami¡ª Amina. Amina. Shotgun. I can¡¯t¡ª probably can¡¯t bend over.¡±

    ¡°A-ah?¡±

    ¡°Her shotgun. Get me her¡ª shotgun.¡± Elpida gestured at the stubby weapon.

    Amina scurried over to the gun, scooped it up, and then presented it to Elpida as if it were a holy relic and Elpida an idol.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Elpida croaked.

    She checked the chamber to make sure the weapon had a shell loaded. She flicked the safety on, then off again. Then she held both pistol grips and pointed the barrel at Cantrelle¡¯s skull.

    Nanomachine zombies did not die easily; Elpida herself was proof of that. She¡¯d seen severed heads still moving, twitching the muscles and trying to roll their plucked-out eyes. Cantrelle was ¡®dead¡¯ ¡ª but for how long?

    Destroy the brain, and the zombie goes back to the resurrection buffer. See you in sixty years.

    Elpida put her finger on the trigger ¡ª and hesitated.

    Amina whispered: ¡°Did- didn¡¯t we ¡­ k-kill her?¡±

    ¡°Yes and no,¡± Elpida croaked. She stared into Cantrelle¡¯s empty disc-eyes. ¡°These revenants¡ª they¡¯re more advanced than us. Much more. Probably loaded with nanomachines far beyond us. I already reanimated once, back in the bunker. She might ¡­ spring back up ¡­ any second.¡±

    Elpida clenched her teeth. She did not want to kill Cantrelle; she wanted to kill the Death¡¯s Heads. She wanted to pull the trigger ¡ª but if she did that, the gunshot might bring reinforcements running, and ruin the escape. Was one defeated Death¡¯s Head ¡ª one Covenanter ¡ª worth failure? She was in too much pain to tell where misguided mercy ended and sensible tactics began.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± she hissed ¡ª and lowered the shotgun.

    Amina was staring at her, wide-eyed with incomprehension and horror, crying softly. She didn¡¯t have the context to understand any of this.

    Elpida reached out and put one hand on Amina¡¯s head. ¡°You did really well, Amina,¡± she croaked. ¡°Well done. You¡¯re a good¡ª girl. You¡¯re a very good girl. We¡¯re going to¡ª get out of here now.¡±

    Amina¡¯s face scrunched up. She cried harder, but she didn¡¯t sob, careful to stay quiet. She panted through her nose. ¡°Okay. Okay. Okay. I¡ª I¡ª can¡ª can¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stay close to me. Do everything I say.¡±

    Amina nodded. ¡°I promise! Here!¡±

    Amina held out her bloody hands ¡ª Elpida¡¯s blood, from earlier, rapidly drying on Amina¡¯s palms and fingers, smeared by the struggle with Cantrelle.

    ¡°For the nanomachine content, right,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Amina¡ª it¡¯s not much. We don¡¯t have time to¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s yours! It¡¯s yours!¡± Amina hissed, her voice filled with panic. ¡°And you¡¯re more hurt! Take it back! Take it back, I don¡¯t deserve¡ª¡±

    Elpida took one of Amina¡¯s hands and pressed it back toward her. ¡°Yours now. I got the raw blue¡ª right? Lick your fingers clean. That¡¯s an order, Amina. Follow your¡ª orders.¡±

    Amina stared ¡ª then nodded and obeyed without further hesitation. She shuddered in rapture as she licked Elpida¡¯s blood off her own hands.

    Elpida led Amina over to the door. Elpida¡¯s boots were waiting there, untouched by the fight. She had Amina pick them up first and shake them out, just to make sure the Death¡¯s Heads hadn¡¯t left any nasty surprises inside. She stepped into the boots, then stepped back to examine the bio-tech lock on the door.

    She hadn¡¯t seen anything in Cantrelle¡¯s pockets which looked like a near-field transmitter to operate the lock. She attempted a quick experiment: she picked up a piece of shattered glass from the row of once-grand mirrors, and poked the blob of tarry black goo.

    The blob ate the glass, dissolved the material into more of itself, leaving behind a thin trickle of greasy smoke.

    She said: ¡°Okay. Amina, don¡¯t touch that.¡±

    ¡°Mm!¡±

    Perhaps the lock operated on the nanomachines themselves, keyed for the Death¡¯s Heads, or for particular individuals. Elpida glanced back at the corpse; Amina wouldn¡¯t be able to lift it and carry it over here, and the muscular effort might rip open Elpida¡¯s belly for real. They could try cutting off a hand, but the only cutting tool they had was Cantrelle¡¯s saw ¡ª and Amina had snapped that in half. How about severing a finger?

    They were burning time; if a finger didn¡¯t work then they would have to cut through a hand, then an arm, then what? That could take ten or fifteen minutes. They might be discovered. Or it might not work at all.

    Elpida pointed the shotgun at the door frame below the lock

    A bad option, but at least they would be out and moving in a few seconds, running for an exit.

    ¡°Amina,¡± she panted. ¡°When the door opens, stay close. We have to¡ª run. Don¡¯t lag. I can¡¯t¡ª probably can¡¯t carry you¡ª like this. Not leaving you behind. Understand?¡±

    A small hand closed around a corner of Elpida¡¯s coat. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Cover your eyes, there might be¡ª¡±

    A shimmer passed over the tarry-black bio-tech lock ¡ª like an optical illusion ¡ª and then the lock parted in the middle, as if sliced by a blade from top to bottom.

    The lock went inert and fell to the floor, shattering into tiny fragments with a tinkling like glass beads.

    The door swung open.

    Elpida jerked the shotgun upward and shoved Amina behind her, out of the line of fire, falling back, ready for¡ª

    Nothing.

    Nothing stood in the doorway. Pale marble corridor yawned beyond, dusty and dirty, completely empty.

    No ¡ª a shimmering passed through the air; like a sculpture made of translucent glass, heat haze in a cloudless sky, a sheet of falling water in perfect laminar flow.

    Something invisible stepped into the room.

    Eight feet, nine feet ¡ª or ten feet tall? Elpida could not be certain; the optical chameleon effect confused her estimate of height. The intruder straightened up from ducking through the doorway. A giant, no doubt about that. Multiple limbs shimmered and blurred against the background of the door frame. Armour plates ¡ª or clothing? ¡ª refracted the light at strange angles. When it stopped moving the figure became truly invisible ¡ª all except a head, a blurred shape of helmet tacking back and forth.

    Elpida retreated, shoving Amina behind her. The stubby shotgun in her hands seemed an inadequate weapon for this target.

    But she raised it anyway, aiming at the just-visible shimmer of the head.

    A voice hissed: ¡°Still your blade, warrior.¡±

    Another semi-visible shape stepped around the door frame; this second figure was not truly invisible, but merely blurred like a smear of oil on canvas, cloaked in shadow, obscured by a long coat, with the hood pulled up.

    Elpida lowered her shotgun and burst into a smile. ¡°Atyle?!¡±

    The blurring effect switched off; Atyle stood revealed before Elpida, dressed in the armoured coat taken from the tomb. Tall and proud, dark skin made darker by the shade of her hood, Atyle looked completely untouched by the battle. Her biological left eye twinkled with mischief; her peat green augmetic right eye spiralled and flickered with a hundred hidden lenses. She cradled the cyclic sliver-gun in her arms.

    ¡°You did not think we had forgotten you, warrior?¡± she whispered.

    Elpida could have laughed. She could have hugged Atyle. She panted through the pain. ¡°How do you keep¡ª doing this, returning exactly¡ª when we need you?¡±

    Atyle grinned. ¡°Perhaps I am a Necromancer.¡± She raised her chin, indicating the rest of the room behind Elpida and Amina. ¡°We attempted to join you before your hasty duel, but stealth is harder won than it appears. Well done, warrior.¡± She glanced downward, at Amina peeking out around Elpida¡¯s side. ¡°And well done, little rabbit. Your claws grow ever sharper.¡±

    Amina let out a strangled whimper.

    Elpida eyed the now-unmoving ten-foot waterfall-shimmer at Atyle¡¯s side. She hissed: ¡°We?¡±

    Atyle glanced at her almost-invisible companion. ¡°A friend. She serves the small titan who joined us in the battle. Her name is Hafina.¡±

    Elpida struggled to keep up; the pain was fogging her intellect. ¡°Small titan? You mean the crawler? The¡ª tank?¡±

    Atyle nodded. ¡°She cannot speak to us, but she comprehends. The small titan translates our speech for her. He waits at range, ready for the charge, ready to accept us into his belly.¡± Atyle glanced left and right, then up and down, then over her shoulder, rapidly covering all angles with her augmetic eye. ¡°We must be quick now, warrior, and little rabbit. We must be quick and quiet and not be seen. These beasts are bigger than we. They see through walls, too.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Elpida hissed. ¡°Is anybody coming¡ª right now?¡±

    ¡°Not yet, warrior.¡± Atyle grinned again. ¡°You have other plans?¡±

    ¡°Where are the others?¡± Elpida whispered. ¡°Us, the rest of us?¡±

    Atyle dipped her head. ¡°Kagami and Victoria entered your god of war¡ª¡±

    ¡°The combat frame! But there was a Necromancer, it stopped me¡ª¡±

    ¡°They felled the shape-shifter and cast it down. They are safe in the belly of your god, for now.¡± Atyle reached up and tipped back one side of her armoured hood; she was wearing an earpiece and headset. ¡°The scribe lends us the eyes of your god, and tells me where not to tread. She sees not with my clarity and depth, but she sees further and wider. She speaks with the small titan, also. She is our watcher from the other side.¡±

    Elpida ached to ask questions, but they didn¡¯t have time. She had to stick to the bare essentials. ¡°Kagami¡¯s running mission control¡ª for us? Got another headset, for me?¡±

    Atyle shook her head. ¡°No spares.¡± A pause, then a smile. ¡°The scribe calls you a fool for damaging your stitches. She calls you many things.¡±

    Elpida sighed. ¡°We really need proper short-range communications. And the rest, the rest of us?¡±

    Atyle shrugged. ¡°Ilyusha is nowhere. Pira ¡­ ¡± Atyle turned her head down and to the right, staring through brick and steel. ¡°Sits in a cell of her own, though less well chained than you. With a friend. She is unwell inside.¡±

    ¡°She betrayed us,¡± Elpida hissed. ¡°But then she¡ª¡±

    ¡°I saw, warrior.¡± The depths of Atyle¡¯s peat-green bionic eye flickered and rotated. ¡°I was watching. Now, do we rescue Pira, or not?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°You¡¯re asking me? I¡¯m not in command¡ª right now. You and Kagami¡ª¡±

    ¡°It is you she betrayed, and you she saved. Would you have won your duel if she had not delivered to you the magic potion?¡± Atyle took one hand off her cyclic coilgun and gestured at Elpida¡¯s belly. ¡°To the wronged, the choice of justice.¡± She grinned. ¡°And I wish to see what you choose, warrior.¡±

    For a split-second Elpida considered the possibility that Atyle really was a Necromancer.

    Didn¡¯t matter; she was breaking Elpida out.

    But the choice was impossible. Elpida still could not fully process what betrayal meant; she had wrestled Pira to the ground in a fistfight that felt just as intimate as any cadre sparring match. She had fed her with blood, she had trusted her, she had listened to Pira¡¯s reasons and respected her choices. And Pira had shot her through the stomach in a moment of confusion and panic.

    Telokopolis rejects nobody, Howl whispered inside Elpida¡¯s memories. Bitch.

    Did that mean welcoming a traitor back into the cadre?

    But a member of the cadre could never betray.

    Elpida¡¯s head went around and around; she was in too much pain to make this decision. Pira had chosen the Death¡¯s Heads ¡ª no, Pira had chosen her old friend. And then chosen to betray them in secret to help Elpida; without the raw blue, Elpida would be unconscious, or maybe dead.

    Betrayal, then salvation. Which was the truth?

    There was no time for this.

    Elpida said: ¡°Where¡¯s our coilgun? Did they take that off me, too?¡±

    Atyle raised her eyebrows in surprise, then glanced downward, through the floor. ¡°Not too far from the betrayer. Inside their war council. Our exit is just beyond. Our path takes us past both.¡± She paused, then chuckled. ¡°The scribe is not happy about this change of plans. She suggests we jump out of a window instead, to save ourselves the effort of getting killed.¡±

    War council? Yola had said ¡®command post¡¯ earlier. Elpida hissed in frustration.

    Atyle whispered: ¡°Your other weapons are there too, warrior. Perhaps they hoped to return them to you, once you joined their war party.¡±

    Elpida snorted. ¡°Maybe. What does Hafina think?¡± Elpida glanced up at the almost-invisible shimmer.

    The shimmer ¡ª Hafina ¡ª nodded once.

    Atyle whispered: ¡°She will help. The beasts here are looking outward, stirred up by more than us alone. We are not the only distraction.¡±

    Amina whispered in a tiny voice: ¡°Is m-my knife there, too?¡±

    Atyle tilted her head. ¡°We will see, little rabbit. If not ¡­ ¡± Atyle reached inside her coat and pulled out a sheathed combat knife, one of the blades they had taken from the tomb armoury. She flipped it around and handed it to Amina. Amina¡¯s eyes lit up with trembling gratitude. She slid the blade away inside her coat. She tried to whisper a thank you, but her voice was shivering too hard.

    Elpida made a decision: ¡°We retrieve the coilgun ¡ª if we can do so without being seen, on our way out. If that takes us past Pira, then she gets one chance ¡ª her friend, or us. If she says no, or hesitates ¡­ ¡±

    Atyle raised her eyebrows, quietly amused.

    Crack!

    A single high-powered gunshot rang out ¡ª from beyond the walls of the skyscraper, splitting the nocturnal quiet. Every head looked up ¡ª ¡®Hafina¡¯ included, a whirl of mirror-shimmer translucence.

    Elpida hissed: ¡°That rifle. That¡¯s Serin.¡± Then¡ª

    Boom-boom-boom, even more muffled, somewhere down in the guts of rubble and ruin.

    Atyle grinned. ¡°Our own little beast returns, hm? The perfect distraction.¡±

    ¡°Illy!¡± Amina squeaked. ¡°That¡¯s her gun! That¡¯s her gun!¡±

    Elpida panted: ¡°Coilgun, Pira, exit. If Illy needs help¡ª the first two¡ª priorities¡ª can be discarded. We go, now.¡±

    Atyle grinned and turned into an oil-streak blur against the marbled hallway. She raised a hand and tapped the side of her hood. ¡°Lead on, Hafina. Guide us true, scribe.¡±

 calvaria - 7.8

    Hafina took point ¡ª a transparent shimmer ten feet tall, moving with absolute silence, near-invisible in the unlit corridors. Atyle stuck close to the giant¡¯s heels, but not too close; Atyle¡¯s camouflage turned her into a smear of oil-dark shadow ¡ª good for hiding in corners, but not in plain sight. A Death¡¯s Head revenant might miss Hafina right in the middle of the corridor, but Atyle was less well concealed.

    Elpida stayed in the rear, her white hair tucked down the back of her coat, her hood pulled up over her head. The best she could do.

    She held Cantrelle¡¯s compact pistol-grip shotgun in one hand, and Amina¡¯s sweaty little palm in her other.

    The makeshift holding cell in which they had been confined was on the fifth floor of the skyscraper, perhaps to avert a window-based escape, or to discourage others from interfering without permission. The Death¡¯s Heads were mostly using rooms on the second floor of the building; Atyle whispered this information to Elpida as they hurried down the fifth-floor¡¯s main corridor. They had a straight shot to the first set of stairs. Going down.

    The interior of the skyscraper was all gilt and gold, marble floor tiles and sculpted window frames, doors of darkest wood with handles of deep brass, and light fixtures shaped like torches ablaze; all quiet and cold now, blanketed in decades of dust, smeared with soot and filth, marked by black traces of nanomachine mould.

    Hafina slipped down the first staircase like a torrent of falling water; Atyle followed with a crouching lope, her weapon cradled close to her chest, a blurred shadow among friends.

    Elpida did her best to minimise her target profile and move quietly ¡ª but her gut wound burned inside her belly, raking her nerves with claws of barbed acid, jerking skewers of pain into her spine and lungs and groin.

    Her skin streamed with sweat. She clamped her teeth tight and closed her lips against the temptation to whine. She pulled Amina along.

    There was a window in the stairwell. No glass, just a hole, like a dry-socket wound. The black-choked sky was heavy with night, the ring of skyscrapers a skeletal hand below the gravid rotten belly, pockmarked here and there with tiny signs of undead activity, lights showing in empty windows. The combat frame was a dirty white ghost lying prone upon the grey and ashen earth.

    Crack!

    Another distant gunshot from a high-powered rifle. Serin, taking another swing.

    From somewhere far below, muffled by concrete and brick and broken asphalt, Elpida heard the distinctive thump-thump of Ilyusha¡¯s rotary shotgun.

    And then a shout? A laugh? A cackle caught on the night air? Too far away to be sure. She hoped Ilyusha was winning.

    And then they all plunged back into the skyscraper¡¯s innards. Revenant night vision was essential here; a human being would be blind.

    Atyle paused at the stairwell exit to the fourth floor; the stairs terminated here. She crouched, a blurry blob in the dark. Elpida joined her and swallowed a grunt of pain. She couldn¡¯t see Hafina anywhere.

    Atyle whispered: ¡°Silence now, warrior and rabbit. We walk in the valley of death. Follow my lead, to the smallest detail.¡±

    Elpida nodded. Amina whimpered. Elpida squeezed her hand and Amina held on tight.

    Atyle turned her head to stare at Elpida. The dark smear of technological camouflage was difficult to read, but Elpida recognised the peat green colour of Atyle¡¯s bionic eye, obscured and blended with the colour of her face.

    Atyle whispered: ¡°Warrior.¡±

    Elpida wheezed. ¡°What?¡±

    A pause. ¡°You are bleeding.¡±

    Elpida looked down at her stomach; the fresh bandages applied by Cantrelle were saturated with dark red blood. One corner was dripping onto the marble floor, leaving a tiny puddle of sticky crimson between Elpida¡¯s boots. Had she burst more stitches than she¡¯d realised? The bleed was slow, for now.

    She shoved her stolen shotgun into her coat and cradled her belly with one arm. ¡°I won¡¯t¡ª leave a trail.¡±

    Atyle stared. She tilted her head. Unreadable behind that camouflage blur. Then she whispered quickly. ¡°Hafina can carry you, but contact will shed her invisible skin, and lift the blanket that protects all of us from curious eyes, from eyes like mine.¡± Her peat-green bionic winked shut, then opened again.

    Elpida blinked sweat and tears out of her eyes. ¡°I can¡ª make it to the exit¡ª I won¡¯t pass¡ª out.¡±

    ¡°If you falter, ask for aid before you fall.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°We cannot slip back and forth between combat and stealth, warrior.¡± Atyle gestured with the cyclic coilgun, a long gunmetal blur in her hands. ¡°We are not armed for a silent raid. Once we are seen, we fight, and that will be all.¡± Atyle tilted her head again ¡ª listening to Kagami through her headset? Then: ¡°The scribe wishes me to say that you look like a ¡®microwaved dog turd¡¯ and that you are fooling nobody. I agree. When you are ready to fall, tell us first. Hafina will carry you. Then we fight.¡±

    Elpida knew she was fading; between the gut wound, the thought-rending pain, and the effort of strangling Cantrelle, she was all but spent. Telokopolan genetic engineering could keep her on feet through almost anything, as long as she had a beating heart and an intact brain ¡ª but her head felt like it was full of cotton wool. Her thoughts were jumbled, her sense of time was inaccurate. She was caked in sweat and quivering with pain. And now she was losing blood, again.

    But the longer she kept moving, the better the chances of escape.

    ¡°I won¡¯t fall,¡± she whispered through clenched teeth. ¡°Stop wasting time. Go. Lead.¡±

    The fourth floor was occupied by only a handful of Death¡¯s Head revenants ¡ª high-ground sentries, their attention turned outward. Dark armoured shapes crouched by windows, blanketed in a constant click-buzz-click of encrypted transmissions. Atyle only signalled a halt twice, fist raised, stopped in the middle of a corridor; both times they all crouched, frozen, unbreathing, waiting for Kagami¡¯s all-clear, for mission control to tell them that nobody was looking.

    The third floor was almost empty, nothing occupied except a room of corpses at one end. The bodies had been peeled out of their clothes and partially eaten, limbs removed, guts spilled across the floor, heads severed and skulls cracked open for the brains. Nanomachines for the wounded, meat for the revenants, strength to the victors.

    The second floor was crawling with zombies.

    Serin¡¯s sniper fire and Ilyusha¡¯s muffled assault had stirred up the Death¡¯s Heads into a frenzy. Armoured figures clustered at the windows, encrusted with extra limbs, machine-tentacles, eye-stalks, weapon-implants, and more ¡ª and then they ducked away again, rushing to and fro, talking in a jumble of orders and suggestions and insults, punctuated by audio-transmission clicks.

    ¡°¡ªcan¡¯t see her, still can¡¯t see her, the rat, the rat, rat! Come on, take a shot again you¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªuse your fucking eyes, Alheri, you¡¯ve got enough of them.¡±

    ¡°¡ªthat¡¯s a grav-sig, she¡¯s got grav gens inside her¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then pinpoint her!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s invisible! Fuck you!¡±

    ¡°¡ªelevation thirteen meters, estimated trajectory departure point, third window from left¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not invisible, I saw her! I saw her! She¡¯s just good at hiding!¡±

    ¡°¡ªhiding sense, hiding inside sense, no sense in shooting at us¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is this the ART? The ART signal? Are we fighting a bot?¡±

    ¡°Yola said¡ª¡±

    ¡°Down.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not the ART. She¡¯s just another fucking zombie.¡±

    ¡°Down.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t rush. Keep clear of the windows.¡±

    ¡°Down.¡±

    ¡°You fucking cunt! Shoot again! Go on, I fucking dare you!¡±

    ¡°Down, down. Pholet, get your head do¡ª¡±

    Crack-crack!

    ¡°Told you, Pholet. Duck faster.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ ooouurgh, ow. What the ¡­ ? She¡ª she bounced my helmet! This isn¡¯t even armour-piercing calibre! This degenerate is playing with us!¡±

    ¡°Duck faster.¡±

    ¡°Mocking, mocking, mocking!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll be playing with her own fucking guts when we zero her! I¡¯ve got the drone missiles online, let¡¯s just blanket that building, fuck her up, fuck her¡ª¡±

    ¡°What about the little bitch? What the hell is she shooting at?¡±

    ¡°Ignore her, she¡¯s fighting a drone. Making noise. Let her play.¡±

    Creeping through the second-floor corridors was a painstaking process of constant stop-start motion, of watching the blurred oil-smear of Atyle¡¯s back, of waiting for Kagami¡¯s instructions to come through Atyle¡¯s headset. Atyle used hand-signals to communicate: halt, stop here, retreat, into that room, no!, that room instead, wait, wait, wait ¡ª go!

    Whenever Atyle raised a fist her blurry camouflage effect momentarily peeled back from one arm, like a limb thrust out of a blanket. Elpida could barely see Hafina up ahead; she assumed the giant was following her own stealth procedures. Amina gripped Elpida¡¯s hand so hard that her bones hurt.

    Kagami¡¯s inaudible instructions to Atyle were often opaque, always without explanation, and several times almost too late. She halted the group at strange moments, held them waiting in the middle of wide hallways, exposed and vulnerable ¡ª or sent them scuttling into side-rooms, behind desks and lockers, hiding beneath tables or crammed into corners while Death¡¯s Head revenants stormed past outside. Elpida¡¯s shoulder blades itched; sweat matted her long white hair shoved down the back of her coat, prickling on her skin and running down her face; her stomach wound burned like fragments of molten metal rammed into her gut, the pain ratcheting upward with every moment she stayed crouched or hunched or pressed flat. She clutched her coat to stop from dripping on the floor. She closed her throat to stop from screaming.

    Once, Atyle¡¯s hand signal flashed downward ¡ª Kagami ordering them all prone, in the middle of a corridor. Elpida hit the ground and pulled Amina after her, then bit her own tongue so as not to cry out, swallowing mouthfuls of her own blood. Another time, Kagami had them pause outside an open door for a full seven minutes, waiting, aching to move, her own crimson blood smearing all over the sleeve of her coat.

    Elpida was not used to being outside of the command loop, let alone following orders she did not understand and could not hear ¡ª but in her current state she would not make much of a commander.

    She could not have escaped alone.

    Elpida¡¯s mind was growing dull with exhaustion and pain, even as her senses stayed sharp and open. She felt like a true walking corpse, an undead puppet, moving without internal direction. Silico. Zombie.

    She followed orders. She held onto Amina. She did not breathe.

    If she and Amina had broken out of that cell without help, they would have lasted less than a minute, crawling through this without the benefit of Kagami¡¯s overwatch and Atyle¡¯s direction.

    Atyle had become an enigma. Elpida¡¯s mind ran the questions even as she fell into dull automatic action: where had Atyle learned the hand signals, or the basic techniques of physical infiltration? Since when did she follow orders from anybody, let alone Kagami? A few hours ago Atyle had been unwilling even to duck her head during a firefight, disdainful of bullets, contemptuous of death, walking proud and tall and showing off the cyclic sliver-gun. Now the same woman took and gave orders like she had been doing so all her life, freezing in place rather than be seen by her foes, relaying the control of another.

    Was this even the same Atyle?

    Didn¡¯t matter. This Atyle was breaking Elpida and Amina out of imprisonment. If she was a Necromancer, so be it. She was on their side. She opposed the Death¡¯s Heads. Elpida needed nothing more, not then, not yet.

    Elpida put her trust in her cadre ¡ª no, she corrected herself, trust in her comrades. Her fellow zombies. Not her cadre. Her cadre was dead.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    While any of us still stands, the cadre lives too, Howl whispered in her memories. Don¡¯t be such a bitch.

    Keep moving, follow orders, stay silent, hold on to Amina.

    The second-floor corridor circled almost the entire circumference of the skyscraper, drawing Elpida and her comrades away from the Death¡¯s Head revenants; the zombies were grouped on the south side of the building, trying to locate Serin¡¯s vantage point. The north side was quieter. The shadows pressed deeper, unbroken by windows; dust lay thick along the skirting boards; the walls were smeared with nano-mould.

    They reached a t-junction; floor tiles marbled with gold led off both left and right ¡ª into the core of the building, and out, toward the edge.

    Atyle stopped and crouched. Hafina paused just beyond, in the middle of the junction. The giant shimmered like a sheet of water, then turned invisible. Elpida crouched next to Atyle; her stomach wound throbbed and burned, her sleeve was coated with crimson overflow. She gritted her teeth and tried not to shake so hard. Sweat dripped from her eyebrows and blood dripped from beneath her coat. Amina huddled close.

    Atyle gestured left, into the core of the skyscraper, and whispered: ¡°Pira.¡± Then right: ¡°Coilgun. Stairs. Exit.¡±

    Elpida waved a hand ¡ª left.

    She hissed: ¡°Pira gets¡ª one chance. But not¡ª we¡¯re not¡ª leaving her. If she¡ª wants.¡±

    Atyle¡¯s face twisted beneath the oil-smear blur. A grin? ¡°And if the betrayer declines?¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t have the energy to think about that question, let alone answer; she was not in charge here. She shook her head.

    Atyle paused for a moment, listening to Kagami over the communications headset. ¡°The scribe urges haste. Leave the betrayer behind. She calls you many things, which all mean ¡®fool¡¯. Warrior, loosing our terrible arrows will be the end of our stealth, and the beginning of a fight. The betrayer¡¯s refusal could end us all.¡±

    Elpida glanced back at Amina; Amina¡¯s eyes were wide with fear, her face a mask of white, her lips clamped tight. The younger girl could not take much more of this.

    ¡°We¡¯re going¡ª to get out of here,¡± Elpida whispered. Then to Atyle: ¡°We¡¯ll check. If she¡ª if we can¡¯t ask¡ª safely¡ª¡± She panted with the pain. ¡°I have to try.¡±

    Atyle nodded. ¡°We will see, warrior. We¡ª¡±

    ¡°Maddeuwch iddi?¡±

    The whisper came from invisible lips; Hafina¡¯s voice was surprisingly delicate.

    Atyle waited a moment. Kagami must have supplied a translation, because Atyle chuckled. ¡°Perhaps. It is not up to me. But just in case the foolish betrayer refuses forgiveness.¡± Atyle lifted her cyclic sliver-gun.

    Forgiveness?

    Elpida hadn¡¯t considered that. ¡®Forgiving¡¯ Pira hadn¡¯t even entered into her thoughts. This was not about that ¡ª or was it? Would a member of the cadre require ¡®forgiveness¡¯?

    Elpida¡¯s mind was too full of haze, too fogged by pain. She pushed all that away.

    No time to think now anyway; Atyle was hurrying away to the left. Elpida followed, staying low, holding tight to Amina¡¯s hand. Hafina brought up the rear, a looming wall of shimmering water.

    The left-hand fork of the corridor was quite short; it turned once and then led to a single large door, which was standing wide open. Atyle pressed herself against the wall next to the door and gestured for Elpida to follow. She gave Elpida the best spot to peek into the room, right next to the door frame. Amina huddled between them, one hand clamped over her own mouth. Elpida could not see where Hafina had gone, but she assumed the giant was standing right there, covering their escape.

    Beyond the door was a conference room. Dozens of chairs surrounded a long table, with a wall of televisual screens at the far end. The table and chairs were caked in ancient dust. Some were rotting, black with nano-mould.

    Lumps of red raw meat lay on the table in a puddle of gore.

    Low voices came from inside.

    ¡°¡ªmay as well end this farce,¡± squeaked a voice Elpida had never heard before. High-pitched, raspy, and rough, like too much air forced through a thin and corroded pipe.

    ¡°Shut up!¡± snapped a second voice. ¡°Just shut up, Hatty! Shut the fuck up!¡±

    Elpida recognised that one: it was Pira¡¯s friend, the woman who had delivered the raw blue and rammed it into Elpida¡¯s stomach.

    A third voice, a weird giggling gurgle, said: ¡°Ooni, stupid Ooni, thinks she can order us around? She¡¯s deluded and slow.¡±

    ¡°Uunnh,¡± squeaked the first voice again ¡ª ¡®Hatty¡¯? ¡°Don¡¯t get above yourself. Yola gave us real clear instructions.¡±

    Silence fell for several seconds. Somebody was breathing hard, panting in anger or panic. Pira¡¯s friend? Ooni?

    Then: ¡°Leuca?¡±

    Ooni said the name with deep tenderness ¡ª but desperate, quivering with fear.

    ¡°Leuca. Leuca, please, you have to eat. You have to eat, or they¡¯re going to k-kill you. Leuca? Leuca. Leuca, look at me, at least. Please. Please!¡±

    Leuca ¡ª Pira.

    Her ¡®real¡¯ name? To Elpida, she was still just Pira.

    Elpida glanced at Atyle and mouthed: ¡°Am I clear to look?¡±

    Atyle stared through the wall with her peat-green bionic eye, then nodded once. ¡°Be quick, warrior. Time is short.¡±

    Elpida made sure her hood was up and her hair was hidden. She eased one eye around the door frame.

    On one side of the conference room was a more intimate area, with several low tables and a cluster of comfortable chairs. Two Death¡¯s Head revenants were standing with their backs turned to the doorway; both wore lightweight carapace armour ¡ª the left in muddy brown, the right in a clashing smear of vomit colours. Grinning skull symbols leered from a shoulder plate on the latter.

    The zombie on the left possessed a bizarre metallic structure sprouting from her skull, like a web of antennae, or a cage wrapped about her cranium. Her dirty brown hair was tangled with the metal fronds. The zombie on the right ¡ª the one in the armour coloured like a splash of vomit ¡ª had flowing blond hair woven into braids, surprisingly clean and neat. Both of them were armed with high-power plasma rifles, bulky matte black weapons with wide muzzles. A long gladius-style sword hung from the belt of the cage-head. Miss vomit-armour had a brace of heavy pistols around her waist ¡ª and her left arm was unarmoured, bionic, with half a dozen elbows. The limb was folded up like the bellows of an accordion.

    A third revenant was down on her knees in front of them. Long black hair, olive skin, green eyes ringed red from crying. She wore grey armour carapace, with a grinning skull painted on her chestplate. She carried no weapons.

    Pira¡¯s friend, ¡®Ooni¡¯.

    And slumped in one of the chairs was Pira.

    She was not imprisoned as Elpida and Amina had been, with stakes and chains and manacles; she¡¯d been disarmed, but her wrists and ankles were free. She still wore her bulletproof vest, her tomb-grey underlayers, her boots, her body armour ¡ª but her clothes had been roughly peeled back to expose the chrome-and-matte of her bionic right arm.

    She was staring at the floor. Her flame-red hair hung down, partially obscuring her face. Her sky-blue eyes were red and puffy from crying.

    Elpida expected to feel anger. Pira had betrayed her, shot her in the gut, almost got everyone else killed. But instead she felt only numb resignation.

    Pira had chosen this; Pira was not her comrade; Elpida could do nothing to help. She was almost spent, an unthinking zombie, running on automatic.

    Not the Commander, not right then.

    It¡¯s not something you get to switch off, Howl whispered, deep down in Elpida¡¯s brain. Lost girls need you, bitch. Get to it.

    Shut up, Howl, Elpida thought. I can¡¯t. Too slow. Can¡¯t think.

    But Elpida didn¡¯t look away.

    Ooni was offering Pira a handful of pinkish-grey meat ¡ª a chunk of human brain.

    Cage-Head, the revenant on the left, spoke with that giggly gurgle: ¡°She won¡¯t fuckin¡¯ eat, Ooni, you little shit. She won¡¯t eat, so what good is she?¡±

    Ooni turned and looked up; Elpida resisted the urge to pull back. A flicker of motion presented more risk than staying still. And Ooni was too full of rage and fear to notice Elpida.

    Ooni spat: ¡°She shot the pilot for us! She¡¯s one of us!¡±

    Vomit-Armour ¡ª ¡®Hatty¡¯ ¡ª spoke in her squeaky rasp: ¡°She won¡¯t eat. She¡¯s some useless apostate. Yola said we check. We checked. We check! Check, check, check.¡±

    Ooni shot to her feet, eyes bulging with rage. She raked her long black hair out of her face and gestured with the chunk of brains. ¡°Leuca is a better fighter than both of you put together! She was more than one of us, she was the best of us! We took a fucking tomb together! We killed a worm-guard and ate the¡ª¡±

    Vomit-Armour and Cage-Head both laughed.

    ¡°Yeah, right,¡± gurgled Cage-Head. ¡°She won¡¯t even eat. Go on, carrot top. Eat your din-dins. Num num num num. Here comes the air-plane!¡±

    Pira said nothing.

    Vomit-Armour squeaked: ¡°We could use the bloody meat, that¡¯s for sure. What-say, what-say, Hats? Make some more meat?¡±

    Crack!

    Everyone looked up at the sound of Serin¡¯s rifle, muffled and distant ¡ª all except Pira.

    Cage-Head said: ¡°Yeah, so, like, how do we know that shit isn¡¯t her friend or something?¡±

    Ooni¡¯s eyes flickered across her comrades ¡ª and over the pair of plasma rifles in their hands. Elpida recognised that wild and desperate look. Ooni was trying to decide if she could fight them and win, if she could take both of them down in hand-to-hand combat, or ambush them, or trick them, or do anything except plead ¡ª anything to save Leuca, Pira, her friend.

    Elpida knew that look, that mortal calculation; she¡¯d seen it on her own face during those last days, just before the cadre had been imprisoned by the Covenanters. Ooni had made a deal with monsters. Now the monsters were going to devour something she loved.

    Elpida¡¯s numb resignation fell away.

    Before Cage-Head and Vomit-Armour could resume their conversation, Ooni shoved the chunk of brain matter into her own mouth and took a bite. She turned back to Pira, chewing quickly, and fell to her knees again. Then she leaned forward, mouth open, trying to press her lips against Pira¡¯s.

    Pira lashed out with her exposed bionic arm. She caught Ooni by the throat and shoved her away.

    Ooni fell to the floor with a crash of armour plates. Cage-Head and Vomit-Armour both burst out laughing, guffawing and snorting. Ooni pulled herself to her knees, weeping, sniffing, her black hair all stuck to her face; mashed brains dribbled down her chin, mixed with bloody saliva and twin tear-tracks. She sobbed hard and wet, swallowed and hiccuped. One grey-armoured hand reached toward Pira.

    ¡°Leuca, p-please. Please! I did¡ª I did what you told me. I did everything! Please, you have to eat! They¡¯re gonna kill you! And then¡ª again¡ª not again¡ª not again not again not again not again¡ª¡±

    Pira didn¡¯t even look at Ooni; she just stared at the floor.

    Atyle tapped Elpida on the shoulder. Elpida withdrew and turned to find Atyle offering Elpida her headset, her link with Kagami.

    Atyle mouthed: ¡°The scribe wishes your ear. Quickly now, warrior.¡±

    Elpida slipped the headset beneath her hood.

    ¡°Kagami?¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice crackled into her ear: ¡°Elpida! Elpida. ¡®Commander¡¯. What the ¡ª fuck! ¡ª are you doing?! There¡¯s four of them in there! You cannot take four fucking zombies without making any noise, you¡¯re not an infiltration agent linked to my¡ª whatever! And the moment you break stealth, this is over ¡ª you¡¯ll have to shoot your way out through a wall of bullshit. And you¡¯re too far from the entrance for effective fire support. I can¡¯t get this moronic tank to come close enough. He doesn¡¯t have any infantry support, so ¡ª okay, fine, fair enough! And before you ask a stupid question: no, I have no idea what that berserker idiot Ilyusha is doing. I¡¯m not in contact with her. Now move! Stop stalling!¡±

    From inside the conference room, Vomit-Armour was saying: ¡°How about we go get the little one?¡±

    Elpida whispered: ¡°Kagami, I¡¯m not leaving Pira behind¡ª¡±

    Kagami spat down the comm-link: ¡°She shot you! She¡¯s one of them! She fucked us, she betrayed us, and I swear to Luna¡¯s silver soil that if you bring her back, I will shoot her in the mouth myself. Move! Now!¡±

    Cage-Head grunted: ¡°The what?¡±

    Vomit-Amour said, ¡°The little one. The little one that Yola brought in with the superhuman. She¡¯s small enough for some fun.¡±

    Elpida whispered: ¡°Kagami, Pira is not¡ª one of them. She won¡¯t even pretend to¡ª follow their ideology, to save her own life. She won¡¯t eat¡ª¡±

    Kagami snapped: ¡°So she¡¯s stupid and treacherous! Fucking hell. I should leave you lot where you are. What about Amina, huh? Your pet psychopath? What if you fuck this up and she ends up dead as well? Pira or Amina, Commander? Hell, Pira or me? Who matters more? Fucking hell!¡±

    In the conference room, Cage-Head laughed: ¡°Ha! Right. Let¡¯s go get her little friend, crack her head open, see if Leuca here will eat those brains. Maybe she needs one she¡¯s rutted with before, huh? Like Tak does? Or maybe we should break your head, little Ooni?¡±

    Elpida glanced over her shoulder, at Amina.

    Amina had her knife out. Her eyes were wide with terror and full of tears. But her blade was naked, shaking in her fist.

    You¡¯d never leave one of us behind, whispered Howl. Not even if we fucked up. Especially if we fucked up.

    And you would have followed me anywhere, Elpida thought. And now Amina wants to do the same? But I¡¯d get you all killed¡ª

    Howl screamed inside Elpida¡¯s head: One of us fights, we all fight!

    Elpida whispered to Kagami: ¡°I can¡¯t let this happen. We¡¯ll do it quiet. If¡ª¡±

    A confused grunt came from inside the conference room. Elpida quickly peeked around the corner again.

    Pira was on her feet.

    Cage-Head and Vomit-Armour watched as Pira walked over to the table. They covered her with their plasma rifles. Ooni stood up as well, gaping at Pira, her tears trailing off. Pira stopped before the pile of dripping meat. She stared down at the gore for a long moment, then selected a chunk of pinkish-grey brain.

    Pira lifted the meat to her lips and took a bite.

    She chewed slowly and carefully. She turned back to face the other Death¡¯s Heads. Ooni hiccuped with relief, wiping her eyes, sniffing hard, raking her long black hair back out of her face. Cage-Head snorted.

    Vomit-Amour lowered her plasma rifle and squeak-rasped: ¡°Hunger gets you all in the end. Yola always says that. Starve ¡®em out, let ¡®em feel it.¡±

    Pira raised her eyes to the ceiling and took a deep breath through her nose. She was still chewing.

    Kagami¡¯s voice crackled in Elpida¡¯s ear: ¡°She¡¯s one of them. Let her go, Commander. She¡¯s a lost cause. Get moving!¡±

    Cage-Head lowered her gun too. ¡°Fuck. I was looking forward to¡ª¡±

    Pira spat a mouthful of masticated brains into Cage-Head¡¯s eyes.

    The Death¡¯s Head revenant yelped and spluttered. She attempted to wipe her face and point her weapon at the same time. Pira was already in motion ¡ª she jerked to the side, dived for the floor, then rolled to her feet inside Cage-Head¡¯s guard. Her augmetic right arm lashed out and drew the sword from Cage-Head¡¯s belt. Pira crouched like a spring to put all her body weight and bionic strength behind the tip of the sword. She rammed the blade through Cage-Head¡¯s throat and up into her skull. The edge crunched off the revenant¡¯s metal cage structure. Cage-Head went down like her strings had been cut.

    Ooni reacted almost as fast; she leapt for the Vomit-Armoured revenant. They grappled for the plasma gun, rolling on the floor. Vomit-Armour¡¯s multi-jointed left arm ratcheted outward, as long as her body, and whipped toward Ooni¡¯s head like a metal chain. The smaller zombie jerked and wriggled and hung on tight, deflecting the blow onto her armour instead of her skull. She spat and hissed and clacked her teeth, trying to bite Vomit-Armour in the face

    ¡°Fucking¡ª cunt¡ª fuck!¡± Vomit-Armour spat ¡ª and then head-butted Ooni right in the nose. Blood flowered in the darkness.

    Vomit-Armour rolled on top and slammed Ooni to the floor, but the weapon was still pinned between them.

    Vomit-Armour raised her head.

    Click-buzz.

    Comms open. She was about to call for help.

    Elpida stood up and drew her shotgun from inside her coat.

    But then her vision swirled and throbbed; her legs shook, about to give out; her stomach burned with consuming fire. Cadre-standard pain-blockers and adrenaline and re-balanced hormones flooded her circulatory system to keep her on her feet, but she would be a second too late, a second spent feeling the blood rush to her head and drip from her belly and¡ª

    Pira stepped forward, yanked one of Vomit-Armour¡¯s pistols from her own belt, then jammed the muzzle against the back of her neck and pulled the trigger.

    The round exploded the revenant¡¯s throat in a spray of blood and bone ¡ª destroying whatever bionic communications equipment she had been about to use. Vomit-Armour collapsed in a clattering heap, choking and gurgling and flopping, in a pool of spreading blood.

    Ooni wriggled free. She ripped the plasma rifle from her former comrade¡¯s twitching grip. She was panting hard, covered in blood and brains.

    She hissed: ¡°Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ooni,¡± said Pira. ¡°Stop.¡±

    Ooni looked up at Pira. She blinked, then broke into a quivering grin.

    ¡°Leuca!¡± she yelped. ¡°Leuca, we can run, we have to run! You and me, like before, we can¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ooni, stop.¡± Pira stared at the pistol in her hands and shook her head. ¡°There¡¯s no point.¡±

    ¡°W-what? L-Leuca? No! We can¡ª¡±

    Pira reached out and grabbed the barrel of Ooni¡¯s plasma rifle. She stepped forward and pressed her own chest against the muzzle. She stared into Ooni¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Shoot me,¡± Pira said. ¡°Then shoot yourself. If you can¡¯t do it, I will.¡± She raised the pistol and pressed it gently to Ooni¡¯s chestplate, right against the forehead of the painted skull. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter which way we go. Just that we do.¡±

    Ooni was crying again, wide eyed and open-mouthed. ¡°Leuca ¡­ L-Leuca ¡­ I love you. Please. It¡¯s been¡ª for me it¡¯s been ¡­ it¡¯s been decades.¡±

    Pira said: ¡°I love you too. But this can¡¯t go on.¡±

    In Elpida¡¯s ear, Kagami made a gagging sound, then said: ¡°Fucking no. Absolutely not. Get moving, Commander, right now!¡±

    Elpida whispered ¡ª to Atyle and Amina: ¡°Get ready to move. Follow my¡ª lead.¡±

    Elpida stepped out of cover and into the doorway.

    ¡°No,¡± she said.

    No, not forgiveness.

    Pira and Ooni looked up. Ooni gaped, amazed, like she was seeing a ghost. Her eyes boggled at the crescent-and-line symbol daubed on Elpida¡¯s chest. Kagami was screeching in Elpida¡¯s ear.

    Pira¡¯s eyes were unguarded, open, all her defences abandoned. She stared as if Elpida was a summation of all her sins.

    Elpida wheezed. ¡°You don¡¯t get to kill¡ª yourself, Pira.¡± She had to clutch her bleeding stomach. The gore was seeping between her fingers. ¡°You aren¡¯t getting off¡ª that easy. You¡¯re coming¡ª with us.¡±

    Pira said: ¡°I can¡¯t be trusted.¡±

    ¡°Pira. I am your Commander. And that was an order.¡±

 calvaria - 7.9

    Pira and Ooni: two lost girls with the muzzles of their guns pressed against each other¡¯s hearts, a pair of old lovers who had come to love death more than each other ¡ª to adore the grinning skull and the release of giving up.

    Elpida waited for them to obey her orders, lower their weapons, and follow her instead.

    She knew they would.

    Elpida also knew that she was acting irrationally. Blood loss and burning pain had pushed her to the edge of delusion. Howl cackled in the back of her mind: Your girls now, Elps! Your girls now! She swayed on unsteady feet. She panted through clenched teeth. She squinted hard, fighting down the agony which radiated out from her oozing gut wound.

    Pira might still pull the trigger of her stolen handgun, put a bullet through Ooni¡¯s chest, and then turn the weapon on herself. Elpida could not predict how the flame-haired revenant would act; she hadn¡¯t predicted the betrayal, after all. And Ooni was an unknown. Was she about to panic, jerk her rifle out of Pira¡¯s grip, and paint Elpida with a bolt of plasma?

    Elpida could not allow herself the luxury of doubt.

    Fake it ¡®till you make it! Howl screeched inside her mind. That¡¯s how we all did it, back in the day, right?

    The trick of true command was not only to act as if her authority was unquestionable ¡ª Elpida had to believe. Since she had choked and gagged and thrashed back to life in that metal coffin, the deaths of all her sisters had opened a rift in her mind and flooded her with doubt: she was no Commander worthy of the role, she would get her comrades killed all over again, nobody without a death wish should follow her into anything. The Commander was nothing without belief, and without something in which to believe.

    And now the Commander gave orders to a traitor and a foe, and expected them to follow.

    I¡¯m going mad, Howl.

    You were always fucking mad! It¡¯s why we followed you! The maddest cunt of all!

    Elpida heard the covert sounds of Atyle and Amina entering the conference room, creeping up behind her. Pira and Ooni looked up briefly. Elpida tossed back her hood and unhooked the comms headset from around her skull; she couldn¡¯t concentrate with Kagami shouting into her ear. Howl¡¯s advice was better. She passed the headset over her shoulder.

    Atyle accepted the device, then whispered: ¡°The animals heard that gunshot, warrior. We have one or two minutes at best.¡±

    Pira¡¯s hollow eyes crusted over with a frown. She said: ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. Elpida, get out of here. You¡¯re free, don¡¯t jeopardise¡ª¡±

    Elpida took a step forward. ¡°Do not make me¡ª repeat myself,¡± she panted through the pain. ¡°You have your¡ª orders, we can discuss discipline later. Right now we¡¯re in combat.¡±

    ¡°Elpida. I shot you. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t get to die. Not your choice. Lower those weapons.¡±

    Ooni¡¯s bright green eyes flickered from Elpida to Pira. She jerked her plasma rifle out of Pira¡¯s grip ¡ª and pointed the muzzle down. Her gaze wandered over the pair of corpses on the floor ¡ª Cage-Head and Vomit-Armour. Elpida was standing with one boot in the pool of blood spreading from the shattered throat of the latter. Ooni swallowed, hard and rough.

    Pira lowered the heavy handgun. She shook her head. ¡°I shot you. How can you¡ª¡±

    Elpida pointed at the second plasma rifle, pinned beneath one of the fallen Death¡¯s Heads. ¡°Pick up that other¡ª gun. We may need the firepower. You are going to fall in¡ª behind Atyle and me. You follow her hand signals, move when we move, do exactly as ordered. Do I make myself clear?¡±

    Pira¡¯s face was a mask of disbelief. ¡°I¡ª¡±

    Elpida and Howl spoke as one: ¡°You are mine, Pira!¡±

    The effort made Elpida¡¯s gut flare with pain. She hunched and heaved and whined through her teeth, drooling blood, spitting to clear her mouth.

    Pira stared for a heartbeat more ¡ª then she stowed the handgun inside her body armour, tugged her clothes back into place over her bionic arm, and crouched down next to the fallen Death¡¯s Head. She rolled the body sideways and extracted the plasma rifle. Her hands flickered over the controls. The weapon hummed briefly, then fell silent.

    She looked up at Elpida. Her sky-blue eyes were full of compressed pain and guileless wonder.

    ¡°Yes, Commander,¡± she said.

    Elpida didn¡¯t even nod; her authority required no acknowledgement.

    Ooni said: ¡°What about me?¡±

    Her voice trembled with desperation and jealousy. Elpida heard that as clear as Howl¡¯s words inside her head.

    Ooni glanced at Pira, and said: ¡°Leuca? L-Leuca? What about me?¡±

    Ooni was a terrible mess; her mouth and chin were stained with the greasy pink smears of half-chewed brain matter, cut through with twin tracks of bloody tears. Her long black hair was matted with sweat, stuck to her forehead, smeared with blood. She stood half-crouched over the boxy, matte-black body of the plasma rifle. Her eyes were wide and red from crying. That black skull still grinned from the middle of her chestplate.

    Ooni hated Elpida for ¡®stealing¡¯ Pira; Ooni had gleefully jammed a hand into Elpida¡¯s guts; and Ooni was a Death¡¯s Head ¡ª but the corpses on the floor were testimony to her true allegiance: Pira, Leuca, her decades-lost lover.

    Elpida could work with that. It was leverage. A way in.

    Elpida had dealt with situations like this dozens of times before. Her sisters in the cadre had disagreed, feuded, fought, burned with confused overlapping passions and multi-directional jealousy: Third and Quio and their dirty little knife fight; those three months when Scoria and Arry had gotten obsessed with passing Bug back and forth, until it wasn¡¯t a joke anymore; Kos and Vari and Snow swapping clothes in an escalating game which ended in tears and blood, and then Kos bringing Elpida in to force a reconciliation; even Howl ¡ª that one time she¡¯d driven Metris to a night-time ambush, and they¡¯d gotten so loud they¡¯d woken up the whole cadre. But those feuds had never involved live ammunition ¡ª well, almost never. And at the end of the day the cadre all slept in the same dormitory; they all shared the same skin and hair and blood and genetic template; underneath even the bites and the scratches and the scars, they loved each other. The sisterhood of the cadre, against the green, against the Civitas, and then against the Covenanters. There was always a status quo for the cadre ¡ª each other.

    In this nanomachine afterlife there was no return to any status quo but death. Elpida could not afford a mistake.

    Atyle hissed from behind her: ¡°Warrior, time grows short. We¡ª¡±

    Crack ¡ª crack!

    Serin taking a double shot, from far beyond the walls.

    Everyone flinched and looked up. But Elpida just stared at Ooni.

    Atyle hissed again: ¡°She buys us time. Heads are down. Warrior?¡±

    Elpida marched up to Ooni ¡ª dragging her feet a little, blood dripping from between the fingers pressed to the bandages around her gut wound. She raised her blood-soaked hand, slapped her palm against Ooni¡¯s chestplate, and met those staring green eyes.

    Elpida said: ¡°Your choice.¡±

    Ooni swallowed, rough and thick. Her green eyes were wide. She glanced down at the crescent-and-line symbol daubed on Elpida¡¯s t-shirt. Her breath came in ragged little gasps. She said: ¡°Do you promise not to kill Pira?¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath. Expanding her ribcage made her gut scream. She swallowed the pain.

    You have to mean it, Elps, Howl snapped. A lie won¡¯t work. Make her one of us.

    ¡°I promise,¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°Y-yes,¡± Ooni whispered. She glanced at Pira. ¡°Yes, then. Yes, Commander?¡±

    ¡°Good enough,¡± Elpida grunted. She dragged her hand across Ooni¡¯s chestplate, smearing crimson mess across the black and grinning skull. Elpida¡¯s blood blotted out the Death¡¯s Head symbol. ¡°Now you¡¯re mine, too.¡±

    A triangle: her, Pira, Ooni. All welded together. An unstable atomic configuration? It only had to hold until extraction. She would deal with the Death¡¯s Head ideology later, and deal with whatever lurked inside Ooni¡¯s skull.

    Elpida stepped back. Ooni stared down at the defaced emblem with a haunted expression.

    Pira said: ¡°Ooni. Eyes forward. For you.¡±

    Ooni swallowed. ¡°For you,¡± she echoed.

    Pira said, ¡°I told you about her, Ooni. I told you she was real. She can do it.¡±

    Ooni said: ¡°Does she eat, or is she like you now?¡±

    Pira sighed. ¡°She eats.¡±

    Before Elpida could react with fresh orders, Ooni rushed over to the conference room table and grabbed a handful of human brains. She hurried back to Elpida and held it out. ¡°Y-you gotta eat. You¡¯re bleeding. Like, a lot. A lot. I¡¯m sorry I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop,¡± Elpida grunted. ¡°Later.¡±

    Elpida accepted the handful of greasy grey-pink meat; she had not felt hungry, but her body suddenly shook with need. She crammed the gobbet of brains into her mouth and swallowed almost without chewing. It didn¡¯t help the pain.

    She realised that Amina still had her knife out. The younger revenant was staring at Pira and Ooni, blade trembling in her fist.

    ¡°Knife away, Amina,¡± Elpida muttered.

    Amina whined ¡ª but she slid the blade back inside her coat.

    Ooni was staring down at one of the fallen Death¡¯s Heads ¡ª the one with the extendable bionic arm. She looked at Pira and gestured at the other corpse ¡ª at the sword rammed into the skull.

    Pira shook her head. ¡°No time to cut out the bionic. Would take twenty minutes not to ruin the nerve connections. Forget it.¡±

    Ooni nodded, eyes downcast.

    Elpida pointed at Atyle, at the oil-smear blob of hazy camouflage. ¡°You follow her hand signals¡ª and her orders¡ª as if they were mine.¡± Atyle extended an unblurred hand, to assist with the explanation. ¡°We are making for the exit, then for pick up. Absolute silence, and stealth. Atyle, any chance we can still get¡ª to the coilgun?¡±

    Atyle chuckled, low and soft; she was looking left and right, up and down, her peat-green bionic eye a blur amid the smear, seeing through brick and concrete.

    ¡°Perhaps, warrior. A band of stalkers comes this way. We may elude them, with haste. The scribe says we should let Pira shoot us all and be done with this. The scribe says many things. She is furious with you. She will guide us still.¡±

    Elpida nodded. She would apologise to Kagami later. ¡°We move. Amina, come here, hold my hand. Pira, Ooni, in the rear. Keep those plasma rifles¡ª¡±

    Ooni suddenly hissed, her voice hushed with awe: ¡°That¡¯s the ART. The ART everyone was going on about. Oh fu-fuck.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    She was staring at Hafina.

    The invisible giant had stepped just inside the doorway of the conference room. A water-sheen illusion hung in the air, against a backdrop of gloom.

    Elpida said quickly: ¡°Her name is Hafina, she¡¯s on our side. She provides some kind of stealth field, so stick close to her. What does ART mean?¡±

    Pira said: ¡°Artificial human. Ooni, it¡¯s not. There¡¯s none left.¡±

    Atyle raised one hand, her camouflage unblurring to show her dark skin and the cuff of her coat. She jabbed two fingers toward the doorway. ¡°Quiet, wayward lambs. We leave now or we are cornered animals. Speed over stealth. No more crouching. Hurry, warrior!¡±

    Elpida and her comrades plunged back into the dark corridors of the skyscraper, well-armed, enlarged, and dangerously unstable.

    Hafina took point once again, a translucent shimmer striding through the shadows. Atyle stuck close to Hafina¡¯s heels now, no longer crouched, crossing the marble floors at a loping jog, her head and her cyclic sliver-gun swinging to cover all angles. Elpida hurried to keep up, gripping Amina with one hand, cradling her own leaking gut with her other arm; each step invited a fresh wave of pain from her re-opened gut wound, throbbing and pulsing in her belly. She strangled her whining, swallowed the taste of her own blood, and tried to stop breathing.

    Pira and Ooni ghosted along in the rear. Elpida did not glance back; she had to trust that they belonged to her.

    Why had she done this? The sensible tactical option would have been to leave both of them there, not invite instability and potential points of failure into an already precarious combat situation. Pira had betrayed her; Ooni was the sort of person who dropped her own allies for an old friend. Why had Elpida done this?

    Because you¡¯re the Commander, Howl whispered.

    And you¡¯re a hallucination caused by blood loss, pain, and stress. You¡¯re not Howl. You¡¯re a metaphor dredged from a dream. I¡¯m not even really hearing you. My brain is shunting processes around to keep me on my feet. You¡¯re a neurological glitch. Shut up. Let me concentrate.

    Howl cackled. You can¡¯t even concentrate on your own feet right now, bitch! And you¡¯ll miss me the second I¡¯m gone.

    The group shot through the t-junction and down the corridor leading to the exterior wall of the skyscraper. Left, then right, then left again, moving as fast as they could, passing empty rooms and quiet hallways, filled with dust and echoes.

    A clatter of booted footfalls reached the t-junction behind them, hurrying in the opposite direction. Snatches of voice floated down the corridor, too far away and muffled to make out the words. Were the Death¡¯s Heads about to discover the bodies of their friends? When they did, all stealth would be over, they¡ª

    Crack! Crack!

    Serin again, the perfect distraction, like she was watching through the walls. She probably was.

    Atyle hissed: ¡°Keep moving, little lambs.¡±

    Time ceased to make sense. Elpida was a standing wave of gut pain, putting one foot in front of the other, holding one arm over her belly, holding onto Amina. Holding on. Hold on! Not far now!

    Ten hours or ten seconds later ¡ª Elpida knew it was the latter, but it felt like the former ¡ª Atyle stopped and held up a fist.

    The group halted in near-silence, all except for the gentle click-clack of Ooni¡¯s armour plates and the soft hum of two active plasma rifles. From behind them, back up the marbled corridor, raised voices and running feet echoed in all directions. Another sudden crack split the air ¡ª Serin rendering more aid. The Death¡¯s Heads could have been a hundred meters away, or right around the corner; Elpida put her trust in Kagami¡¯s overwatch.

    The end of the corridor was less than fifty feet away; a set of wide marble stairs led down into darkness.

    On the right a row of massive wooden doors all opened into a single, huge room ¡ª some kind of gathering place or entertainment hall. Elpida could not see much ¡ª brightly coloured carpet thick with dust, gaudy gilt-and-gold walls laced with nano-mould, and rows of machines drenched in shadows.

    Atyle waited, fist raised. Seconds crawled by. Elpida¡¯s shoulder blades ran with sweat. Her t-shirt and her hair stuck to her skin. Blood dripped from between her fingers, pooling on the floor. Her vision wavered.

    Then, suddenly ¡ª fingers forward! Go! The group scurried past the row of doors.

    Inside the huge room gleaming wooden tables were topped with strange numbered mechanisms, spaces for dealing cards, horizontal wheels, tilted glass sheets, and slots for tokens. Slender machines with brightly coloured shells stood in upright rows, their rusted mechanical arms jutting outward, limp and broken. Dead displays showed nothing but black amid a riot of clashing hues. A clownish place, coated in rot.

    The room was tiered, climbing upward toward an elevated viewing screen designed for a projector: the screen was lit up with a herky-jerky night-vision view, showing ruined buildings and chunks of concrete.

    A shape darted across that screen: a flash of pale skin caught in ghostly green night-vision.

    The screen flashed with weapons discharge ¡ª once, twice. From beyond the skyscraper walls Elpida heard the thump-thump of Ilyusha¡¯s shotgun in time with the display. A long dark bionic tail lashed out and whipped the viewpoint camera, sending it lurching off-target. A spray of bullets chewed into the concrete, missing the figure by inches.

    Up on the screen, Ilyusha vanished behind a stub of ruined wall.

    Arrayed in front of the screen were several Death¡¯s Head revenants: Yola, in her distinctive dark purple, her helmet retracted to show her gleaming ruby hair; she stood alongside another pair of figures wearing suits of powered armour, their helmets firmly on, painted with matching skull designs; three more revenants clustered around a fourth, all of them more lightly armoured than their leader. The fourth was contorted backward, her spine hanging at an impossible angle, her front opened to disgorge a tangle of machinery. Her eyes were fluttering, rolling into the back of her head. She was caked with sweat and shaking as if gripped by fever. Elpida realised that revenant¡¯s own body was projecting the image from the drone ¡ª a living televisual uplink.

    Another Death¡¯s Head revenant was draped and encrusted with wires, with a trunk of cables plugged directly into her eye sockets. Her hands and forearms were a mass of control surfaces, sparking and flickering with holographic motion. She gestured like a musical conductor, swinging and swooping her hands through the air. The view on the screen whirled and zoomed in time with her motions. She was piloting the drone, hunting Ilyusha.

    All the revenants in the Command Post were watching the screen. One of them was chuckling. Another was clapping, slowly.

    Yola was saying, in her wet and clicking voice: ¡°¡ªdetermined degenerate, is she not? With so little weaponry to her name, too. Nothing but small arms. She can¡¯t even penetrate the drone¡¯s armour. Sofika, do you think there is any chance of a crippling blow, rather than seeing her dead? I would love to examine that tail, preferably with the neural connection still intact. A fascinating piece of balance work. It should be ours.¡±

    Elpida and the others reached the far side of the row of doors, once again concealed behind the wall and wrapped in the dampening of Hafina¡¯s stealth field. Atyle raised her fist again: all stop.

    Inside the Command Post, a jerky, heaving voice answered Yola¡¯s question: ¡°Crip-crippling? Legs o-off? Cut off. Cut off. Laser, acceptable? Can¡¯t get too far from the target, she slips¡ª slippery. Fast-fast. Upside. Downside.¡±

    Yola sighed. ¡°Sofi, do not make us reprogram your uplink again.¡±

    One of the other Death¡¯s Heads laughed, harsh and metallic, from inside a helmet.

    ¡®Sofi¡¯, the drone controller, replied: ¡°Crippling blow, yes, boss. I¡¯ll take off her legs. I promise. Off at the legs. Off with her leggies. Leg.¡±

    Atyle gestured at the row of doors with two fingers. She hissed: ¡°Coilgun. On the left, fifteen feet from the door, in the open.¡± Then down the stairs. ¡°Out.¡±

    Elpida hissed: ¡°How many skull-fuckers between us and the door?¡±

    Ooni flinched; Elpida pretended not to notice. Atyle turned to look down the stairs, then whispered: ¡°Two guards. Lightly armed. A straight line, warrior.¡±

    Elpida squinted through the pain. She whispered: ¡°How do they not¡ª know we¡¯re free?¡±

    Atyle paused, listening to Kagami, then said: ¡°They will discover the bodies any moment. Coilgun or go, warrior?¡±

    Elpida shook her head, fighting a wave of brain-fog and the throbbing agony in her gut. She was not capable of making this decision. ¡°Illy¡ª¡± she slurred. ¡°Illy¡¯s fighting all by her¡ª herself. Maybe we if can¡ª take out the drone¡ª pilot¡ª¡±

    Amina squeezed her hand, hard and urgent. ¡°Elpida ¡­ ¡±

    Look lively, Elps! Howl snapped inside her mind. The Commander goes down now and these bitches might run ¡ª then what happens to little Illy, huh?

    Elpida blinked hard. ¡°We have to help Ilyusha. Break stealth now, hit the drone pilot, forget the coilgun¡ª¡±

    Ooni suddenly hissed: ¡°How important is this weapon?¡±

    Ooni had unhooked her helmet from her belt, the same dirty grey as the rest of her armour; she was holding it up to the side of her head, listening to the click-buzz crackle of the Death¡¯s Heads¡¯ encrypted comms network. She stared at Elpida and the oil-smear of Atyle with manic eyes, panting raw and rough, biting her lower lip so hard she drew blood.

    Pira whispered quickly: ¡°That coilgun is tomb-grown, high-powered, more than anything else we could get our hands on.¡± She nodded at the sliver-gun in Atyle¡¯s arms. ¡°But we have that. There¡¯s no sense in this.¡±

    Atyle nodded once. ¡°The scribe agrees. Warrior, we¡ª¡±

    Ooni hissed, quick and quivering: ¡°Yola will come after us.¡±

    Elpida whispered: ¡°Ooni, follow your orders. One hit on the drone pilot is all we¡ª¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know her like I do,¡± Ooni said. ¡°She¡¯ll come after you. After Pira. She¡¯ll throw resources at revenge long after it stops making material sense. She¡¯s a genius and she¡¯s right. She¡¯s always right, she¡¯s right about everything. She gets us, gets it. But she¡¯ll come after us.¡± Ooni panted so hard that a human would have been hyperventilating. Her hands flew over the controls on her plasma rifle; the weapon pulsed out a deep throbbing hum. ¡°I¡¯ll get your coilgun. And disrupt the drone.¡±

    Before anybody could reach out and stop her, Ooni shot to her feet, jammed her grey helmet into place over her head, and stepped out in full view of the Command Post.

    Elpida grabbed for her ¡ª but Pira grabbed Elpida.

    ¡°Hold, warrior,¡± Atyle hissed. ¡°Let the fool distract. The scribe and I agree.¡±

    Ooni stepped through the doors, into the Command Post, beyond Elpida¡¯s sight.

    But Elpida was already twisting to face Pira and Atyle, heaving through the pain in her gut. Pira recoiled from the look on Elpida¡¯s face.

    Howl hissed through Elpida¡¯s teeth: ¡°One of us fights, we all fight!¡± A throb of pain, hard enough to make Elpida¡¯s head spin. Then she hissed: ¡°Up! Prep for covering fire! Amina, keep your head down!¡±

    Atyle and Pira stood up and pressed themselves to the wall next to the doors. Elpida did the same. Amina ducked. Hafina ¡ª Elpida couldn¡¯t see Hafina.

    A few seconds passed, then Yola¡¯s voice rang out from inside the Command Post: ¡°Ahhh, our little addition. Ooni, how is the apostate? A glowing picture of health, I hope? I take it she¡¯s eating, if¡ª¡±

    Click-buzz. A power-armoured muffle: ¡°Boss, I can¡¯t raise Hatty. She¡¯s supposed to be testing the apostate. I can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Another Death¡¯s Head revenant squeaked in sudden alarm: ¡°Hey! Hey you can¡¯t take those, they¡¯re not pool weapons, they stay there until¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s going for the¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s red-lined her fucking rifle!¡±

    ¡°Boss, down!¡±

    A thudding of falling bodies clattered to the floor, punctuated by the heavy-weight slam of powered armour going down. Solid-shot weapons cracked and barked, bullets slamming into concrete, chewing through carpet and plaster ¡ª and bouncing off carapace plate.

    ¡°Now!¡± Elpida shouted.

    Atyle and Pira swung out into the doorway. Pira¡¯s stolen plasma rifle coughed and barked, painting the raised platform with bolts of eye-searing electric blue; the cyclic sliver-gun in Atyle¡¯s arms turned into a blur as the barrels spun up, rounds blasting through tables and upright machines, filling the room with shrapnel and debris. Elpida joined them, dragging the compact shotgun from inside her armoured coat, ready to make some Death¡¯s Head zombie keep her skull down for a few vital seconds.

    The revenants up by the screen had all hit the floor. The projector-zombie was tumbled in a heap of limbs and metal pieces. The drone-pilot had dived behind a table. The screen was blank. Elpida saw the glint of Yola¡¯s purple powered armour, then¡ª

    Ooni stepped out from behind a row of machines on the left; she swung her plasma rifle like a stick-grenade and hurled it toward that hint of deep purple armour.

    The weapon arced through the air. Bodies scattered. A high-pitched whine, a click-whirr, and then¡ª

    An ear-splitting explosion blew a shock-wave of pressure out through the open doors of the Command Post.

    Elpida staggered back around the corner. Small arms and strong hands caught her around the waist. Amina hung on tight. Pira and Atyle retreated too, guns down, little ammunition spent.

    Ooni staggered out of the Command Post moments later, her armour scorched all down the front; Elpida¡¯s hand-smeared mark of blood across her chest had baked black from the plasma detonation. She had a submachine gun ¡ª Elpida¡¯s submachine gun ¡ª hanging from a strap around her neck. She cradled the power-tank, receiver, and aim-assist rig of the coilgun in both arms, straps spilling down her legs, almost too heavy for her to hold.

    Pira caught her and helped her with the weight of the weapon.

    Elpida coughed, and said: ¡°Good¡ª girl. Now¡ª go, we¡ª have¡ª¡±

    Atyle dropped her oil-smear camouflage. Her head snapped up. Her peat-green bionic eye locked on the far end of the corridor.

    ¡°Stealth is done, lambs!¡± she shouted. ¡°Turn and go! The scribe says¡ª¡±

    A power-armoured giant stepped around the distant corner; eight feet of grey metal, festooned with weaponry, faceless and blank, with a skull painted in the middle of her chestplate. A walking tank.

    Kuro ¡ª Yola¡¯s giant. She¡¯d not been in the Command Post.

    Other Death¡¯s Head revenants were rounding the corner behind Kuro, raising weapons, taking cover, shouting commands and orders and warnings and insults.

    Kuro¡¯s faceless helmet snapped toward Elpida and her comrades. The power plant on her back hummed and whined with spiking output, air-exchange vents throbbing with heat-haze. Her mounted weapons began to deploy, rising from their housing, lifting on articulated arms; only the massive back-mounted plasma cannon remained stowed.

    Then Kuro put her head down and charged.

    Atyle and Pira both opened fire ¡ª but that armour ate plasma bolts like they were splashes of water, and deflected the deafening roar of sliver-gun rounds like a shower of ball bearings. Kuro pounded up the corridor, massive armoured boots cracking the marble tiles, seemingly intent on slamming head-first into the group and killing them with her hands. Even through the haze of pain, Elpida recognised this tactic. She¡¯d seen Silico perform it against hardened Legion fire-points: get a heavily armoured fighter into close-quarters, disrupt any return fire, and then pile on from a distance against the neutralised team.

    Atyle started to back up, lowering her weapon. Pira and Ooni struggled with the coilgun, trying to power on the magnetic coils and raise the receiver. Amina screamed something. Elpida raised a fist, a last gesture of defiance.

    Hafina stepped up, in front, right in Kuro¡¯s path.

    The invisible giant dropped her optic camouflage like a sheet of falling water; beneath the shimmering illusion was a figure wrapped in layers of robe and rag, hanging plates of bulletproof material inside curtains of fabric, cocooning an under-layer of ultra lightweight liquid armour, all to protect a core of ever-shifting cuttlefish-skin. Her helmet was a smooth black beak, without eyes.

    Hafina looked more Silico than human, artificial or otherwise.

    Six arms came up, two holding a massive rifle, four with smaller weapons of a kind that Elpida had never seen before; silver, chrome, and light-drinking black.

    Hafina opened fire; the corridor flashed with energy bolts, all colour washed away in a blink. Anti-materiel rounds slammed into Kuro¡¯s armour ¡ª cracking her head back, ramming her chest sideways, and smashing one hip so hard that she went spinning to the floor. The Death¡¯s Heads¡¯ walking tank crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and clattering weapons.

    Felled, but far from dead.

    Kuro¡¯s armour was not even penetrated, from what Elpida could see. Behind Kuro, down the corridor, the other zombies were beginning to return fire, bullets and bolts hissing through the air and slamming into the marble walls. Chips of stone pattered off Elpida¡¯s armoured coat.

    Elpida spat blood to clear her mouth, raised her voice, and shouted the only order which made sense.

    ¡°Everyone up, behind Hafina! Down the stairs! Retreat!¡±

 calvaria - 7.10

    Elpida was intimately familiar with the doctrine and mechanics of tactical withdrawal ¡ª the fighting retreat, the fall back action, controlled and coordinated to avoid collapsing into a rout.

    Legionaries died in routs; retreat saved lives.

    Two thirds of every Legion-led sortie beyond the Telokopolis plateau ¡ª and ninety percent of every cadre-only expedition into the deep green ¡ª had ended in contested withdrawal, with Silico murder-machines nipping at Legion flanks, pressing assaults to split formations, and infiltrating down through the gargantuan tree trunks to target the all-important defoliant equipment, the flame-thrower units and herbicidal crawlers, essential for cutting a path back through the green, as the teeming plants regrew in fecund masses right inside the Legion¡¯s hour-old hardshell bootprints.

    A cadre-only retreat was less vulnerable: cradled close inside their combat frame pilot capsules, cushioned by pressure gel and a constant communications uplink, fed each other¡¯s sense-data and combat judgements and split-second warnings ¡ª but also random musings and sisterly reassurances and stupid jokes. Watching each other¡¯s backs was easy when you had twenty five pairs of eyes hooked into twenty five combat frame sensor suites, when you knew the insides and outsides of each other better than you knew yourself, when you could hear each other¡¯s thoughts on the data-stream plugged into the rear of your skull.

    But even the cadre was not invincible, not like they were presented for the public.

    The longest cadre-only fighting withdrawal had lasted five weeks ¡ª the culmination of the deepest ever expedition into the green, far past the gritty slopes and sudden cliffs of the drop-off line, down into the dark where the sun could not penetrate through miles of dense vegetation, beyond communications with the city, beyond any link with Telokopolis except each other.

    The cadre had seen strange sights down there, where no human beings had walked for millions of years: albino plants sucking nutrients from the trunks of giant trees, shaped like exotic fungi with fans and frills and biological armour plates to fend off parasites; plains of sandy soil and rock penetrated by roots tough as steel, drawing geothermal heat from beneath the earth¡¯s crust; vast dome-like structures and metal frameworks buried in mountains of silt, penetrated and ruined by ravenous stems and clinging ivy and sucking tendrils, with shapes ¡ª words, writing? ¡ª obscured by an eternity of dirt; and Silico giants, sinuous and silken, crawling like centipedes amid the forgotten bones of the world before the green.

    Five weeks, some of the longest of Elpida¡¯s life. Five weeks of trudging back through that labyrinth of wonders that nobody in Telokopolis would believe ¡ª nobody except the committed expeditionists, not without the vid-records and sensor data from the combat frames. Five weeks of hiding in canyons from Silico leviathans, of giving battle only when they could no longer evade pursuit, of day-long struggles with monsters swarming up the sides of their combat frames or pummelling them like amateur pugilists with a hundred fists.

    Five weeks of listening to Silico ¡®intelligence¡¯ calling out to them from among the pale roots, singing songs from inhuman throats, squirting alien data-streams and radio bursts and tight-beam comms in all directions. Five weeks of listening to their combat frames creak and groan with the barely contained desire to grow beyond their carbon bone-mesh armour plating. Five weeks of crawling through millennia-stagnant mud ¡ª and of crawling into each other¡¯s cockpit enclosures, desperate for the comfort of companionship, their skin and pilot suits slick with capsule gel, shivering in the dark while the frames guarded themselves with their own unleashed neural architecture.

    Elpida had not lost a single sister on that retreat ¡ª but not a single frame had gone undamaged. The Orchid Eightfold had lost both left arms and part of a shoulder; the Aculeata and the Chromatic Infinity had both been almost unable to walk by the time they¡¯d reached the plateau; the Spiral Witch had suffered some kind of green-borne infection running rampant through her machine-meat innards, contracted via a piercing wound from the stinger of a Silico giant; the pilot program had kept her in dry-dock for a full year afterward, amputating and grafting new machine-meat muscle tissue hundreds of times over. Elpida had been piloting the Tromos on that expedition; the frame had endured a score of deep-tissue bruises, fractured support beams, and gouges to her carbon bone-mesh armour. By the time they¡¯d crawled back home, the Tromos had been shaking and shivering like a dog with a neurological disease, clinging to Elpida through the MMI cranial uplink slot, mewling and whining in the back of her consciousness.

    The cadre had fared better.

    Daysalt had lost a leg ¡ª replaced with the best augmetic the Legion could supply. Fii had contracted some kind of liver problem from green-exposure, and received a lab-grown transplant. Metris had a fractured spine, Kos had three broken ribs, Quio had some kind of problem with her eyes; nine cadre-sisters had been in their pilot capsules long enough to develop short-term eating problems, and six more had balance issues which lingered for weeks. Yeva did not sleep for ten consecutive days ¡ª not until Elpida personally jabbed her with a powerful sedative. Emi suffered nightmares for months; Arry kept repeating snippets of Silico ¡®language¡¯.

    But they¡¯d all survived the retreat; they¡¯d all come home, back to Telokopolis.

    Elpida had never envied the Legion foot sloggers, fighting Silico with rifles and monoedge swords, protected by greensuits and hardshells, at best. In combat frames the cadre could duel the Silico¡¯s gods to a standstill. On foot a single bullet could end even the most heavily modified nanomachine zombie.

    ¡°Retreat!¡± Elpida bellowed at her comrades, spitting blood. ¡°Heads down! Down the stairs, go! Go!¡±

    Howl cackled inside her head: Advancing to the rear!

    Bullets and energy bolts cracked and crackled down the skyscraper corridor, cutting through the dark air, chipping the marble walls and crunching off the floor; the Death¡¯s Head revenants at the other end of the corridor struggled to set up proper suppressing fire, kept down by the pounding of Hafina¡¯s massive anti-materiel rifle and the crack-thump wave of light-drinking projectiles from her strange energy weapons. They resorted to blind-fire spray, sticking their guns around the corners and hoping for the best. They dared not throw any explosives for fear of hitting their own trump card: Kuro was still sprawled on the floor halfway down the corridor.

    But she was beginning to pick herself up. The armoured giant got one hand beneath her fallen bulk ¡ª and then rolled and flailed as Hafina shot her in the flank again, bouncing her armour like a rag doll.

    Elpida and the others scuttled down the stairs and into the dark, bullets pattering off plates and thumping into armoured coats. The others were sturdy and fresh, but Elpida¡ª

    She felt two solid-slug rounds slam into the back of her coat; her armour deflected any penetration ¡ª but the impact rang through her gut wound like a lance to the belly. She wheezed and spluttered and pitched forward, toppling down the stairs. Small, strong, desperate hands grabbed her around the waist ¡ª Amina, holding on tight. Amina¡¯s grip dug into Elpida¡¯s gut wound. A wave of fresh fire roared up through her torso and down into her hips and groin, obliterating thought, turning Elpida¡¯s body into a lightning rod of pain.

    She staggered down the rest of the steps, half-blind, panting and heaving, drooling blood, with one hand jammed against her own belly to stop her guts from spilling out. Another pair of hands caught her, less clumsy than Amina.

    Amina was squeaking: ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry! S-she was going to fall! She was going to¡ª¡±

    Atyle said quickly: ¡°Hush, little rabbit. We must move fast. Your angel endures.¡±

    Elpida whined: ¡°I¡¯m¡ª fine¡ª fine¡ª go¡ª keep going¡ª¡± She forced her eyes open.

    Dark corridors stretched off left and right. Gunshots cracked and snapped from the top of the stairs; Hafina was backing down slowly, holding the high ground for a few more seconds. Her liquid armour under-layer and shifting skin shimmered under small arms impact, her hanging layers of armour plates and ragged robes breaking up her outline in the gloom.

    Ooni was muttering from inside her helmet, expression masked: ¡°By all the gods. It¡¯s real. That¡¯s a real ART. That¡¯s real. Leuca? Leuca, do you see this?¡±

    Atyle spent those precious seconds glancing left and right. Her peat-green bionic eye whirred in the gloom.

    Atyle murmured a reply to Kagami¡¯s instructions in her comms headset: ¡°The rear, scribe? Our chariot suggests this?¡± Then she pointed with the cyclic sliver-gun ¡ª left. ¡°We go! Betrayer, arm our prize!¡±

    Pira said: ¡°The coilgun?¡±

    ¡°The same!¡±

    The group hurried down the corridor, through decades of dust and dank mats of dark nanomachine rot. Ooni helped Pira to strap the coilgun¡¯s aim-assist rig around her waist as they ran; Pira handed Ooni her plasma rifle, unhooked the coilgun receiver, and activated the magnetic containment. The power-tank hummed on her back; a sabot-round clunked into the barrel. Elpida gripped her stomach in one hand and Amina¡¯s bloody paw in the other, dragging her onward, staggering and sagging, lurching and lagging. Behind them, Hafina loped through the darkness, cracking off anti-materiel rounds and exotic bolts of charged particles, keeping the Death¡¯s Heads at bay.

    Elpida knew she wasn¡¯t in charge anymore; she could do nothing to keep her comrades alive, nothing but trust.

    Pira snapped: ¡°Sentries? Atyle, where are the sentries? You said two?¡±

    ¡°We go around them, betrayer,¡± Atyle said. ¡°We make our own exit. The scribe is unhappy, but the small titan will have a shorter journey.¡±

    They hit a marble wall and stopped ¡ª another t-junction, branching left and right. Was this the exterior of the skyscraper? Elpida couldn¡¯t tell; her sense of direction was scrambled by pain, her legs were shaking with effort, and her stomach felt like it was splitting open beneath her fingers.

    Atyle pointed at the wall. ¡°Betrayer. One strike.¡±

    Pira nodded. ¡°Right.¡±

    Pira raised the coilgun receiver, took aim at the stretch of marble wall, and covered her eyes with her free arm. Elpida pulled Amina back into cover, sheltering the smaller girl behind her armoured coat. Atyle ducked and turned her back. Ooni stood there for a second, then crouched into a ball and covered the plasma rifle with her own body, her flesh protected inside her armour carapace.

    Down the corridor Hafina was a vague dark shape of hanging rags and liquid armour, shimmering and shifting in the backwash of weapons fire.

    Where¡¯s the big bitch? said Howl. Where¡¯s that tank-suit gone, huh? Elps, you were always good at this, where¡¯s she fucking gone?

    Elpida had no answer. She gurgled through a bloody throat: ¡°Don¡¯t know. Howl, stop. Can¡¯t think.¡±

    Amina made a curious sound against Elpida¡¯s front.

    Pira yelled: ¡°Firing!¡±

    The coilgun¡¯s magnetic containment discharged with a stomach-pounding thump. The sabot-round slammed through the marble wall, pulverised breeze block and concrete into dust, and bent steel supports with a screaming chorus of tortured metal. Debris and shrapnel pattered off Elpida¡¯s armoured coat. Amina whimpered into her chest. The Death¡¯s Heads behind them ceased fire for a second.

    Pira shouted: ¡°Another?¡±

    Atyle replied, ¡°No. Through the hole, my lambs!¡±

    One by one they clambered through the exit wound.

    The coilgun sabot-round had punched a wide ragged hole through the filthy marble and hidden guts of the skyscraper wall, splintering the concrete and flowering the steel supports outward in a blossom of twisted metal; there was nothing to see through the hole, nothing but the night. Atyle went first, ducking and wriggling through the gap; then Amina, small enough to squeeze through without effort. Ooni and Pira held the rear as Hafina retreated toward them, cracking off shots with the plasma rifle and pointing the coilgun to scatter their pursuers.

    Elpida was not certain how she made it outside. She could barely bend to duck through the gap, let alone push past the hanging chunks of concrete and twisted steel beams. Her vision went dark, the blood draining from her head. Urgent hands pulled her through and dropped her to the ground on the far side.

    She heaved up a mouthful of blood and spat on the concrete pavement. Her stomach was on fire, blood leaking through her fingers and smeared all up the arm of her coat. She was amazed her belly was not a writhing mass of spilled intestines. She stared at the dirty ground, drooling crimson, on the edge of unconsciousness.

    Get up, said Howl. Get up!

    Pira squeezed through next ¡ª Elpida recognised the sound of her grunting as she pulled the coilgun free ¡ª then Ooni, hampered by the bulk of her armour carapace, helmet going clonk as she knocked her head on the concrete.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°The ART¡ª¡± Ooni panted through her helmet. ¡°It¡¯s too big, how¡¯s it going to fit?¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°Learn faith, animal.¡±

    Elpida raised her head from the pavement just in time to witness Hafina emerge from the hole. The robe-wrapped giant had dislocated her limbs to fit through the gap; she had re-articulated pieces of her body at angles which would have killed any other nanomachine zombie, let alone a human being. She emerged like an unfolding stick insect, joints popping loudly as she resumed her shape, framed by the dark skyscrapers and the choking black ceiling of the night sky.

    Her hanging curtains of bulletproof plates were scored and bent; her clinging under-layer of liquid armour was whited-out in places where it had caught bullets or deflected plasma bolts.

    She stepped sideways to clear the hole in the wall, then stuck one of her guns into the wound and pulled the trigger several times. The hole flashed with energy backwash; a strangled scream came from the other side.

    Ooni chattered through her helmet: ¡°They¡¯re going around! They¡¯re already going around! I-I¡¯ve got the comms network still, Yola¡¯s sending them round the front!¡± Her voice rose in shrill panic. ¡°She¡¯s¡ª she¡¯s still giving commands! No! Fuck, no! I blew you up, I blew you up!¡±

    Optimistic pot-shots cracked and banged from the second floor of the skyscraper; Hafina straightened up, aimed her guns, and blanketed the upper windows with energy bolts. Atyle raised the cyclic sliver-gun and raked firepower in her wake, chewing at the concrete, forcing the shooter¡¯s heads down.

    Pira yelled: ¡°Stay here or move?¡±

    Hafina¡¯s head turned a full one hundred and eighty degrees on her neck, pointing her black helmet in the opposite direction.

    ¡°Pheiri!¡± she said ¡ª in that high, delicate voice. ¡°Pheiri!¡±

    ¡°Your titan is on his way!¡± Atyle said. ¡°We hold a moment, betrayer, we¡ª¡± She cut off. Then, to Kagami, over the comm link: ¡°Left, right, left, right, make up your mind, scribe! Little rabbit, Hafina, the warrior must be carried, she¡ª¡±

    Get up, Elps, you sleepy bitch! Howl shouted inside Elpida¡¯s head. This lot are falling apart! They¡¯ll leave the other one behind!

    Elpida got her feet beneath her body and pushed herself upward. Hands grabbed at her arms, as if she might fall. But got herself upright.

    They had emerged from the skyscraper into the rear street ¡ª the wide road from which they had first approached the Death¡¯s Head fortress. The ground floor windows and doors were all stopped up with boards and furniture; the Death¡¯s Heads¡¯ own improvised fortifications were choking their response. To the left the road stretched away into the ruins. On the opposite side of the street, dark buildings clawed toward the silent, rotten sky. Behind them, hidden by the skyscraper itself, lay the combat frame. To the right was the neighbouring skyscraper, with the ground floors scoured by firepower, cleared of tall cover, and patrolled by a Death¡¯s Head drone.

    Elpida shouted: ¡°Ilyusha!¡±

    The effort made her stomach roar with white-hot fire. Her vision throbbed black. She felt blood dribble down her chin. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

    Then, from far away: ¡°Yaaaaaaaah!¡±

    Ilyusha, howling like¡ª

    Like me! cheered Howl.

    Elpida pointed. ¡°That¡ª way. Now. Now!¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°The small titan¡ª¡± A pause. ¡°Very well. Our titan agrees, though the scribe is screaming and soiling her underclothes. Stay right, stay close to hiding places. Hurry now, lambs!¡±

    They fled along the pavement, sticking close to the edge of the skyscraper. Then they burst out past the end of the side-street; Elpida stole one glance to her right, at a sliver of the combat frame¡¯s leg, a soot-stained white ghost abandoned upon the earth. Then they plunged on, hugging the half-ruined walls and naked steel uprights of the neighbouring skyscraper.

    A roaring rumble was approaching through the ruins, knocking aside the rubble and smashing down the walls, cutting a path through the guts of the corpse-city.

    But it sounded too far away.

    Elpida knew they had only moments before the Death¡¯s Heads emerged into the road behind them. The cover in this street was better than the bare-earth crater where the combat frame lay, but as soon as enough Death¡¯s Heads got clear and formed a firing line to their rear, they would be pinned down. The only real cover lay to their right ¡ª the wall stubs and twisted metal remains of the ground floor of the neighbouring skyscraper.

    Hafina snapped off a few shots to their rear. Small arms fire answered, bullets chewing into the concrete and asphalt. Pira turned as well and loosed another sabot from the coilgun; Elpida glanced back just in time to see the round explode a crater in the pavement, showering running figures with asphalt rain.

    A familiar voice rose over the din of weaponry, purring wet with honeyed pain: ¡°Come back, superhuman! Come back to me! I admire your tenacity, but this little game is over!¡±

    Yola.

    Rotten bitch, Howl spat. Hope that plasma det burned her face off.

    A moment later the Death¡¯s Heads got enough zombies into position. They drowned the street in firepower.

    Elpida and her comrades bundled each other into cover ¡ª into the ruins of the ground floor of the neighbouring skyscraper. Soot-blackened wall stubs and a few sheets of standing metal were better than the open pavement. Atyle just stepped behind an upright beam, once again unwilling to duck now that her stealth field was useless. Amina hit the ground, whimpering as bullets slammed through the air. Elpida crouched, blinded by the pain in her stomach. Ooni sheltered Pira with her own body, her suit of armour carapace protecting them both from stray shots. Hafina stood almost in the open, replying with rapid-fire anti-materiel rounds thumping out of her massive rifle; but even the artificial human would not stand for long ¡ª she was jerking and twitching under a hail of bullets, plasma bolts sparking off her armour, tiny metal flechettes catching in her robes.

    Yola¡¯s voice rang out over the incessant gunfire: ¡°Superhuman! Elpida! Elpida, won¡¯t you be ours!?¡±

    The Death¡¯s Heads spat other insults down the street, less well-amplified than their leader¡¯s plea: Elpida heard sneering cries, sexual suggestions, scatological impossibilities ¡ª and more than once, Ooni¡¯s name, accompanied by fragmentary descriptions of what the Death¡¯s Heads did to traitors of their own.

    Ooni screamed, ¡°Where¡¯s our fucking extraction?! I thought you had extraction!¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°The titan¡ª¡± A pause, listening to her headset. ¡°Resistance? Scribe, be clear. Stop screaming.¡±

    Where was their extraction?

    Fuck that! spat Howl. Where¡¯s¡ª

    ¡°Illy!¡± Elpida howled into the ruins on their right. ¡°Ilyusha!¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°The scorpion is right here, warrior. Save your breath. If she cannot join us in time, she must make her own way¡ª¡±

    ¡°Illy!¡± Elpida howled again, ¡°Il¡ª¡±

    A blood-drenched imp staggered out of the ruins, right into the middle of the group.

    Bleeding from a score of deep cuts and wide grazes, covered in dirt and grime, blonde hair plastered down with filth and blood; her red-black bionic tail was coiled over one shoulder as if too exhausted to lift the limb. Eyes wide and wild with triumph, teeth gritted tight, lips peeled back. Her backpack hung by a single strap. One bionic arm dripped with dark fluid, shotgun hanging limp. The other red-clawed fist gripped a drone sensor-suite, wiring ripped off at the base, support beam snapped, like the severed head of a vanquished foe.

    Ilyusha locked eyes with Elpida, raised her trophy in one hand, and roared in triumph: ¡°Raaaaaar!¡±

    Elpida howled along with her, spitting blood, too lost in the moment not to join. Her gamble had paid off: knocking out the Death¡¯s Head drone controller had bought Ilyusha the opening she needed to kill her semi-autonomous foe.

    Amina said: ¡°Illy, Illy, Illy!¡± and bundled herself into Ilyusha¡¯s side, careless of her wounds.

    No sister ever left! Howl screeched inside Elpida¡¯s head ¡ª because Elpida couldn¡¯t find enough breath to say it herself. Her vision wavered. Illy was safe. Everyone was accounted for. Now they only had to get out.

    But then Ilyusha saw Ooni.

    Ilyusha¡¯s eyes burned like molten lead as she looked at the Death¡¯s Head traitor; she must have already spotted the unfamiliar armour carapace ¡ª and Hafina ¡ª and assumed they were both with Elpida. But now her eyes dipped, locked on the grinning black skull on the front of Ooni¡¯s armour. The symbol was only partially obscured beneath a smear of Elpida¡¯s own blood.

    Ilyusha dropped the severed drone-head; her shotgun whipped upward, muzzle pointing at Ooni, teeth parting in a scream. Nobody had time to shout a warning, before¡ª

    Elpida closed one hand over the shotgun¡¯s muzzle.

    Ilyusha¡¯s eyes flickered from Ooni to Elpida in horrified incomprehension. Ooni stayed very still, plasma rifle pointed at the ground, still sheltering Pira.

    ¡°Mine,¡± Elpida growled, her throat full of blood. ¡°Illy. Mine now.¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s horror turned to grudging acceptance. She yanked her shotgun back and spat a glob of bloody saliva at Ooni¡¯s feet. ¡°Eat my shit, reptile!¡±

    Elpida had to keep this under control; Ilyusha had not witnessed Pira¡¯s betrayal, nor was she aware of anything which had happened since. She would be furious, perhaps driven to violence, but later ¡ª not in the middle of a firefight.

    Atyle jerked her head upward. ¡°Our chariot arrives. We cross this path on the count of five, little lambs. One¡ª¡±

    ¡°What!?¡± Ooni yelped. ¡°We can¡¯t even stand up! We can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°-two-¡±

    Hafina suddenly stepped back and crouched, abandoning the street.

    ¡°Brace!¡± Pira shouted ¡ª and grabbed Ooni, shoving her to the ground.

    ¡°-three¡ª¡±

    On the far side of the street a brick building exploded outward, overwhelming the cacophony of gunfire. A wave of debris washed across the road. Broken bricks and shattered beams cascaded down the dirty white hull of the machine-giant which roared through the gap.

    The crawler, the tank ¡ª ¡®Pheiri¡¯, if Elpida had understood Hafina¡¯s word correctly: a humped titan bristling with weapon systems, covered in horns and curls and calluses, an overgrown cyst of Telokopolan carbon bone-mesh armour.

    The tank slammed through the building, demolishing the structure, skidding to a halt. A dozen tracks and treads spun wild for a second before they bit into the asphalt again. The machine used its own momentum to swing itself around, to point its frontal armour down the street, toward the increasing fire from the massing Death¡¯s Heads. Elpida flinched ¡ª she couldn¡¯t help it, even with her nervous system hardened by Telokopolan genetic engineering and deadened by blood loss and pain: to a combat frame that maneuver would have been nothing, but combat frames had legs. This crawler had armoured tracks and concealed banks of wheels. Over forty feet tall and easily a hundred feet long. To pull off that maneuver in such a large crawler would require a genius driver ¡ª or the tank was piloting itself, like a combat frame given full autonomy.

    Active shielding flowered to life in a semi-circle dome around the front of the vehicle: an interlocking matrix of hexagonal energy fields, sheets of hissing electric blue, and curves of shining white. The shield sparked and flickered as it deflected small arms fire.

    Atyle didn¡¯t miss a beat: ¡°¡ªfour¡ª¡±

    The crawler opened fire on the Death¡¯s Heads: coaxial weapon systems and anti-personnel machine guns roared and barked, pouring a wave of bullets and sabots and energy bolts down the street, exploding chunks of concrete from the skyscraper walls and chewing waves of asphalt grit out of the ground. Only the massive turret weapon lay still, a distended purple-red lance, quiet and dark amid the firepower lighting up the night.

    Elpida grinned; she felt tears running down her cheeks. Was this what it felt like to be a Legionnaire saved by a combat frame?

    No, saved by ¡®Pheiri¡¯ ¡ª and why not? The combat frames had names too. This crawler, whatever it was, it was wearing Telokopolan armour. A little piece of her home had come roaring out of the infinite darkness at the end of time, to pluck her new comrades from defeat and death.

    A crew hatch opened in the rear of the tank; a ramp hit the ground.

    All aboard! Howl cackled.

    ¡°¡ªfive!¡± Atyle finished.

    Elpida lurched out of cover, dragging Amina behind her. The others rose as well, running for the¡ª

    Thooom-crack!

    A beam of burning bronze burst through the air and lanced into the tank¡¯s active shielding. The shield-web exploded with a concussive wave, washed over Elpida¡¯s face, and turned the world white.

    The white-out lasted only a split-second. Elpida was left blinking and dazed, her ears ringing with the pressure impact. That shield failure was not like when the tank had duelled the worm-guard trio; that was a true overload. Pheiri¡¯s shields were down.

    Standing at the far end of the street, out in the open, disdaining cover, was the Death¡¯s Heads¡¯ own walking tank ¡ª Kuro.

    The huge zombie had deployed the massive plasma cannon from her back; it curved over her shoulder like a scythe, and sent its own support mounts down into the ground behind her, locking her in place, anchoring her to the road surface. She was reeling from the recoil, recovering her balance. A shield hissed with static in a spherical bubble around her, protecting the Death¡¯s Head from return fire.

    The plasma cannon steamed and hissed, glowing like a torch in the night.

    Kuro straightened up, locked her knees, and re-armed the plasma cannon for a second shot; the coils began to glow brighter.

    ¡°Pheiri!¡± Hafina screamed ¡ª a terrible sound, more machine than meat.

    Pheiri¡¯s hull blossomed with missile pods, opened up with massive rotary machine-guns, and revealed ports to aim concealed laser arrays. The tank slammed that tiny bubble-shield with a fortress worth of firepower. Kuro vanished behind a wall of bullets and detonations and a shower of kicked-up asphalt ¡ª but the bubble held.

    The Death¡¯s Heads rushed back into the street. They kept well clear of Kuro and began to pour fire down on Elpida¡¯s comrades once more, cutting them off from their extraction.

    Kuro¡¯s plasma cannon coil¡¯s glowed white-hot. Almost ready to fire.

    Hafina strode out into the road, uncaring of return fire, adding her own weapons to those of her titan-machine. Elpida could hear the distinctive crack! of Serin¡¯s rifle, somewhere far away; but that did not help either. Pheiri¡¯s tracks shuddered and jerked, as if the machine was uncertain.

    Yola¡¯s voice floated over the firefight: ¡°Come back to me, superhuman! Stand now and I will spare your vassals!¡±

    Elpida let go of Amina¡¯s hand; somebody else grabbed for her, but she shook them off. She couldn¡¯t let this happen, she couldn¡¯t let her cadre die all over again, not in a failed rescue, not for her, not for¡ª

    Pira rose from cover and sprinted out into the street.

    The flame-haired zombie flew right past Hafina and into the hail of gunfire from the Death¡¯s Heads. Bullets bounced off her body armour, cracked off her bulletproof vest, tore through her clothes, and ripped holes in her flesh. But Pira didn¡¯t stop ¡ª she put her head down and ran for the tank.

    ¡°Leuca!¡± Ooni screamed.

    Was Pira saving her own skin?

    No ¡ª she was going for the front, not the hatch! She needed height. She needed an angle.

    Pira leapt on to the front of Pheiri¡¯s armour, hauling herself up the gnarled bone-mesh hand over hand, all the weight of the coilgun dragging on her back. She got partway up, found a good pair of footholds, and stood. Bullets punched her backward, tore gouges in her arms and legs, and threatened to jerk her off balance.

    Pira pointed the coilgun receiver down the road and pulled the trigger.

    Thump!-clack-thump!-clack-thump!-clack ¡ª the coilgun firing on fully automatic was like standing next to a combat frame stamping on the ground. Waves of magnetic discharge slammed over Elpida and sent her head spinning.

    The coilgun sabot rounds bounced off Kuro¡¯s bubble-shield ¡ª once, twice; but then Pira found her aim, and hit her target: the ground.

    Coilgun rounds exploded the asphalt and concrete in front of Kuro ¡ª and then beneath her feet. The giant tumbled into a hole of rubble and grey mud. The plasma cannon fired ¡ª but the beam went high, lancing through the sky, swallowed by the rotten clouds.

    Pira held the trigger down, digging with the world¡¯s most dangerous shovel, until she had buried the walking tank.

    Maddest bitch of all! Howl roared.

    Then Pira dropped the coilgun receiver and toppled sideways.

    Elpida picked herself up, belly streaming with blood. She ran for the side of the tank, to get herself beneath Pira before Pira¡¯s skull cracked open on the ground; the pain was white-hot, blotting out her thoughts, stitches popping, gut screaming. One last burst of adrenaline was all she had left.

    But she was roaring with bloody laughter: Howl was laughing through her.

    Pira¡¯s battered form slid down the side of the tank; Elpida bounced off the hull, stuck out her arms, and caught her. They almost collapsed together in a bloodstained heap.

    Strong hands in grey armour helped her haul Pira¡¯s limp form around to Pheiri¡¯s rear. A crew access hatch yawned wide. The inside of the tank was dark and jumbled. The others hurried in; somebody half-threw Amina up the ramp. Stray shots whipped and cracked through the air. Yola was still shouting. Hafina stood to one side, the last one aboard, popping off anti-materiel rounds at the Death¡¯s Heads down the road.

    Pira was still conscious. Her eyes were full of blood. As Elpida hauled her up the ramp, she gurgled: ¡°Let¡ª me¡ª¡±

    Elpida and Howl laughed in her face: ¡°You don¡¯t get to die! I told you, Pira, you¡¯re mine now!¡±

    Up the ramp, into the crawler, into the cramped darkness; Elpida heard Hafina swing in behind them and heard the rear hatch begin to close.

    ¡°Everyone in?¡± she gurgled through a mouthful of blood.

    Yes, Commander, said Howl.

    Only then did Elpida allow her knees to give up. She slid to the cool metal floor, and passed out in a pool of her own blood.

 armatus - 8.1

    Gunmetal grey ¡ª walls scratched and scuffed, ceiling ribbed and reinforced ¡ª mottled and marbled by remnants of faded cream-white paint, peeling and flaking, rubbed deep into the textured metal, reduced to recessed patterns in the nooks and crannies and hidden corners. Stale air; dried blood; clean steel. A distant throb purred from the deeps, the stately heartbeat of a powerful engine. Nearby: breathing, soft, shallow, difficult; fitful snoring, unquiet sleep. Further away: tiny machine-sounds, mechanical adjustments, auto-loaders sorting shells, the clack of metal on plastic, the murmur of voices behind layers of metal and rubber and wire and meat.

    Elpida¡¯s senses woke gradually, long before her conscious mind. She stared upward at that grey-white ceiling for several minutes, unmoving, unthinking, unable.

    At least it was not the underside of a coffin lid. Score one for team Telokopolis. She was still alive ¡ª or at least as ¡®alive¡¯ as a nanomachine zombie could be.

    No dreams this time.

    Had she died and come back, like when she¡¯d fought the Silico outside the tomb? She didn¡¯t think so; there was too much continuity in her pain.

    Elpida stayed very still, except to blink her sore eyelids and swallow her blood-tainted saliva. Her tongue felt like a dusty sponge stuck to the roof of her mouth. She was lying on her back, on a thin layer of foam, with a lumpy pillow wedged beneath her skull. Her hands rested by her sides, neither chained up nor tied down. A weighty blanket was draped over her legs.

    She ached all over, with little distinction between muscles, joints, and connective tissue. Her endocrine and nervous systems had been stretched to breaking point, and were currently down and out for necessary recovery. Her head felt stuffy, full of rusty steel wool. Her belly throbbed with stagnant agony ¡ª the gut wound, burning away inside her flesh like a chunk of molten metal; but the pain had cooled from red-hot to merely the orange glow of heated steel. She¡¯d healed just enough that the wound no longer consumed a significant chunk of her ability to think.

    Her internal clock was still scrambled. She knew she¡¯d been unconscious for a long time, but not how long ¡ª perhaps somewhere between six and ten hours.

    A full night¡¯s sleep. How luxurious.

    Elpida¡¯s eyelids were heavy as lead. Her body demanded more sleep, more rest, more recovery, more time to heal. She almost gave in; perhaps if she slept longer she might dream again, of Telokopolis, of her cadre, of Howl. Sleep would drive away the pain and the thirst for a few more hours.

    But she couldn¡¯t; she had responsibilities. She had to wake up and sit up and check on her girls.

    No ¡ª her cadre. No, wait, that wasn¡¯t right either. Her comrades. Friends? Friends, or companions. Her girls, her¡ª

    Forget definitions. Was everybody safe?

    Elpida knew where she was: inside the crawler, inside ¡®Pheiri¡¯. Her memories of the escape and extraction were jumbled, but she knew she¡¯d gotten everyone on board. Somebody had confirmed that, somebody had said, ¡®Yes, Commander¡¯. She¡¯d rescued her cadre ¡ª no, Pheiri had rescued her cadre ¡ª no, no, Pheiri and Hafina had rescued her friends; no, again, Pheiri had rescued her¡ª

    Elpida cleared her thoughts.

    Howl?

    Howl did not answer. No familiar voice cackled and cavorted inside Elpida¡¯s head.

    Howl, please. If you¡¯re there, please say something. I love you.

    Pheiri¡¯s engines throbbed a steady heartbeat. Dozens of tiny machine-sounds clicked and whirred from deep inside the metal. Nearby, somebody breathed, shallow and slow. Somebody else was snoring softly. Decking creaked. Bulkheads settled.

    And Howl said nothing.

    Elpida parted her bone-dry lips. ¡°Howl?¡±

    A blunt voice ¡ª not Howl ¡ª replied in a whisper: ¡°Hywel?¡±

    Elpida turned her head on the lumpy pillow. She looked around.

    She was in a tiny, cramped infirmary, lying on one of two narrow slab beds; the room appeared too small for the amount of equipment crammed inside. The ceiling was very low. One wall was encrusted with cabinets and medical machines bolted to the metal surface; all the devices were dark, switched off, without power ¡ª except for a small number of recessed readout screens, filled with blocky green text and unreadable graphs. Many cabinets hung open, disgorging rolls of bandage, wads of gauze, and surgical tools in bloodstained disarray. A medical pod was set into the wall on the far left, but the machine looked broken: the steel-glass cover was shattered, the controls were unlit, and the person-shaped padded recess was crammed with clothing, medical supplies, a few blankets, and several stacks of books. A single bulkhead door stood open in the right-hand corner of the room; the walls beyond were more gunmetal and faded white.

    Both beds and the floor were filthy with the brown-red stains of recently dried blood.

    On Elpida¡¯s right, lying on the other surgical bed, was Pira.

    She¡¯d been peeled out of her armour, most of her clothes stripped off or cut away. Dozens of wounds were wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, stopped up with gauze, and closed by fresh stitches. She¡¯d sustained two separate head wounds: one on the right side of her skull, bandaged tight; another across her left cheek, jaw, and neck, closed up with an ugly mass of stitching, bleeding slowly into pads of gauze. Her bionic right arm was dented in several places, but appeared unbreached and intact. Peppered with bullet wounds and plasma burns, undoubtedly suffering internal damage, her flame-red hair dirty with her own blood, Pira was a mess.

    But Pira was alive, breathing softly, and mercifully unconscious.

    Ooni was sitting on a fold-out metal seat attached to the wall, wedged into the corner next to Pira¡¯s bed. She was the source of the snoring; her head was rolled back against the peeling paint of the bulkhead, mouth hanging open, eyes closed and fitful, long black hair raked to one side.

    Her grey armour carapace was gone and her weapons were nowhere in sight. Ooni was dressed in a tomb-grey under-shirt and a pair of baggy leggings, with a grey poncho or cloak over her shoulders. She looked lank and scrawny without the suit of armour.

    Elpida did not have to guess who had disarmed Ooni; Ilyusha was sitting against the open door, red-black bionic claws stretched out across the floor. She cradled her shotgun in her lap, muzzle pointed at Ooni. Ilyusha was asleep too, head slumped against the metal. But her hands still gripped her weapon. Her left bionic arm was sticky black with dried fluid, but the rest of her didn¡¯t look too bad; she¡¯d washed off the worst of the blood and grime. Her blonde hair was all stuck out at odd angles, as if she¡¯d dunked herself in a bucket of water.

    On Elpida¡¯s left ¡ª sitting on another fold-out metal seat, squeezed between medical machines and a tiny counter top ¡ª was a pixie.

    Elpida stared. The girl stared back, unselfconscious and unsurprised.

    Huge black eyeballs, double the size of human eyes, with no whites or sclerae. Tiny lenses adjusted beneath the surface as she examined Elpida in return. White-grey skin, as if to match the underlying metal of Pheiri¡¯s insides, smooth and pore-less, more like polymer than flesh. She was barely more than four feet tall, built neither like a child nor like an adult with a genetic growth disorder, but slim and slender and compact, as if designed to fit into small spaces or to be folded out of the way when not needed.

    Her facial features were neat and delicate, with thin lips and a rounded chin. Black hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She wore an oversized grey jumper with the sleeves rolled up, massive socks, and nothing else.

    The pixie¡¯s hands and forearms were coated with a sticky sheen of dried blood. She was holding them awkwardly in her lap.

    Elpida stared carefully to make sure she was not seeing double: the pixie¡¯s fingers were far too long and delicate to match the rest of her body ¡ª with seven fingers and two thumbs on each hand.

    Elpida looked back up at those massive, black eyeballs. She croaked: ¡°Hello.¡±

    ¡°Sut, ie, ie,¡± said the pixie. Then: ¡°Hywel? Hywel? Hywel?¡±

    Her voice was raw, blunt, and very tired. Elpida found it hard to read expression on her face, but now the crinkled sagging around her eyes made sense: shock and exhaustion.

    Elpida croaked: ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t understand.¡± She swallowed more sticky saliva. Her mouth was too dry. ¡°Water? Do you understand me? I need water, I can barely talk.¡±

    The pixie¡¯s eyeballs flickered horizontally. She frowned, hissed through her teeth, and blinked several times. Then she got off her seat, rummaged through the cabinets, and produced a battered tin mug. Then she stared at a pair of nozzles ¡ª taps, over a tiny stainless steel sink. She reached for one tap, stopped, let her hand fall to her side, started again, reached for the other, then stopped a second time. She frowned harder and harder as this went on. Elpida did not know what was happening, but she recognised the serious frustration.

    ¡°Take your time,¡± Elpida croaked. ¡°Whatever you need.¡±

    A notebook lay on the tiny counter top next to the sink ¡ª smeared with bloodstains, several pages ripped out and crumpled up by bloody hands. More frustration, perhaps?

    Eventually the pixie selected a tap; the water trickled out, a low-pressure stream. She held the mug beneath the tap until it started to overflow. Then she hissed with frustration again and turned off the tap with an angry slap. Her hands left bloody smears on everything she touched.

    Elpida spent several minutes failing to sit up; now that she and her comrades were safe she could no longer draw on the reserves of adrenaline and determination. Her body knew she was protected by a shell of Telokopolan carbon bone-mesh armour, and that others were dealing with the situation ¡ª Atyle and Kagami, she presumed. She needed to rest and recover. Sitting up was for combat, for giving orders, or for killing Covenanters.

    The pixie did not try to assist. She just stood next to the bed, holding the mug of water.

    Elpida discovered that she had been stripped to the waist. Her armoured coat lay over her legs; her ruined grey t-shirt had been spread out on top of the coat, to show the crescent-and-line symbol she had daubed in her own blood. The symbol had dried, turned brown, and begun to flake away from the fabric.

    Her belly was wrapped in fresh bandages; a thick pad of gauze lay beneath, cushioning her gut. A thin line of blood showed through the clean dressing, but that was all.

    Flesh pulled taut when she moved, stitches tugging at skin.

    Eventually Elpida managed to maneuver herself into a sitting position, by first turning onto her side, then easing her legs over the lip of the infirmary bed, then finally levering herself up with her arms. Her vision throbbed grey and black for several moments; waves of pain radiated upward from her hidden gut wound; she felt like vomiting ¡ª then she tasted blood in her mouth. But she swallowed, screwed up her eyes, and gripped the edge of the bed. She found the floor with her feet. She took slow, deep breaths. She waited for her own natural pain-blockers to do their work.

    The pixie waited until Elpida held out one hand for the mug.

    The water tasted stale and recycled. Elpida drank it all, then asked for more. The pixie obliged. Elpida drained the mug a second time.

    ¡°Hywel?¡± the pixie said.

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°Translation isn¡¯t working. Because you¡¯re not a nanomachine revenant, are you? You¡¯re another ¡®ART¡¯. Artificial human?¡±

    The pixie did that horizontal flicker with her all-black eyes again, then blinked and frowned. Was she reading instructions?

    Elpida pointed at herself. ¡°Elpida,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s my¡ª¡±

    ¡°Dw i''n gwybod, ydw.¡± The pixie sighed. ¡°Sut, Elpida.¡±

    Elpida did not need nanomachine translation to understand the words or the attitude. The others had probably said her name plenty of times. She almost laughed. ¡°Sorry, okay. So, what¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Melyn,¡± said Melyn.

    ¡°Melyn.¡± Elpida smiled. ¡°Nice to meet you, Melyn. We can¡¯t understand each other, not yet, but¡ª¡±

    Melyn rattled off words at high speed: ¡°Dywedodd Pheiri wrthon ni am dal i siarad. Dal i siarad. Dal i siarad. Dywedodd e y byddwch chi''n ei datrys yn y pen draw, achos atgyfodedigion ydych chi i gyd, felly mae''n rhaid i ni dal i siarad. Dw i''n si?r ei fod e''n iawn. Mae''n iawn. Mae Pheiri bob amser yn iawn. Pheiri?¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Melyn glanced up at the ceiling on that last word ¡ª the only one Elpida could understand. Melyn was addressing the tank, Pheiri, by name.

    Why not? Elpida had already decided that the crawler was an honorary combat frame.

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. I¡¯m sorry. Where are the others? Amina, the little one, and Atyle, the taller one? And Hafina ¡ª is she one of your crew?¡±

    ¡°Maen nhw''n holliach. Holliach. Hywel?¡± Melyn repeated that word again. ¡°Hywel? Beth oedd hynny''n ei olygu?¡±

    Elpida frowned. If they couldn¡¯t communicate, this was going to be impossible. Had Atyle already figured out the language? ¡°I don¡¯t understand your questions. I¡¯m sorry. But I need to know that everyone is safe. Please nod or¡ª¡±

    Melyn nodded quickly.

    Elpida contented herself with that. She allowed her eyes to drift shut. Maybe she should go back to sleep, but¡ª

    ¡°Hywel?¡± Melyn said again. Elpida¡¯s head spiked with a sudden flare of pain. She grunted. Then: ¡°Howl?¡±

    Elpida opened her eyes and blinked at Melyn¡¯s massive black eyeballs.

    ¡° ¡­ Howl?¡± Elpida croaked. ¡°You said Howl?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I keep asking. Keep asking. What I keep asking,¡± said Melyn. Elpida could understand every word. ¡°Keep asking you why you said Howl. First thing you said. Pilot said. You¡¯re meant to be the pilot. Be the pilot. Pilot. Pilot.¡±

    Melyn spat those last few repetitions, blinking and squinting. Melyn ¡ª artificial human, pixie, medic-bot ¡ª whatever she was, she was growing frustrated with her own words, as if she couldn¡¯t stop repeating fragments.

    Elpida said, ¡°I can understand you now. Maybe the translation software caught up.¡±

    ¡°What is Howl? What is Howl? Howl?¡±

    ¡°One of my dead sisters. I just thought I heard her voice, that¡¯s all. It¡¯s not important right now.¡±

    Elpida could not possibly have lied any harder.

    She wasn¡¯t sure what she had experienced during the escape from the Death¡¯s Heads. Elpida had not just imagined Howl¡¯s voice ¡ª she had heard the tone, the rasp, the cackling giggle, the way Howl shaped her vowels and bit off the ends of words she didn¡¯t like.

    Elpida was no stranger to hearing the voices of her sisters inside her own head ¡ª that was what it felt like being plugged into a MMI-uplink comms network, while piloting their combat frames. All twenty five of her sisters networked together, their thoughts shared so much faster than speech, the most intimate connection possible with another human being. But hearing Howl in her head had not felt like being part of a temporary group-mind.

    Howl had only started speaking after that dream ¡ª but that was more than a dream, wasn¡¯t it?

    A delusion, helped along by her undead nanomachine physiology? The graveworm, imitating Howl¡¯s voice? A projection from the vast network of nanomachine ecology, a ghost in the ecosystem? Or had Elpida somehow re-created Howl inside her own brain, via nanomachine self-modification? Had she partitioned her own consciousness, or perhaps doubled her own undead neurological tissue?

    Graveworm, was that you? she thought.

    No answer. Elpida did not speak the question out loud; she didn¡¯t want to frighten or upset Melyn any more than she already had.

    Howl, please come back. If you can hear me. Or if you¡¯re inside me. I don¡¯t care what you are. Come back.

    Nothing.

    Elpida¡¯s chest tightened with compacted grief. To be visited by a ghost of one lost so soon, and then abandoned again ¡ª it was too much. She doubted she would have made it out of that skyscraper if not for Howl shouting inside her head. Her eyes threatened to prickle with tears.

    She took a deep breath and focused her mind; Howl had gotten her this far, for the sake of her new comrades. She needed to focus on them, not herself.

    Out loud, Elpida said: ¡°Melyn, did you stitch up my gut wound? And tend to Pira? That¡¯s the woman on the other bed, Pira.¡±

    Melyn looked down at her bloodstained hands and forearms, as if surprised to see them. ¡°Yes. That was me. Was me. Was me. I didn¡¯t know. Didn¡¯t know.¡±

    Wrong question? Melyn was more distressed than before.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elpida said, hard and clear, to regain Melyn¡¯s attention. ¡°We¡¯re inside the tank, is that right?¡±

    Melyn¡¯s head snapped up. ¡°Pheiri.¡±

    ¡°Pheiri, right. That¡¯s a good name, I like it. Are you a member of the crew? How many of you are there?¡±

    Melyn frowned, eyes flicking back and forth again. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be a pilot. Supposed to be a pilot. That¡¯s what Pheiri said. He said we were going to pick up a pilot. Pick up a pilot. P¡ªunnnh.¡±

    Melyn clenched her jaw and grunted hard.

    Elpida said slowly: ¡°I am a pilot, yes. I¡¯m a combat frame pilot. Melyn, how many¡ª¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s just me and Haf and Pheiri. Just me and Haf and Pheiri.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°And you rescued us? Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Pheiri saved you. Pheiri went out of his way to save you. Pheiri went a long way to save you. Pheiri keeps us safe and now he wants to keep you safe too. You safe too. I don¡¯t understand why and I want you to tell me why, because you¡¯re the pilot. Tell me why, because you¡¯re the pilot. Pilot. Explain to me why we had to do this. Had to do this. Had to do this. I don¡¯t¡ª don¡¯t- don¡¯t¡ª I don¡¯t understand why we had to do this. Had to do this.¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Melyn. I don¡¯t know either. I don¡¯t know why Pheiri decided to come save me and my comrades. But I¡¯m grateful that he did.¡±

    Melyn frowned harder. She stared like Elpida was a terrible mystery.

    Elpida tried a different track: ¡°Pheiri saved us, then. Should I be thanking him?¡±

    Melyn nodded, then looked up at the ceiling and said: ¡°Thank you, Pheiri.¡±

    ¡°Is he self-piloted? Or were you the driver?¡±

    Melyn stared at her for a long moment; her expressions were difficult to read, not quite human. Elpida decided that Melyn was half-puzzled, half-angry.

    ¡°Pheiri is Pheiri,¡± Melyn said after a moment. ¡°He keeps us safe.¡±

    Elpida nodded along with this; her mind was full of thoughts about combat frames given full autonomy, about dire warnings from the pilot program and the bone-speakers about what might happen if a frame was allowed to grow beyond specifications, about loyalty and true comradeship and this inexplicable machine wearing a piece of her home. She rubbed her thumb across the foam of the infirmary bed mattress ¡ª a little piece of the great machine which had invited her inside.

    Pheiri felt different to the fallen combat frame lying out there in the crater, inside the ring of skyscrapers: that machine was either crippled or dead, unable to move under her own power, a mystery from orbit, fought over by incomprehensible Necromancers and ideologically vile revenants and mind-scratching worm-guard. Bait, or a trick, or an impossible lure ¡ª it meant something to this world which she did not understand.

    But this little tank had turned up out of nowhere, surprised everyone, and welcomed Elpida home.

    ¡®Little¡¯. Elpida almost laughed. Pheiri was huge.

    Elpida said: ¡°Pheiri has no pilot, then? Am I understanding that correctly? Just you and Hafina?¡±

    Melyn sighed and nodded.

    Elpida asked, ¡°Will he hear me, if I just speak out loud?¡±

    Melyn stared and blinked, as if this was a very difficult question. ¡°Of course he will. Of course he will. Of course. What are you even asking? What are you asking?¡±

    Elpida looked at a random spot on the wall and said: ¡°Thank you, Pheiri.¡±

    Melyn relaxed; mission accomplished. Elpida doubted this fusion of combat frame and crawler could actually hear her speak, but playing along helped Melyn feel better. And it helped Elpida, too; she¡¯d often spoken to the combat frames, even when she wasn¡¯t plugged into the mind-machine interface. And this one ¡ª this bizarre fusion of different species of armoured fighting machine ¡ª had rescued her. She wished she could reach out and pet it somehow.

    Elpida said, ¡°The woman on the other bed here, Pira, she took a lot of bullet wounds.¡± Elpida glanced at Pira as she spoke. ¡°Is she going to be¡ª¡±

    Pira was awake.

    Her eyes were open, bloodshot, etched with pain, and narrowed with the effort of consciousness. She glanced around the infirmary, at Ooni, at Melyn, at Ilyusha asleep in the doorway.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Pira croaked, so softly that it was barely audible.

    Elpida said: ¡°Go back to sleep, Pira. You need rest.¡±

    ¡°Speak ¡­ for ¡­ yourself.¡±

    Go to sleep or get choked out, bitch ¡ª said Howl.

    Grumpy, grumbly, heavy with sleep. The kind of voice that Howl made after chewing a pillow for six hours. The kind of voice that said she was going to need fucking awake three times before she would get up.

    Elpida gasped. ¡°Howl!?¡±

    Pira frowned through the pain. Elpida waited, but Howl did not speak again. She¡¯d rolled over and gone back to sleep.

    Pira wheezed: ¡°What?¡±

    Elpida gathered herself. She felt a sudden return of energy ¡ª not much, but enough to put the whip-crack of command into her voice. ¡°You¡¯re mine, Pira. I made that clear. One of my cadre¡ª¡± She almost stopped; she¡¯d meant to say comrade, or maybe friend, but the word just slipped in. She was too exhausted to correct herself. ¡°And I am ordering you to go the fuck back to sleep.¡±

    Pira stared at Elpida for a moment longer, then closed her eyes.

    ¡°Good girl,¡± Elpida muttered.

    In the doorway, Ilyusha shifted and grunted in her sleep. Elpida stayed quiet for a long moment. She didn¡¯t want to wake any of the others. Everyone needed rest.

    Melyn said: ¡°I don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°You asked if Pira will heal. I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know. Haf says Pira saved Pheiri from an anti-tank weapon. I did the best I could¡ª best I could¡ª best I could¡ª but I can¡¯t¡ª I can¡¯t¡ª¡± Melyn raised one bloodstained hand and thumped herself in the sternum. ¡°Unnf.¡± She sniffed and carried on: ¡°You¡¯re all nanomachine conglomerations shaped like people. You don¡¯t work like people, but you pretend to work like people. I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know anything. I hadn¡¯t been in the infirmary in¡ª¡± She squinted, eyes flickering back and forth again. ¡°A long time. Forgot it was here. Nobody to treat. Nobody to treat. Forgot.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Thank you for tending to us anyway. You did a good job.¡± She nodded at Ilyusha, at the black and sticky fluid clinging to her left arm. ¡°Illy ¡ª Ilyusha ¡ª she got wounded too, but it¡¯s bionics. Can you do anything about that?¡±

    Melyn pointed at the floor ¡ª at Ilyusha¡¯s backpack. The top flap was open. Five cannisters of softly glowing blue were nestled inside, cradled amid Illy¡¯s supply of shotgun shells.

    Five cannisters. They¡¯d had six when they had departed for the combat frame.

    ¡°She drank one?¡± Elpida asked.

    ¡°She drank a single mouthful,¡± said Melyn. ¡°Poured the rest down your throat and sprinkled it on your gut wound. On your gut wound. Got in my way. Got in my way. Got in my way. Made her give the dregs to Pira. Didn¡¯t like that.¡±

    Elpida could have laughed if she wasn¡¯t so tired. ¡°Illy means well.¡±

    Melyn¡¯s frown told Elpida that Melyn did not agree.

    Elpida said, ¡°Where¡¯s everybody else? Amina, the little one, and Atyle, the tall one with the very dark skin?¡±

    ¡°Amina is sleeping in the ¡­ ¡± Melyn trailed off, frowning with effort. ¡°Bunk room,¡± she said eventually. ¡°She wanted to stay in here but there was no extra space. The floor is dirty now. Dirty now. Atyle is in the control cockpit talking to Pheiri and your other friends. Your other friends.¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath and looked at the open bulkhead door. ¡°I want to see Amina, and speak to Atyle, and the others.¡±

    Melyn frowned extra hard. Her white-grey skin crinkled around her eyes.

    Elpida said: ¡°Do I have to stay in bed? Doctor¡¯s orders?¡±

    Melyn said very slowly: ¡°I am not a doctor. I can¡¯t tell you not to get up. Can¡¯t tell you not to. Can¡¯t tell you no. Can¡¯t tell you no.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°You can¡¯t tell me no?¡±

    Melyn¡¯s eyes flickered left and right. She frowned and squinted and clenched her jaw. Elpida waited, but Melyn couldn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°Melyn,¡± Elpida said slowly. ¡°Is answering questions difficult for you?¡±

    Melyn huffed through her nose. ¡°No. What are you talking about? Talking about?¡±

    ¡°If answering a question is difficult, you don¡¯t have to say anything. You can just tell me it¡¯s hard. Okay?¡±

    Melyn stared at her as if this was a very stupid suggestion.

    Elpida tried something else. ¡°Melyn ¡ª what are you?¡±

    Melyn blinked. ¡°A person? What a thing to ask.¡±

    Elpida raised a hand in apology. ¡°Earlier you called me a ¡®nanomachine conglomeration¡¯. Which means you¡¯re not? You¡¯re not a nanomachine-based revenant, like us?¡±

    Melyn stared. ¡°Of course not.¡±

    This wasn¡¯t getting either of them anywhere. Elpida said: ¡°Why did you help us, Melyn?¡±

    ¡°Pheiri said he had to. Said he had to. Of course we¡¯re going to help him! He¡¯s Pheiri!¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Okay, that makes sense. Does that mean I¡¯m a ¡­ a good person? Does that mean we¡¯re all on your side?¡±

    Melyn clenched her jaw, trying to contain something ¡ª then she lost her temper. ¡°I don¡¯t know! Stop talking to me like I¡¯m an idiot! An idiot! Stop!¡±

    Elpida raised a hand again. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m sorry, Melyn. I¡¯m just trying to figure out ¡­ ¡±

    Why had Pheiri helped Elpida and her comrades? Why had this pixie-like ¡®artificial human¡¯ tended to her gut wound and Pira¡¯s bullet holes? Why was Amina sleeping in their bunk room? Why had this gigantic armoured machine ¡ª with, presumably, self-directed autonomy, like an unleashed combat frame ¡ª risked damage or destruction to extract her from a deadly firefight? Why had he cooperated with Atyle and Kagami?

    Elpida hadn¡¯t considered any of this during the escape. But now, watching Melyn struggle, Elpida began to consider the implications.

    If Pheiri really was descended from Telokopolan technology, then perhaps he was following an imperative to rescue and protect her, personally. On the other hand, perhaps he just hated the Death¡¯s Heads. Or perhaps this machine had an agenda of its own, or belonged to some other faction or side that Elpida could not yet comprehend.

    But it didn¡¯t feel that way. Where were the demands, the explanations, the threats?

    Was this crawler-frame hers to command? Probably not.

    Elpida needed to ask questions; so did Melyn, apparently. The little medic-bot didn¡¯t seem to understand any more than Elpida did. She seemed lost.

    So? Howl grumbled. Make her yours, dumb-arse.

    Elpida said: ¡°Melyn, does the name ¡®Telokopolis¡¯ mean anything to you?¡±

    Melyn frowned in a different way ¡ª less obstructed, more curious. ¡°No. No. But it might be in one of my notebooks. I¡¯ll have to check. Have to check.¡± She glanced at the bloodstained notebook on the little counter top, then sighed.

    Elpida bottled her disappointment; this line of questioning was not for her benefit. ¡°Okay. Melyn, alright, let me try to explain what I can. I¡¯m not just a pilot, I¡¯m also a Commander. From Telokopolis ¡ª which might be the same place that Pheiri originally came from. Maybe. I¡¯m not sure. Commander ¡ª that means I¡¯m in charge¡ª¡±

    Melyn huffed. ¡°I know what that word means. I¡¯m not stupid. Not stupid. I have books.¡±

    Elpida paused. ¡°I apologise. So, I¡¯m a Commander. And I think that might be why Pheiri went out of his way to rescue me. If Pheiri is from Telokopolis, and I¡¯m from Telokopolis, and I¡¯m the Commander, and Pheiri keeps you safe ¡ª that means it¡¯s part of my job to keep you safe, too. That makes you part of my responsibility. My cadre. I¡¯m your Commander too, Melyn.¡±

    Melyn listened to this improvised garbage with an expressionless look. Elpida knew this was nonsense ¡ª she was making it up as she went. Melyn and Hafina were not hers to command; she had no idea why Pheiri had rescued her and her comrades. But Melyn was distressed, Melyn needed answers, Melyn was following some long-buried programming without knowing why. Strangers had filled her home and bled all over her floor; she deserved to be included.

    ¡°I¡¯m the Commander,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°And I say you¡¯re a doctor. You¡¯re the closest thing we have to a doctor, or perhaps a surgeon. So, doctor ¡ª do I have to stay put and rest, or can I walk to the cockpit?¡±

    Melyn stopped frowning quite so hard. She stared at Elpida¡¯s belly for a long moment, at the bandages and the gauze and the thin crimson line.

    ¡°You lost a lot of blood. A lot of blood. But you don¡¯t need your blood, not really. You can make it to the cockpit, but you might fall over and burst all the stitches and I¡¯ll have to work again. And I don¡¯t want to work again. It felt weird and I didn¡¯t like it and my mind is all freshed and cleaned. I don¡¯t like that either. Don¡¯t like that either.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Melyn, I promise I won¡¯t fall. If I need to sit down, I¡¯ll sit down.¡± She held out a hand. ¡°Will you help me to stand up, please?¡±

    Melyn huffed ¡ª but she helped.

    Elpida¡¯s legs were surprisingly steady and strong; her head swirled with a drop in blood pressure and her gut complained by driving long spikes of pain up into her torso and lungs. She was correct about the low ceiling: she couldn¡¯t stand straight. She had to hunch her upper back and lower her head to avoid banging her skull on the metal.

    She left her armoured coat where it lay; she didn¡¯t want to risk popping any stitches before she even left the infirmary. But she picked up the shredded t-shirt with the crescent-and-line symbol, and draped it over her shoulders.

    Before she turned toward the bulkhead hatch she examined Pira and Ooni and Ilyusha once more. All three were sleeping soundly. But what might happen if Ooni or Ilyusha awoke without Elpida present? What if they both woke up and spoke to each other? What if nobody was around to halt any escalation?

    Melyn must have read her expression. The pixie-sized ART said: ¡°They all agreed not to kill each other. Not to kill each other.¡±

    Elpida looked down at her. ¡°They did?¡±

    Melyn nodded. ¡°When you shouted at them.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ I shouted at them? When?¡±

    ¡°When I was gluing your gut wound, after the stitches. You woke up. You woke up. You woke up and said ¡®Fucking bitches get along or get your heads knocked together. Do what the Commander fucking said.¡¯ Then you passed out again. It worked and they stopped. They stopped.¡±

    Elpida chuckled. Howl, speaking through her lips.

    She had made it clear: they were her girls, she was their Commander. They had their orders. No fighting.

    Elpida went to meet Pheiri.

 armatus - 8.2

    Melyn¡¯s home was full of zombies. She didn¡¯t know how to feel about that; at least they weren¡¯t trying to eat her.

    Home ¡ª that was a difficult word, one she had not used in a long time. Whenever she and Haf ventured beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull ¡ª up to the outer deck, or out on one of the few excursions that she could recall ¡ª she would say things like ¡®we should return¡¯, or ¡®time to get inside¡¯, or ¡®I want to go back to Pheiri¡¯. Never ¡®let¡¯s go home¡¯.

    But Pheiri was home. The events of the last twelve hours had clarified that definition.

    Haf had gone beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull to help the friendly zombies fight other zombies; Melyn wasn¡¯t very useful in a fight even when she wasn¡¯t feeling so unwell and confused ¡ª she could hold a small gun, point it in the right direction, and pull the trigger, but little more than that. So, Haf and the first of the friendly zombies had left her behind, swaddled in blankets in Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit, half-blind, drooling, singing snippets of poetry to Pheiri. Haf hadn¡¯t wanted to go; Haf had pretended that nothing was wrong. But Melyn knew what it meant when Haf put on all the pieces of her armour; even scrambled up and shivering, Melyn knew. Haf had kissed her on the forehead and said she¡¯d be back soon. Then Melyn had been alone, without Hafina for the first time in longer than her notebooks recorded.

    Minutes had crawled into hours ¡ª two hours, then more. Pheiri had waited with most of his insides dark and quiet; Melyn knew that Pheiri was repairing the parts of himself that protected them. Melyn¡¯s mind had started to unscramble. She¡¯d stopped singing poetry ¡ª she had no idea where the poems had come from.

    But then she¡¯d gotten scared.

    What if Haf got hurt? What if Haf got overwhelmed by the zombies? What if the zombies ate her? Zombies were different this close to a worm ¡ª they were smaller, more numerous, a little bit less dangerous, and apparently they weren¡¯t all bad. Melyn had not expected Pheiri to let a zombie inside. But then the zombie had spoken like a person, so she was okay.

    But other zombies weren¡¯t so friendly. What if Hafina never came back?

    Melyn had started to say all sorts of things to Pheiri. Some of them she wasn¡¯t proud of. Most of them didn¡¯t make sense. Her mind was still very jumbled and she couldn¡¯t make the words stay put in the right order. But eventually she had settled on a phrase that felt correct:

    ¡°What if Haf doesn¡¯t come ¡ª home?¡±

    Home.

    That word had generated a string of complaints upon the screen of her mind, all about ¡®designated charging cradles¡¯, ¡®assigned divisional quarters¡¯, and ¡®medical corps assistant storage¡¯. That was useless, so she made it all go away. Then her mind had filled with other nonsense about ¡®home¡¯ being breached, overrun, and abandoned. Home did not exist. Home was gone.

    But Pheiri was here. Pheiri was safe. Pheiri was home. She made all the other stuff go away.

    Then Pheiri had done a lot of shouting and running about; Melyn had strapped herself into one of the seats. Haf had returned with half a dozen zombies ¡ª two of which were very badly wounded and about to die. Melyn had not seen the point in saving dying zombies. Wouldn¡¯t they just come back anyway? She¡¯d stood in the rear airlock door, overwhelmed by the shouting, by Pheiri throwing them all about again, by the blood all over the floors, by zombies screeching at each other, crying, clawing, and¡ª

    And the screen of Melyn¡¯s mind had filled with clear instructions.

    She¡¯d opened the infirmary; she¡¯d remembered the scalpels and stitches and staples, and how to use them. She¡¯d followed the screen of her mind, cleaning and cutting and clamping, gluing and stitching and bandaging, working for hours until she and the floor were coated with blood. She had made a lot of mistakes ¡ª her instructions were clear but the screen of her mind was broken and incomplete; she knew that now, she knew she was filling in the gaps with guesses and experiments. She made so many mistakes that a human being would have died under her knife. But these two were not human beings, they were zombies. She made them live.

    And now they were all over Pheiri¡¯s insides: resting in the infirmary, sleeping in the bunk room, talking to yet more zombies over the airwaves. The presence of all these outsiders had finally clarified the truth: Pheiri was home. Her home. She loved her home.

    But home was changing.

    And this zombie ¡ª Elpida ¡ª called herself ¡®Commander¡¯.

    The screen of Melyn¡¯s mind suggested several alternative designations for Elpida: ¡®nanomachine conglomeration¡¯, ¡®level nine XZ military threat¡¯, ¡®compromised network output node¡¯, ¡®officer class leadership priority engagement¡¯ ¡ª along with several others that made no sense to Melyn, like ¡®zed-head¡¯, ¡®necro-fuck¡¯, and ¡®deadite¡¯. All those suggestions had cleared away when Elpida had called herself ¡®Commander¡¯.

    Elpida needed Melyn¡¯s help to stand up from the infirmary bed. She needed Melyn¡¯s help to step over the small, blonde, angry zombie ¡ª Ilyusha? Funny name ¡ª who was sleeping all untidy in the doorway. She needed Melyn¡¯s help to step out into the crew compartment. The Commander needed a lot of help with everything. Was that what Commanders did? At least she didn¡¯t complain about Melyn smearing more blood all over her arm and hip.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elpida croaked. ¡°Thank you, Melyn.¡±

    The crew compartment ceiling was much higher; Elpida straightened up.

    Melyn watched Elpida¡¯s strange purple eyes rove over the crew compartment. She looked at the benches, the blankets, Haf¡¯s equipment, their various clothes, a couple of half-eaten nutrient blocks; Elpida¡¯s eyes paused with special interest on the books ¡ª Melyn¡¯s notebooks, and her other books. Then Elpida looked upward, at the ladders which led to the storage racks, and the diagonal passage on the left which led to the top hatch airlock. Then she returned to the most important thing in the compartment ¡ª Hafina.

    Haf was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, naked except for her loose underwear. She was bent over the disassembled parts of her biggest gun, the one Melyn couldn¡¯t lift, busy rubbing grease into the components. She returned Elpida¡¯s curious stare with a big goofy grin.

    Melyn looked back and forth: Elpida was tall, but Hafina was taller; Elpida had that long snowy white hair ¡ª but Haf¡¯s hair was golden, and fluffier; Elpida¡¯s skin was a rich pale copper-brown, but she had nothing on Hafina¡¯s shifting colours; Elpida¡¯s muscles were exposed because she wasn¡¯t wearing a shirt, but Haf had more muscles and she was more naked; Elpida¡¯s purple eyes were interesting, but Haf¡¯s big black orbs were better, just like Melyn¡¯s eyes; Elpida had big breasts, Haf¡¯s were larger (Melyn wasn¡¯t sure why that mattered to her, but it did). Elpida was pretty, but nowhere near as pretty as Hafina. Melyn decided not to say any of this out loud, because it would make Haf insufferable for weeks.

    ¡°Melyyyyyyy,¡± Hafina purred. ¡°Does she understand you yet? Hey there, big girl. Can you tell what I¡¯m saying now?¡±

    Melyn tutted. ¡°She can understand us fine. Understand us fine. Shut up, Haf, don¡¯t be silly. Be silly. And she¡¯s not big, she¡¯s smaller than you. Smaller than you.¡±

    Elpida cleared her throat. ¡°Haf ¡ª Hafina? I apologise for staring. You look very different without your armour.¡±

    Haf let out a big rumble, the sort of purr she made when she felt smug. She stretched her top two arms upward to touch the ceiling of the crew compartment, while rolling the others forward to make her back muscles ripple.

    Melyn huffed and rolled her eyes and wanted to poke Haf in the side. But she couldn¡¯t do that because Elpida might fall over without her support.

    Instead Melyn snapped: ¡°Haf. Stop showing off.¡±

    Haf purred again.

    Elpida made a funny pose ¡ª she tucked her right arm halfway over her chest and bowed her head to Haf. ¡°Thank you, Hafina, for your help in getting out of there. We wouldn¡¯t have held off the Death¡¯s Heads without you. Thank you for saving me and my comrades.¡±

    Haf grinned even wider, ducking her head and looking away, being all big and stupid for Elpida; Melyn really didn¡¯t like that. It made her chest feel wrong.

    Haf said: ¡°Been a long time since I did a big fight. Got a bit dunted? Dunted? Dunt-ed?¡±

    ¡°Dented,¡± Melyn corrected. ¡°Wear more armour next time. You¡¯re so stupid, Haf. So stupid. You should have taken the shield. The shield.¡±

    Hafina raised four hands and wiggled her grease-coated fingers. ¡°Needed more hands for more guns. Don¡¯t tell me how to shoot, Melyyyy. You don¡¯t know how to shoot.¡± Hafina purred and grinned, like she always did when teasing. But Melyn didn¡¯t want her to tease in front of Elpida.

    Melyn snapped again, ¡°Just because I can¡¯t doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t know how. Don¡¯t know how. Don¡¯t know how. Don¡¯t know¡ª don¡¯t¡ª don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Her words refused to line up; her mind felt scrambled all over again. Melyn hissed with frustration and thumped herself in the chest.

    That wiped the grin off Haf¡¯s face. She sat up straight, eyes going wide. ¡°Mely! Mely, you¡¯re still worn out and tired and not all there. Go slow, Mely. Go slow, slow. Okay? Be gentle with yourself.¡±

    That made Melyn feel even worse. She couldn¡¯t look at Haf¡¯s face. This was all going wrong ¡ª and it was all the zombie¡¯s fault.

    Elpida said: ¡°Everyone has something to contribute, even if you can¡¯t fight. There¡¯s no shame in that. Thank you again, both of you, for helping us. I don¡¯t yet understand why, but¡ª¡±

    Melyn said to Haf: ¡°She says she¡¯s our Commander.¡±

    The screen of Melyn¡¯s mind liked that designation, ¡®Commander¡¯. Melyn made it go away.

    Hafina squinted. ¡°She¡¯s what?¡±

    ¡°Our Commander.¡±

    Hafina squinted the other way. ¡°No she¡¯s not.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not. She¡¯s not,¡± Melyn agreed. That felt much better.

    Hafina closed one eye. ¡°But she did save the other one.¡±

    ¡°The other one? The other one?¡±

    ¡°Pira,¡± Haf said. ¡°Or ¡­ Leuca. They kept calling her both. The zombie that helped protect Pheiri. So, if she¡¯s their Commander, and she commanded them to protect Pheiri¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works, Haf,¡± Melyn said. ¡°Not how it works. Not how it works. Works.¡±

    Elpida cleared her throat again, and said: ¡°Excuse me, may I clarify something?¡±

    Melyn tried to say ¡®you may¡¯ ¡ª but the screen of her mind stopped her with that designation again: ¡®Commander¡¯, the same way it had stopped her when she¡¯d tried to tell Elpida to stay put and rest in the infirmary. She couldn¡¯t say the words. She couldn¡¯t say what she wanted. She couldn¡¯t say no.

    Melyn hissed with frustration and deleted the entry for ¡®Commander¡¯. She replaced it with one of the other suggestion: ¡®necro-fuck¡¯.

    Then she said to Elpida: ¡°You may not.¡±

    Elpida smiled awkwardly. ¡°Okay then.¡±

    Melyn felt much better now. She corrected herself: ¡°I mean you may. You may.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Thank you. Um, I should probably apologise. When I called myself Commander I didn¡¯t mean to claim any authority over either of you two. I¡¯ve done nothing to prove myself to you, except stagger into your home and bleed all over your floor. I¡¯m ¡­ Commander, sort of, to the others, but when I called myself your Commander, I was trying to ¡­ to commit to return the same protection and hospitality that you have extended to us.¡± Elpida squeezed her eyes shut for a second, as if somebody was speaking to her and making bad suggestions; did she have an irritating problem with the screen of her mind, just like Melyn did? Elpida said: ¡°I was treating you like my ¡­ sisters ¡­ my cadre, when I should be treating you like the Legion. Allies. Important. Not mine.¡± She opened her eyes and blinked several times. Such bright purple. ¡°You choose your own leaders. Pheiri ¡ª he¡¯s your leader, is that correct?¡±

    Melyn deleted the ¡®necro-fuck¡¯ entry and replaced it with Elpida¡¯s name. But then she added (zombie), in brackets.

    ¡°Pheiri protects us,¡± she said.

    Haf said to the ceiling: ¡°Thank you, Pheiri!¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Thank you, Pheiri,¡± she echoed softly.

    Raindrops were beginning to patter against the exterior of Pheiri¡¯s hull, a slow wave of muffled static to match the nuclear heartbeat from beneath Melyn¡¯s feet. Elpida looked up at the ceiling as the rain got heavier.

    She said: ¡°Raindrops? His shields are offline?¡±

    Haf said, ¡°Pheiri knows best.¡±

    Melyn grunted, ¡°Pheiri¡¯s tired.¡±

    Elpida nodded slowly and looked around the crew compartment again. ¡°You two live in here, don¡¯t you? Me and my comrades, are we intruding?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Melyn.

    ¡°No,¡± said Haf.

    Elpida almost laughed, but then she winced instead. ¡°How long have you been living in here? Inside Pheiri?¡±

    Melyn and Hafina shared a glance. Melyn looked at the nearest stack of her notebooks, on one of the benches. They¡¯d been tossed around when Pheiri had to move fast earlier, so Haf must have piled them back up. Then Melyn looked at her blood-stained hands. She sighed; she had already ruined one notebook with bloody smears, when she¡¯d tried to record what was happening with the zombies. She didn¡¯t want to damage any more of them.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Elpida said: ¡°You keep notes? You write down your history?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Yes.¡±

    ¡°Mely is super smart,¡± Haf said. ¡°Mely¡¯s got the biggest brain even if she¡¯s got the smallest body. She knows all the words and the right orders for them, too. She can read all the books. She knows what Pheiri is telling us as well. She writes everything down and it¡¯s always there.¡±

    ¡°Haf!¡± Melyn snapped. She blushed. Haf kept smiling.

    Elpida turned her head to look at the words on the spines of the notebooks. ¡°Do you have a dating system? Is there a way to locate your earliest notebook?¡±

    Melyn said: ¡°Probably. I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t have time to read them all.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°What do you two do ¡ª I mean, what are you doing? Do you have a ¡­ a mission? Something Pheiri is trying to do, perhaps?¡±

    Melyn and Hafina shared another look. Hafina shrugged. Melyn said: ¡°Living? Living. What are you doing?¡±

    Elpida smiled, but Melyn could tell it was a difficult smile. ¡°That¡¯s a very good question, Melyn. I don¡¯t know.¡± Then she pointed at the open bulkhead hatch, opposite the infirmary. ¡°Is that the bunk room? Is Amina in there?¡±

    Melyn led Elpida across the crew compartment and into the bunk room; Haf started to get up, but Melyn frowned at her to stay put.

    Elpida was almost too big for the bunk room; she filled the entire width of the narrow passageway between the bunks built into the walls. The rain outside was louder in here, a muffled drumming on Pheiri¡¯s exterior. Three of the lowest bunks were crammed with equipment and weapons: Haf¡¯s armour, easily reachable from the doorway; the zombies¡¯ various weapons and guns and boots and bits of armour ¡ª including their really big massive scary gun that one of them had used to defend Pheiri. One bottom bunk was filled with Melyn¡¯s notebooks and various other kinds of books, so dense that the scratchy blue blanket and thin mattress were entirely obscured; she couldn¡¯t remember when she¡¯d last added to or taken away from that pile. The screen of her mind said it was forty two thousand three hundred and seventy eight hours since she¡¯d last been inside the bunk room.

    The smallest of the zombies ¡ª Amina ¡ª was asleep in one of the top bunks. She was almost as small as Melyn, so she fit into the bunk with room to spare. She hadn¡¯t closed the flimsy privacy curtains. She was curled up tight beneath her big heavy dark coat, hugging a blanket to her chest.

    Elpida whispered over the rain: ¡°Was she wounded?¡±

    Melyn answered, ¡°Bruises. Bruises. Nothing bad.¡±

    ¡°How long has she been asleep?¡±

    Melyn read off the screen of her mind. ¡°Five hours thirteen minutes forty four seconds. Forty five seconds. Forty six seconds.¡± She stopped herself with a click of her tongue.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elpida murmured. Then she reached out and gently brushed Amina¡¯s dusky hair back over her scalp.

    Amina¡¯s eyes eased open. She stared at Elpida, groggy and sleepy

    Elpida whispered, ¡°Just wanted to check that you¡¯re safe. Everyone¡¯s okay. Go back to sleep, Amina.¡±

    Amina made a sleepy sound and closed her eyes.

    When Melyn had been performing surgery on Elpida¡¯s stomach and Pira¡¯s many wounds, some of the other zombies had tried to help, or gotten in the way, or shouted at each other, or made a mess. None of them had succeeded in doing much ¡ª except Atyle, who seemed to know which tools Melyn needed before Melyn knew herself, and kept handing her things before she reached for them. But Amina had done the least of all. She had stood in the doorway, crying and clutching her knife. Like Melyn would, in a fight.

    But Elpida cared about Amina, the smallest and most useless of the zombies.

    Melyn wasn¡¯t sure, but she thought perhaps this made Elpida a little bit like Pheiri. She examined that word again: ¡®Commander¡¯. She did not restore the designation.

    Elpida turned back to Melyn and indicated the rest of the bunk room. She murmured, ¡°Is this your bedroom?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t sleep in here. We sleep in the crew compartment. Haf can¡¯t fit in the bunks so I would have to sleep alone. There¡¯s no point.¡±

    Elpida smiled. Melyn thought it was a sad smile. Elpida said: ¡°I know that feeling. You and Haf always sleep together?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Yes. Always.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let us get in your way.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t. I won¡¯t.¡±

    Elpida looked down at the bunk which was filled with old notebooks. They¡¯d all tumbled around as well, thrown about by Pheiri¡¯s fast movements earlier. A few had slipped onto the floor, but most of them were held in place by weight and friction and the lip of the bunk. That was to stop people rolling out if Pheiri had to move fast while they were sleeping.

    Elpida said: ¡°Do you mind if I take a look at your notebooks, Melyn, or are they private?¡±

    Melyn shook her head. ¡°Can you read? Haf can¡¯t read them. I don¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°I can read, yes. Would the oldest notebook be at the rear of this pile?¡±

    Melyn shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Elpida smiled another difficult smile. ¡°That¡¯s alright then, thank you anyway. Let¡¯s leave Amina to sleep.¡±

    Melyn helped Elpida back into the crew compartment. Elpida seemed stronger now; she was putting less weight on Melyn¡¯s arm. Melyn left Elpida to stand on her own two feet for a few moments while she went to the dispenser controls. The blood on her hands was truly dry now, so she rubbed some of it off on her jumper before she pressed the buttons. She had Pheiri disgorge three shiny, dark-brown food-sticks. Hafina crooned ¡°Melyyyyyy, Melyyyyy,¡± until Melyn tossed her one of the sticks. Hafina caught the food-stick in one hand and ate it in three bites, then spent a long time licking crumbs out of her teeth.

    Melyn offered the second stick to Elpida, but Elpida shook her head, and said, ¡°Sorry, but I¡¯m not sure I can eat anything except meat.¡±

    ¡°S¡¯good fuh you,¡± Hafina said through a mouthful of nutrient block. ¡°All the things a growing girl needs.¡±

    Melyn said, ¡°Haf. Don¡¯t grow any bigger or you won¡¯t fit inside Pheiri. Won¡¯t fit inside Pheiri.¡±

    Melyn stuck one food stick into her mouth and tossed the spare onto a bench. She spent a few moments doing nothing but chewing and listening to the rain.

    Elpida glanced down Pheiri¡¯s central corridor, and said: ¡°Is that the way to the front? Is Atyle up there?¡±

    Melyn nodded. She finished her food stick, wiped her hands on her jumper again, and led on, into the jumble of Pheiri¡¯s innards. Elpida followed. Haf rose from her sitting position and squirmed along behind them.

    Melyn and Hafina could have wriggled down this passageway with their eyes closed, over the abandoned seats and auxiliary systems, beneath the dark screens and dead readouts, past the hatches and ladders which led to other, smaller parts of Pheiri¡¯s body. Melyn crossed the armoured bulge of Pheiri¡¯s brain and absent-mindedly patted the metal. She shook a little bit when they passed the hatch which led down into the engines; her concealed wounds still itched, from when she¡¯d descended into Pheiri¡¯s secret parts to fix his heart. She was careful not to look upward when they passed beneath the turret ladder; she didn¡¯t want to feel sick again.

    Elpida moved slowly and carefully. She had promised she would not fall over and force Melyn to stitch her belly shut a second time. Melyn approved of that effort, and did not hurry her along.

    But Elpida paused beneath the turret ladder. Melyn stopped to look back. Elpida was squinting upward into the dark. One of her hands wandered to the back of her neck, rubbing at the base of her skull.

    Elpida asked: ¡°Is that an MMI uplink helmet? It is. Crude, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Melyn. ¡°I don¡¯t want to think about what¡¯s up there.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s a direct communication uplink with this combat frame¡ª I mean, with Pheiri, then I should¡ª¡±

    Melyn¡¯s head started to hurt. ¡°I don¡¯t want to think about it. Stop asking. Please. Please.¡±

    Elpida looked back down at her. She seemed surprised, but then she nodded. ¡°Understood, Melyn. I won¡¯t mention it again. Lead¡ª¡±

    Cruuunch-crack¡ª

    Pheiri¡¯s tracks bit into concrete, crunching through brick, crushing stone; the sound floated upward through the hull, muffled by layers of armour. Pheiri slewed to one side suddenly; Melyn grabbed the back of a seat and Haf stuck out all her arms to grip the walls. Elpida was slower, lurching with the sudden motion ¡ª but somehow she reached out and closed a fist around one rung of the turret-ladder.

    Thunk-thunk! ¡ª Thunk!

    Heavy gunshots pounded from outside ¡ª one-two, a pause, then a third. The hull shuddered with recoil. Several seconds of silence crawled by, filled with the static of the rain. Then Pheiri¡¯s innards growled and thumped ¡ª the sound of him reloading a weapon,

    Hafina and Melyn both relaxed. Elpida didn¡¯t look good. Her face was covered in sweat and she was wincing with pain.

    Elpida said: ¡°What was that?¡±

    Melyn shrugged. ¡°Pheiri shooting at something.¡±

    ¡°Keeping us safe,¡± Hafina said. ¡°He just does that sometimes. It¡¯s okay, he¡¯s not shouting and flashing a lot, so it¡¯s not a big deal. It¡¯s only a big deal if he makes lots of noise and moves really fast a lot. Whatever it is has already gone away. He¡¯s good at that!¡±

    Elpida straightened up, let go of the ladder, and nodded. She wiped her face with one hand. ¡°Does that happen often?¡±

    Melyn shrugged. ¡°Depends what he¡¯s doing. Come on.¡±

    Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit was tall enough for Elpida to stand up straight. Melyn watched as Elpida¡¯s eyes roved over the screens, the data readouts, the instrument panels, the many seats, the jumbled headsets, the sockets and levers and buttons and switches. Elpida stared for a long time at one of the seats at the very front ¡ª the one with the foot pedals and the big levers. Melyn had never figured out what that one was for. Elpida also stared very hard at the tiny observation window, high up on the right; that window had been unarmoured for as long as Melyn could remember, but sometime in the last twelve hours Pheiri had covered it up from the outside with his knobbly white armour plates.

    Pheiri clicked and hummed and flickered and buzzed. All just like normal. All as he should be. Melyn felt ¡ª proud? That was a nice word. The screen of her mind didn¡¯t complain.

    She was proud of Pheiri. Proud that she was part of him.

    She wasn¡¯t so proud about the zombie sprawled in one of the chairs, with her hands behind her head and her big dark coat pooled on the floor. But at least it was the smart zombie, the one who had helped with the surgery.

    Atyle looked up and around from Pheiri¡¯s screens. She was dressed in an under-shirt and trousers; her strange green eye turned inside the socket. Her dark face split with a smile.

    ¡°The warrior rises from her fitful slumber, brought forth by the titan¡¯s maid,¡± she said. Then she rose from her seat and gestured at it, while looking at Melyn. ¡°Little maid, I have usurped your rightful place. Sit, please. This is yours.¡±

    Melyn frowned. ¡°You talk worse sense than Haf. Worse sense than Haf. Wish you would shut up, too. Shut up, too.¡±

    But Melyn did not turn down the seat. There were many seats in Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit, but somehow it seemed right that the zombie should offer Melyn the choice of whichever one she wanted. Atyle was a friendly zombie. Maybe she should be designated ¡®Commander¡¯.

    Melyn sat down. Haf hung in the entrance, holding the metal walls with her six hands; Atyle glanced at her too. ¡°And the titan¡¯s great ranger. Care to sit as well?¡±

    Hafina just grinned and shrugged.

    Elpida grunted: ¡°Atyle. You wounded?¡±

    Atyle shook her head. ¡°No, warrior. But you are.¡±

    Elpida snorted. She gently lowered herself onto the threadbare stuffing and scuffed metal of one of the cockpit chairs. Several screens flickered to life above her; Melyn peered at those, but they were just Pheiri¡¯s usual. She didn¡¯t feel like standing up to examine in greater detail. Atyle leaned against the wall and stared at Elpida with her weird green eyeball.

    Elpida said: ¡°Atyle. Thank you for coming back. Thank you for rescuing me and Amina.¡±

    Atyle dipped her head in silent acknowledgement.

    Elpida said: ¡°Kaga? Vicky?¡±

    Atyle answered, ¡°Still inside the great fallen god. They endure well enough, though they grow impatient.¡±

    Elpida laughed softly. ¡°Kagami especially?¡±

    ¡°The scribe was incandescent. She is glorious when she is angry. It sharpens her mind to an obsidian edge. She is beautiful from that angle, when she is thin and dangerous.¡±

    Elpida squinted. ¡°Right, okay. They¡¯re safe. Good.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s eyes drifted shut, as if she was done now and it was time to go to sleep. Raindrop static filled the silence. Melyn was about to suggest that Elpida return to the infirmary.

    But then Elpida said, ¡°Any idea what that firing was, just now?¡±

    Atyle replied, ¡°We are pursued, though without passion. Hunting hounds, sent by your scorned suitor.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s lips twisted in disgust. ¡°Yola. Don¡¯t call her that, it¡¯s not funny. Are we safe?¡±

    ¡°The titan assures me we are. The animals are wary. We are too deep for them.¡±

    Melyn frowned at Atyle. ¡°You can read Pheiri¡¯s screens?¡±

    Atyle smiled at her. ¡°The titan speaks to me, little maid. Though without the great intimacy and affection he holds for you. You have nothing to be jealous of.¡±

    Melyn kept frowning. Jealous? She wasn¡¯t jealous.

    Elpida croaked, ¡°Too deep? Atyle, where are we? What are we doing?¡±

    ¡°Hiding beyond the graveworm¡¯s aura,¡± Atyle said slowly. ¡°The titan replenishes his strength, mends his armour and his spears. His maids have informed me of many things. The scribe informs me of many other things, but most of those are insults or critiques.¡± Atyle chuckled softly. ¡°We rest and recover, warrior. There is nothing else to be done.¡±

    Melyn found the conversation difficult to follow. Atyle and Elpida spoke differently to each other ¡ª they used different words in different orders. Elpida used verbs first, but Atyle¡¯s verbs were all at the ends of her sentences. Elpida used a lot of funny suffixes and prefixes, all very neat and quick, which seemed to change depending on who she was talking about and where they were ¡ª or sometimes depending on how she felt about them; Atyle had none of those, but her verbs changed wildly, growing extra parts at the slightest provocation. The other zombies were just as irritating; the little angry one called Ilyusha didn¡¯t use any ¡®articles¡¯ ¡ª the screen of Melyn¡¯s mind provided that word, and she wasn¡¯t sure what it meant, but she understood it in practice; Amina spoke with less vowels than everybody else; only Pira and Ooni sounded like they were speaking something similar to each other, though Melyn had not heard Pira do a lot of speaking. Despite this, the zombies all understood each other perfectly.

    Melyn could understand them all, of course. But following the conversation took effort; she felt too slow to say anything much.

    Elpida squinted her eyes and sagged in her seat. ¡°Kaga and Vicky are still in the combat frame. We need to link back up. We can¡¯t leave them behind. I¡¯m not doing that, not¡ª¡± She grunted and closed her eyes. ¡°Yeah, okay, yeah,¡± she hissed, then opened her eyes again. ¡°And the frame itself. I can¡¯t¡ª can¡¯t just leave it¡ª leave it there¡ª¡±

    Atyle said, ¡°You need rest, warrior.¡±

    Elpida snorted. ¡°I thought you were all about following me wherever I went, because I¡¯m so entertaining. What happened to that, huh?¡±

    Atyle kept smiling. ¡°You have a betrayer still to deal with, warrior. Not to mention our captured animal. And your little scorpion, she is so very sore.¡±

    Elpida smiled too, but it was another difficult smile. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Atyle ¡ª how did you do all that?¡±

    Atyle¡¯s strange green eye twisted and rotated in the socket. ¡°All that, warrior?¡±

    ¡°The stealth field. The sudden competence. All of it.¡±

    ¡°The machinery of the gods holds an infinite bounty, for those who know how to receive it.¡±

    ¡°Nanomachine self-modification?¡± Elpida said. ¡°Like Pira explained?¡±

    Atyle nodded.

    Elpida said, ¡°Are you a Necromancer, Atyle?¡±

    The screen of Melyn¡¯s mind did not like that word; it suggested ¡®nanomachine control locus¡¯, ¡®corrupted silicon life mind imprint¡¯, and ¡®blob¡¯. She made those go away. She was too busy trying to listen to the zombies.

    Atyle smiled wider. ¡°Would I tell you, if I were?¡±

    Elpida sighed and rubbed her face. ¡°You saved us anyway. Fine. If you are, I don¡¯t care. You¡¯re one of us. I don¡¯t actually think you are a Necromancer, but being mysterious all the time doesn¡¯t help.¡±

    Atyle seemed ¡ª pleased? Smug? Too clever for her own good? Melyn couldn¡¯t decide which.

    Elpida sat up straighter, and said, ¡°I want to speak with Pheiri. I¡¯m not going back to sleep before I do that.¡±

    Melyn said, ¡°You can talk to Pheiri from anywhere. Even in bed. In bed. It¡¯s easy. I already told you. Already told you. He can hear you.¡±

    Elpida gave Melyn a gentle smile; Melyn didn¡¯t like that.

    Atyle said, ¡°The titan¡¯s maid speaks truth, warrior. He hears our every word. We stand inside his body. His senses are turned inward as much as out.¡±

    Elpida frowned at Atyle; Melyn could tell that the ¡®Commander¡¯ did not quite believe this. But she believed it more from Atyle than from Melyn.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Elpida said. ¡°But I need to speak to him in a way he can respond to. I need to understand what¡¯s going on here. I need to understand why he rescued us.¡±

    Melyn said, ¡°Because you¡¯re a pilot.¡±

    Elpida replied, ¡°Maybe so, but that¡¯s not enough. I need more.¡±

    Atyle said, ¡°What is to understand, warrior? Lost souls have found each other, in the deserts of the afterlife. Why must there be meaning? Can we not cling together, for no other reason but solace?¡±

    Haf said: ¡°Yeah. Yeah! That! That. I like that. Mely, I like that.¡±

    Melyn grunted. ¡°Mm.¡±

    Elpida locked her tired eyes with Atyle, and said: ¡°A giant armoured vehicle wearing a piece of my home just turned up and rescued me and my comrades. I want to know what he wants, or what he needs. I want to know if he wants us to be his ¡­ his crew? His friends? If his ¡­ ¡®maids¡¯¡ª¡± she gestured at Melyn and Hafina with one hand ¡°¡ªif they need our help, somehow. If he needs our help. I want to know if we¡¯re on the same side, and why. Or maybe his side is just himself, it doesn¡¯t matter. I want to know what he needs ¡ª because if it¡¯s within my power to grant, I will.¡±

    Melyn revised her designation again: Elpida (zombie) (¡®Commander¡¯, provisional.)

    One of the control cockpit screens next to Elpida suddenly cleared of Pheiri¡¯s usual green-text data. New letters appeared on the screen, printing slowly, filling the black background. Elpida watched; the glowing green text coloured her face with ghostly light. Atyle leaned for a better look. Haf tilted her head. Melyn shot out of her chair and pattered over, then grabbed the back of Elpida¡¯s seat and peered close, to make sure she was reading it right.

    >

    ///ERROR division HQ non-contact

    ///re-designate command structure

    ///fallback protocol legacy version ERROR

    ///elevate permission control

    ///input Human-Human mastergene code access

    ///permission control overridden 99999999 ERROR hours previous: authorization Chief Engineering Officer Rhian Uren

    ///re-designate begin

    .fallback protocol Telokopolan Officer recovered

    .age unknown

    .era unknown

    .rank unknown

    .designate Commander Elpida

    .designate non-authority advisory role

    ///re-designate command structure complete

    >

    The green text stayed on the screen long enough for everyone to read it thrice. Nobody spoke, only the rain against Pheiri¡¯s armour. Then the text vanished, replaced by a single line.

    >Request orders

    ¡°No!¡± Melyn yelped. ¡°Pheiri, no!¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°No. No, Pheiri, no. I-I can¡¯t command you. I can¡¯t. I keep getting everyone killed, or nearly killed. You¡ª what¡ª whatever you are, you¡¯ve survived out here for longer than I can imagine, I¡ª I can¡¯t. I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t command you.¡±

 armatus - 8.3

    >Request orders

    Elpida stared at the glowing green words on the little black screen ¡ª one of dozens of readouts and displays which punctuated the jumbled surfaces and consoles of Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit. She felt her brain filling up with rotten static. She prayed that the words would go away ¡ª that Pheiri would retract his offer of subservience, or his plea for direction, or whatever this was. She hoped that Pheiri would understand her refusal.

    The text vanished.

    Raindrops drummed on Pheiri¡¯s exterior hull.

    Elpida sighed with relief. She was not coherent enough to explain why she had refused, why she could not command this¡ª

    Green text reappeared.

    >Request orders

    Melyn was clinging to the back of Elpida¡¯s seat. Her white-grey face peered over Elpida¡¯s shoulder. She hissed: ¡°Pheiri, stop it! She doesn¡¯t want it anyway! Doesn¡¯t want it anyway! Stop it! Stop! It! Stop! Stop¡ª stop¡ª errrk!¡±

    Melyn squeaked as something yanked her backward. Elpida turned, careful to move slowly lest she twist her damaged stomach muscles and pop her stitches.

    Hafina was lifting Melyn by her armpits, dragging her back like an angry kitten. Melyn flailed and kicked briefly; one small fist connected with the side of Elpida¡¯s head and a foot glanced off Hafina¡¯s meaty thigh. Atyle ducked out of the way. Hafina lowered Melyn¡¯s feet back to the floor; the smaller artificial human just scowled and pouted and crossed her arms, frowning at Elpida.

    Hafina ran one hand over Melyn¡¯s head, stroking her glossy black hair. She purred: ¡°Melyyyy, Melyyy. You¡¯re still all turned around inside¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know! I know!¡± Melyn snapped. ¡°But I know this isn¡¯t right! Isn¡¯t right!¡±

    Hafina said, ¡°Pheiri always knows best. He keeps us safe, doesn¡¯t he? Maybe he knows what he¡¯s asking. Maybe we should¡ª¡±

    Melyn said: ¡°We were doing fine by ourselves! By ourselves! Why do we need them? Need them?¡±

    Elpida held up a hand ¡ª a gesture of surrender. She could not rally her thoughts through the black haze inside her head. She was so tired. She had done what she had intended ¡ª she had confirmed the safety of her cadre. No, her comrades, her friends, her¡ª the others. Everyone was safe, even if the group was currently split. Her body said it was time to rest ¡ª but Pheiri had called her a ¡®Telokopolan Officer¡¯. Questions whirled in her mind. Her gut wound throbbed. She wanted to close her eyes.

    But Melyn and Hafina were both deeply distressed. So was Pheiri.

    Elpida croaked: ¡°I¡¯m not going to steal him from you, Melyn. I promise. Hafina, thank you, but Melyn can say what she likes, it¡¯s okay.¡±

    Melyn snorted, glaring daggers. Hafina just nodded her big, blonde, shaggy head and tried to smile. Atyle said nothing to help. The tall, dark revenant watched the exchange with a subtle smile on her lips.

    Elpida turned back to the little black screen. She blinked hard, to clear her mind. The words were still there.

    >Request orders

    She said: ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Pheiri. I can¡¯t command you. I can¡¯t give you orders.¡±

    A sleepy voice growled in the back of Elpida¡¯s head: Why not, huh?

    You know why, Howl.

    The notion of ¡®commanding¡¯ a combat frame disgusted Elpida; pilots did not command their frames ¡ª they joined them in a physical partnership, human flesh wedded to artificial machine-meat, human thoughts blended with a piece of the city. The mind-machine interface uplink inserted the pilot into the combat frame¡¯s own nervous system, like a missing piece to complete a circuit; the capsule enclosed the pilot as part of the frame¡¯s own homeostatic processes, protected and cradled and fed like any other organ; decisions were made as a complete mind, not as director and actor, or master and servant, or driver and vehicle. There was no little voice whispering down the MMI uplink, no literal text printout behind a pilot¡¯s eyes, the combat frame did not shout demands into the capsule in human language ¡ª but the subconscious feedback was undeniable. No pilot was alone inside a combat frame.

    The Civitas and the public ¡ª and even the Legion ¡ª had often misunderstood what piloting a combat frame actually looked like; the pilot program had never released images to the public networks, for fear of undermining the fragile reputation of the pilots. The public might not respond positively to a real-time pict-capture of a young woman seemingly drowned in orange fluid, eyelids and extremities twitching in time with the machine-meat muscles of the frame. Not to mention the wet-rat aftermath, the vomiting, the shakes, the non-verbal episodes, the dissociative states; none of that was very photogenic.

    Official Civitas communication materials had always depicted the pilots as upright and proud, sitting in shiny chrome seats, wearing helmets and uplink glasses and bead-mics, like the drivers of Legion crawlers. They¡¯d never used the pilot cadre¡¯s real phenotype ¡ª the purple eyes and copper-brown skin and white hair. The Civitas wanted their pilots to represent all humanity, not an engineered offshoot.

    Entertainment media had run with that, at least during the good years before the Covenanters grew in number: the fictional pilots for public consumption had full names, families, marriages, parents, sometimes even children; they had varying childhoods of their own, or sympathetic backgrounds, or tearful secrets in their pasts; they had careers before piloting, sometimes Legion, sometimes civilian, sometimes plucky girls from the Skirts. Henny¡¯s Heroines, The Steadfast Six, Dark Edge of Night ¡ª Elpida hated all the titles. She¡¯d never paid much attention; the fictional drama seemed so much smaller than reality. Some of her sisters found the public shows hilarious ¡ª Snow, Yeva, Emi, and Shade made Henny¡¯s Heroines into a regular group watch-along, complete with jeering, shouting, and throwing things at the screen.

    At least that was better than the way the Covenanters had depicted them.

    But even the pilot program and the bone-speakers had not understood the subconscious connection between pilot and frame ¡ª or perhaps they had not believed. Even Old Lady Nunnus had spoken of the combat frames like machines to be driven.

    Elpida glanced around Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit.

    He did not look anything like the inside of a combat frame, not even a manual control chamber ¡ª no crimson and scarlet machine-meat light throbbing behind walls of smooth white bone. He didn¡¯t look like the inside of a Legion crawler either; Pheiri was much more complicated than the simple layout of driver, gunner, and commander, and much bigger than even the largest. Over a dozen seats were crammed into this jumbled space; a web of control systems crawled up the walls and across the ceiling, in a network of panels and switches and headsets and levers and readouts and displays. Elpida could guess at the nature of some systems ¡ª such as the literal driver¡¯s seat right at the front, complete with dozens of levers and a headset uplink for external cameras ¡ª but most were totally opaque to her, products of technology she had never witnessed in life.

    Pheiri had also been retrofitted multiple times; some of the oldest, most well-worn consoles and chairs looked more ergonomic or expensive, and others seemed blockier or more simplistic, as if added later, in greater haste, with less resources. Loose cables were stapled to the walls in haphazard snakes; auxiliary screens were screwed directly over obsolete controls; whole banks of switches and buttons lay dark, disconnected from non-existent systems.

    And then there was that MMI uplink helmet, up in the turret, back in the corridor.

    That was an anachronism; the Legion had attempted to use those back before the pilot program, before the cadre had been conceived in their uterine replicators. An attempt to control the earliest of the combat frames. Those experiments had failed. The Legion ¡®pilots¡¯ had not survived the experience, though some of their bodies had lingered on life-support for decades.

    An uplink helmet, a blunt instrument. Elpida had used one before, when the program had first trained her and her sisters. The connection would be crude, nothing like a main trunk into an uplink slot wired into her spinal column. Elpida let that one lie for now ¡ª she didn¡¯t want to upset Melyn again by talking about the helmet. It wasn¡¯t as if she would be able to climb that ladder with her gut wound, anyway.

    He¡¯s a combat frame, Elpida thought. He may not look like one, but he is. I¡¯m not going to take advantage of him, Howl. I¡¯m not a fucking Covenanter.

    Mm, Howl grunted. She still sounded half-asleep. Sure thing, Elps. But that ain¡¯t what you said.

    What?

    You said you can¡¯t command him ¡®cos you keep getting everyone killed. Stop twisting yourself in circles, bitch. You¡¯re gonna get dizzy and throw up.

    Elpida gritted her teeth and put her face in one hand. ¡°Shut up, Howl.¡±

    ¡°Warrior?¡±

    Elpida looked up at Atyle. Her dark face was framed against the gunmetal and cream-white of Pheiri¡¯s interior. Her peat-green bionic eye flexed and twisted. Elpida blinked several times to clear her clouded vision, and said: ¡°Sorry. Just talking to the voices in my head.¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°It is wise to take counsel. But, warrior, you wish to answer the titan¡¯s needs, do you not? What he needs is within your power to grant. Why reject his fealty?¡±

    Elpida frowned. ¡°Because I have no right. And because I¡¯m not a good Commander.¡±

    Atyle shrugged. ¡°Perhaps the titan cares not.¡±

    Elpida looked at the little screen again.

    >Request orders

    Behind her, Melyn whined, low and pitiful and angry. Raindrops drummed on Pheiri¡¯s exterior armour. His engines throbbed and pulsed beneath the deck. Green text glowed. The cockpit clicked and hummed. Elpida¡¯s mind felt slow and thick. Her words felt clumsy. She was half-naked, with a ruined t-shirt draped over her shoulders and her gut wrapped up tight with bandages. She wanted to go back to sleep, but she couldn¡¯t.

    She was the Commander.

    ¡°Pheiri,¡± Elpida started. ¡°Pheiri, I don¡¯t even really comprehend what you are, not yet. I would like to, though. I have so many questions, I¡ª¡±

    Stay on target, Elps, Howl grumbled.

    Elpida took a deep breath. Her heart lurched with anticipation. ¡°Let¡¯s start with some basic information. I need you to answer a question for me. Your text, on the screen, referred to me as a ¡®Telokopolan Officer¡¯. Do you know what Telokopolis is? You¡¯re wearing Telokopolan armour. Did you come from Telokopolis?¡±

    The request for orders was replaced by a block of text.

    >

    Military Order No.76344: Recovery of Telokopolan technology, artefacts, intelligence, and stasis-preserved personnel.

    The enemy is not invincible. Afon Ddu still stands, our walls unbreached, our perimeter secure, our people safe, our industry and agriculture productive, our arms strengthened and our armour toughened. A nanomachine plague has been stopped before and it will be stopped again, history is clear on this matter, all theories to the contrary are nothing more than idle speculation and defeatism. Telokopolis, the corpse-shell-seed of our great ancestor and mother, lies far to the east, far beyond the reach of our forces, but her technology and techniques do not. Recovery of Telokopolan ingenuity has already led to improvements in every area of warfare. The enemy is not invincible. Our ancestors did this once before, and so shall we.

    The Afon Ddu General Command Council hereby orders all fronts and front commanders to:

    1: Prioritize archaeological operations wherever possible.

    2: Forbid retreat from archaeological sites.

    3: Report all finds directly to the General Command Council without delay.

    4: Follow up on any and all rumours of stasis-preserved Telokopolan personnel.

    >

    Elpida read the order several times. Rain drummed on the hull.

    ¡°We were ¡­ ¡± she croaked eventually. ¡°We were archaeology, to you? We were your ¡­ ancestors? I ¡­ I don¡¯t ¡­ we beat the green? The Covenanters beat the green? I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    The screen cleared. Fresh text appeared.

    >

    ///Encyclopaedia entry define: ¡®Covenanter¡¯

    ///ERROR entry corrupt

    ///elevate permission control

    ///input Human-Human mastergene code access

    ///permission control overridden 99999999 ERROR hours previous: authorization Chief Engineering Officer Rhian Uren

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡®Covenanter¡¯, Telokopolan, mid-era, evidence speculative: believed to a short-lived apocalypse cult during the Mid-T period.

    ///entry corrupt

    ///entry ends

    >

    Elpida laughed. Then she coughed. Her gut wound burned like a chunk of hot steel in her belly. Her head throbbed.

    ¡°Short lived? I-I don¡¯t ¡­ I can¡¯t¡ª I can¡¯t deal with this.¡± She ran a hand over her face; she could deal with this, her mind was already catching up, ignoring stressors and working on solutions. ¡°Okay, what was Afon Ddu? Was that your¡ª¡±

    ¡°Home?¡± said a tiny voice.

    Elpida turned in her seat. Melyn was staring at the words on the screen, her huge black eyes blank with confusion. She mouthed the word again, ¡®home¡¯. Haf focused on stroking Melyn¡¯s hair.

    Elpida turned back to the screen. ¡°So, you were searching for Telokopolis, too? Your whole society was. And you failed? Afon Ddu, I assume it¡¯s gone now, like everything else?¡±

    Another screen lit up down by Elpida¡¯s elbow. The black background filled with boxes and lines in red and grey: a pyramid-shaped graph with rot around the edges.

    Elpida peered closer. ¡°Is this your order of battle?¡±

    A box labelled ¡®Civil Control¡¯ stood at the apex of the pyramid; a single line led downward to box labelled ¡®Afon Ddu General Command Council¡¯. Both boxes were red; the line between them was severed. From the Command Council the hierarchy spread out into a wide pyramid of army groups, themata, divisions, droungos, specialist formations, armoured spears, foederati, even forts and factories directly integrated into the military command structure. Some of the terminology made sense to Elpida ¡ª Telokopolan military words in the places she expected them to be. But some it was strange to her ¡ª words from Upper-Spire or Skirts dialects pressed into new uses.

    Most of the boxes were red. Some were grey, labelled with question marks. All the lines were cut.

    At the very base of the pyramid, surrounded by red on all sides, was a single box glowing in gold-green.

    ¡®Pheiriant. Arfog ymladd cerbyd Mod.47.2 ¡®Tortoise¡¯¡¯

    Pheiri¡¯s own OOB marker had been expanded to show the contents. A list of eight names glowed in sombre red ¡ª Cerys, Talieson, Ffion, and more. To Elpida those names seemed similar to the language in which Melyn had spoken, before the nanomachine translation had caught up. Similar to Melyn, or Hafina. Not Telokopolan names.

    Pheiri¡¯s human crew? All dead?

    Below the human names were two additional categories: ¡®on-board synthetic assistants¡¯, and ¡®deployable autonomous infantry¡¯. Both categories held a list of serial numbers. All the numbers were red ¡ª except for two, one each category. Those two serial numbers had been crossed out and replaced with a pair of names in gold-green: ¡®Melyn¡¯ and ¡®Hafina¡¯.

    Elpida stared for a long time. Tears prickled in her eyes.

    ¡°Thank you for the answer,¡± she said eventually. She reached out and pressed a palm against the panel in front of her. It was cold and hard. ¡°I know. My home¡¯s gone too. My sisters are all dead. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Elpida wiped her eyes and looked up at the others. Atyle appeared unmoved. Melyn and Hafina were both staring at the ORBAT chart as if they didn¡¯t quite understand what they were looking at. Melyn was frowning, her smooth, white-grey little face scrunched up with the effort of comprehension.

    Pheiri¡¯s last remaining family.

    Elpida turned back to the little black screen. It was empty now.

    ¡°How long have you been out here?¡± she asked.

    >99999999 ERROR hours

    ¡°Right.¡± Elpida took a deep breath. ¡°Okay. Thank you for answering, Pheiri. I get it. I really do. No command, no direction. Home¡¯s gone. Maybe you weren¡¯t designed to be autonomous. Maybe you¡¯ve been running by yourself for too long, looking after Melyn and Hafina. I can be your ally, I can be your friend. But I can¡¯t command you. I can¡¯t give you orders. I¡¯ve got no right. You¡¯ve survived so much longer than I have, out here, in this. I and my friends, my comrades, I think we¡¯d probably be dead if not for your support back there. If anything, you should be commanding me, you have more expertise than me. I can be your ally, but I can¡¯t be your Comman¡ª¡±

    ¡°Why not?!¡± Melyn spat.

    Elpida turned in surprise. Pain shot through her stomach, stitches tugging at flesh beneath the dressing. She winced hard and lost her breath.

    Melyn had pulled herself out of Haf¡¯s grip and stepped forward again. Her many-fingered hands were bunched into fists. Her big black eyes were shiny with tears. With Elpida sitting down and Melyn standing they were almost level with each other. Melyn¡¯s white-grey face was screwed up with offended fury.

    ¡°Melyyy, Melyyyyy!¡± Haf was saying ¡ª but she did not move forward to restrain her partner.

    ¡°Melyn?¡± Elpida wheezed. ¡°Speak your mind.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Melyn repeated. ¡°You say you¡¯re our Commander. Me and Haf. Me and Haf. But not Pheiri? Not Pheiri? Me and Haf but not Pheiri? You won¡¯t give him¡ª give him¡ª give him¡ª¡± Melyn thumped her own chest with a bloody hand ¡ª Elpida¡¯s blood, Pira¡¯s blood ¡ª then coughed and wheezed. Haf moved to catch her; so did Elpida, despite the pain in her stomach. But Melyn waved them away, hands flapping with anger. ¡°If you won¡¯t¡ª won¡¯t¡ª won¡¯t help Pheiri, then you¡¯re right! You¡¯re right. You¡¯re right. You¡¯re a bad Commander. Bad Commander. Shitty Commander!¡±

    Melyn straightened up, tears in her eyes. Haf winced slowly, as if she expected Elpida to slap Melyn.

    Elpida eased back into her chair. She took deep breaths as the pain in her gut wound subsided back to a smouldering ember. ¡°Melyn, I thought you didn¡¯t¡ª like the idea¡ª of me being¡ª your Commander?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t!¡± Melyn spat. ¡°But it¡¯s not fair! Pheiri is alone! Alone! We¡¯re all alone.¡±

    Hafina was trying to hush her: ¡°Shhhh! Shhhhhhh!¡±

    In the back of Elpida¡¯s mind, Howl grumbled: She¡¯s got a point, Elps. No sister left behind. What if this stonking great crawler-frame thing was the size of Melyn, begging for your protection, huh? Would you say no, then? Come on, bitch. Be consistent.

    Elpida raised her voice: ¡°You¡¯re not alone. Melyn, Hafina, you¡¯re not alone.¡±

    They both looked at her.

    Elpida turned back to the little black screen. She took a deep breath. ¡°Pheiri, your society did not end in failure. You found Telokopolis. You found me. In a way¡ª¡± Elpida¡¯s throat grew thick, but she pushed past it. ¡°In a way you¡¯re a child of the city too, just a fair bit younger than me. Does that make you my little brother?¡± She almost laughed. Her head was full of static. ¡°I¡¯ve had a lot of sisters, but never a brother. That makes Melyn and Hafina descendants of Telokopolis, too.¡± She filled her lungs and closed her eyes. ¡°As long as one of us is still up and breathing, the city stands. Telokopolis is forever.¡±

    She opened her eyes.

    >99999999 ERROR hours

    Elpida almost laughed. ¡°That¡¯s forever? Good enough, little brother.¡±

    The text refreshed.

    >Request orders

    ¡°Alright, Pheiri,¡± Elpida croaked. ¡°I ¡­ I¡¯ll be your Commander, too. But I can¡¯t just give you orders. This has to be an agreement. You and I have to agree. You have the right to question me. You understand?¡±

    >

    [[[.designate non-authority advisory role]]]

    >

    Elpida said: ¡°Okay. Advisory? We can start there, we can work with that. I can advise you.¡±

    >

    ///Commander

    >

    Elpida sighed, but she couldn¡¯t help the smile. ¡°Sure. Call me Commander, if you want. The others mostly do.¡±

    She looked back at Melyn and Hafina. Melyn still did not look happy, arms folded, brow furrowed; but she regarded Elpida with less hostility. Hafina grinned a big, goofy, sheepish grin. Atyle just smiled, thin and inscrutable.

    Elpida closed her eyes.

    Her body still demanded rest ¡ª or food. The great and terrible hunger for fresh meat was beginning to gnaw at her entrails again. The implications of Pheiri¡¯s origins had left her stunned, even as her trained and engineered mind kept up with ease. She had so many tasks ahead of her ¡ª not least the looming conversation with Pira and Ooni.

    At least she and the others were safe inside Pheiri, inside a little recovered offshoot of Telokopolis, a fellow child of the city.

    Melyn muttered: ¡°Is she sleeping?¡±

    Atyle replied in a whisper, ¡°Perhaps. She is very damaged, little maid.¡±

    ¡°Why do you call me that? Call me that?¡±

    ¡°Because it is what you are. The titan¡¯s maid. It is a beautiful thing, to attend a god.¡±

    Haf agreed: ¡°Melyn is pretty.¡±

    Melyn hissed through her teeth.

    Safe, protected ¡ª but Elpida was in command, and two of her girls were still beyond the safety of these walls. Vicky and Kagami were still inside that fallen combat frame in the middle of the crater ¡ª disunited, cut off behind enemy lines, out in the green.

    She could not afford to rest.

    Elpida opened her eyes and looked at Atyle. ¡°Our first order of business is to link back up with Kagami and Vicky. Then we need to see if there¡¯s a way to contact Serin. She might not be one of us, but she helped us, that matters. I need to speak with Vicky and Kagami first. What are the communication systems here like?¡±

    Atyle tilted her head. ¡°I told you once, warrior. Rest or die.¡±

    Melyn snapped: ¡°Hey!¡±

    Elpida tried to laugh; the snort made her stomach hurt. ¡°Melyn, it¡¯s okay. That was just Atyle, not a threat.¡±

    Atyle said, ¡°I am neither a wound nor weariness. I do not speak with their voices.¡±

    Elpida sighed. ¡°I can plan while I rest, or send others to solve the problem. I want to speak with them, to see how they¡¯re doing, and figure out how we¡¯re going to get them back over here.¡±

    Atyle raised her eyebrows.

    Howl snorted: Bitch is lying.

    Elpida said, ¡°You¡¯re concealing something from me, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Atyle grinned. ¡°The warrior sees almost as much as I do. Yes, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are Kaga and Vicky safe?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Then I don¡¯t care. How do I talk to them?¡±

    Atyle gestured at the many control panels and internal systems of Pheiri¡¯s cockpit. ¡°We must use the titan himself. His shell is too thick for stray messages.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Pheiri, how do I¡ª¡±

    A speaker crackled to life on the other side of the control cockpit.

    ¡°Elpi? Hey! Hey, Elpi, is that you?¡±

    Full of static and interference, tinny and broken, almost drowned out by the rainstorm washing the hull ¡ª but unmistakable.

    Elpida croaked: ¡°Vicky. Can you hear me?¡±

    Vicky laughed, muffled and distant. ¡°Yeah! Yeah, loud and clear, Elpi!¡± Melyn darted across the compartment and twisted several dials near the speaker grille; when Vicky spoke again, her voice was clear: ¡°Ahhh shit. Elpi, it¡¯s good to know you¡¯re alright.¡±

    Atyle murmured, ¡°Or the titan could contact them for us.¡±

    Elpida raised her voice as firmly as she could, in case the connection really was as bad as it sounded: ¡°I¡¯m doing fine, Vicky. Nothing a good night¡¯s sleep won¡¯t fix. Everyone else is okay, too. We¡¯re all in one piece, with some new friends.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I heard. Atyle told us. Look, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Commander!¡± another voice snapped through the speaker ¡ª rough and scratchy with stress and lack of sleep, dripping with sarcasm. Melyn flinched. ¡°Elpida. ¡®Commander¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida said. ¡°It¡¯s good to hear your voice too.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Don¡¯t fuck with me. I have a bone to pick with you, ¡®Commander¡¯. You fucking madwoman, you¡ª¡±

    A rustle interrupted ¡ª was Vicky trying to hush Kagami? Vicky said: ¡°Kaga, Kaga, hey, cool down, she doesn¡¯t need that. Okay? We made it, we¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± Kagami spat. ¡°She doesn¡¯t need it, does she? Our omni-benevolent Commander doesn¡¯t need any fucking critique to stop her from recruiting random fascists!? You¡¯re going to sit there and tell me you¡¯re alright with that?¡± Kagami¡¯s voice suddenly cleared, as if she had leaned closer to the microphone. ¡°She¡¯s not okay with it, by the way, in case you were wondering. Your obedient little private here is practically contemplating mutiny, ¡®Commander¡¯¡±

    Vicky stammered. ¡°K-Kaga, hey, hey, stop¡ª¡±

    Kagami kept going. ¡°She ranted for over an hour about how you should have put a bullet in that woman¡¯s head. And for the record, I agree with her! Pira, too! Shoot the both of them and have done with it!¡±

    Vicky spoke over Kagami: ¡°And I changed my mind! Elpi, she¡¯s shit-stirring. I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±

    Kagami shouted, ¡°Yes, only because you have a fucking head wound!¡±

    Elpida couldn¡¯t keep the smile off her face. It was just like listening to her cadre. Only they weren¡¯t in arm¡¯s reach for her to discipline.

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida said before one of them could snap again. ¡°Kagami, I am thoroughly deserving of criticism, believe me, I know that very well. Recruiting Ooni may be a mistake. I haven¡¯t decided yet. I haven¡¯t had time to sit down and figure out who she really is. It was a poor decision, I was impaired.¡±

    ¡°Right! Yes!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°So you¡¯re going to¡ª¡±

    ¡°But I would do it again,¡± Elpida said. ¡°And nobody is putting anything in her or Pira ¡ª bullets or otherwise. They are both under my protection, for now. Ooni took my deal, she upheld her end of that by trying to kill Yola. And Pira proved her good faith, if not her good judgement.¡± Elpida pulled the ruined t-shirt off her shoulders and spread it out on her lap, staring at the crescent-and-line symbol she¡¯d daubed in her own blood; she really needed to talk to Serin about this, about what it meant. Or maybe Ilyusha. ¡°I¡¯m Commander to those two as well.¡±

    Kagami clenched her teeth so hard that the microphone picked up the sound.

    Elpida said: ¡°Kagami¡ª¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re going to tell me not to shoot both her and Pira, you can shove your¡ª¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Silence.

    Elpida carried on: ¡°Thank you, Kagami. I¡¯m not sure we would have made it out of the skyscraper without you acting as mission control. You did incredibly well. Good job. I¡¯m proud of you. I¡¯m proud you¡¯re one of us.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ s-shut up, Elpida,¡± Kagami hissed. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake.¡±

    ¡°Now,¡± Elpida said. ¡°How are you both holding up? Vicky, you have a head wound?¡±

    ¡°Ehhhhh,¡± Vicky grunted. ¡°Not great, but not terrible? The head wound sucks, I have a broken skull. Makes it hard to focus? And it¡¯s ¡­ healing slowly.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°She¡¯s fine, she¡¯s just bellyaching.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m hungry. Starving, really. We both are.¡± Vicky sounded less happy when she said that. Kagami just grunted, unwilling to contradict Vicky¡¯s appetite.

    Elpida said, ¡°The inside of a combat frame is airtight. Atmospherically sealed. That thing came from orbit, so that must still be true.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Vicky. ¡°Oh, shiiiit. Yeah, we¡¯re locked up tight.¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°We can open the hatch, you moron. I can open it from here! I¡¯m not going to, because something might come in and eat us.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°You¡¯re both cut off from ambient nanomachines in the air.¡±

    Kagami clucked her tongue. ¡°Assuming that wasn¡¯t another lie from Pira.¡±

    ¡°Noted,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I don¡¯t think she had any reason to mislead us about the basic mechanics of nanomachine biology. Everything we¡¯ve seen so far does line up with what she said, Serin too. But Pira did conceal other information, so I¡¯m open to alternative suggestions. For now, I¡¯m going to work on the assumption that you two are slowly starving. You can¡¯t stay in there forever.¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah,¡± Vicky said. ¡°I agree with Elpi.¡±

    Kagami just grunted.

    Elpida sighed, closed her eyes, and let her head roll back against the control cockpit chair. Her gut wound burned beneath the clean dressing. She said: ¡°We really need short range comms. If you two left there now and headed toward us, we¡¯d have no way of knowing if something went wrong, let alone linking back up with you. We¡¯re gonna have to come pick you up, one way or the other. Either in Pheiri, or on foot, or ¡­ ¡± Elpida frowned, trying to push through the black haze. ¡°I suppose Hafina could go pick you up, stay in stealth, get back here?¡±

    Melyn said: ¡°Haf stays home. Stays home!¡±

    Hafina let out a deep, plaintive purr.

    Vicky said, ¡°Elpi, you don¡¯t wanna come and see for yourself?¡±

    Elpida felt a sad smile crease her lips. ¡°The combat frame isn¡¯t up and walking, so I¡¯m guessing you haven¡¯t had much luck. In fact, I¡¯m guessing she¡¯s mortally wounded, and we don¡¯t have the drydock or repair facilities to heal her. You can tell me everything, I¡¯m listening. I do want to know what you¡¯ve found in there. Maybe there are things I should see for myself, but ¡­ I feel like I¡¯ve abandoned hope for that. I know you two brought down the Necromancer, Atyle told me. I want to know all about that, anything she said. She was wearing my face, right?¡±

    Silence. Elpida opened her eyes.

    ¡°Vicky? Kagami?¡±

    ¡°Elpi,¡± Vicky said slowly. ¡°You just want us to leave?¡±

    Elpida sighed. ¡°Not really. I want to wake that combat frame and see it walk. But if it¡¯s not moving under its own power by now ¡­ ¡±

    Kagami snapped: ¡°What about the pilot? You want us to leave her?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s heart lurched. She sat bolt upright in her seat, then clutched her stomach as the motion provoked a wave of pain. ¡°There¡¯s a pilot? A living pilot? Is she¡ª does she have my phenotype?¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°Atyle didn¡¯t tell you?¡±

    Atyle smiled, dark and clever. ¡°I was attempting to coax the warrior back to bed. It seems I have failed.¡±

    ¡°Tell me about the pilot!¡± Elpida demanded. She was shaking. ¡°Does she¡ª

    Kagami snapped out an answer: ¡°She has the same looks as you, yes, Commander. Purple eyes, white hair, brown skin. Weird looks, I¡¯m not going to sugar coat that. You both look weird as all fuck. And before you get your hopes up ¡ª no, her name is not one of the ones you keep muttering like a prayer. Yes, we¡¯ve all heard you doing that. This pilot doesn¡¯t even have a name, she has a serial number¡ª¡±

    Elpida¡¯s heart lurched the other way; a pilot, with cadre phenotype, but not one of her sisters?

    Still one of us, said Howl.

    ¡°¡ªand she¡¯s alive, yes,¡± Kagami finished. ¡°Alive for now, anyway.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? Explain. Is she wounded?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Kagami said. ¡°But we can¡¯t figure out where. There¡¯s blood in her weird orange piss-tank. And we can¡¯t take her out of that. We don¡¯t even dare open the thing, because she¡¯s a real human being.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s blood went cold. ¡°She¡¯s not a zombie? The air, the atmosphere, the ¡­ everything. Even us.¡±

    ¡°Yup,¡± Kagami grunted. ¡°Homo sapiens, original flavour, ready to decant. The nanomachines will eat her alive.¡±

 armatus - 8.4

    Ooni jolted awake.

    Gunmetal walls, surgical tools, and the stench of dried blood; raindrops drumming hard beyond a thick metal shell ¡ª and the deep heartbeat throb of a powerful engine below her feet. Empty-handed, unarmed, peeled out of her carapace; her flesh was protected by nothing but a few flimsy layers of grey cloth. Thirsty and hungry and disoriented, sore from head to toe, with a gun pointed at her face.

    Ooni remembered where she was and what she had done. She swallowed her panic. She decided to stay very quiet.

    This was the infirmary, inside the giant armoured vehicle which belonged to her new ¡®allies¡¯. She¡¯d woken up in much worse places than this. All her limbs were still attached. Nothing was trying to eat her. She wasn¡¯t chained to the walls.

    She had betrayed everything ¡ª Yola, the Dead-Heads, her oaths. All for¡ª

    ¡°Leuca!¡± she whispered.

    Leuca was right in front of her, lying on one of the two narrow medical beds. She was unconscious, half naked, covered in wounds and dressings and stitches. She looked just as she did in Ooni¡¯s memories, as if all the decades¡ª

    Ooni caught herself. She snatched back her hand. She had to get a grip, and quickly. If she focused on Leuca she would start to weep. The rainstorm outdoors had masked the tiny sounds of her waking up, but open tears would draw attention.

    And then she might not have time to be ruthless and cunning.

    Ooni steadied her heart with a single deep breath, then stopped breathing, and took stock.

    The others hadn¡¯t moved her in her sleep ¡ª she was still crammed into the corner of the infirmary, on a fold-out metal seat attached to the wall. She wiped a thin trickle of drool off her chin. Her wrists and ankles weren¡¯t bound, either. That made no sense; she had expected to wake up in chains, or locked inside some tiny prison compartment. She¡¯d accepted that as inevitable, as part of the price for Leuca¡¯s safety. They¡¯d even let her keep her clothes ¡ª a tomb-grey t-shirt, some baggy leggings, and her cloak for extra warmth.

    Why wasn¡¯t she restrained? This group couldn¡¯t possibly be as naive as Leuca had suggested, could they?

    Ooni tried not to think about that. The alternative was that they¡¯d left her free on purpose. And that was terrifying.

    The infirmary was a wonder ¡ª a real medical facility, well-stocked with surgical tools and sterile dressings, a pair of beds, and even running water. The room had looked pretty clean too, at least prior to the little ART doing all that surgery; now the metal floor and the beds were covered with dried blood. Ooni would gladly get down on her knees and scrub every corner, just to see it shiny and neat and hygienic again. She could have cried at the luxury. She hadn¡¯t seen anything like this since the Fortress ¡ª and that was a dim memory these days.

    The little zombie with the extensive bionics ¡ª what was her name again, Ilyusha? ¡ª had fallen asleep sitting next to the door. She was still pointing her shotgun at Ooni, but at least her finger wasn¡¯t on the trigger. An open backpack stood at her side. Five cannisters of raw nanos were inside, ripe for the taking, out in the open, unprotected. Ooni¡¯s stomach clenched. Her throat bobbed. Her hands quivered. But she tore her eyes away; that shotgun muzzle was very wide and very dark.

    The bulkhead hatch was open, but Ooni couldn¡¯t hear any sounds from the larger chamber beyond.

    Elpida and the little ART were gone. Elpida¡¯s armoured coat lay over the foot of the empty bed.

    That was very bad.

    Ooni was no fool. She knew this group had not accepted her; Leuca ¡ª in her beautiful but blind brilliance ¡ª had betrayed them in a moment of god-spawned madness. Ilyusha wore the mark of the Wreckers and Murderers drawn right on the front of her t-shirt, and Elpida wore it daubed in blood. Only Elpida¡¯s authority protected Ooni and Leuca from execution or cannibalism.

    And what if Elpida changed her mind?

    Elpida was a leader, just like Yola ¡ª or like Omur, or Heidelwiss, or Cece, or a dozen others Ooni had known. According to Leuca this group was young, absurdly young, a week fresh from the tomb. But that wasn¡¯t possible, it made no sense. Leuca had told her the details ¡ª the kinds of details which mattered to Leuca¡¯s singular brilliance. These people were mostly fresh meat, first-timers, disoriented and confused. But they¡¯d banded together and made it out of a tomb ¡ª first try! Elpida had killed a monster, outfought highly modified revenants, and led this group of nobodies and nothings to that mech out there in the crater. And now they had an armoured fighting vehicle, an ancient machine from beyond the graveworm line.

    Ooni wouldn¡¯t have believed that from anyone but Leuca ¡ª and maybe Leuca was mistaken, or being tricked, or forced to lie. If that was true, then this group would degenerate like all the rest. Sooner or later they would fall to self-destruction, like all others except the Dead-Heads. And they had no structures to control the orgy of feasting that would result. No beliefs, no guidance, no guardrails. Just Elpida. Just another leader. They would eat each other.

    And if Leuca was wrong, if this group was more experienced, as Ooni suspected, then why had they not bound her, or eaten her?

    She was either in a den of monsters or aboard a ship of fools.

    Ooni started to shake; the latter she could escape, but the former she dared not contemplate, or she would panic.

    Instead she finally allowed herself to look at Leuca.

    This woman was the reason she needed to stay calm.

    Leuca was horribly wounded, covered in bandages and gauze and stitches. She had a pair of terrible head wounds; half her neck and jaw and cheek were closed up with a mass of ugly stitching. Her fire-bright hair was dirty with blood. She looked like a corpse. Ooni prayed to gods she had long since abandoned: please don¡¯t be in a coma, please let her wake up soon.

    Four subjective decades since death had parted them, since Ooni had seen that pale, freckled face, heard that crunchy, iron-hard voice, and felt the touch of hands just a little too rough and clumsy ¡ª give or take a few years, of course; the dozen or so resurrections since then made it difficult for Ooni to keep track.

    But Leuca had changed. Ooni always knew this was a risk. Leuca¡¯s core was the same ¡ª the same stubborn, cold, unbreakable willpower, the same vulnerable idealism lurking below the surface. But now it was applied to things which Ooni did not understand. Like refusal to eat.

    But this was still Leuca. She must be right about the eating thing. Leuca was always right.

    And she¡¯d called Ooni a fucking traitor for joining the Dead-Heads.

    Leuca was always right.

    So Ooni was a traitor.

    To what? To Leuca? To the memory of the Fortress? To the gods?

    Ooni felt a sob building in her throat. She had to stay quiet. She had to be smart, and swift, and clever, and¡ª

    ¡°Leuca,¡± she whispered. She stared at Leuca¡¯s closed eyelids, her bloodstained brow, her slack lips. ¡°Leuca, it¡¯s not the wounds.¡± She sobbed once, almost a laugh. ¡°I¡¯ve seen you wounded worse than this. Remember when¡ª when you lost your left leg? O-or the¡ª the hounds, that one time at the Fortress? The third year, I think. T-that was really bad. You were in pieces. You almost died. I cried over you for a week. I fed you by hand. I fed you all the pieces of Vount, and Bea, and Patty. Do you still remember that? I forget so much about the Fortress now, but I remember everything you and I did together. B-but it¡¯s not that. Leuca, I hadn¡¯t seen you in decades. I¡¯ve missed you so much. I didn¡¯t know if you even came back. I-I never meant to betray you, I was just trying to stay alive, it got so ¡­ so tiring, dying. I just wanted it to stop. I¡¯m sorry.¡± She swallowed hard. She had to control herself. She stared at Leuca¡¯s dented bionic arm. ¡°That¡¯s new. I wasn¡¯t there for that. How did you get it? Was it after my time? After the Fortress? After we both ¡­ both died.¡±

    Ooni wiped her eyes and swept her hair out of her face. She needed clarity of mind. She needed to act. She needed to take initiative. But she was always so bad at this. The Dead-Heads had given her purpose and place for six years, and she hadn¡¯t needed to think; then Leuca had told her what to do, to sneak the hidden cannister of blue to Elpida when she was imprisoned. That had seemed insane, and it had hurt, but Ooni had done it anyway.

    Then Elpida had given her orders, and the world had made more sense.

    She wished Leuca was awake to give her orders.

    ¡°I can¡¯t do this alone,¡± she whispered. ¡°Leuca ¡­ Leuca, please wake up and tell me what to do. Please.¡±

    Leuca didn¡¯t stir.

    Ooni screwed up her eyes and pressed her face into her hands. She mustn¡¯t cry. The rain would not drown out her sobs.

    She¡¯d grown skilled at smothering her emotions among the Dead-Heads. Grown numb and empty. Weakness was unsafe. But since the moment she¡¯d seen Leuca again all her self-control had begun to break down.

    She took slow, shallow, shuddering breaths.

    She needed to flee, with Leuca. She didn¡¯t know where her armour or weapons had been taken; Ilyusha hadn¡¯t let her see. This armoured vehicle couldn¡¯t be that large, but the zombies had probably locked all her stuff away. She would escape empty-handed if need be, carrying nothing but Leuca. Into the city, into the ruins. They would eat mould and carrion, sleep in holes, take refuge in each other¡¯s body heat; they¡¯d done that before, they could do it again. Living as barely-human scavengers would be worth the privation, just to be together, to be alive alongside each other once more. Surely Leuca would agree? But what about the no-eating thing? And Ooni couldn¡¯t return to the Dead-Heads, not after she¡¯d helped kill two superiors.

    Oh! And also not after she¡¯d tried to assassinate Yola with an improvised plasma explosive.

    Ooni smiled at that memory, behind the shield of her hands.

    Where had that courage come from? She needed it again now.

    To escape she would need to pick up Leuca, step over Ilyusha without waking her, get past anybody out there in the crew compartment, and get this machine to open the rear airlock hatch.

    Or she could tackle Ilyusha now, while she was still sleeping, wrestle the shotgun out of her hands, and¡ª

    And what? Shoot her?

    Ooni had pledged her allegiance to Elpida ¡ª in return for a guarantee of Leuca¡¯s safety. The orders had felt good. She hadn¡¯t been pretending. Escaping was one thing, that was not a betrayal. But murdering her allies was different. Then again, Ooni had pledged her allegiance to Yola too, in a much bloodier ceremony, with a great deal more gravitas. She had pledged her body and soul to the cause of the naked skull. But then her ¡®sisters¡¯ were going to murder Leuca, and she¡¯d discarded her oaths without a second thought.

    And then Elpida had sworn to protect Leuca.

    And she had! She hadn¡¯t abandoned them, hadn¡¯t left them behind! When Leuca had attempted to sacrifice herself for the sake of these people, Elpida had sprinted to catch her.

    Ooni¡¯s mind went around and around: these people were fools, or they were terrifying; Elpida had saved Leuca, even after being betrayed; Ooni was unbound when she woke ¡ª and what did that mean? None of this made sense. How had this group survived this long if they were this naive? It was impossible. There was something hidden here, something she wasn¡¯t seeing, and that unseen monster would eat her alive the moment her back was turned, and she and Leuca would be separated again for decades. She couldn¡¯t take that a second time. Maybe they would never reunite again. Maybe Leuca wanted to give up and stop coming back. Maybe there would be no third chance.

    What if she stole the shotgun, but used it only to threaten? Would they let her and Leuca go? What if she took a hostage? Ilyusha wouldn¡¯t work for that, not with all her bionics. What about the little ART? Maybe. She seemed pretty defenceless. Ooni didn¡¯t feel that courage again, but at least this was a plan.

    She finally took her hands away from her face. There was a water tap on the other side of the room; she could creep over there and drink and then¡ª

    ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡±

    Ooni jumped. Her hands scrabbled for a sidearm she didn¡¯t have.

    One of the zombies was standing in the doorway ¡ª the short one who¡¯d been imprisoned alongside Elpida. Ooni hadn¡¯t even heard her approach. She looked utterly harmless, petite and plump, with puppy-fat in her cheeks, her frame swamped by a tomb-grown coat. But Ooni knew better; this one had fought like a cornered fox when the Dead-Heads had taken her. She was a biter.

    And now she was holding a naked combat knife.

    Ooni struggled to recall the girl¡¯s name. She had to memorise the names as quickly as she could. If she couldn¡¯t escape then her best shot at survival was to make them see her as a person.

    ¡°Amina,¡± Ooni whispered. She prayed she¡¯d gotten it right. ¡°I¡¯m¡ª I¡¯m Ooni. A-and yes, I¡¯m awake. Let the others sleep?¡±

    Amina chewed her bottom lip. She glanced down at Ilyusha.

    Ooni whispered: ¡°Please don¡¯t wake her up.¡±

    Amina frowned at Ooni, suddenly afraid.

    Ooni showed her empty hands, and quickly added: ¡°I-I think she might get angry with me, just because. Look, I don¡¯t have any weapons. I¡¯m not going to hurt you or anything, I¡¯ll sit right here, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Illy,¡± Amina said. ¡°Illy, I think you should wake up now. Illy, please wake up. Illy.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted, stirred, and woke up. Her red and black bionic hands tightened on her shotgun. Her crimson talons scraped on the metal floor. Her massive tail-spike tapped against the wall. She shook her head, glanced up at Amina, then over at Ooni. She blinked bleary iron-grey eyes. Her lips peeled back in a sneer.

    ¡°Ami?¡± she grunted. ¡°You okay?¡±

    Amina replied: ¡°She said I shouldn¡¯t wake you up. So I woke you up. I¡¯m sorry, Illy. I had to.¡±

    Ooni tried to explain herself. ¡°I-I thought you needed sleep, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up, reptile,¡± Ilyusha growled. She made her shotgun go clunk, then clambered to her feet, claws scraping on the bloodstained metal floor. She stretched her tail, then coiled it over one shoulder. She cracked her neck left and right. She cradled her left arm awkwardly ¡ª still injured. She kept her weapon pointed at Ooni, then turned her head slightly to address Amina: ¡°S¡¯fine, Ami. Right choice. Don¡¯t listen to her. Where¡¯s Elpi?¡±

    Amina said, ¡°I think she went to the front of this ¡­ um ¡­ house?¡±

    ¡°Tank,¡± Ilyusha said. ¡°Really big tank.¡±

    ¡°Tank,¡± Amina repeated carefully. ¡°Tank. Thank you, Illy. Elpida went to the front. She¡¯s been talking to the others. I heard them.¡±

    Ooni said, ¡°May I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Ilyusha spat. She jerked her shotgun forward. ¡°Fuck you!¡±

    Ooni kept her hands visible. ¡°Please ¡­ ¡±

    Ilyusha mocked her: ¡°Please, please, please. Shut the fuck up.¡±

    Amina said, ¡°She hurt Elpida really badly. When we were tied up. She stuck her hand into Elpida¡¯s tummy.¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Ilyusha¡¯s eyes twitched. ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Amina said. ¡°She¡ª¡±

    Ooni said: ¡°I brought her the blue! I brought her a dose of raw blue! There was no other way to get it to her without being found out! Leuca¡ª¡± Ooni gestured with her head. ¡°Leuca told me to. It was her secret stash. We helped the Commander. We did!¡±

    Ilyusha gritted her teeth. ¡°Ami, truth?¡±

    Amina swallowed. ¡°She did. But I saw her face. She enjoyed it. Enjoyed hurting. She hates Elpida.¡±

    Ilyusha growled: ¡°Yeah?¡±

    Ooni swallowed. She dared not tell the truth ¡ª she had enjoyed it, but the pleasure was a bitter medicine. She¡¯d burned with white-hot jealousy; Leuca¡¯s faith in this ¡®Elpida¡¯ was blinding, clearer and more devoted than even their time at the Fortress. And Leuca had called Ooni a ¡®fucking traitor¡¯ compared to this¡ª this¡ª nobody! This nothing! This fresh-meat filth!

    But that was all gone now. Leuca was always right.

    Ooni felt a sob building in her throat.

    Amina said, very quietly: ¡°I think I enjoy hurting too. But I¡¯m on Elpida¡¯s side. She¡¯s not. We should get rid of her.¡±

    Ilyusha bared her teeth in a nasty grin. She flexed her hands on the shotgun.

    Ooni said quickly, ¡°Elpida told us all to get along! She told us all to get along, you both heard that! And I¡¯m¡ª I belong to her now. I do. I belong to Elpida. She¡¯s my Commander. Just like you. We have an agreement. I haven¡¯t broken it!¡±

    Ilyusha snorted and flicked her shotgun¡¯s safety off. Amina lowered her eyes and looked at the knife in her fist. Ooni opened her mouth to scream.

    A voice interrupted, from the compartment beyond the infirmary.

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± said Elpida.

    The Commander stepped out of the gloom behind Amina. The rainstorm static on the hull must have masked her approach.

    The other two zombies turned to look. Amina blushed and hid her knife behind her back; Ilyusha flicked the shotgun¡¯s safety back on. Elpida gave Amina¡¯s shoulder a squeeze, muttered, ¡°sheathe that, please,¡± then stepped past her and into the infirmary. She placed a hand on Ilyusha¡¯s shotgun and forced the muzzle to point at the floor.

    Elpida said: ¡°Ooni is mine now. No summary executions ¡ª not her, not Pira. Do you both understand?¡±

    Amina hung her head, hiding her eyes with one hand, consumed by shame. But Ilyusha peeled back her lips and snapped: ¡°She¡¯s a fucking reptile!¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Yes. She¡¯s my reptile now. My responsibility. You understand, Ilyusha?¡±

    Ilyusha frowned, not quite convinced.

    Elpida nodded to Ooni. ¡°Ooni, did you sleep well?¡±

    Ooni nodded back; a lie, absurd and obvious. She¡¯d slept in a metal seat with her head against a wall. But something about Elpida commanded agreement.

    Elpida said: ¡°Don¡¯t lie. Did you sleep well, or did you sleep like shit?¡±

    Ooni swallowed. Was this a test? No ¡ª it was an order. ¡°I ¡­ I slept like shit, yes. I¡¯m sore and stiff. My neck hurts. S-sorry for lying.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°That¡¯s better. Thank you.¡±

    Ooni flushed.

    Elpida was god-like; that was the only explanation. Ooni had seen plenty of highly modified zombies get taller than her, or pack on more muscle, or exert more raw intimidation ¡ª but Elpida was apparently near-pure baseline; she looked as she had in life ¡ª seven feet tall, rippling with densely corded muscle, tight and toned and sleek and sharp, with the shining white hair of some god-touched seer, and purple eyes burning like spirits in the night sky. She spoke with unquestioned authority and moved like a giant cat on the hunt. She was stunningly beautiful. Right then she was also casually half-naked, topless, tits out, with just a t-shirt draped over her shoulders. She showed no trace of self-consciousness or embarrassment.

    She was hunched to fit into the infirmary, the dressings on her gut wound showed a thin line of crimson stain ¡ª the pain must have been incredible ¡ª and her eyes were ringed with dark shadows of exhaustion. But none of that slowed her down.

    Perhaps Yola was correct, maybe Elpida was superhuman; if Ooni had met Elpida in life she would have assumed this woman was the result of a coupling between a mortal and a god.

    Perhaps she was. Perhaps the gods Ooni had forsaken were not quite as dead as she believed.

    Elpida said, ¡°Illy, Amina, I need to talk to both of you, to keep you in the loop. We have plans to make. Let¡¯s go to the bunk room.¡± She pointed at the bag on the floor, which contained the five cannisters of blue ambrosia. ¡°Illy, please bring that as well. Ooni, I¡¯ll be back shortly. Stay right there. Try not to wake Pira.¡±

    Ooni nodded, then quickly said, ¡°Yes, Commander.¡±

    Ilyusha grabbed the bag and shot Ooni a sneer, as if Ooni had been planning to pour all the nanos down her throat as soon as everyone¡¯s backs were turned. Ooni couldn¡¯t deny the idea had crossed her mind. Ilyusha looked at Leuca with even more venom, then followed Amina and Elpida out of the infirmary and into the larger compartment. Ooni watched the trio cross the space and step through the matching door on the opposite side. They closed the hatch after them.

    Ooni stayed right there in her seat. She didn¡¯t breathe. She tried to listen ¡ª she heard Elpida repeat something several times, and Ilyusha protesting. But she couldn¡¯t make out any actual words over the drumming rain and the throbbing engine.

    Were they discussing her?

    She stood up to stretch her muscles, but she dared not cross the room to fetch herself a cup of water. What if Elpida looked to make sure Ooni was obeying? This might be the first of many tests, to see if she would attempt to escape, or do exactly as she was told.

    It felt good to do as she was told. She stayed where she was.

    Several minutes crawled by. Rainstorm static filled in the air. Ooni reached out and touched Leuca¡¯s hand, lying on the medical bed. She was warm. That was good.

    Eventually the door on the far side of the big compartment swung open again. Elpida emerged carrying one of the cannisters of blue ambrosia. Ilyusha and Amina followed her back to the infirmary. Amina was cradling Ilyusha¡¯s shotgun in both arms. Ilyusha was carrying the chest plate of Ooni¡¯s armour carapace ¡ª and grinning.

    Elpida stepped back into the infirmary, nodded to Ooni, and sat down on the empty bed. Ilyusha placed the grey-white armour chestplate next to Elpida; the front showed the Dead-Head symbol, the naked skull, still smothered behind a smear of Elpida¡¯s blood. The blood had dried and turned dark brown.

    Amina hovered in the doorway. Ilyusha returned to fetch her shotgun, then made a big show of pointing it at Ooni and swishing her tail.

    Elpida peered at the bloody smear on the armour. ¡°I¡¯ll need water first. Illy?¡±

    ¡°You go first,¡± Ilyusha said. ¡°You first!¡±

    Elpida smiled and sighed. She nodded, uncapped the cannister of raw blue, and drank one large mouthful of the glowing fluid. Then she offered the cannister to Ilyusha,

    ¡°Again!¡± Ilyusha snapped. ¡°One¡¯s not enough! You need more.¡±

    ¡°Illy, I can¡¯t monopolise this.¡±

    Ilyusha bared her teeth. ¡°Sleep or drink! Sleep or drink!¡±

    Amina spoke up too: ¡°I think ¡­ Elpida should maybe ¡­ maybe sleep?¡±

    Elpida sighed again. ¡°I will sleep, but not yet. We need to deal with this first.¡±

    Ilyusha snapped: ¡°Then drink! You have to go out, right? It has to be you! You have to see it yourself! Drink more!¡±

    Elpida looked like she might argue, but then she relented. She drank another large mouthful of raw nanomachines. Ilyusha finally accepted the cannister and drank a smaller dose of her own. She offered it to Amina, but Amina shook her head.

    Amina said: ¡°I didn¡¯t get hurt. Not at all.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°You¡¯re one of us, Amina. That means you get a share.¡±

    ¡°But I didn¡¯t get hurt.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Then just have a sip. Just wet your lips. For me, please, Amina.¡±

    Amina looked very uncomfortable, but she stepped forward, accepted the cannister, and took a tiny sip of blue. Elpida recapped the bottle and placed it next to her on the infirmary bed. Ooni couldn¡¯t tear her eyes away from the cannister; her stomach was clenching with the hunger for meat, for raw fuel, for nanomachine replacements. Wasn¡¯t she one of them now? Didn¡¯t she get a turn too? Maybe this was the proof. Maybe this was Elpida pulling off the mask.

    Ilyusha sneered at her: ¡°None for you, reptile fuck.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Illy. She¡¯s one of us too ¡ª or she¡¯s going to be. She¡¯ll get her turn. Just not yet.¡± Ilyusha spat on the floor, but Elpida ignored that. ¡°Once we¡¯re done here, Atyle gets some as well. Kagami and Vicky will have to wait.¡±

    Amina said, ¡°What about Melyn and Hafina?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°That¡¯s very sweet of you, Amina. But I don¡¯t think their bodies work the same way as ours do. We¡¯ll have to find some other way to share with them.¡± She glanced at Ooni. ¡°Ooni. ARTs ¡ª artificial humans ¡ª you knew what that meant. Do they need nanomachines, like us?¡±

    Ooni shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t ¡­ I don¡¯t know. Sorry.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Right.¡± She gestured at Pira. ¡°She¡¯s out cold, huh?¡±

    Ooni nodded. ¡°I think so. I touched her hand. I-I hope she¡¯s not in a coma or anything.¡±

    Elpida smiled and shook her head. ¡°I saw her wake up earlier for a few seconds. She¡¯s not in a coma.¡±

    Ooni¡¯s heart flooded with relief. ¡°Oh. G-good. Thank you. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°And if she¡¯s secretly awake and listening to us, that¡¯s fine too.¡±

    Ilyusha growled: ¡°Hope she stays asleep.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Illy, can you bring me some water, please?¡±

    Ilyusha fetched the tin mug from the tiny counter top and filled it with water. Elpida dipped two fingers in the liquid and used it to wipe away the worst of the blood which concealed the skull. The grinning back Dead-Head symbol emerged from a bloody swamp.

    Elpida said: ¡°Ooni, what is this painted on with?¡±

    Ooni tore her eyes away from the tin mug. ¡°Uh ¡­ um ¡­ s-some kind of tar, I think. I inherited the suit.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Are you thirsty?¡±

    Ooni swallowed. ¡°Yes. Very. Please may I have some water?¡±

    ¡°Illy,¡± Elpida said.

    Ilyusha screwed up her face. She took the tin mug and shoved it at Ooni so hard that water slopped into Ooni¡¯s lap. Ooni didn¡¯t care. She grabbed the cup and drained it in three gulps, then passed it back. Ilyusha¡¯s tail hung in the air for a moment, as if she was considering ramming it through the delicate bones of Ooni¡¯s face. But then she turned away and stomped the two paces back to Elpida¡¯s side.

    Elpida said: ¡°Better?¡± Ooni nodded. ¡°Good. Now, Illy, we need a scraper of some kind. A cauterization pen would be even better. Maybe we¡¯ll need to ask Melyn if there¡¯s a tool cabinet anywhere, for a blowtorch or something like that. Check that drawer, please?¡±

    Ilyusha rummaged through the surgical equipment. Moments later she found some kind of hand-held cauterization wand, a self-powered surgical tool for closing wounds. Elpida thumbed the controls. The tip of the device glowed red-hot.

    ¡°Perfect,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Now, Ooni, you have to watch this part. Illy, make sure she does.¡±

    Slowly and methodically, Elpida drew the cauterization wand over the grinning skull on Ooni¡¯s armour plate. The black paint burned away, crisping and flaking, emitting little curls of dark smoke. Tiny crackling sounds joined the static of the raindrops. The process took perhaps ten minutes. Nobody spoke. Elpida didn¡¯t look up. Ilyusha sneered and grinned the whole time, watching Ooni closely. Ooni just watched the skull¡¯s destruction.

    She felt ¡ª nothing. She was following Elpida¡¯s orders.

    Eventually Elpida finished. She brushed away the remaining flakes of charred black. The paint was gone, but the outline of a skull was still visible against the grey.

    Ilyusha spat: ¡°Fucking shit fuck bitch¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Illy, do you still have those camo paint sticks?¡±

    Ilyusha snorted, then fished around in her pockets and produced a stick of camo paint. Elpida drew a new symbol over the shadow of the skull: a crescent intersected by a line, the mark of the Wreckers and Murderers. Ooni tried very hard not to let disgust show on her face.

    But then Elpida added a second line. She turned the symbol into a crescent intersected by a V-shape. Ilyusha tilted her head and frowned.

    Elpida shrugged. She indicated the V-shape. ¡°Telokopolis.¡± Then the crescent. ¡°The world. Or maybe the sky. Or the green.¡±

    Ilyusha said, ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean that.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°What does it mean?¡±

    ¡°Mmmmm-rrrrr.¡± Ilyusha grumbled. ¡°Complicated.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just experimenting. I¡¯ll have to think about it.¡± She raised her eyes to Ooni. ¡°That¡¯s the easy part over with. Now, Ooni. Do you have that skull mark tattooed anywhere on your body?¡±

    Ooni felt the blood drain from her face. She stared at the cauterization wand in Elpida¡¯s hand.

    Here it came. The torture. Branding? She¡¯d never been branded.

    Ooni was no stranger to pain. She was pain¡¯s unwilling intimate, pain¡¯s favourite chew toy, pain¡¯s bed-slave. She knew pain¡¯s disgusting little nooks and crannies, pain¡¯s peculiar desires and visceral dislikes, pain¡¯s ends and means and insides and guts and brains. Having a piece of her skin burned off was nothing. She knew what it was like to get eaten alive, to wake up with the vultures¡¯ snouts all buried in your own boiling intestines; she could recall the sensation of her head cracking open, consciousness still fluttering as predators plucked out her eyeballs and pulled out her tongue; a memory of being flayed floated to the surface of her mind. She couldn¡¯t even recall when that had been. She broke out in cold sweat and struggled not to hyperventilate. Pain was coming once again; after six years with the Dead-Heads and freedom from pain, it had finally caught up with her.

    She should have been used to this, should have been able to face it with ease, for Leuca¡¯s sake.

    She felt so weak.

    Elpida smiled gently. She put down the cauterization tool. ¡°Ooni, I¡¯m not going to burn it off you. I¡¯ll use a scalpel, a sharp one. I¡¯m not trying to hurt you.¡±

    They were going to flay her.

    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ should,¡± Ilyusha spat. ¡°Fucking tear it off her!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Illy, please. We have to do this right.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted and crossed her arms. ¡°Fuck you. Fuck you too, Elpi.¡±

    Ooni hurried to obey. Her hands were shaking. Perhaps if she didn¡¯t resist, they wouldn¡¯t take too much of her; maybe she¡¯d still be able to find a way out of this when all their backs were turned. She lifted the grey cloak from her shoulders and pulled up her t-shirt. She tried to ignore her own nudity; it didn¡¯t matter, she had to submit as quickly as possible. She exposed her own tattoo: a tiny black skull, jawless, eyes blazing with jagged stars, high up on her left pectoral.

    Ilyusha spat on the floor. Her bionic tail cut the air.

    Elpida said, ¡°That¡¯s the only one?¡±

    ¡°I swear it,¡± Ooni replied. Her voice was shaking and she couldn¡¯t stop. ¡°I-I can strip if you want to verify.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s not necessary. As long as it¡¯s the only one.¡±

    Ooni nodded.

    Elpida said: ¡°It¡¯ll have to come off. Ooni, do you understand why?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Ooni lied. ¡°Please, I ¡­ I want you to ¡­ r-remove it. Yes.¡±

    Elpida sighed. She saw right through the act, didn¡¯t she? Her eyes weren¡¯t even bionics. Perhaps Ooni¡¯s mad assumption was correct ¡ª perhaps this woman really was born of a divine coupling.

    Ooni didn¡¯t care about the skull tattoo. The Dead-Heads were just another means to an end ¡ª a far more reliable means than any she had yet found, the only offering of hope she¡¯d encountered since she¡¯d lost Leuca, since the Fortress had fallen, since she¡¯d learned that building anything in this afterlife was impossible. One brick could not be made to lie upon another. The Dead-Heads¡¯ solution was the only way, and they kept the pain at bay, most of the time.

    But Leuca had called her a traitor. So the skull had to come off.

    Elpida was true to her word. Ilyusha offered to use her claws to cut off the offending symbol, but Elpida insisted on the scalpel ¡ª and on performing the excision herself. She gave Ooni a piece of gauze to bite down on, then loomed over her, metal scalpel held delicately in one hand. She used her other hand to press down on the skin, to make it taut and tight, easier to cut. Ooni bit down, turned her head, and screwed her eyes shut; perhaps the pain would come now, at the moment of willing surrender; perhaps Elpida would keep cutting ¡ª or perhaps she would leave the scalpel jammed into Ooni¡¯s flesh, daring her to acknowledge the blade, let alone pull it out.

    The operation was over in seconds. Ooni barely felt the knife. That scalpel really was as sharp as it looked.

    Elpida pressed a piece of gauze against a wide, shallow wound just below Ooni¡¯s collar bone. ¡°Ooni. Ooni, look. Pay attention. Press down on the gauze. That¡¯s right. Keep your hand there. Press tight. Good girl.¡±

    Ooni blushed ¡ª good girl? She did as she was told; she was a good girl now. Blood soaked through the gauze and stained her fingertips. Elpida wrapped the gauze beneath a bandage, secured the bandage around Ooni¡¯s shoulder, and said something about changing the dressing later on. Ooni spat out the piece of gauze she¡¯d been biting down on, then automatically licked her own blood off her fingertips.

    Elpida straightened up and stepped back ¡ª holding a piece of Ooni.

    Elpida held the tiny flayed scrap of Ooni¡¯s olive-brown skin between thumb and forefinger. The skull tattoo was pale now, no longer backed by flesh and blood. She held it up to the light ¡ª and popped it into her mouth.

    Elpida chewed and swallowed quickly. Ilyusha looked a little confused, but didn¡¯t complain. Amina seemed awestruck. Ooni was stunned.

    Then Elpida offered Ooni the cannister of blue.

    Ooni said: ¡°I-I, uh, I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Gotta heal up that wound,¡± said Elpida. ¡°One mouthful. If you¡¯re one of us, then drink.¡±

    Ooni¡¯s hands shook as she raised the cannister to her lips. She hadn¡¯t tasted raw blue in a very long time. She whimpered when the glowing life touched her tongue. She closed her eyes and swallowed a mouthful; she felt it sliding down her throat and filling her with warmth. It took all her self-control not to pour the whole cannister into herself; her body was screaming for more. When she lowered the cannister she found tears rolling down her cheeks. The terrible hunger was fading.

    She didn¡¯t understand. Why give her such precious resources? There was no way this group was really as fresh as Leuca believed ¡ª but this was pure naivety. None of this made any sense.

    Ooni wiped her eyes. Don¡¯t cry in front of a leader, it¡¯s dangerous! What if that¡¯s what she wants? Give you hope and kindness, then take it away.

    Or maybe not. She¡¯d cried in front of Yola ¡ª Yola had used that, yes, but she¡¯d kept Ooni alive. Would Elpida do the same? Would she take pity?

    Ooni knew she had to say something. ¡°I¡ª uh¡ª t-thank you?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Elpida replied.

    Ilyusha snorted. ¡°Like you fucking deserved it, reptile fuck.¡±

    Elpida sat back down on the infirmary bed. Her eyes lingered on Leuca for a moment, watching her breathe, roving over her many wounds. Leuca had sworn to Ooni that nothing had happened between her and Elpida, that they had not shared any intimacies; in fact, they¡¯d resolved their differences with a fistfight. But Ooni saw the deep affection in Elpida¡¯s eyes as she looked upon Leuca. Like they¡¯d fucked. Or nearly fucked. Or wanted to fuck.

    But Ooni¡¯s jealousy had turned into wet ash.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Elpida said. She lifted her eyes from Leuca, and looked at Ooni. ¡°That¡¯s the outside dealt with. Now for the inside.¡± She indicated Ilyusha and Amina with a sideways nod. ¡°I was going to ask these two to give us the room, so you and I could talk alone. But now I think that would be a bad idea.¡±

    Ilyusha growled. ¡°Not leaving her alone with you, Elpi.¡±

    Elpida eyed Ilyusha, then nodded at the other fold-out metal seat. Ilyusha just shrugged and crossed her arms. Amina shook her head.

    Ooni said: ¡°May I ¡­ ?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Go ahead. You don¡¯t have to ask permission to speak.¡±

    ¡°I ¡­ I¡¯m not going to hurt anyone. I swear it, on Leuca¡¯s life. I don¡¯t want to hurt any of you, I just want ¡­ want to be ¡­ ¡±

    She couldn¡¯t finish the statement. Too many lies, all knotted up together. Too much kindness, when it made no sense, repaying her fist in Elpida¡¯s gut with a gulp of raw blue. And Elpida saw through it all; those purple eyes burned through flesh and bone. She must truly be the daughter of a god.

    Elpida took a deep breath and nodded. ¡°I understand. Thank you, Ooni. Now, you and I are going to have a conversation.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Okay, sure! Yes! I-I¡¯ll tell you anything you want.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted. Elpida sighed, and said: ¡°I don¡¯t want you to be afraid of me, Ooni. I¡¯m not going to hurt you, and I¡¯m not going to hurt Pira. I promised you that, I¡ª¡± Suddenly Elpida screwed up her eyes and flicked her head sideways. ¡°Yes, yes, of course I meant it!¡±

    Everyone stared at her: Amina looked awestruck again; Ilyusha seemed to understand, surprised but not shocked; Ooni didn¡¯t know what to think. God-touched. God-stalked. Visions and voices. Why was she thinking these things again after all these years?

    Because Leuca had told the truth ¡ª Elpida was special. But Leuca had not understood what she was speaking of.

    Elpida opened her eyes again. ¡°Sorry about that. Talking to the voices in my head, that¡¯s all. Like I was saying, I promised not to hurt you or Pira. If you¡¯re on our side, in good faith, then I won¡¯t break that promise, no matter the mistakes you make.¡±

    If you don¡¯t fuck up; if you do what I say, when I say, how I say; if you offer up your flesh and soul to my cause instead of the Dead-Heads. Ooni knew the test must be coming soon, but what form would it take? A pound of flesh? No. Leuca had sworn off eating, and Leuca had so much faith in Elpida, so that made no sense. Something worse? Were they going to throw her back to Yola, as a spy? Or worse, so much worse; Ooni could imagine so much worse. The fresh wound on her chest itched beneath the dressing. The blood was beginning to clot.

    Ooni tried to keep the fear off her face. She nodded. ¡°Okay. Thank you, Commander.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°You can just call me Elpida. Commander is fine, but you don¡¯t have to do that all the time.¡±

    ¡°Elpida. Okay.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°I need intel, whatever you can share. I gather that you¡¯ve been around for a long time, like Pira, so anything you know might be useful to us ¡ª about the nanomachine ecosystem, or the tombs, or the graveworms, sources of nutrition, tricks we don¡¯t know yet. Anything and everything. I also need to know about the Death¡¯s Heads. I need to understand who they are and what they¡¯ll do ¡ª how they might try to follow us or get revenge on us for escaping. And, more importantly than any of those things, I need to know who you are, Ooni. I need to know about you. I want to understand why you were with the Death¡¯s Heads.¡±

    Ooni wet her lips; she could do this. She could navigate this minefield. She had to, for Leuca. ¡°Yes, Comm¡ª Elpida.¡± She smiled.

    ¡°And, Ooni,¡± Elpida said. Rainstorm static filled the pause.

    ¡°Y-yes?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me.¡±

 armatus - 8.5

    This bitch is gonna lie through her teeth, Howl purred in the back of Elpida¡¯s head. She¡¯ll bark and whine like a good little doggy, anything you order her to say. And you already know why. ¡®Cos she¡¯s fucking terrified of you! Keep pushing and Ooni is gonna roll over on her back to show you her belly. Woof woof!

    Elpida did not disagree.

    Ooni was a mess. The woman was barely holding herself together; Elpida needed neither training nor experience to diagnose that. Crammed into the opposite corner of the tiny, bloodstained infirmary, perched awkwardly on that fold-out metal seat, wedged between the wall and Pira¡¯s infirmary bed, Ooni made Elpida think of a cornered animal ¡ª lank and scrawny, like a starving fox. Or perhaps like a mollusc ripped from her shell, her armour gone, peeled down to her tomb-grey under-layers. Ooni¡¯s olive skin had turned pale and waxen; long black hair was plastered to her forehead and scalp; her eyes were too wide, shining green irises ringed by raw red fear and sagging black bags. She kept one hand pressed tight against the gauze and dressing just below her left collarbone, beneath her t-shirt, where Elpida had sliced away the Death¡¯s Head tattoo. She was trying to smile, but it looked artificial.

    Pira lay on the infirmary bed just before Ooni, eyes closed, breathing softly, out cold. Ooni¡¯s motivation. Her reason for turning on the Death¡¯s Heads. Elpida knew she could not risk separating them, not yet.

    Rainstorm static drummed on Pheiri¡¯s exterior armour. Engine heartbeat throbbed through the metal floors. Ilyusha clenched her teeth hard enough to creak. Amina was silent, standing in the doorway.

    Elpida waited for Ooni to respond to her order.

    Don¡¯t lie.

    But Ooni just stared and smiled, frozen inside.

    That was a bad sign; Elpida wanted the truth, no matter how ugly. She did not want Ooni to hide the putrefaction behind clean dressings. Like the grinning skull on her flesh, it all had to be extracted and incinerated.

    Elpida replied to Howl: That¡¯s the plan.

    Howl snorted in disgust. Never knew you wanted a good little doggy, Elps. You gonna put a collar on her, have her bark for treats?

    No. I don¡¯t need unthinking submission. I would never have asked that from you, Howl, or any of the cadre.

    Ha! Yeah. We would have eaten you alive.

    Elpida nodded. I don¡¯t need a beaten hound. I need a soldier, one who believes in what I¡¯m offering. If that means breaking her first, to extract the poison, then so be it.

    Eventually, when Ooni still did not answer, Ilyusha growled: ¡°Better not fucking lie to us, reptile.¡±

    Ooni flinched. Her smile vanished. She bobbed her head. ¡°Y-yes. Yes, of course, Commander. Elpida. I mean. Elpida. I won¡¯t lie.¡±

    Elpida eyed Ilyusha¡¯s shotgun, gripped in red-black bionic hands. Illy was up on her feet, clawed talons on the bloodstained metal floor. Elpida¡¯s decision to conduct this interrogation with Ilyusha and Amina by her side ¡ª and with Ilyusha armed ¡ª was an unavoidable gamble. She could not break Ooni behind closed doors, or Ilyusha would never accept the outcome. She may not accept it anyway; Elpida knew her influence over Ilyusha was questionable at best. If Ooni did attempt to mislead ¡ª to minimise what she was ¡ª then Elpida could not guarantee that Ilyusha wouldn¡¯t blow Ooni¡¯s head off, right there in the infirmary. This was an all or nothing gamble.

    Did Ooni understand that? Perhaps that was contributing to her nerves.

    Look on the bright side, Howl chuckled. If it goes wrong, you¡¯ll have some fresh meat for dinner.

    Howl.

    Joking! Joking.

    I¡¯m not so sure you are. If one of the cadre had died, would we have eaten the body? I think maybe we would.

    Howl snorted. Elps, you¡¯re delirious. You need to sleep.

    I do. But not yet. My mind is clear.

    Elpida was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Her belly throbbed with the slow burning pain of her gut wound, encased behind bandages and gauze and stitches and glue; the raw blue she¡¯d poured down her throat would work magic on her flesh ¡ª but the pain did not yet begin to ebb. Exhaustion dragged at her limbs and eyelids. Her nervous system cried out for rest. She needed to remain seated on the secondary infirmary bed. If she attempted this interrogation while standing ¡ª hunched beneath the low ceiling of the infirmary ¡ª she suspected she would quickly start to waver and drift. The implication of Pheiri¡¯s survival, of Melyn and Hafina, of the place they¡¯d originated from ¡ª Afon Ddu ¡ª swirled in her mind like a fistful of cracked marbles, edges digging into her thoughts. She had so many questions. And the pilot, the pilot in the combat frame; she had to speak with the pilot.

    But she couldn¡¯t. Not yet. Even if Pheiri could return to that crater without coming under heavy fire, and drive them right up to the flank of the combat frame, Elpida would still have to mount and climb the exterior armour to reach the hatch, and then wriggle through the access tunnels. That would tear every stitch in her belly. She needed to let the raw blue do its work; she needed to sleep, probably for hours, preferably in Pheiri¡¯s bunk room; she needed to make a plan to approach the combat frame a second time ¡ª maybe involving Hafina¡¯s stealth field and the cover of night. Kagami and Vicky were reasonably certain the pilot was stable, despite her unseen wounds. Elpida had time.

    But Ooni did not.

    Ooni was Elpida¡¯s responsibility now. She could not allow Ooni to form scabs over the wounds that Elpida and Pira had opened. Whatever Ooni had been to the Death¡¯s Heads had to be excised, purged, and burned. Elpida had to make Ooni believe in the alternative.

    Or she had to shoot both Ooni and Pira. There was no other choice.

    Elpida said: ¡°Thank you, Ooni. Let¡¯s start by getting us all on the same page, with things we can all agree on.¡±

    Ooni nodded. Ilyusha snorted.

    Elpida gestured at Pira, unconscious on the other infirmary bed. ¡°How much has Pira told you about the events since we left the tomb? How well do you know us already?¡±

    Ooni hesitated. Her eyes flicked between Elpida, Ilyusha, and Amina.

    Elpida let out a small sigh; she couldn¡¯t help it, the exhaustion was cracking her self-control. ¡°Ooni, I¡¯m not trying to test you.¡±

    Ooni nodded. She straightened in her seat. ¡°Leuca ¡ª um, ¡®Pira¡¯ ¡ª she told me you made it out of the tomb, together. She told me how you ¡ª you, personally, Commander ¡ª how you defeated a zombie there. She told me some of the other stuff you did, the journey through this part of the city, to reach the mech. She told me the name of the place you came from, but I don¡¯t remember¡ª¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis,¡± Elpida said.

    Ooni bobbed her head. ¡°Telokopolis, yes. Thank you, Commander. She told me a little of what you said, the kinds of things you talked about. Your, um, names. I don¡¯t remember all of those perfectly, I¡¯m sorry. And she told me that you ¡­ you, Elpida, you personally ¡­ Leuca told me you are ¡­ that you might be ¡­ ¡®special¡¯.¡±

    Elpida sighed. ¡°Like Yola called me a superhuman? Their future leader?¡±

    Ooni shook her head ¡ª too hard, so eager to please. ¡°No! No, not like that. Just ¡­ uh ¡­ I-I can¡¯t explain this, it¡¯s so¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha snapped: ¡°Stop avoiding the question!¡±

    Ooni flinched. She chewed on her bottom lip. Her dead green eyes hovered on Pira¡¯s sleeping face. Elpida waited ¡ª this interrogation was rapidly diverging from her plans, but she¡¯d never been trained in this ugly art. She was riding on her accumulated experience of managing the cadre. She could not afford to get this wrong. If she did, she would have to break all her promises to Ooni and Pira. And that might break the whole group. Nobody could trust a Commander who broke her word.

    From the doorway, Amina said: ¡°Elpida is special. Pira was right, about that.¡±

    Ooni began to speak a moment later, haltingly at first, then gathering confidence. She did not look up from Pira¡¯s face.

    ¡°Leuca was always so ambitious. She believed in things, even here, even in the afterlife. She believed that this, all of this, this never-ending rebirth, this hell, this land of death, that enduring this isn¡¯t the only option. She always told me that us revenants, that we might be able to build something. A place to live? Society? A home? She never settled on one term. Just something that doesn¡¯t get destroyed, eaten by zombies, or invaded by worm-guard for getting too big.¡± Ooni sniffed and wiped at her mouth. ¡°And she also believed in ¡­ well ¡­ it sounds silly, but she believed in ¡®keys¡¯, or secrets, or something like that. I never really understood. She believed that we could find the fulcrum on which the world turns. Challenge the gods who made this. And ¡­ and we did. We did. For a while.¡± Ooni¡¯s voice grew thick with sorrow. ¡°We did.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°We? You mentioned that you and her were together for twenty three years. Just you two, or are you talking about others?¡±

    Ooni shook her head. She did not look up. ¡°There were about a hundred of us. Biggest group I¡¯ve ever known. This wasn¡¯t the Dead-Heads, it was before the Dead-Heads, before either of us ¡­ joined them. We built a fortress ¡ª The Fortress.¡± Her lips curled upward with sudden fondness. ¡°That was Leuca¡¯s dream.¡±

    ¡°When was this? Where?¡±

    Ooni shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know anymore. Decades and decades and decades ago. My memory gets so hazy. We cleared a tomb, we fortified it. We turned away a worm-guard ¡ª that was that finest moment I¡¯ve ever known. She was glorious.¡± Ooni¡¯s voice shook. Her eyes were wet with tears as she gazed at Pira¡¯s face. She reached out and touched Pira¡¯s hand, gripped it hard. ¡°She showed me it was all possible. We lived there, or we tried to. We stayed when the graveworm moved on¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha growled: ¡°Bullshit!¡±

    Ooni looked very sad. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to believe this. Nobody ever believes this. Nobody ever believes it¡¯s possible. You wanted me to tell you the truth, so I¡¯m telling you the truth, but nobody ever, ever believes this.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°I believe you, Ooni.¡±

    Ooni looked up, eyes wet with tears. ¡°You do?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°As long as one of us is up and breathing, the city still stands.¡±

    Ooni blinked in confusion and wiped her eyes. She didn¡¯t understand. But Elpida felt more respect for Pira, despite the betrayal, despite the gut wound, despite her and Ooni¡¯s past with the Death¡¯s Heads.

    Pira too dreamed of Telokopolis, just by a different name.

    Elpida put this ¡®fortress¡¯ to one side for now; she would have questions for Pira and Ooni about that later. For now she needed to focus on Ooni herself.

    She said: ¡°How does this relate to what Pira said about me?¡±

    Ooni replied, ¡°Leuca thinks you have the right idea. Maybe better ideas than she ever did. She said you¡¯re ¡­ worth following.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°And you don¡¯t agree.¡±

    Ooni flinched. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m so sorry for putting my fist in your wound, I¡¯m so sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m¡ª¡±

    Elpida raised a hand and smiled. ¡°Ooni, I understand why you did that. I¡¯m not trying to trap you.¡±

    Ooni took several shaking breaths, then nodded. Elpida could see that she didn¡¯t believe.

    Elpida said: ¡°Ooni, before we carry on, why do you call Pira ¡®Leuca¡¯?¡±

    Ooni shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s her name. She never used to call herself ¡®Pira¡¯. I don¡¯t know where that name comes from.¡±

    Elpida stared at Pira¡¯s sleeping face, all bloody and bandaged. ¡°When she wakes up again we can ask her what she wants to be called, but for now I¡¯m going to stick with Pira. You stick with Leuca. Deal?¡±

    Ooni blinked several times. ¡°Yes, Commander.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°That¡¯s not an order.¡±

    Ooni answered with another awkward smile.

    Elpida asked, ¡°How did you and Pira meet, originally?¡±

    Ooni¡¯s smile turned from lead to gold. ¡°She saved me. From the tomb. After ¡­ after ¡­ ¡± The smile collapsed. Ooni screwed her eyes shut. She started to shiver uncontrollably. ¡°I-I stopped counting after f-fifteen rebirths. I don¡¯t k-know when Leuca interrupted the cycle, but she¡ª we¡ª she was there- she¡ª pulled me out of that¡ª f-first time I survived more than two hours¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop,¡± said Elpida. She put a whip crack of command into her voice.

    Ooni¡¯s eyes flew open. She stopped.

    Elpida quickly said: ¡°Stop thinking about that. I apologise. You don¡¯t need to answer that question.¡±

    Ooni swallowed and nodded. She was panting. Ilyusha sneered and turned away. Amina was gazing upon Ooni with curious horror ¡ª she could probably intuit what Ooni meant. How many times had Ooni been resurrected and died before even making it out of a tomb? And then Pira had appeared before her.

    Elpida backtracked, returning to the shape of her original plan. ¡°Okay, Ooni, let¡¯s focus on something else. I have technical questions for you. These should be easy. First, the Death¡¯s Heads. I need to know things about them.¡±

    Ooni sat up straighter. She composed her face into an eager mask. ¡°Yes, Commander.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted. ¡°Reptile fucks.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°I don¡¯t need another primer on their ideology. I got enough of that from Yola and Cantrelle. From what you said before, they¡¯re going to try to come after us, even if it doesn¡¯t make any sense. Is that correct?¡±

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Ooni nodded with great emphasis. ¡°Yola is spiteful. I¡ª I¡¯m so sorry that I missed, with the plasma rifle bomb. Maybe if she was out of the way, maybe they might fall apart, fight each other first. But Yola, she¡¯s ¡­ she¡¯s good at making them all follow her, even when she¡¯s not present. She¡¯ll use every resource she has to get revenge. It¡¯s what she does, especially if a ¡­ a ¡®zombie¡¯ kills a ¡®person¡¯. If one of the ¡®weaklings¡¯ gets one of us¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha spat on the floor and kicked a cabinet, bionic claws scraping down the metal. Ooni flinched.

    Elpida said, ¡°Please continue, Ooni.¡±

    Ooni shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s all, really. She¡¯ll go out of her way for revenge against anybody unworthy. If she captures any of us ¡­ it¡¯ll be bad.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t let that happen,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Now, we¡¯re currently beyond the graveworm line. Do you think she has the resources to push out this far, to attack us in force? She¡¯s sent a few zombies already, apparently, but nothing more.¡±

    Ooni¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°We ¡­ we are? Beyond the graveworm line?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Pheiri can handle it, apparently. That¡¯s the name of this crawler, this armoured vehicle. You heard it earlier, from Hafina and Atyle, but he¡¯s a fully autonomous intelligence, not just a lump of metal. He chose to rescue us. Say thanks, he can hear.¡± Elpida modelled the behaviour; she glanced up at the ceiling, and said: ¡°Thank you, Pheiri.¡±

    She¡¯d explained this to Illy and Amina already. They both copied her, Amina with an awkward murmur and Ilyusha with sudden grinning gusto.

    Ooni hesitated for a moment, then copied the gesture: ¡° ¡­t-thank you, Pheiri.¡±

    ¡°Well done,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Now, can Yola attack us here?¡±

    Ooni shook her head. ¡°No. No, too many people all together would attract attention. She¡¯s wary of that, going beyond the line, she always has been. Beyond the graveworm is full of ¡­ um ¡­ ¡®degenerates¡¯.¡± She glanced at Ilyusha as if expecting another outburst, but Illy just snorted. ¡°But she¡¯s afraid of them. Everyone is, but they don¡¯t say it. If she¡¯s sent people already, it¡¯s just scouting. Maybe as punishment.¡±

    Elpida decided this was probably the truth. Ooni was terrified of being retaken by her old boss. She would not knowingly give poor advice on how to avoid Yola.

    ¡°Good,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Thank you. Now, Ooni, I¡¯m curious about something. How does a group like that stay supplied? Mostly raiding the tombs? Or scavenging? Or some mechanism I don¡¯t understand?¡±

    Ooni bobbed her head. ¡°Raiding tombs and scavenging, yes. We always have to make sure¡ª¡±

    Elpida allowed Ooni to speak without interruption ¡ª about tomb raiding, about conflict with other groups, about preying on the weaker, the smaller, the less well-organised. There was nothing new in Ooni¡¯s information, nothing unexpected ¡ª no store of nanomachine calories tucked away in some ecological niche that only the Death¡¯s Heads knew about. Ooni spoke about the harvesting of nano-mould ¡ª ¡°Not good to eat, it fills you up but you don¡¯t get anything from it.¡± That matched what Serin had said previously.

    But then Ooni kept going without further prompting. She spoke about the vast patchwork of internal rules the Death¡¯s Heads held to, the hierarchy of resource distribution, the internal competition over raw meat, cybernetics, and ammunition. The Death¡¯s Heads had unspoken webs of dominance and ownership, over who got what, who got to eat first, who got the biggest share, and who had to fight over the scraps. Ooni knew all the details inside-out, both the explicit parts and the secret parts.

    Elpida listened. The raindrops drummed on Pheiri¡¯s hull. Distant thunder rumbled beyond the black sky.

    Eventually Ooni trailed off. Her information was detailed, but of little use. The Death¡¯s Heads ate each other in every way but the literal ¡ª and sometimes that too.

    Elpida took a deep breath. Ooni was relaxed now, offering everything she knew. Time for the next step.

    Elpida said: ¡°I can¡¯t help but notice you don¡¯t have any bionics. I got the impression you were at the bottom of the ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida was about to say ¡®food chain¡¯; but Ooni reacted by pulling up the hem of her t-shirt and pulling down the waistband of her grey leggings. She exposed her right hip. A fist-sized patch of flesh was oddly gnarled, like scar tissue but too neatly organized, with lines and corners. Ilyusha frowned at it. Amina peered closer.

    ¡°I-I have this,¡± Ooni said. ¡°It¡¯s not finished. I only ¡­ only managed to start making it. Bionics need a lot of meat. A lot of nanos.¡±

    ¡°And what is that?¡± Elpida asked.

    ¡°An internal ammunition manufactory. I¡¯m turning a part of my organs into a bullet extruder.¡±

    Ilyusha spat: ¡°Fuck. Fucking! Fuck.¡±

    Amina said, ¡°Why?¡±

    Ooni hesitated, then said: ¡°To ¡­ to be useful.¡±

    Elpida contained her disgust. ¡°Is that important to supply and survival? Or is that something the Death¡¯s Heads expected of you, because you were at the bottom of the hierarchy?¡±

    Ooni swallowed. She couldn¡¯t answer because she¡¯d been ordered not to lie.

    Ilyusha grimaced and rubbed her face. She looked like she wanted to vomit.

    Elpida said: ¡°Ooni, you have new orders. Cease production of that. You¡¯re not a bullet farm.¡±

    Ooni nodded awkwardly. She moved her clothes back into place to hide the ugly mass of altered flesh. Elpida couldn¡¯t quite process this information. The Death¡¯s Heads used the living bodies of their own members to produce resources. If done willingly, in the right context, perhaps such a role would be highly valued, supported, and protected. But Ooni had clearly been at the bottom of the pile ¡ª pressured, denied access to meat and nanomachines, forced into competition with her ¡®comrades¡¯. Those at the bottom of the hierarchy scrambled to make their bodies useful.

    Ooni said: ¡°Are you all like that?¡±

    Elpida forced herself to concentrate. ¡°Pardon, all like what?¡±

    Ooni was staring down at Pira¡¯s face. ¡°Like Leuca. All not eating meat.¡±

    Elpida sighed. ¡°No. We can¡¯t afford to be. We have to fuel our bodies, at the very least. But Pira made that choice, and I think I¡¯m beginning to understand why. I respect her decision. She and I have a deal. I¡¯ve offered her my blood, as a substitute, so at least she won¡¯t starve.¡±

    Elpida expected Ooni to flare with jealousy. But she just nodded, staring at Pira. Ooni said: ¡°If she chose it, it must be right.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Why are you so sure?¡±

    ¡°Leuca was always right.¡±

    Elpida tried to get this conversation back on track. ¡°Ooni, when I witnessed you among the Death¡¯s Heads, I got the impression that you were not respected. That the others were hurting you. What you¡¯ve just told me about how they operate ¡ª they prey on others, and they prey on themselves.¡±

    Ooni blinked up at Elpida. ¡°Isn¡¯t it like that everywhere?¡±

    ¡°Not with me it isn¡¯t.¡±

    Ooni said nothing. Elpida saw that she did not believe.

    She had other questions to ask ¡ª about the crescent-and-line symbol, about Ooni¡¯s knowledge regarding graveworms and tombs, about the growing of internal bionics. But Elpida could sense that this was the moment to press her attack. Other intel could wait. Ooni had opened up. It was time to charge.

    ¡°Ooni, let¡¯s get personal,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Um ¡­ ¡±

    Howl snorted: What kind of fucking question is that?

    Ilyusha seemed to agree that this was a bit odd; she was squinting sideways at Elpida. Amina peered around the corner of the doorway too.

    Elpida sighed and rubbed her eyes; was she so exhausted that she was misjudging this situation and talking nonsense?

    She tried again: ¡°Is ¡®Ooni¡¯ your full name? Do you have a family name? Anything else you go by? I want to know who you are.¡±

    Ooni suddenly smiled. A tiny laugh escaped her lips. Elpida realised she¡¯d taken the wrong track. Was Ooni not ready for this?

    ¡°Ooni¡ª¡±

    But Ooni said: ¡°You mean before I died, the first time? Before all this?¡±

    Ilyusha growled through her teeth. ¡°What¡¯s so funny, reptile?¡±

    Elpida raised a hand. ¡°Illy, let her speak. Ooni, yes, that is what I mean. Did you have a¡ª¡±

    Ooni laughed again, a weird little giggle. ¡°I don¡¯t even remember what ¡®Ooni¡¯ is short for. My first name ¡ª I remember that! I remember it because I taught it to Leuca. And she remembered it. It was Camula. That was her name ¡ª my name. Before we died. She died. The name died too. I¡¯m just Ooni.¡±

    Elpida nodded. Ooni was breaking and that was good, but she had not expected it to happen so quickly.

    Break her fast, Howl purred. It¡¯s a mercy.

    Elpida said: ¡°Ooni, where are you from? Or perhaps ¡®when¡¯ are you from?¡±

    Ooni giggled again, grinning like a skull. Ilyusha bared her teeth and glanced at Elpida, but Elpida raised a hand to stall any interruption.

    ¡°You¡ª you expect me to remember?¡± Ooni pointed at Pira. ¡°Within a century of Leuca. That¡¯s all we figured out.¡±

    Elpida frowned. ¡°You don¡¯t remember your¡ª¡±

    ¡°My village?¡± Ooni panted with that weird little laugh. When she spoke again, her voice cracked. ¡°No, no I don¡¯t remember what it was called, or what it looked like. Commander, I¡¯ve forgotten the names of my parents. I remember that I had a sister. Well, maybe. Or maybe I dreamed that up. I don¡¯t recall her name. It¡¯s been¡ª it¡¯s been too long. You really are fresh. Fresh meat, Commander¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Ilyusha snapped.

    But Ooni didn¡¯t flinch. Tears gathered in her eyes. ¡°¡ªand you haven¡¯t been dead long enough to start forgetting. Let me ask you a question, Commander. Do you remember sunlight?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Yes. I do. Do you not?¡±

    Ooni¡¯s lips quivered, halfway between a laugh and a sob. ¡°When I close my eyes really tight? No, not anymore.¡±

    Elpida decided that Ooni wasn¡¯t lying.

    In the doorway, Amina looked pale and shaken. Ilyusha was baring her teeth ¡ª disgusted, or disbelieving? Elpida wasn¡¯t quite sure. Ooni was shaking with the effort of controlling her tears.

    Elpida said: ¡°Okay, okay Ooni. You don¡¯t remember, and that¡¯s okay. If¡ª¡±

    Ooni started to laugh ¡ª panting, jerking, almost crying. ¡°It¡¯s not okay! Nothing here is okay. Just tell me what to do, Commander. Tell me what to do, and I¡¯ll do it, I¡¯ll do¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ooni, slow down. Slow down.¡± Elpida took a deep breath, hoping Ooni would mirror her. ¡°How long have you been¡ª¡±

    ¡°Dead? Undead? I don¡¯t know! Decades, a hundred years? I stopped counting! You can¡¯t keep counting, you¡¯ll go mad!¡±

    Ilyusha barked: ¡°Shut up! Stop interrupting Elpi!¡±

    Ooni whirled on Ilyusha, wild-eyed. ¡°And how long have you been here? Look at you! Look at your bionics! You¡¯re a success! How many corpses did you eat for that?¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s tail jabbed at the air. Her claws went shick-shick in and out of her fingertips. She made her shotgun go click-click. ¡°Fuck you, reptile! You don¡¯t know shit!¡±

    ¡°I know more than you!¡± Ooni howled. ¡°How many times have you died?! Three? Five? Ten? Tell me! Tell me how many times!¡±

    Ilyusha pointed her shotgun at Ooni¡¯s head. ¡°Shut up!¡±

    Elpida raised her voice, hard and sharp: ¡°Both of you stop, right now. Illy, lower that weapon. Ooni, face the front.¡±

    Ilyusha snarled and lowered her gun.

    But the command did not work on Ooni. She whirled back to Elpida, tears running down her cheeks, eyes wide with manic desperation.

    ¡°This is a trap!¡± she wailed. ¡°Just¡ª just do it! Just spring the trap! Stop this! I¡¯ve told you everything I know. Stop torturing me, I can¡¯t take it! I can¡¯t- I can¡¯t- I can¡¯t-¡±

    Ooni dissolved into dry sobs. Silence filled the tiny infirmary, the silence of raindrops and thunder. Deep inside Pheiri a machine was going ca-clunk ca-clunk ca-clunk; perhaps that was his attempt to break the terrible tension. Ilyusha had an ugly grimace on her face, uncertain and disgusted. Amina was wide-eyed with shock, staring at Ooni.

    Elpida had fumbled this. She¡¯d misunderstood Ooni completely.

    She wet her lips and said: ¡°Ooni, what do you think I¡¯m going to do with you?¡±

    Ooni answered in a tiny voice. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Amina spoke up: ¡°We were only going to kill you.¡±

    Ilyusha hissed through her teeth, face turned away. Was she ashamed?

    Elpida had misunderstood the situation. This woman, this revenant, this truly ancient zombie, she was already broken. There was nothing left for Elpida to break. Was this how all revenants ended up, after too many years, too many resurrections, too many cycles of death and cannibalism? No wonder Ooni had made easy prey for the Death¡¯s Head ideology. She was scoured inside, raw and aching, ready to be filled with pain.

    Elpida wanted to end this here.

    Allow me, purred Howl.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s cut to the chase,¡± she said ¡ª as Howl spoke through her. Ilyusha frowned and Amina flinched; could they detect the change in Elpida¡¯s voice? ¡°We were gonna do this whole build-up thing, get info out of you as we went, but fuck that, let¡¯s hit the button. Ooni, why¡¯d you join up with the Death¡¯s Heads? In your own words, just say it. No filter. You liked killing bitches? ¡®Cos you got food there and didn¡¯t have to fight too much for it? Or ¡®cos Yola fucked your brains out every night?¡±

    Ooni stared, shocked. She stopped crying.

    Elpida-Howl went on: ¡°You¡¯re not arguing for your life. You already tried to kill Yola for me. You¡¯ve got nothing to prove. Just tell me why. Explain to me. Teach me.¡±

    Ooni glanced at Ilyusha ¡ª for help. Inside Elpida¡¯s head, Howl snorted. Ilyusha just shrugged: sure, go ahead, the Commander¡¯s off her rocker but she¡¯s still the Commander.

    Ooni swallowed, looked at Howl ¡ª at Elpida ¡ª and said: ¡°I-I know it was wrong. I know they were wrong, I¡ª¡±

    Howl grabbed Elpida¡¯s tongue and lips and throat: ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me!¡±

    Amina flinched. Ilyusha barked a laugh.

    But Ooni stood up and shouted back.

    ¡°What do you want me to say?! That they eat each other? They eat the weak? Of course they fucking do!¡± Ooni panted between her words. ¡°Everyone does! It doesn¡¯t matter how noble you try to be, everyone does it in the end! You¡ª you don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like! Not all of us are superhumans! With a giant tank at our beck and call! This was your first time out of a tomb?! You don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve not had to endure! Do you know how many times I died before I made it out of a tomb just once? I stopped counting. Death, resurrection, death, resurrection, death, resurrection, over and over and¡ª¡± She took a great panting breath, keening through her teeth. ¡°I don¡¯t give a fuck what you think of the Dead-Heads ¡ª if you shout that you¡¯re one of them, they fucking come for you! Nobody else does! Nobody else ever does!¡±

    The outburst made Amina back away and drew a snarl of anger from Ilyusha, but Elpida retained her composure.

    Howl spoke through her lips again: ¡°And why did you join them?¡±

    ¡°Because they¡¯re organised! Because if you join them and you¡¯re useful you get to eat! You get to be safe! There are rules about who can eat who, and when, and all sorts of other stuff! It¡¯s safe!¡±

    Howl spoke again: ¡°Eating each other, but with rules. Real nice.¡±

    Ooni jabbed a shaking finger at the half-empty cannister of raw blue nanomachines on the infirmary bed, right in front of Elpida.

    ¡°You¡¯ll run out of that ambrosia eventually. And then what? You¡¯ll eat other people, you¡¯ll eat each other. Just like everyone else! You can¡¯t resist hunger forever. It gnaws and gnaws and gnaws in your gut. We¡¯re all just slaves to it! Slaves to the gods!¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Except for Pira.¡±

    Ooni¡¯s anger vanished like a spark beneath the storm. All the fight went out of her. She looked down at Pira, out cold. Her tears cut tracks through the dirt on her cheeks.

    She slumped back into her seat and buried her face in her hands. She began to weep ¡ª hard, wet, wracking sobs.

    ¡°I¡¯m so filthy,¡± she wailed.

    There, Howl said. She didn¡¯t sound amused. Done. Have fun with the mess, Elps.

    Elpida jumped right in; the wound was open, the putrefaction was exposed.

    ¡°Ooni, raise your head. Look at me.¡± Elpida put a touch of command in her voice. She kept her orders clear and simple. That was what this broken woman needed ¡ª orders from her Commander.

    Ooni obeyed, still crying.

    Elpida said: ¡°You are no longer a Death¡¯s Head. You ceased to be a Death¡¯s Head the moment you took my deal. You are mine now. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Elpida tried not to wince. That was the truth, no doubt about it.

    She tried again: ¡°I trust your motivations, Ooni. Because you love Pira. That turned out to be stronger than whatever you believed, or whatever the Death¡¯s Heads believe. They offered you protection, in return for subservience. You abandoned that for Pira. That¡¯s why I believe you. I am offering you a place in Telokopolis.¡±

    Ooni shook her head. ¡°Telokopolis? I don¡¯t ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°For now all you need to know is that Telokopolis rejects nobody. Telokopolis is eternal.¡±

    ¡°And ¡­ and Leuca has a place too?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Ooni sniffed. Her tears had not stopped, but at least she wasn¡¯t sobbing. ¡°I think you might be lying to me.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°That¡¯s fair enough. People like you murdered my sisters ¡ª my cadre, my world. I have every reason to reject you, cast you out, send you and Pira off somewhere, or just kill you both out of hand. And if you still wore the skull, I would. If you had fought against its removal, I would.¡± Elpida pointed down at the chest plate of Ooni¡¯s armour, still lying on the infirmary bed before her; she could see the outline of the grinning skull which she had burned away with the cauterization wand, a shadow on the grey. But now the crescent-and-double-line of Telokopolis was drawn over the top. ¡°If you were like Cantrelle or Yola, I would. But you¡¯re not, you¡¯re something else ¡ª you are capable of doing the right thing.¡±

    ¡°But ¡­ how do I ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°You do as your Commander says. You follow your orders. You hold to your comrades.¡±

    Ooni panted slowly. Then she nodded. ¡°O-okay. Yes, Commander.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Alright then. I still have a lot of questions for you, Ooni, but I hope our positions make a bit more sense now. You¡¯re one of us. You¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha turned on her heel and stomped out of the room.

    Her claws scraped on the metal floor and her bionic tail whacked against the wall; she shouldered her way past Amina, out into the crew compartment.

    Elpida rose to her feet before the other two could react, despite the tug of stitches against the flesh of her belly; she¡¯d been ready for this, but she wasn¡¯t sure when or how it would happen. At least Ilyusha hadn¡¯t just shot Ooni on the spot, that was a promising sign.

    Elpida crossed to the doorway, bent beneath the low ceiling of the infirmary. She caught a glimpse of Ilyusha¡¯s bionic tail vanishing around the corner of the opposite door ¡ª into the bunk room.

    She put a hand on Amina¡¯s shoulder before Amina could hurry after Ilyusha.

    ¡°Amina,¡± she said. ¡°I need you to wait here with Ooni. You don¡¯t have to say anything. Just wait here, please. Raise your voice and shout for me if anything happens.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª Illy! Illy¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to help her. I need you to stay here with Ooni. Then you can comfort Illy as well, when I¡¯m done. And you¡¯re perfectly safe with Ooni. She¡¯s one of us and she understands that. You don¡¯t have to like her, though.¡±

    Amina bit her lower lip and shot a very worried look at Ooni. Ooni looked equally shocked, but she tried to smile at Amina.

    Elpida said to Ooni: ¡°Stay there, soldier. You have permission to get up and stretch and get water. Don¡¯t leave the infirmary yet. Watch Pira. Understood?¡±

    Ooni nodded. ¡°Understood.¡±

    Amina nodded too. She took out her knife and stared at Ooni. That would have to be another acceptable risk.

    Elpida stepped out into the crew compartment. The jumbled corridor which led to the control cockpit was quiet and empty; Ooni¡¯s weeping and shouting had not drawn Melyn and Hafina away from their conversation with Atyle. Elpida breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn¡¯t certain that the pair of ARTs would understand all this, not yet, not without considerable additional explanation. Pheiri probably did though.

    She quickly crossed the crew compartment and stepped into the bunk room. The narrow space between the bunks was barely wide enough for Elpida¡¯s shoulders. The rain was louder here, perhaps because this compartment was closer to the hull. The tight-packed lower bunks were mostly crammed with equipment, weapons, the coilgun, and the other pieces of Ooni¡¯s armour, as well as the one bunk stacked entirely with Melyn¡¯s books.

    Ilyusha was sitting cross-legged on one of the two empty lowest bunks. Her bionic legs were crossed, claws digging into the thin mattress. Her red-black arms lay limp on her knees. Her shotgun was discarded next to her, beyond arm¡¯s reach. Her storm-grey eyes stared at nothing.

    Elpida said: ¡°Illy?¡±

    Ilyusha looked up and met Elpida¡¯s eyes. Empty, placid, melancholy.

    Elpida had seen this once before, when they¡¯d fought Serin together. A different side of Ilyusha had briefly emerged, fragile as a cobweb in the wind.

    Elpida gambled. ¡°Not Ilyusha?¡±

    ¡°Illy can¡¯t deal with this,¡± said Not-Ilyusha.

    ¡°Deal with what?¡± Elpida asked.

    ¡°You, refusing to kill the reptile.¡±

 armatus - 8.6

    Elpida shut the bunk room hatch. She did not want Amina or Ooni to overhear this conversation.

    Rainstorm static droned and drummed in a ceaseless black haze against Pheiri¡¯s hull, a mirror to the dark exhaustion which throbbed at the edge of Elpida¡¯s skull; thunder rumbled kilometres overhead, galvanic fury caged behind the soot-choked skies; engines and reactor purred and gurgled in machine homeostasis, far beneath Elpida¡¯s feet. She turned back to Ilyusha ¡ª or Not-Ilyusha ¡ª seated on one of the bunks.

    Ilyusha¡¯s grey eyes were flat and dead, their molten fires extinguished.

    Elpida said: ¡°Who am I talking to?¡±

    Not-Ilyusha shrugged, loose and limp and lacking. Her wrists lay slack over her knees, crimson claws tucked away inside black bionic fingertips.

    ¡°Don¡¯t have a name,¡± she said. ¡°Forgot.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°I can¡¯t just call you ¡®Not Ilyusha¡¯.¡±

    Not-Ilyusha sighed and screwed up her eyes, as if enduring a terrible migraine. ¡°I¡¯m just the girl Ilyusha protects. That¡¯s all I am anymore.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You¡¯re also one of us. One of my¡ª¡±

    Cadre, Howl grunted, inside Elpida¡¯s head.

    ¡°¡ªcomrades,¡± Elpida allowed. ¡°That means I also protect you. If you don¡¯t want a name then I won¡¯t force one on you. But this conversation will be easier if I have something to call you.¡±

    Not-Ilyusha peeled back her lips to show clenched teeth. ¡°Noyabrina. Noya. That¡¯ll do.¡±

    ¡°Noyabrina,¡± Elpida echoed. It was unlike any name she¡¯d ever heard before, but that was hardly new. ¡°Thank you, Noya. May I sit down?¡±

    Noya relaxed her face and opened her eyes, cold and distant, mouth a tired line. She had none of Illy¡¯s flame. She shrugged.

    Elpida sat down on the opposite bunk. The beds were quite small ¡ª long enough for most people to stretch out on the scratchy blue sheets, but Elpida doubted she would be able to sleep here, unless she curled up on her side. The cramped space between the mattress and the underside of the next bunk required her to lean forward, which put pressure on the stitches in her gut. But sitting next to Noyabrina ¡ª or Ilyusha ¡ª would require her to move Illy¡¯s shotgun. Noyabrina seemed uninterested in the weapon, but Elpida did not want to send the wrong message by relocating the firearm beyond Illy¡¯s reach.

    Elpida said: ¡°You don¡¯t agree with my decisions regarding Ooni.¡±

    It was not a question. Elpida waited.

    Raindrops drummed on Pheiri¡¯s hull. Internal air recyclers hummed, hidden behind the metal walls. Noya¡¯s grey eyes left Elpida¡¯s face and drifted sideways. She stared at nothing.

    Eventually Noyabrina spoke, in a slow, low, half-dead growl: ¡°Said it yourself, Elpida. People like her killed all your sisters. Killed everyone. That¡¯s what they do. People just like her killed everyone. Overran the city, surrounded the soldiers, herded them away. Then they burned us out, like rats. They put all my friends in a barn and set it on fire. Strung up my parents. Still remember my father¡¯s body swinging in the wind. Can¡¯t remember my name, but I remember that.¡± Her voice ground on and on, quiet but unstoppable. ¡°Watched Stefaniya and Renat dig their own graves. Couldn¡¯t do anything because I¡¯d run away. They marched everyone else off, to go be slaves, help make guns and tanks to kill the rest of us. Only ones who survived were the ones who ran. We watched from the woods. Ran away. Lived in the woods like animals. Ate the dead, moss, grass. Died all the same.¡±

    Elpida stayed quiet. She listened.

    Noya¡¯s lips began to curl upward in a smile ¡ª and there was Ilyusha, peeking through. ¡°Came back with guns and bombs of our own ¡ª fuck ¡®em up. Cut the rail lines. Blow up the reptiles. Burn them in their trains, dynamite their command posts, garotte their leaders. How¡¯d you like it? Herded into a corner and machine gunned? We surrender, we surrender, wah wah wah.¡± Ilyusha mimed putting her hands up, then exploded in a shout ¡ª at Elpida: ¡°Fuck you!¡±

    The anger vanished instantly. So did Ilyusha. Noya was back, calm and dead eyed in the black static.

    Noya said: ¡°People like her. Reptiles and snakes. People wearing skulls.¡±

    Elpida waited, to be certain that Noya was finished. Then she said: ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Noya snorted. ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°For doing your best to explain. I know this isn¡¯t easy. I¡¯m sorry. I know how I feel about my sisters, and what the Covenanters did to us. It sounds like the same thing happened to you.¡±

    Noya said: ¡°Then why don¡¯t you shoot the reptile?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Why don¡¯t you?¡±

    Noyabrina frowned; that was Ilyusha¡¯s mannerism, blurring the boundary. ¡°What?¡±

    Elpida explained. ¡°I can¡¯t stop you ¡ª Noya, or Illy, either or both of you. I¡¯m not certain I would prevail in a close-quarters struggle against you, even when uninjured and well rested. Your bionics give you an incredible advantage.¡± She nodded at Ilyusha¡¯s bionic limbs and the massive red-and-black tail coiled behind her on the bunk, the tip a shining scarlet spike. ¡°You¡¯re fast and strong and clever. I¡¯m exhausted. I need sleep so badly that even sitting down is risky. I can¡¯t move fast with this stomach wound. If you picked up that shotgun and ran to the infirmary, I couldn¡¯t stop you from killing both Ooni and Pira.¡± Elpida smiled. ¡°And there¡¯s no military discipline here. You wouldn¡¯t be punished. I wouldn¡¯t be able to do so even if I wanted. The others wouldn¡¯t find much fault with you. Maybe Melyn, seeing as she worked for hours to save Pira¡¯s life, but nobody else.¡± Elpida shrugged. ¡°The only thing holding you back is my orders. And those are just words.¡±

    Noyabrina¡¯s dead grey eyes slid sideways, off Elpida. ¡°Not sure about Pira,¡± she said. ¡°Shot you in the gut, but that was a mistake. Stupid. Idiot. Naive. Liability. Don¡¯t have to shoot her though.¡±

    Elpida made no effort to hide her surprise. ¡°She used to be a Death¡¯s Head too, didn¡¯t she?¡±

    Noya shrugged. ¡°Used to be. Now she won¡¯t eat.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°That matters, yes.¡±

    Noya nodded. ¡°Can¡¯t fake it. Doesn¡¯t want to eat. No more cannibalism. Mm.¡±

    ¡°So, Pira left the Death¡¯s Heads, and that counts. Ooni just did the same. She¡¯s not a Death¡¯s Head anymore either.¡±

    Noya¡¯s upper lip curled with disgust ¡ª more Ilyusha again. ¡°She was one of them yesterday. Full of excuses, crocodile tears, justifications. We¡¯ve been here as long as her. Didn¡¯t feel the need to ink a skull on our skin.¡± Noya reached up with one hand and tapped her own chest, indicating the crescent-and-line symbol that Ilyusha had drawn on her torn tomb-grey t-shirt. ¡°Chose this instead. There¡¯s always a choice.¡±

    ¡°There is,¡± Elpida said. ¡°But none of that answers my question. Why haven¡¯t you shot her?¡±

    Noya¡¯s eyes sank. She stared at the gunmetal grey floor. ¡°Ilyusha adores you. Trusts your judgement. Thinks you¡¯re right. Thinks you can protect me too. But this makes her sick.¡±

    Elpida nodded. She took a deep breath, and took a gamble.

    She stood up and turned towards the bunks filled with equipment. She located and retrieved her submachine gun and the magazine; she had to go down on one knee rather than bend forward, to minimise the strain on her gut wound. Her mind throbbed with black static as she rose. She wavered for a moment, waiting for the pain to ebb, and for her vision to clear. Then she checked the weapon: the magazine had been properly removed and the chamber cleared. She made sure the safety was on, inserted the magazine, selected single-shot mode, and then pulled the charging handle back to chamber a round. She looped the strap over her shoulder and turned back to Ilyusha-Noyabrina.

    Howl growled: Elps. What the fuck are you doing?

    Proving my commitment.

    Elpida! No! Don¡¯t fucking do this! Stop!

    Elpida ignored Howl.

    Noya was frowning again ¡ª or was that Illy? Elpida could not quite tell where one set of mannerisms ended and the other began.

    Elpida said: ¡°Do you trust them?¡±

    Noya grunted. ¡°Eh?¡±

    ¡°Ooni and Pira. Do you trust them?¡±

    Noya showed her teeth. ¡°Fuck no. Fuck¡ª¡±

    Elpida interrupted: ¡°Think carefully before you answer. This is a very specific and precise question. Do you believe that Ooni and Pira are now on our side? Or do you believe that either of them will betray us for the Death¡¯s Heads? After everything you heard in there, do you believe Ooni was lying, or pretending, or trying to mislead us?¡±

    Noya frowned hard, unable to reply.

    Elpida continued: ¡°I need you to respond. And I need you to tell me the truth.¡±

    ¡°What ¡­ what are you gonna do?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s mind was full of static and the sound of Howl screaming and raging, trying to drown out her thoughts. The air was full of rainstorm haze. She tasted the iron tang of blood in her mouth.

    Elpida said: ¡°If you say yes ¡ª if you think Ooni is lying, or that she presents a danger to us, or that she plans to betray us, or will plan to betray us in the future ¡ª then I will go in there right now and shoot her myself. Give me your honest answer. Say yes, and she dies, right now.¡±

    Noya stared, mouth open, eyes wide.

    Elpida said: ¡°Do you think I¡¯m wrong? Yes, or no.¡±

    Noyabrina looked away, gritting her teeth. ¡°No. No.¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath. She let it out slowly. She double-checked the safety on her submachine gun, ejected the chambered round from the breach, caught it in one hand, and reset the charging handle. She sat back down on the bunk and placed her firearm to one side.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Fucking hell, Elps! Howl raged in the back of her mind. You made Ooni one of yours! You made a fucking promise! You bitch, you were really gonna do it! Fuck!

    Of course I was, Howl. Shut up.

    Noya looked up. She ran a shaking hand through her messy blonde hair. ¡°You really would have shot her. Wouldn¡¯t you? If I¡¯d said yes.¡±

    Elpida opened her hand. Ooni¡¯s bullet lay on her palm. ¡°I don¡¯t want to kill Ooni. I made a promise to her. Two promises, really. That Pira has a place in Telokopolis, and so does Ooni. What kind of Commander would I be if I broke those promises of solidarity?¡±

    Noya said, ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°But if you don¡¯t trust them, after everything you heard, then I will take responsibility. Right now I believe that the correct option is to allow Ooni to join us, and deal with Pira¡¯s mistaken betrayal as a matter of internal discipline and personal history. But if the opposite is necessary, I will do that instead. I need you to understand, Noyabrina, or Ilyusha, or both of you. To keep this¡ª¡±

    Cadre! Howl snapped, inside Elpida¡¯s mind.

    Elpida relented. ¡°To keep this cadre together, I will become whatever kind of monster is necessary.¡±

    Howl said: Elps. Fucking hell. You-

    I kept you and the cadre safe, Howl. It¡¯s what I always did. You only died because I refused to do what needed to be done, because I could not keep us together. This time, for these comrades ¡ª for this cadre? No. I will do anything. Shut up and get back in line.

    Howl growled and fell silent.

    Noyabrina just stared, wide-eyed.

    Elpida said, ¡°Do I need to prove myself by bringing you Death¡¯s Head skulls? I can do that. If I get lucky, I¡¯ll bring you Yola¡¯s head.¡±

    Noya winced. She didn¡¯t like that. ¡°You would, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I will. Do you want heads?¡±

    ¡° ¡­ nah.¡± Noyabrina looked uncomfortable. ¡°Ilyusha, maybe. She¡ª¡±

    Crump-crump! Crump! Crack!

    A trio of high-calibre autocannon shots rang out, high up on Pheiri¡¯s exterior hull, punctuated by the distant shatter of a concrete wall, tearing through the static of the rain. Noyabrina gasped and flinched and pressed her bionic hands over her ears. Elpida braced one hand against the upper bunk and one against the mattress below.

    Elpida waited, but this time there was no slew to the side, no whirring of dozens of tracks, no deep-pulse throb of engine power from Pheiri¡¯s guts. Seconds ticked by. Pheiri went clunk-clunk, cycling in fresh rounds. The sound was almost drowned out by the rain.

    Elpida relaxed her grip and opened her palm again. Ooni¡¯s bullet was still there.

    Across the tiny, cramped bunk room, Noyabrina¡¯s eyes were screwed up tight. She hissed through her teeth: ¡°Ilyusha, please.¡±

    Elpida placed the bullet to one side, then reached across the narrow gap between the bunks and took Noya¡¯s shoulder. She squeezed.

    Elpida said, ¡°Let me protect you too.¡±

    Noya¡¯s face shifted. Her fear vanished. She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck; Elpida let go and withdrew her hand. Noya slid her crimson claws from her bionic black fingertips and flexed her foot-talons, scraping across the bed. Her tail coiled upward and tapped the underside of the bunk above. She opened molten grey eyes. Her pale white face and blonde hair were framed by gunmetal walls and flaking cream paint.

    Ilyusha said: ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Illy?¡± Elpida asked.

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    ¡°Is Noya still there? Or is it just you now?¡±

    Ilyusha shrugged. Her tail bobbed. ¡°Always here. Just behind.¡±

    Elpida nodded; she knew she needed to explain herself further, but there was a question she needed to ask before she lost the privacy of this moment. She said: ¡°Illy, you and Noya, was one of you the original? Did the other come into being after you were resurrected for the first time? Here, in this, in the nanomachine ecosystem?¡±

    Ilyusha shook her head. ¡°We¡¯re like this from before. She got too scared, so I came along.¡± Ilyusha flashed an evil grin and waggled the crimson claws on one hand. ¡°To pull out reptile guts.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Okay. Thank you.¡±

    Doubting me, huh? Howl purred in the back of Elpida¡¯s head.

    Ilyusha said, ¡°And you? You¡¯re not alone in there, Elpi.¡±

    Elpida pulled an awkward smile; she did not want Ilyusha to doubt her competence or sanity, but she couldn¡¯t hide what had happened earlier. Amina and Ilyusha and Ooni had all heard the shift in her voice when Howl had spoken through her mouth.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elpida admitted. ¡°I¡¯m not alone in here. There¡¯s a voice in my head. Howl. She¡¯s one of my dead sisters.¡±

    Ilyusha bobbed her head sideways. ¡°Say hi?¡±

    Howl butted in, took control of Elpida¡¯s voice, and said: ¡°Heya bitch-tits. Nice claws.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted, grinned, and made her claws slide in and out with a shick-shick sound.

    Elpida cleared her throat. ¡°Stop it, Howl. Illy, I¡¯m not sure if Howl is real, or if I somehow made her up. Or if she¡¯s a product of nanomachine self-modification in my brain. I don¡¯t know, that¡¯s why I had to ask. I only started hearing her after the Death¡¯s Heads took me captive.¡±

    At the mention of the Death¡¯s Heads Ilyusha¡¯s expression fell into a disgusted sneer.

    Elpida took a deep breath, and said: ¡°For the record, Illy, I think you have a point.¡±

    ¡°Not sharp enough to shoot the reptile, huh?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Not quite. But you¡¯re still correct. I wouldn¡¯t have chosen to recruit Ooni, but I made a promise in the heat of the moment, to get Pira out of there, to stop the two of them from shooting each other in some suicide pact. Now I need to keep that promise.¡±

    ¡°Promises to reptile fucks,¡± Ilyusha growled.

    Elpida sighed. ¡°Would I have made that promise if she wasn¡¯t involved with Pira? I doubt it. If Ooni was more like Yola ¡ª Amina told you about Yola, yes? ¡ª then would I just shoot her? Probably. But whatever Ooni believed, she believes in Pira more. She loves Pira, and that was more important to her than the Death¡¯s Heads.¡±

    Ilyusha just snorted.

    Elpida went on, partly to herself: ¡°In an ideal situation, back in Telokopolis, we would have locked up all the Covenanters and shown them why they were wrong. But that wasn¡¯t an ideal situation, we didn¡¯t have control, they did. And this isn¡¯t an ideal situation either. We¡¯re a tiny band of nobodies, Illy. We have no ties to each other, only that we woke up alongside each other¡¯s coffins. There is very little to hold us together.¡±

    Ilyusha frowned. ¡°Not true. Not true! You¡¯re the Commander!¡±

    Elpida made a gentle gesture with one hand. ¡°And that¡¯s why I don¡¯t want to shoot her. If I kill Ooni, I have to kill Pira too. If we start turning on each other, eating each other, then it won¡¯t matter that we¡¯ve found Pheiri, it won¡¯t matter that we¡¯re protected, and well-armed. It won¡¯t even matter if we get the combat frame up and moving. If we start eating each other, then this cadre, we¡¯re over, we¡¯re done.¡±

    Ilyusha looked down. She traced patterns on the blue bunk room blanket with the tip of a claw.

    ¡°And we do need Pira,¡± Elpida said.

    Ilyusha looked up and squinted. ¡°Mm?¡±

    Elpida considered lying; instead, she told the truth.

    ¡°Illy, I haven¡¯t told this to anybody else, not yet. When I woke up inside the resurrection coffin, there was a message, on the tiny screen inside. It was on my left, and I recall it perfectly. It said: ¡®A soldier? Don¡¯t make me laugh, dear. At my age, laughing hurts like hell. You¡¯ll eat each other before the end, like all the rest.¡¯ Then I blinked and it changed. It said: ¡®Good luck, dead thing¡¯.¡±

    Ilyusha just grunted. ¡°Huh.¡±

    Elpida repeated the relevant line: ¡°¡®You¡¯ll eat each other before the end, like all the rest.¡¯ And that ¡ª that I refuse to do. I still don¡¯t know who or what sent that message. Maybe the graveworm, perhaps the Necromancer who stopped me up on the combat frame, maybe something else. But I know for absolute certain that I am not going to let us eat each other. And Pira? Pira refuses to eat.¡±

    ¡°Mmmmmm,¡± Ilyusha grunted, twisting her lips together.

    ¡°She¡¯s onto something,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I just don¡¯t know what yet.¡±

    ¡°Mm. Don¡¯t eat, can¡¯t live. I don¡¯t see it.¡± Ilyusha shook her head.

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Same here. Maybe if she¡¯s right about the nanomachine production inside the graveworm, maybe that¡¯s a way out of this cycle. Maybe.¡± Elpida tried to straighten up on the edge of the bunk, but the space was too small for her height. Where was she going to bed down in the long term? In the infirmary? The control cockpit? She had no idea. She still needed to explore the inside of Pheiri¡¯s structure, in detail, preferably with Melyn to help. She went on: ¡°Plus, in practical terms, Pira is a hell of a fighter. If we¡¯re going to survive, I want her with us, I want her skills and her knowledge. Her courage too. She more than proved herself with the coilgun back there.¡±

    Ilyusha flashed her teeth. ¡°Was cool shit. She¡¯s a fucking idiot shit-fuck stupid bitch. But yeah. ¡®Kay.¡±

    Elpida did want Pira, for her skills, her knowledge, her comradeship ¡ª but also for something less well defined, which Elpida tried not to think about too hard. She had not forgotten the fistfight with Pira, the rush and pleasure of close quarters combat, the feeling of pinning Pira to the ground, the sheer challenge that Pira had posed, and the moment of sexual friction which passed between them. Elpida respected Pira on a level she could not quite put into words, despite the gut wound. Ooni was necessary, but Pira was desired. Elpida knew it was not wise to act on that desire; even Telokopolan civilians and Legion soldiers did not share the kinds of bonds that the cadre had with each other. Her new comrades came from societies and time periods where that may seem even more alien.

    But if Noyabrina had said yes, and Elpida had kept her word, she was not certain that part of herself would have survived executing Pira.

    She wanted Illy too. And she did not have to leave that unspoken.

    ¡°Ilyusha,¡± she said out loud. ¡°You¡¯re a hell of a fighter too. I want you with us. With me. That¡¯s why I had this talk with you. I value your trust, your trust in my judgement, and your arms at my side. I need you with us. Even if we barely know each other.¡±

    Ilyusha grinned back. She flexed her crimson claws. Her tail did a little bob. She finally stood up from the bunk. Her metal talons clicked against the floor as she stretched out her bionic arms and rolled her shoulders.

    Elpida went on. ¡°I do have a question for you. If you¡¯ve been around, doing this for such a long time, then why are you so closed-lipped?¡±

    Illy shrugged, showing her teeth. ¡°Never paid attention. Don¡¯t want to think about it. Don¡¯t want to think.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough. What about that?¡± Elpida pointed at the symbol on Ilyusha¡¯s t-shirt, the crescent-and-line, scrawled in green camo paint. ¡°What does it mean? I doubt Ooni¡¯s going to give me an accurate answer, though I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll lie on purpose.¡±

    Ilyusha looked down at the symbol on her own slender chest. ¡°Means we¡¯re all together.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Means ¡­ ¡± Illy raised her eyes and flashed her teeth. ¡°Means Telokopolis rejects nobody? Right?¡±

    Elpida sighed and smiled; Ilyusha had adapted the meaning. If she wanted more information she would probably need to ask Serin ¡ª assuming the sniper would attempt to make contact again. ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Elpi, what now?¡±

    ¡°Ah? What now?¡±

    Ilyusha flexed her fingers, making her claws go shick-shick. She tilted her head and waited ¡ª for orders.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Right. What do we do now. Good question.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s body felt heavy as a sack of bricks, her limbs full of lead, her head stuffed with black steel wool. She cast her eyes up and around, over the gunmetal grey and flaking remnants of cream coloured paint. She was exhausted, but she was still the Commander.

    She said: ¡°We¡¯ve found this crawler ¡ª Pheiri. Or he found us? Yeah, that¡¯s better. We need to get Kagami and Vicky back. We should examine the dead Necromancer. And I must talk to that pilot, see if we can do anything for her. I don¡¯t know what though. We need an atmospheric hardshell, but even if we had one, how would we get her into it? How could we isolate her from the nanomachines in the air itself?¡± Elpida shook her head. Ilyusha just watched. ¡°Other than survival, I don¡¯t know, Illy. Do we drive off into the city, protected inside Pheiri? Do we strike towards the graveworm, hoping to get inside? Can we raise the combat frame? I don¡¯t know. I need more intel. I need a lot more intel. And advice.¡±

    ¡°Pheiri,¡± Illy grunted.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Yes. He¡¯s got a lot more to tell me, if I know how to ask. And he has a say, too. But right now I need to sleep. I really need to sleep. If I don¡¯t rest, I¡¯m going to fall down sooner or later. And if I sleep, I need to know that everyone here is safe. Understand?¡±

    Ilyusha pulled a grimace. ¡°Won¡¯t shoot Ooni. Fine.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s not enough. Ilyusha, while I sleep, you¡¯re in charge.¡±

    Ilyusha grimaced harder. Teeth together. Brow furrowed. ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I mean it. Pheiri¡¯s also in charge, yes, but you¡¯re in charge of making sure things are safe on the inside. Watch Ooni, but don¡¯t hurt her. Look after Amina. Make sure Atyle doesn¡¯t wander off. Check on Pira. And talk with Melyn and Hafina, if you can. You need to know them, too. We all do.¡± Elpida picked up the bullet from where she¡¯d left it on the thin blue blanket. She held it out to Illy. ¡°I mean it, Ilyusha. I¡¯m going to sleep, I can¡¯t hold off much longer. You¡¯re in charge. I trust you. You¡¯re a good girl.¡±

    Ilyusha stared at the bullet in Elpida¡¯s hand, then at Elpida¡¯s face, then back to the bullet.

    Then Illy broke into an evil grin.

    Ha! Howl barked. Told you she was like me. Were you trying to provoke this on purpose?

    Elpida did not understand. Provoke what?

    Ilyusha reached forward with one black-and-red bionic hand ¡ª claws out. But not for the bullet. She reached for Elpida¡¯s face.

    Razor-sharp bionic claws slid up Elpida¡¯s cheeks, cupping her chin with augmetic strength, but gently, so very gently, gliding across the skin without drawing blood. Her fingers tightened on Elpida¡¯s jaw, holding her in place.

    Ilyusha leaned in ¡ª quick and sharp and rough ¡ª and planted a sudden kiss on Elpida¡¯s lips.

    Haha! Howl barked inside Elpida¡¯s head. Conquered you fast, didn¡¯t she!?

    The attack withdrew as quickly as it had started. Ilyusha let go and straightened up. She plucked the bullet from Elpida¡¯s hand and made it disappear inside her clothes. Then she whirled, tail banging on the edges of the bunks, and scooped up her shotgun. She pumped the action to empty the breach ¡ª click-click click-click click-click ¡ª dropping shells into the palm of her bionic hand. She shoved the shells into her clothing, to join Ooni¡¯s bullet.

    Ilyusha swung the now empty weapon upward and rested the barrel over her shoulder. She beamed with pride.

    ¡°Sleep good, Commander,¡± Ilyusha said. ¡°I¡¯ll watch the girls.¡±

 armatus - 8.7

    Elpida dreamed of playing chess.

    She and Howl were seated at a familiar table, in the rec room of the cadre¡¯s private quarters, deep inside the Legion District on spire-floor 186, in the heart of Telokopolis.

    Dreamlike phantoms haunted Elpida¡¯s peripheral vision ¡ª memories of her other sisters, pausing to watch the game in progress, or heading for the sofas and the screens on the far side of the rec room, or passing by on their way to other pleasurable diversions. Elpida was vaguely aware of Metris and Yeva sliding from a sofa to the floor together; Metris was straddling Yeva in a way that told Elpida the rec room may soon grow noisy with ribald suggestions and cheers and laughter, or that some sisters might soon move to the dorms to continue the activity in question. Elpida ached to join them, to surrender to the logic of the dream, to lose herself in her sisters.

    But that was only a memory. She focused on the game. She did not look up.

    The chess set was made of wood. The pieces had been carved by hand and lacquered in black and white to indicate the opposing sides. The set had been presented to the cadre as a gift, by General Inglas Orion of the Legion¡¯s XII Division, one year to the day after Elpida had helped save the General and his men from their failed expedition into the green. The chess set would fetch an obscene value on the open market; the Civitas and the Grower¡¯s Guild placed strict limits on the extraction of raw wood from the buried fields below the city. The chess pieces and the board were probably made from pruned branches. Even a decorated war hero General did not have the kind of political pull to claim part of a felled tree for personal use.

    But the chess set was a symbol; General Inglas¡¯ real gift had been his voice in the Civitas.

    A small voice. Not enough.

    Elpida pushed those thoughts away. Regrets would not serve her well in a dream. She and Howl could have chosen to play with holographic extrusions from the table itself. They could have chosen a thousand other games in which to compete. But Elpida had insisted on chess. Dream logic had done the rest.

    Elpida finally made her move: she advanced her single remaining raven, leapfrogged three walls, captured an isolated lighthouse, and pinned Howl¡¯s empress with a pincer movement that she¡¯d been setting up for the last ten turns.

    ¡°There,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Escape that.¡±

    Howl snorted. She unfolded herself from her habitual squat in her chair, letting go of her own naked ankles and reaching out for the board. She did not stop to think. In a single move Howl advanced a snail, took Elpida¡¯s raven, and put Elpida¡¯s city in check.

    ¡°Done!¡± Howl cackled. She folded herself back into her comfortable squat-crouch. ¡°Escape that? You¡¯re stuck, Elps. Give up. Surrender. Submit. Do it now, before you take another turn, and I¡¯ll go easy with the punishment. I¡¯ll only sit on your face for fifteen minutes this time.¡±

    Elpida sighed with relief, leaned back in her chair, and looked up from the board.

    Howl¡¯s purple eyes sparkled with cruel humour. Her albino-white hair was raked back over her skull, sticking up in all directions. But then her brow furrowed with confusion.

    ¡°Elps?¡± she said. ¡°What are you so happy about? You¡¯re losing, Co-maaan-durrr.¡±

    Elpida smiled wide. ¡°I was always terrible at this game.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, exactly! Remember when I beat you in twelve straight matches? Remember the night afterward?¡± Howl stuck her tongue all the way out and touched the tip to the bottom of her chin.

    ¡°Mm. It was mostly you, Metris, and Scoria who were any good at chess. Arry and Quio were close, but a little slower. Kos was incredible, but only if she wanted to be. I never learned to play.¡± Elpida shook her head. ¡°And I still can¡¯t.¡±

    Howl narrowed her eyes. ¡°Elps, where are you going with this?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°You can¡¯t be a figment of my imagination, or a partitioned piece of my own mind, either brought on by stress or grown by nanomachine self-modification of my neural structure. You know how to play chess. I¡¯ve been paying attention this whole time, concentrating, not letting myself dream. You¡¯re following the rules. You¡¯re beating me. You know this game. I don¡¯t.¡±

    Howl grinned. ¡°Still don¡¯t trust that I¡¯m me?¡±

    ¡°I trust that you¡¯re real. But are you the real Howl, or something else imitating her?¡± Elpida sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not sure that matters.¡±

    Howl cackled. ¡°And now I¡¯m gonna beat you and sit on your face. Wanna taste test me, too? Maybe that¡¯ll convince¡ª¡±

    Fzzt.

    The dream flickered, like a glitchy monitor slapped with an open palm.

    Howl grimaced. ¡°The fuck was¡ª¡±

    * * *

    Elpida woke up.

    She was lying flat on her back, in the bunk room, inside Pheiri.

    She had managed to wedge herself onto one of the middle bunks, with her head in one corner and her feet in the other, knees bent to compensate for her height. She stared at the underside of the next bunk up, blank cream-white paint on cold metal. The room was very quiet, silence backed by the slow heartbeat throb of Pheiri¡¯s reactor far below. The thunderstorm had passed. A muffled drip-drip-drip of water kept time in the gloom. Perhaps that was run-off from Pheiri¡¯s exterior hull.

    Elpida felt a moment of heart-wrenching loss for the dream of her sisters. She wanted to sob, but she was too groggy. Her vision was blurry. Her body felt heavy. Her limbs were filled with lead. The molten agony of her gut wound had burned down to a thin smoulder. She let her eyelids drift shut. Perhaps if she went back to sleep she might dream of her sisters again, safe in the heart of Telokopolis.

    But then a face invaded her field of vision.

    Copper-brown skin, shiny and clean. Electric purple eyes, wide and manic. Albino-white hair, long and loose, tucked over a shoulder. Leaning over the bunk. Peering down at Elpida. Noses almost close enough to touch. A nightmare mirror on the precipice of sleep.

    Elpida¡¯s own face.

    Necromancer! Elpida tried to scream ¡ª but her throat was paralysed. Her tongue and lips refused to move. She tried to jackknife her body to head-butt the mirror¡¯s nose and slam a fist outward to bury her knuckles in the imposter¡¯s gut. But nothing happened. Her muscles were frozen. Her body was locked up. A weight pressed upon Elpida¡¯s chest, crushing and suffocating.

    The Necromancer had taken control, just like up on the combat frame¡¯s hull.

    The mocking mirror of Elpida¡¯s face split with a grin from ear to ear, peeling back both lips and flesh. Steel teeth, razor sharp and needle-pointed, tips coated with blood and gore. The Necromancer¡¯s imitation mouth was all torn up inside, lacerated by her own teeth, running freely with crimson and scarlet.

    ¡°Still try¡ªing, dead thing?¡± the Necromancer hissed in a parody of Elpida¡¯s voice, scratchy like static. ¡°Don¡¯t, know how you diiiiid it, but here, you are. And where did I ¡ª go, hmmm? How did you? Do that?¡±

    Elpida tried to shout a warning to the others. Her throat would not move.

    Howl! she yelled into her own mind. Howl, wake up! Howl, get out here!

    ¡°Ah¡ªah-ahhhh,¡± the Necromancer whispered. ¡°Don¡¯t be so, angry ¡ª now. You¡¯ll last longer if you. Don¡¯t try. So hard. A piece of advice, dead thing: keep your head, down. Go, off unnoticed. Don¡¯t be ¡ª seen.¡±

    The Necromancer closed her gore-smeared mouth and slid back out of Elpida¡¯s field of vision. Elpida could not even move her eyeballs to follow the motion.

    The weight stayed on her chest for a long time, pressing down on her ribcage. She felt her bones creak.

    Silence. Drip-drip-drip. Distant breathing. Pheiri¡¯s engines, throbbing and humming.

    All of a sudden the pressure vanished. Elpida¡¯s muscles were her own to command. She gasped and jerked sideways on the mattress, lashing out with a fist, ready to fight¡ª

    No Necromancer.

    Nothing but the bunk room. Gunmetal grey with flakes of cream paint, scratchy blue blankets over thin mattresses, the scent of sweat and old books and firearm lubricant.

    Elpida lay still for several seconds, panting through her nose, eyes wide, heart racing. Adrenaline surged through her bloodstream. Sweat beaded on her skin. The bunk room was silent except for the distant drip of water and the soft susurration of sleep.

    Elpida climbed out of her bunk, slowly and carefully. She peeled back the lumpy blanket. She swung her legs out first, found the floor with her feet, then slipped out and stood up; her gut wound complained at the contortions, stitches pulling at her skin, a hot line of fire running across her belly and deep into her intestines. But the raw blue nanomachines had done their job ¡ª the pain was very bad, but bearable.

    Her internal body clock had regained coherency; she had slept for perhaps twelve to fifteen hours, long enough that the others had likely all gone to bed as well. Was it night outdoors, or was it the sad memory which passed for daylight in the black and soot-choked sky? Her muscles were stiff as old wire and needed a stretch. Her eyelids rasped like sandpaper. Her head was thick as cold tar. Her throat was dry and dusty, she needed water. But her mind was moving fast.

    The bunk room hatch was closed. The equipment and books on the lower bunks had not been disturbed. Nothing looked out of place.

    Elpida was not the only zombie making use of the bunk room: Amina was curled up in the same top bunk she had occupied before, snug and small beneath her coat and blankets; Ooni was lying on one of the lowest bunks, with her back pressed tight against the wall; Atyle was also present, on a middle bunk, flat on her back, stripped down to tomb-grey underlayers, her hands crossed over her chest.

    All three were fast asleep ¡ª or at least pretending. Any one of them could be a Necromancer in disguise.

    Howl? Elpida hissed inside her own mind. Howl, wake up, right now.

    Howl replied in a groggy gurgle: Mmmm-what? Elps, what? Immasleepin.

    Did you see the Necromancer? Just now, did you see that? You see what I see, don¡¯t you?

    Howl sighed, wet and grumpy. You had a fuckin¡¯ dream. Go back to sleep, Elps. You need it. Go back to sleep so I can sit on your face. Bitch arse, you¡¯re so ¡­ mmm ¡­

    Howl rolled over and went back to sleep.

    Elpida stayed very still, hunched below the bunk room ceiling. She considered the possible scenarios, from least-bad to worst-case.

    One: sleep paralysis and/or hallucination. Two: external broadcast from beyond Pheiri, into Elpida¡¯s neural lace, taking advantage of the liminal state between sleep and consciousness. Three: Necromancer intrusion, Pheiri unaware. Four: Necromancer intrusion, Pheiri aware, crew not alerted to minimise danger. Five: Necromancer intrusion, Pheiri compromised.

    She discarded scenarios one and two as wishful thinking ¡ª not impossible, but unworthy of response. Scenario five would render any actions pointless; she may as well go back to bed. Scenarios three and four both demanded the same action: head to the control cockpit and ask Pheiri.

    Elpida got dressed, quickly and quietly. She took a fresh tomb-grey t-shirt from the supplies piled on the lowest bunks. Her gut wound complained as she lifted her arms to pull the t-shirt over her head, but she gritted her teeth and stayed silent. Somebody had moved her armoured coat from the infirmary and left it with the rest of the equipment. She dragged the coat on over her shoulders. A single layer of bulletproof fabric would probably not stop a Necromancer from killing her ¡ª but it might make all the difference in a sadistic game of cat and mouse. If the Necromancer wanted to kill Elpida, it could have achieved that aim while she was paralysed. It had not done so.

    No, Elpida decided ¡ª if there really was a Necromancer on board, this was not about killing.

    Elpida retrieved her submachine gun, made sure it was loaded, the safety was on, and then looped the strap over her shoulder. She crept to the bunk room hatch, opened it slowly, peered out into the crew compartment with her weapon ready ¡ª and then whipped back around to the bunk room.

    Neither Amina, nor Ooni, nor Atyle had moved an inch.

    Elpida had not expected that trick to work, but she had to try it anyway. In a similar situation against any other foe she would have woken all her companions, made sure everybody was armed, and swept Pheiri room-by-room, with others to cover her back. But if the Necromancer could imitate Elpida then it could probably imitate any of the others.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Or maybe that was what it wanted Elpida to think?

    Elpida stuck to the plan. She stepped out into the crew compartment and gently closed the bunk room hatch behind her.

    Hafina and Melyn were asleep on the floor, in what Elpida gathered was their usual spot, snuggled down inside a nest of blankets wedged against one of the metal benches. Hafina was rumbling and purring in her sleep, a deep and resonant sound, a counterpoint to the distant heartbeat of Pheiri¡¯s reactor. Melyn was cuddled up against Hafina¡¯s front. The blankets and Hafina¡¯s bulk swallowed up Melyn¡¯s tiny, pixie-like physique, leaving only a pale grey-white face peeking out.

    The airlock door stood at the rear of the crew compartment, shut and sealed, several inches thick. Beyond that lay the airlock chamber and the wide ramp for external access. Elpida guessed that the crew compartment had once been intended for deployment of ground troops ¡ª perhaps Hafina and her own long-lost comrades. The Necromancer could not have entered through there. Everyone would have noticed.

    To Elpida¡¯s left was the narrow, steep set of steps which led up to the top hatch, more a tilted ladder than proper stairs. The top hatch allowed access to Pheiri¡¯s outer hull. Melyn had explained that it was possible to walk around up there, on Pheiri¡¯s flat, armoured back, like an exterior deck. But that hatch also contained an airlock.

    Elpida had not yet fully internalised Pheiri¡¯s layout: she knew the crew compartment, the infirmary, and the bunk room here in the rear; that section was connected by a crooked, junk-filled corridor to the control cockpit up front. Storage racks lay above the crew compartment and the engineering deck slept below her feet ¡ª but the latter was inaccessible by anybody larger than Melyn. The rear and top hatches were the only external entry points.

    That did not rule out physical intrusion by a Necromancer. Vicky and Kagami had described how the Necromancer they¡¯d fought had reconstituted itself from liquid, from chunks of gore, from bloody goop splashed up the wall. Such a being might easily squeeze through even a hairline crack.

    Elpida crossed the crew compartment and quietly opened the infirmary door; she eased herself through the gap, leading with the muzzle of her gun. Whatever she did next she needed to hydrate first.

    The infirmary was empty. Ilyusha was not there. Pira was gone.

    Elpida pressed a palm to the surgical bed on which Pira had been sleeping, in the middle of the long indent left by Pira¡¯s body weight. The blood-stained plastic surface was no warmer than room temperature; Pira had been gone for a while.

    Elpida crossed to the tiny steel sink and drank several mug¡¯s worth of water, then wiped her face with a wet hand. She didn¡¯t need the wake-up call. Her body was already in emergency mode, full of adrenaline and cortisol, ready for combat, but the ritual of splashing her face with water made her feel better, even if the water was lukewarm and tasted like metal.

    She listened to the sounds of Pheiri¡¯s body. A heartbeat in the depths. A drip-drip-drip from outside. Tiny machine noises. Clicking and whirring.

    No Necromancer footsteps creeping up behind her. No cackle in the shadows. No slither of scales over steel floors.

    Elpida left the infirmary and headed toward the control cockpit. She kept both hands on her submachine gun, muzzle pointed at the floor, finger by the trigger.

    Pheiri¡¯s spinal corridor was a jumble of auxiliary systems, loose cables, unoccupied seats, dark screens, and closed hatches. Elpida had not understood why this part of Pheiri was so disorganised, not until she had spoken to him and come to know his origins. This ¡®corridor¡¯ was formed by a dozen layers of retrofitted systems, additional weapon loadout controls, and desperate attempts to cram more combat power into the armoured vehicle. Some of the screens and dead readouts and symbols on keyboards looked almost Telokopolan to Elpida¡¯s eyes ¡ª archaeological discoveries, reverse-engineered and pressed into urgent service against a foe Elpida did not yet comprehend. A new nanomachine plague; the result of Afon Ddu¡¯s defeat was all around her, in the corpse-city outside. But what exactly had they fought? The Silico? The Necromancers? Zombies like herself? Or were all those categories just parts of the same ecosystem?

    Elpida wanted to familiarise herself with every inch of Pheiri¡¯s insides; this incident proved that need. If there was a Necromancer inside the tank, she needed to hunt it down. The creature could be hiding in some forgotten corner, nestled in a crack of metal, lurking behind any one of these access hatches and control panels. She and the others may not be able to confront the creature, but the idea of leaving the thing to creep around in the dark was out of the question. Perhaps Pheiri had some way of combating a Necromancer. Or maybe they could contact Serin, see if that anti-Necromancer weapon of hers really worked or not.

    She passed by the ladder to Pheiri¡¯s main turret and glanced upward into the gloom. The uplink helmet hung in the darkness. If the Necromancer had already reached that, then Pheiri would be compromised. But wouldn¡¯t the Necromancer have gone for the uplink before waking Elpida? Then again, Pheiri was not a nanomachine zombie; perhaps he was immune to Necromancer control.

    None of this made any sense.

    As Elpida approached the final blind corner before the control cockpit she heard a croaky voice speaking from up ahead.

    ¡°¡ªdon¡¯t know how to do that. Don¡¯t know how to get better. Too much has been broken. Some things never heal.¡±

    That was Pira.

    ¡°Mmmmmm,¡± a reply, a grunt ¡ª Ilyusha.

    Elpida called out softly: ¡°Illy, it¡¯s me.¡±

    ¡°Elpi?¡± Ilyusha said.

    Elpida emerged into the control cockpit and straightened up. She kept her submachine gun pointed downward.

    Pira and Ilyusha were sitting on opposite sides of the rear area of the control cockpit, close to the entrance. Ilyusha was cross-legged in a chair, one arm thrown casually over the back. Her shotgun lay across her thighs. Her tail was coiled lazily on the floor, tip twitching. Her grey eyes smouldered in the gloom.

    Pira looked like she should be in a medically induced coma, for her own safety. She was hunched in a chair, listing to one side like a damaged wall, her shoulders hunched beneath an armoured coat draped over her back, for dignity or warmth. Her near-naked body was a patchwork of dressings and bandages and stitches, plugged bullet-holes and sewn-up gashes and lacerations wrapped in gauze. The mass of stitches and gauze on the left side of her face was spotted with old, dried, clotted blood, turning black and crispy. Her exposed bionic arm lay in her lap. Her sky-blue eyes had gone flat and quiet, ringed with dark circles. She blinked slowly.

    ¡°Elpida,¡± she croaked. She had trouble talking with all those dressings on one side of her jaw and throat.

    Ilyusha hopped to her feet, shotgun in her hands, tail whipping upward. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she barked. ¡°Elpi? What¡¯s wrong!?¡±

    Elpida eyed the pair of them. This private meeting made sense, even if it was unexpected. There was nothing suspicious here. Elpida wished she could feel glad about this surprise.

    ¡°Illy,¡± she said. ¡°Good job on following my orders. Good girl, well done. You stay right where you are. You too, Pira. I need to talk to Pheiri, quickly.¡±

    Several dark screens flickered to life in the depths of the control cockpit. Elpida crossed to the nearest one. Green text awaited her.

    >Commander

    Elpida said: ¡°Pheiri, is there an intruder on board?¡±

    Ilyusha spat: ¡°Fuck! What?!¡±

    Elpida raised a hand. ¡°Illy, hold for a moment.¡±

    The green text refreshed itself on the dark screen.

    >

    ///current crew compliment access query

    ///total expected internal: 8

    . . . direct section assignment ¡®Melyn¡¯

    . . . direct section assignment ¡®Hafina¡¯

    . . . nanomachine conglomerations detected

    . . . nanomachine conglomeration ¡®Elpida¡¯

    . . . nanomachine conglomeration ¡®Ilyusha¡¯

    . . . nanomachine conglomeration ¡®Pira¡¯

    . . . nanomachine conglomeration ¡®Amina¡¯

    . . . nanomachine conglomeration ¡®Atyle¡¯

    . . . nanomachine conglomeration ¡®Ooni''

    ///returns match expected parameters

    ///null response

    >

    Elpida wet her lips. ¡°Are you certain? Please run whatever internal diagnostics you have.¡±

    The text vanished and refreshed again.

    >

    ///internal active system scans alpha ¡ª theta

    ///alpha return: null

    ///beta return: null

    ///gamma return: null

    ///delta return: null

    ///epsilon return: null

    ///zeta return: null

    ///eta return: null

    ///theta return: null

    ///null response

    >

    Elpida did not allow herself to relax yet. ¡°Okay, Pheiri. Thank you. Here¡¯s why I¡¯m asking. I believe I saw a Necromancer in the bunk room. Is there any chance of¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuuuuck!¡± Illy screeched. She stamped one clawed foot and made her shotgun go click-crunch.

    The green text refreshed before Elpida could finish the question.

    >

    >nanomachine control locus query

    ///nanomachine control locus detection NULL VALUE

    >

    ¡°Nanomachine control locus,¡± Elpida read out loud. ¡°That means a Necromancer, right. And you¡¯re not detecting one nearby. Alright. One more question.¡± Elpida braced herself for the worst. Her hands felt slippery on her weapon. But what use would small arms be if Pheiri was compromised? ¡°If a Necromancer attempted to sneak up on you, in order to infiltrate you, would you always know? Or could one get close enough to¡ª¡±

    The green text overwrote itself, too impatient to erase and refresh.

    >

    >patch no. 2.34.8 notes line 416 as follows

    ¡®Nano-blob synapse feedback detection is now complete! You ain¡¯t gettin¡¯ past this iteration. I¡¯ll stake a whole month¡¯s chocolate ration on that. I challenge any of you bastards in mil-spec-six to defeat this one. Yes, you can even bring the blob in the cage and let it crawl all over the testing room, turn itself to gas, or a puddle of shit, or whatever it does when it thinks the cameras aren¡¯t looking. None of you are getting through this. Emyr owes me for this one.¡¯

    >patch no. 2.34.8 notes line 416 END

    >nanomachine control locus query

    ///nanomachine control locus detection NULL VALUE

    >

    Elpida blew out a long breath.

    Of the scenarios she had laid out, the answer was either: one ¡ª hallucination and/or sleep paralysis; two ¡ª external broadcast; or five, and Pheiri had been compromised. But apparently Necromancer detection was a solved problem for the military forces of Afon Ddu.

    Elpida decided to put her trust in the descendants of Telokopolis.

    She placed her submachine gun down on the nearest flat console and flexed her hands. Her fingers had gone stiff. She took several deep breaths, then turned back to Ilyusha and Pira. Illy was staring with wide eyes and gritted teeth, clutching her shotgun tight. Pira just looked half-dead.

    Elpida said; ¡°Stand down, Illy. I think we¡¯re in the clear.¡±

    Ilyusha grimaced. She let her shotgun go limp, then tossed it into a chair. ¡°Yeah? Yeah?!¡±

    Elpida sat down heavily in the nearest seat. The impact sent a jolt of pain up through her gut wound. She winced and grunted and closed her eyes for a moment. She was being careless.

    ¡°Elpi?¡± Ilyusha prompted. ¡°The fuck?¡±

    Elpida explained: ¡°I thought I saw the Necromancer again. The same one as up on the combat frame. Wearing my face. She ¡ª it ¡ª was leaning over my bed when I woke up. I couldn¡¯t move. Couldn¡¯t speak. It said some words, then retreated again. A few moments later the paralysis passed, but the Necromancer was gone. It¡¯s not inside Pheiri. If Pheiri¡¯s sensors are accurate¡ª¡±

    A screen near Elpida¡¯s elbow filled with green text: it was the same as before, Pheiri repeating that his Necromancer detection was perfect.

    ¡°¡ªwhich I believe they are,¡± Elpida added, ¡°then either I suffered some kind of sleep paralysis and a hallucination, or I received a broadcast via my neural lace.¡±

    Illy bared her teeth and hissed with disgust. ¡°Fuck. Fuckin¡¯ shit. Messing with your head!¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I think that¡¯s likely, yes. A broadcast.¡±

    Sleep paralysis was not entirely outside of the cadre¡¯s experience; the genetic engineers of the pilot project had not been able to iron out every single wrinkle in the human body and nervous system. But it was uncommon for any of her sisters to experience problems with sleep. Even insomnia was rare.

    And the cadence of the Necromancer¡¯s speech was unlike anything Elpida had heard before.

    Elpida looked to the front of the control cockpit. Pheiri had peeled back a tiny sliver of his exterior carbon bone-mesh armour plating, to expose the steel-glass rectangle of a view port. The window was set high up in the cockpit, with a seat for access. It was no larger than Elpida¡¯s hand and the steel-glass must have been four feet thick, but she could see the corner of a distant building and the soot-choked sky beyond, lit by the first ruddy glow of dying red light from one edge of the blackened firmament. Dawn in the land of the dead.

    It was still raining but too gently to hear; gritty black drizzle slithered down the steel-glass in a steady stream of thin droplets. That must be the source of the dripping sound: rain pooling in the divots and knots of Pheiri¡¯s armour, trickling down his sides.

    Elpida said, ¡°Pheiri, can you please contact Vicky and Kagami, over in the combat frame? I need to ask them a question.¡±

    Several readouts near the front of the cockpit flickered and jumped, filling with text and numbers. Silence descended as Elpida waited. Ilyusha huffed and growled through her teeth, then cast herself back down in her chair. Pira said nothing.

    A speaker burst with soft static hum, then crackled with a familiar voice, sleepy and grumpy: ¡°What¡ª the fuck do you want, Commander?¡±

    ¡°Good morning, Kagami,¡± said Elpida.

    Kagami growled down the comms connection. ¡°¡®Good¡¯ ¡®morning¡¯, yes. I was sleeping, thank you. Being woken up by a direct line into my brain is not very fun. Are you coming to get us? Is this our call to up and out?¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Not yet, but that¡¯s next on our agenda. Kagami, are you and Vicky safe?¡±

    ¡°Nothing has changed, Commander,¡± Kagami drawled, dripping acid. ¡°Vicky is asleep. I¡¯m not waking her for you.¡±

    ¡°And how¡¯s the pilot?¡±

    ¡°Stable.¡± Kagami huffed. ¡°What is this, a social call? Are we team-building? Chatting about our days? If you have time to chat, come fucking get us!¡±

    ¡°Kagami, I have a very important question for you,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You still have the corpse of the Necromancer, is that correct?¡±

    Kagami went quiet. Elpida heard a rustle. After a long moment, Kagami just said: ¡°Yes. We do. What of it?¡±

    ¡°And you can visually confirm that, right now?¡±

    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s right fucking there! I can see it from here. Hard to sleep with that lump lying on the floor and nothing to even cover it with. There¡¯s nowhere to dispose of the bastard thing inside this giant living mech. You¡¯d think it would have a stomach where we can dump crap like this, but no, no, no, no stomach! No stomach. Tch.¡±

    ¡°And the Necromancer has not gotten up or moved around or anything like that?¡±

    A long silence. Then: ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking say that, Elpida.¡±

    ¡°Kagami, please confirm¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s not bloody well fucking moved! Great. Thank you. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m going back to sleep now. Fuck you, Commander. Is that all? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re having an emergency over there. Have you shot the little fascist yet?¡±

    Ilyusha answered: ¡°No!¡±

    Kagami huffed and spat.

    Elpida said: ¡°We¡¯re all safe over here. Kagami, sit tight. Hold on, rest, and keep your hatches shut. Linking up with you and Vicky is first priority as soon as we¡¯re capable. Today if we can. ASAP. I promise. You¡¯re both part of my cadre and I am not abandoning you.¡±

    Kagami grumbled something inaudible. Then: ¡°Is that all, Commander? Can I go back to staring at this Necromancer corpse in peace now?¡±

    Elpida grinned. Ilyusha grinned back. Elpida said: ¡°Sure thing, Kaga. Say hi to Vicky. Over and out.¡±

    ¡°Whatever,¡± Kagami spat.

    The static hum cut out. Connection terminated.

    Ilyusha snorted.

    Elpida shrugged. She said, ¡°Okay, that¡¯s one line of inquiry answered. If it is the same Necromancer then it¡¯s not literally the same body. Which is ¡­ hmm.¡± Elpida trailed off. That could be very bad.

    Pira spoke, rough and raspy: ¡°What did it say?¡±

    Elpida met her eyes. Pira looked like a walking corpse. ¡°The Necromancer?¡±

    Pira nodded.

    Elpida said, ¡°It taunted me a bit. It called me ¡®dead thing¡¯, same as before, so that implies it may be the same Necromancer. Then it gave me advice. It told me to keep my head down, to not get seen.¡± Elpida shrugged. ¡°By who or what, it didn¡¯t say. Kagami and Vicky mentioned that during their confrontation it used the term ¡®central¡¯s attention¡¯. But what is ¡®central¡¯? I have no idea.¡±

    Pira stared, blank and exhausted. Elpida stared back.

    Eventually Pira said: ¡°Necromancers. Out in the open. Talking. Because of you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Elpida waited, but Pira did not offer further speculation. ¡°Any idea why?¡±

    Pira shook her head. The motion made her dressings crinkle.

    Elpida said, ¡°You and I, Pira. We need to talk. I need you to tell the truth. I have questions.¡±

    Pira nodded slowly. ¡°I will do my best to answer them, Commander.¡±

    Elpida glanced at Ilyusha; she and Pira had been talking for some time already. Would Pira tell the truth now? Probably; she seemed defeated inside. Ilyusha just nodded.

    Elpida smiled at Illy. ¡°You two are getting on well. I¡¯m surprised.¡±

    Ilyusha grimaced and shrugged. ¡°Shit in common. Sorta. S¡¯not a reptile. Just a dumb fuck.¡±

    Pira croaked: ¡°I¡¯m a fool. I¡¯ve never been anything but a fool.¡±

    Elpida considered Pira, wounded and wrapped in bandages, bleeding through her gauze and stitches, hunched beneath an armoured coat in an ancient chair. She said: ¡°Ooni doesn¡¯t think you¡¯re a fool.¡±

    Pira winced slowly. ¡°Commander. Commander, I cannot justify what¡ª¡±

    ¡°Pira,¡± Elpida interrupted. ¡°I want you to tell me ¡ª what was The Fortress?¡±

    Pira¡¯s wince turned to a heartsick lament. She stared at a point on the floor, staring into the past. Her eyes filled with a sheen of tears.

    Elpida waited. Ilyusha pulled a self-conscious grimace; Elpida guessed she¡¯d already asked this question but not gotten a full answer. A few tears ran down one of Pira¡¯s cheeks. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes.

    ¡°Pira?¡± Elpida prompted.

    ¡°The last defiant human dream,¡± Pira murmured. ¡°The last attempt to build something in the ashes. A failure, betrayed, ruined and scattered. Like everything else.¡±

    ¡°Tell me about it, Pira,¡± said Elpida. ¡°Tell me what you tried to build.¡±

 armatus - 8.8

    ¡°The Fortress. The name was a statement of intent. An ideal. An aspiration. A utopian dream. The concept was simple, easy to explain, easy to share, easy to make other revenants believe in it, even the ones who had spent years eating each other in the ruins, the lost and the mad. A Fortress, for all who wished protection. Perhaps it was like that refrain you keep repeating, Commander ¡ª ¡®Telokopolis is forever¡¯. For us, in the early days, we were The Fortress, even before we had physical walls. The Fortress was self-evident. If it did not exist, it would come into being, somebody would create it. It had to exist, logically. We would take the fortress in our hearts and make it real.¡±

    Pira spoke slowly. Her voice was a grave-whisper among the quiet machines and brooding screens of Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit. She stared at nothing, eyes seeing into the past, brief tears dried on her freckled cheeks. The motion of speaking made the bandages and gauze on her face and jaw crinkle and flex, cracking the thin film of dried blood. Her flame-red hair had gone dull and spent. She was held together with stitches, half-naked beneath her armoured coat, listing to one side in her seat.

    Black drizzle ran down the tiny steel-glass view-slit, full of grit and grime. Thin rain obscured the reddish corpse-light of the undead sunrise.

    Elpida sat straight, nursing the ache in her gut, waiting for Pira to continue. Despite the protection and insulation of Pheiri¡¯s body she felt oddly cold; she was glad she¡¯d dragged on a fresh t-shirt and worn her coat. Her submachine gun lay within reach, atop a nearby control panel. The weapon was unnecessary but she left it in the open as a statement.

    Ilyusha sat quietly in her own chair, clawed feet drawn up onto the seat, talons grasping the metal lip, tail coiled against the floor. The readouts and monitors in the control cockpit remained muted and dim. The reactor¡¯s heartbeat throbbed far below the deck. Distant sounds inside Pheiri¡¯s body turned soft and furtive.

    Pira paused for a long time. Elpida began to worry that Pira had fallen asleep with her eyes open.

    ¡°Pira?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m awake,¡± Pira murmured. ¡°This is difficult. The memories are brittle.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°In your own time. That¡¯s one thing we have plenty of, right now.¡±

    Pira nodded slowly.

    Elpida added, ¡°But, Pira?¡±

    Pira raised her eyes. Sky-blue, scoured clean. ¡°Mm?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°This is an interrogation. Do you understand? You can take as long as you need. You can take a break, go back to sleep. You can drink, we can even find you something to eat. But you will tell me everything.¡±

    Pira blinked. ¡°No more secrets,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you everything I know. Everything I can.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°I¡¯m gonna trust you to do that. Before you continue I want to clarify something. Ooni calls you ¡®Leuca¡¯. Do you want us to call you that as well, or are you Pira?¡±

    A slow wince travelled across Pira¡¯s face. ¡°Leuca. That was my name in life. I discarded it, after ¡­ ¡±

    She trailed off. Her eyes returned to the shadows.

    ¡°Pira, then,¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°Pira was my mother¡¯s name. I think. Cleaner than my own. Not so ¡­ tainted.¡±

    Elpida shared a curious glance with Ilyusha, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Illy just shrugged and pulled a grimace. She didn¡¯t know what that meant either.

    Pira continued. Her voice was a grinding rasp.

    ¡°The Fortress began with six of us. We were resurrected together, in the same tomb. A much larger tomb than the one we were in, Commander.¡±

    ¡°Larger?¡± Elpida interrupted gently. ¡°I thought they were all the same.¡±

    ¡°The basic internal layout and external shape, yes. I mean the yield.¡±

    Ilyusha said: ¡°Loadsa zombies.¡±

    ¡°Fifty two coffins,¡± Pira said. ¡°The largest I¡¯ve ever seen, before or since. And I¡¯ve been resurrected so many times, I ¡­ ¡± She trailed off briefly. ¡°I¡¯d been around a few times by then, maybe half a dozen, maybe a few more, I don¡¯t recall. But I¡¯d never seen a tomb disgorge so many revenants at once. Most of them were fresh, first-timers, helpless. A small handful were very experienced. The resurrection chamber alone was a bloodbath.¡±

    Elpida asked: ¡°They turned on each other as they were coming out of the resurrection coffins?¡±

    Pira nodded. ¡°It¡¯s not uncommon.¡± She indicated Ilyusha with one hand, barely raising a knuckle. ¡°Thought she was going to do that, when we woke together.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Ilyusha snapped. ¡°Fuck you!¡±

    Pira blinked ¡ª was that meant to indicate a shrug? ¡°You look the part. That¡¯s all. No offence meant.¡±

    ¡°Tch!¡± Ilyusha hissed through her teeth and folded her arms. She tapped the metal floor with the tip of her bionic tail.

    Elpida did not intervene. Ilyusha and Pira had been working out their differences without her, before she¡¯d joined them in the control cockpit. She hoped they would still be able to do so. The group would be stronger if she did not try to act as an intermediary for every disagreement.

    ¡°Pira,¡± she said. ¡°Please continue.¡±

    Pira did: ¡°Fifty two fresh revenants. Five died in the coffins, unfinished, stillborn. About thirty of us made it out of the resurrection chamber. Ten of us reached the exit. And six of us made it out.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Those kinds of casualty rates, is that normal?¡±

    Pira nodded slowly, staring at the floor.

    Elpida chewed on that information. Her own exit and escape from the tomb, with all her comrades alive ¡ª minus herself, at the final hurdle, ironically enough ¡ª really was not normal here. Then again, there were twelve coffins in that resurrection chamber; two of her womb-mates had died inside their own metal boxes, their bodies incomplete, their resurrections halted; three fellow revenants had left the chamber before Elpida and the others had emerged. They had discovered one of those early risers, murdered and devoured by a predator. That left two unaccounted for.

    Elpida knew she would probably never meet those women, whoever they were, if they were even still alive.

    ¡°Six of us,¡± Pira was saying. ¡°There was me and two other normal revenants, Dubaku and Zhaleh. Du was experienced, heavily modified. She was like a ball of living knives, almost not human anymore. Zhal was fresh, a first-timer, but she took to undeath like a fish to water. Something was wrong with her. She didn¡¯t react when she climbed out of the coffin, like she¡¯d been taking a nap and overslept, totally calm. When the rest of us explained to her what was happening, she tore off a hydraulic piston from a coffin lid, and used it to murder two of the other revenants, right there in the resurrection chamber.¡±

    Ilyusha hissed: ¡°Fuuuuuck.¡±

    ¡°She swore on her god that the zombies she¡¯d murdered had been planning to kill and eat the rest of us, that they had been playing along. By that point a score was dead already, we¡¯d had to wrestle a couple of zombies down and strangle them with our bare hands, to stop them from carrying on with the killing and feasting. Nobody was inclined to argue.¡± She swallowed, rough and dry, then blinked hard, screwing her eyes shut for a long moment. ¡°I¡¯m getting bogged down. This doesn¡¯t matter. Du and Zhal don¡¯t matter. Why am I telling you this part?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Because this is an interrogation. Meander as much as you need.¡±

    Pira slowly relaxed her eyes again. ¡°What mattered was the other three of the initial six. The seed of The Fortress. The Trio.¡±

    ¡°The Trio?¡±

    Pira said, ¡°That¡¯s what everyone called them, once the group began to grow, once we started collecting revenants with nowhere else to go. The Trio didn¡¯t have names, just numbers. Eleven, Sixty Three, One-Oh-Nine.¡±

    Elpida asked: ¡°Artificial humans?¡±

    Pira shook her head. ¡°No. Flesh and blood. Or nanomachines. You know what I mean. They were fresh, first-timers. But they were identical to each other in every detail, short and stocky, skin the colour of boiled cabbage, blotched with purple spirals. Not tattoos, the skin itself. Claws instead of fingernails. Hair like wire wool. They were resurrected side-by-side, in adjacent coffins. They claimed to have died together.¡±

    ¡°Has that ever¡ª¡±

    Pira shook her head before Elpida could finish. ¡°Never. Never heard of it, before or since. Whatever they were, they were linked somehow. They all spoke parts of each other¡¯s sentences. Seemed to always know what the others were seeing or hearing. Couldn¡¯t tell them apart unless you asked. They were more intelligent, like three minds working together, greater than the sum of their parts.¡±

    Elpida frowned in thought. ¡°A collective mind, resurrected together because they constituted a single person?¡±

    Pira shrugged, then winced; the gesture had tugged at half a dozen stitched wounds and closed-up bullet holes across her torso. ¡°They never told. Didn¡¯t feel the need. Elpida¡ª¡±

    ¡°Commander,¡± Elpida corrected. ¡°For you, Pira, for now, for the duration of this, it¡¯s ¡®Commander¡¯.¡±

    Pira looked up and made eye contact. ¡°Commander. When I saw you in the tomb, the way you took charge, I thought you were something like the Trio.¡± She stared for a long moment, a dead, flat gaze. ¡°I think I was correct.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°I¡¯m not an isolated drone from a hive mind. My sisters in the cadre were not like that. We were individuals. We were only in each other¡¯s head when we were wired up via the MMI uplinks.¡±

    Snerk, snorted a groggy Howl in the back of Elpida¡¯s head. What do you call this, then, Elps?

    You don¡¯t count, Howl.

    Fuck you too, Commander.

    Pira shook her head. ¡°Not what I mean. I mean the other thing.¡±

    ¡°The other thing?¡±

    Pira gestured weakly with her biological hand. ¡°The Trio organised us. Kept us together. Gave us something to believe in. They could do it because they were so intelligent, and there were three of them. It just made sense, when we started picking up others.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°They formed the natural nucleus of a cohesive group. That¡¯s how you see me?¡±

    Howl snorted again, fully awake inside Elpida¡¯s mind: She¡¯s your girl now, Elps. Of course she does. She fuckin¡¯ believes in what you¡¯re putting down, whatever shit comes out of her mouth-hole.

    I¡¯m not sure she does believe. Let me listen, Howl.

    Pira did not answer the question. She said: ¡°They had the idea for The Fortress. For trying to settle, put down roots, stop all the madness and the dying. Refuse the cycle, by building something. Anything. A place, a foundation. Stability. Safety.¡± Pira grew quiet as she spoke, eyes drifting away to the shadows again. ¡°And from there, from a foundation, we might strike out at ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°The Necromancers?¡± Elpida suggested.

    Pira sighed. ¡°At whoever built all this. Whatever keeps it all running. The worms? The towers deep in the city? I believed in all that. I believed in it so strongly. I fought for it, because it was right and good. Because it was the only choice.¡±

    She went quiet for a long time, sagging in her seat. A sheen of tears shone in her eyes. Ilyusha made an uncomfortable grumble.

    Telokopolis is eternal, Howl growled inside Elpida¡¯s mind. For this idiot bitch too.

    ¡°Telokopolis is eternal,¡± Elpida echoed.

    Pira looked up, wiping her eyes. Ilyusha snorted, but then nodded along.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you and the Trio were trying to do,¡± Elpida explained. ¡°Trying to build a fragment of Telokopolis, where none are rejected, and all are sheltered. I would have believed in it too. In a way, I do. You¡¯re right, Pira. You were doing the right thing.¡±

    Pira looked away and carried on. ¡°In the early days ¡ª years, really ¡ª we tried to secure fortified structures, old bunkers, defensible buildings, that sort of thing. But with numbers comes complication. The more zombies in one place, the more the temptation for bigger predators to approach and try their luck. The more resources needed just to keep the hunger at bay for everyone. The more organisation, the more formal hierarchy, the more control you need just to keep things stable.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°I can see that. Cohesion becomes more complex with more people.¡±

    ¡°We did it, though. The Trio made it possible. And they delegated responsibility, gave people official roles and specialisations in their own vernacular. I was ¡®Mil-Com¡¯ for a while, in charge of combat operations. Civ-Com, Scav-Com, Dis-Com, that¡¯s the language they used. Even when the roles weren¡¯t very useful, they made everyone a place, gave everyone something to do.¡±

    Elpida nodded, even though this wasn¡¯t particularly revelatory. ¡°Pira, there is an obvious question here.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Pira sighed. ¡°Yes. No matter how cohesive your group, the graveworms always move on. Revenants either move with them or die. The predators and zombies beyond the graveworm line are simply too much for us.¡±

    ¡°Enforced nomadism. No time or space to build.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°That went on for years. Sometime during that period is when I met Ooni. We pulled her out of a tomb. Long story, but nothing special.¡±

    Nothing special? Elpida kept the frown off her face. Ooni adored Pira. Did Pira not think much of her in return? What a strange thing, to shoot your Commander in the stomach for a woman you did not hold in especially high regard.

    Howl snorted. She just shows it funny. Like me!

    ¡°Pira,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I got the impression that you and Ooni were romantic partners, or at least very close to it. Did you love her?¡±

    Pira did not bother to look up. ¡°Mm. You¡¯re going to ask why. Because we had background in common. Because she¡¯s more than she appears, when she¡¯s pushed. Because she was ¡­ clean.¡±

    Clean? Elpida kept her expression carefully neutral. What did that mean?

    Pira went on: ¡°Eventually we coalesced around a plan. A way to remain in one place when the graveworm moved on, and keep even the worst predators at bay, beyond the walls.¡±

    ¡°Occupy a tomb,¡± Elpida said.

    Pira made a huffing sound through her nose; that was meant to be a laugh. ¡°Ooni told you that part?¡±

    ¡°Yes. She seemed very proud of that, of The Fortress, of what you and your comrades achieved.¡±

    Pira stared into the shadows. ¡°We achieved nothing.¡±

    Wrong fuckin¡¯ thing, Elps, Howl snorted. She¡¯s got negative pride. Pride in how much of a rotten fuck she is.

    Elpida tried to redirect Pira¡¯s self-loathing. ¡°How exactly did you occupy a tomb, Pira? I can see how it would make a good defensible structure, but it would need a lot of work to actually maintain positions guarding the entrance, or setting it up for habitation.¡±

    Pira blinked several times, rousing herself. She looked at Elpida. She even tried to sit up a little straighter. Aha, Elpida thought, that was the correct question.

    ¡°It did take a lot of work, that¡¯s correct,¡± Pira said. ¡°There were over a hundred and fifty of us by that point, and we¡¯d been cohesive for over fifteen years. We weren¡¯t just a band of scavengers anymore, we were a tribe, or an army. We had mechanical knowledge, heavy weaponry, experts in all sorts of fields. We had dedicated teams for scouting, protection, scavenging, even food distribution. That group of Death¡¯s Heads who kept us captive back there, Commander? The Fortress would have chewed them up and spat them out.¡± She almost smiled. ¡°We were the top of the food chain.¡±

    Fuck yeah, Howl snorted. She¡¯s a bitch, but she gets shit done.

    Elpida smiled too.

    ¡°We went for a tomb right after the usual feeding frenzy, after it was open and cleared. Prepped for that for a long time. Spent years figuring out how to do it. We had more than enough people to hold the entrance, the killing ground, around the clock. We got into the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber and went into the walls, where all the control machinery is for the tomb itself. Ignored the AI, they never give a fuck. We got into the wiring, the controls, got all the external weapon emplacements working and repaired, under our direction. We revived all sorts of facilities ¡ª medical, power generation, security feeds, computing. You name it, we got it running.¡± Pira¡¯s voice started to break. ¡°A Fortress. The Fortress. The thing we¡¯d worked towards, for so long.¡±

    Elpida nodded, struck by the conviction in Pira¡¯s voice. Ilyusha was grinning.

    Elpida said: ¡°Ooni also told me you defeated a worm-guard.¡±

    Pira smiled at last: harsh and bitter, a bare narrowing of her pale lips. ¡°We didn¡¯t defeat a worm-guard. It was fed to us.¡±

    Ilyusha squinted. ¡°Ehhh?¡±

    Elpida held up one hand to stall Ilyusha. ¡°Pira? What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°We had occupied the tomb for about three months. Then the graveworm began to move on. The moment of truth. We all braced to see if we would be able to hold out against whatever predators would come rushing in, or if we would be shattered and have to flee toward the graveworm¡¯s tail.¡± Pira¡¯s smile widened, sour and angry. ¡°Instead we got a worm-guard.¡±

    ¡°The graveworm sent it after you? Because you were staying behind?¡±

    Pira shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s what we thought at the time. Even the Trio thought that. Maybe we¡¯d broken some kind of rule or condition that nobody had broken before. But I came to believe that wasn¡¯t true.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    Pira tried to straighten up, pulling against the dozens of tiny wounds and lines of stitches. She winced but did not relent. Elpida noticed fresh blood seeping into the soiled dressings on the left side of her jaw and throat.

    ¡°Pira¡ª¡±

    ¡°The worm-guard came in the front of the tomb, into the killing ground,¡± Pira spat. ¡°Twenty four of us were on duty. I was out there when it came over the walls. It killed fifteen revenants in the first ten seconds, shrugged off all the automatic guns, ran over us like we were nothing. I thought we were done. The Fortress was done. I was crammed beneath a shattered wall when it stepped over me.¡± Pira was panting now. ¡°When I looked up I couldn¡¯t even see it, just that mass of visual interference. It¡¯s even worse up close, gets inside your head, scrambles your thoughts, fills your senses with this high-pitched whine like acid on your bones. Those things are weapons designed to keep us in our place. That is the only thing they¡¯re for.¡± Pira reached up with her dented bionic arm and grasped the memory, fingers gripping a trigger in her mind. ¡°I had an explosive lance. Close range armour penetrating high explosive, meant for punching through powered armour, or whatever madness grows beyond the graveworm line. Had to be close to use it, CQC range.¡± Pira shook her head, eyes wide and hollow, a dead sky inside her head. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t even scratch a worm-guard belly¡¯s. I knew that. I waited to die.¡±

    Pira froze, staring at nothing.

    ¡°But you didn¡¯t,¡± said Elpida.

    Pira shook her head. ¡°I didn¡¯t know why I moved. Still feel like I don¡¯t. Like something else took hold of my arm and hand, like I was a puppet. Raised the lance, touched the tip to the worm-guard¡¯s belly. I couldn¡¯t even see, couldn¡¯t think. And then, boom.¡±

    ¡°It died?¡±

    ¡°It died. Toppled sideways. So I would live to tell how I¡¯d felled it. Should have crushed me.¡±

    Elpida frowned. ¡°And you think¡ª¡±

    ¡°I think that was impossible. I think that worm-guard put up a token fight so we didn¡¯t get suspicious. I think it was sent to us, like shit shovelled onto mushrooms in the dark. I think it was meant to feed us, to keep us going once the graveworm moved on.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Who sent it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Pira¡¯s voice turned dark and hard. ¡°The individual graveworm? I doubt that very much. The Necromancers? Maybe. Something else, behind the Necromancers? I have no idea. Whatever sent it to us, I think they wanted to feed us for a while, to see what we might become. And I assume we disappointed.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because we failed.¡± Pira¡¯s eyes filled with angry tears once again. ¡°You want to know what we tried to build, Elpida?¡±

    ¡°Commander¡ª¡±

    ¡°We tried to build a home. But that word doesn¡¯t mean anything anymore. No rest for the wicked. No place to lay one¡¯s head. No home. No city. No tribe. No grassy vale. No fucking grass. No stone will stand upon another. And no ¡®Telokopolis¡¯ either. Sometimes I think we are in the afterlife. Sometimes I think we¡¯re in hell.¡±

    Elpida said nothing. She let Pira¡¯s anger burn itself out.

    Dirty grey raindrops slid down Pheiri¡¯s tiny window. Screens blinked and flickered in the gloom of the control cockpit. Ilyusha was chewing her tongue, grimacing at Pira¡¯s story. Pira took a deep breath and wiped her eyes on a corner of her armoured coat. She shivered and shook, shrinking back into her seat.

    ¡°Commander,¡± she said.

    ¡°Thank you, Pira,¡± said Elpida. ¡°I apologise for pushing you to recall all this. It is necessary.¡±

    ¡°You have that right.¡±

    Ilyusha said: ¡°What¡¯s worm-guard taste like?¡±

    Pira shook her head. She almost smiled again, but it was bitter and closed. ¡°Not much. Couldn¡¯t eat most of the thing. Many parts retained the visual and cognitive interference qualities, even when it was ¡®dead¡¯. We sifted through the ruins days later. Raw nanomachine slime, different consistencies and purposes, inside a multi-layered shell of exotic alloys and containment membranes. Plenty to eat, but tasteless and raw.¡±

    Ilyusha grunted. ¡°Weird.¡±

    Elpida asked: ¡°Why did The Fortress fail, even with all those extra resources?¡±

    Pira¡¯s brief burst of anger-borne energy had faded; she sat hunched and listing in her seat, lit from one side by the sickly green glow of Pheiri¡¯s monitors.

    ¡°Logistics.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Elpida said.

    Pira snorted again, a single breath expelled through her nose. ¡°We lasted six years out there. We had plenty of food at first ¡ª plenty of nanomachines. But even worm-guard guts run dry eventually. We scoured the inside of the tomb for scraps, thought we might be able to get some kind of nanomachine production running, but there isn¡¯t any. Only the worms can actually produce it, nothing else. When the scraps were expended, we started to send hunting parties out beyond the tomb, to catch and kill whatever they could.¡± Pira shook her head slowly. ¡°The ecosystem beyond the worms is almost beyond human imagination, Commander. There are things out there I cannot explain. Most of them, the largest, the strangest, we were simply below their notice. The tomb defences and our weapons drove off any curious predators. But venturing out to hunt attracted attention. That made it clear there was vulnerable meat inside the tomb. Things got bad. Things got inside now and again, hunted us, carried us off, ate us. Some tried to communicate. For some, eating was communication.¡± She took a shuddering breath. ¡°We were at the bottom of the food chain, out there. And eventually there was nothing to eat but each other.¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± Ilyusha spat. ¡°Shit! Shit!¡±

    Pira¡¯s voice ground onward. ¡°When zombies get that run down, we don¡¯t just eat each other, we start to recycle parts, like a snake devouring its own tail. The ones of us who were left ¡­ ¡± Pira trailed off and swallowed. ¡°Jalice, she lost her mind and started stealing limbs from the dead. We found her down in the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber one day, a ball of flesh, no brain. Perisa, she cut herself apart, pulled out her own guts. Tandrice and Yeerp, they ¡­ they ¡­ joined each other¡¯s bodies ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Pira.¡±

    ¡°There is a level to which one can descend which cannot be believed until one has seen it.¡± Pira shrank back into her coat again, small and wounded. ¡°Our numbers dwindled. The Trio died in strange circumstances; I¡¯m certain it was foul play, something from outside the tomb, something which knew they were there. Maybe something terminating the experiment. I got badly wounded, more than once. Eventually there were only fifteen of us, starving to death, eating pieces of our friends¡¯ corpses, watching each other for signs of madness. And then the inevitable happened.¡±

    ¡°The inevitable?¡±

    Pira took a deep breath. She slumped further, an undermined wall. ¡°A graveworm turned up to restock the tomb, to resurrect another batch of revenants.¡±

    ¡°Ahhhhh,¡± said Ilyusha. ¡°Shiiiiit.¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm,¡± Pira grunted. ¡°The Trio had planned for that, or claimed they did. They¡¯d spent five years rewiring and reprogramming the inside of the tomb, to assume control of any systems which opened communications.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°They were going to take control of the worm-guard?¡±

    Pira blinked, another stand-in for a shrug. ¡°Maybe. Maybe the whole worm. But the plan died with them. When a graveworm approaches a tomb the first thing it does is blanket the area with hundreds of worm-guard. I suspect we in The Fortress were the first revenants to discover that fact.¡±

    ¡°Hundreds?¡± Elpida echoed.

    Pira nodded. ¡°To clear out anything which shouldn¡¯t be there. And those worm-guard did not fall to an explosive lance, or anything else.¡± She took a great breath and leaned back in her seat, wincing and squinting at the pain of her many wounds. ¡°Only three of us made it out, because we ran. Myself, Ooni, and another revenant called Riianet.¡±

    ¡°Pira, I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Pira opened her eyes and stared right at Elpida, blank and unapologetic, without regret or shame. ¡°Because that¡¯s when I joined the Death¡¯s Heads.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted with disgust, though less strongly than Elpida had expected.

    Elpida said: ¡°Illy? Did you two discuss this already?¡±

    ¡°Yeeeeeeah,¡± Ilyusha rasped. ¡°Fucking idiot.¡±

    Pira said: ¡°I do not dispute that. I am a fool and a traitor.¡±

    Elpida gestured for her to continue. ¡°Please, Pira. Tell me about the Death¡¯s Heads.¡±

    Pira raised one shoulder in a tiny shrug. ¡°We ran right into them, right at the tip of the graveworm safe zone. They were playing a dangerous game of their own, risking proximity to the front of the wave as the worm moved. I¡¯d never even heard of them before, never met a Death¡¯s Head, though I¡¯d seen some revenants wearing their skull symbol. But not up close. They were very interested in where we¡¯d come from, in what had happened at The Fortress.¡± Pira shook her head. ¡°Even then I had a suspicion that somehow they¡¯d known. Something had told them. They were working for something else.¡±

    Just like Yola, Elpida thought. She didn¡¯t say that out loud, not yet. ¡°A Necromancer?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Never figured that out.¡±

    ¡°And why did you join them?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯d just spent two decades learning that nothing can be built. We are meat, food for the gods. Playthings for Necromancers. Corpse puppets pretending to be people. Because I was wrong. Hope is a lie.¡±

    Ilyusha rasped: ¡°It¡¯s not! Not!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Illy, it¡¯s okay. Let her speak her mind. Pira?¡±

    Pira¡¯s blank, dead face creased with old sorrow. ¡°Riianet was weak and wounded. They had me shoot her as a test of loyalty. They didn¡¯t want Ooni, but Ooni was under my protection, sort of. We didn¡¯t last long. Less than a year.¡±

    ¡°Ooni didn¡¯t join them?¡±

    Pira shook her head. ¡°No. I didn¡¯t let her.¡±

    Ha! Howl barked inside Elpida¡¯s head. Kept her girlfriend pure, huh?

    ¡°Pira,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You called Ooni a traitor, for joining the Death¡¯s Heads. Presumably that didn¡¯t happen while you two were still together?¡±

    Pira said: ¡°A traitor to the memory of The Fortress.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°When you said The Fortress was betrayed, is that what you meant?¡±

    Pira stared, hollow and blank, her eyes the blue of skies burned sterile. ¡°The Fortress was betrayed by me. I joined the Death¡¯s Heads. I was the only one who gave up, instead of dying.

    ¡°Until Ooni.¡±

    Pira just blinked.

    Elpida said, ¡°And then you turned against them?¡±

    Pira shook her head. ¡°Ooni and I both died. Separately. When I was next resurrected I went looking for the Death¡¯s Heads again, for another splinter of their ideology, for whatever group wore the skull.¡±

    Elpida raised her eyebrows. ¡°You went back to them?¡±

    Ilyusha hissed. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ stupid shit.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not proud of it,¡± Pira said. ¡°But I learned. They taught me things. About meat. About graveworms and towers. All of it.¡±

    Elpida pressed; she needed an answer. ¡°And when did you turn against them?¡±

    Pira almost smiled, bitter with self-hate. ¡°I don¡¯t have a good story for you, Elpida¡ª¡±

    ¡°Commander.¡±

    ¡°Commander,¡± Pira corrected. ¡°I don¡¯t have an incident to relate which opened my eyes. We didn¡¯t pick apart a happy little group and eat their bone marrow, so I could have my moment of conscience. There was nothing like that. No redemptive revelation. I just came to realise they were full of shit. They were wrong. They could not build, anymore than The Fortress could. They weren¡¯t even trying. They were just excusing their predatory hunger.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Yeah. I got that, too.¡±

    ¡°I will never again eat human flesh,¡± said Pira. ¡°That is non-negotiable.¡±

    Elpida glanced at Ilyusha. Illy dipped her head with an awkward grimace, nodding as she grumbled. ¡°She¡¯s not lying¡¯. Just a fucking dumb fuck bitch.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°I am a fool and a traitor. That¡¯s all I am.¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath of her own and glanced around the control cockpit, at Pheiri¡¯s gunmetal grey innards, speckled with scraps of cream-white paint, encrusted with a dozen layers of retrofitted control panels and monitors and readouts. She raised her eyes to the tiny steel-glass view-port, to the dirty rain and the undead sunrise, barely more than an ember¡¯s glow in a far corner of the black sky. She listened to the thrum and thump of Pheiri¡¯s nuclear heartbeat below her feet, and the hundreds of tiny machine sounds deep inside his body.

    Pheiri¡¯s not Telokopolis, Howl chuckled. But he¡¯s done good on his own so far. Tell our little brother good job from sister Howl, huh?

    Will do, Howl. But not right now.

    ¡°It is possible to build and survive beyond the graveworm line,¡± Elpida said. She gestured upward. ¡°We are sitting inside living proof. Telokopolis is forever. A piece of it still stands, right here.¡±

    Pira blinked slowly, casting her eyes around the cockpit. She said: ¡°It will fall, like anything else.¡±

    A small black screen at Pira¡¯s side flickered to life, glowing with a sudden flash of green text. Pira turned in surprise, slowed by her various wounds. She blinked at the words on the screen. Elpida leaned forward so she could see what Pheiri had to say.

    >

    online: 99999999 ERROR hours

    >

    Pira frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be rude to Pheiri,¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s survived out here much longer than any of us. Longer than your Fortress. Longer than anything, as far as I can tell. He protected his remaining crew, stayed alive, and he¡¯s still going. And now he¡¯s protecting us, too. He is a tiny shard of Telokopolis, come to shelter us and be sheltered in return. And now he¡¯s my Co-Commander. Say thank you.¡±

    Pira frowned at Elpida. But Ilyusha cackled and tapped the tip of her tail against the decking. ¡°Thank you, Pheiri!¡±

    Pira looked unconvinced. Clinging to her defeat.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You¡¯ve found the same principle as The Fortress, alive and well. Telokopolis is forever. You have a place here too, Pira.¡±

    Pira shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t. No, I don¡¯t.¡±

    Elpida straightened her back and touched the bandages over her stomach. ¡°Pira. I¡¯m not going to insult your intelligence by asking why you shot me in the gut. I understand why you did that. If our positions had been reversed, if one of my cadre had joined the Death¡¯s Heads, I would have done the same to protect her, no matter the symbol she wore. But¡ª¡±

    Pira interrupted. ¡°This is nonsense, Elpida.¡±

    ¡°Commander.¡±

    Pira did not correct herself. Her eyes seemed to clear, burning blue in her pale face. ¡°If I was in your position, I would have me shot.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°You demonstrated that you¡¯re on our side, when you protected Pheiri. You¡ª¡±

    ¡°I did no such thing,¡± Pira said.

    The screen at Pira¡¯s side went blank, then filled with a block of scrolling data, of weapon readouts and timestamps. Elpida could not read the information from where she sat, but she could imagine what it meant: proof that Pira¡¯s stunt with the coilgun had turned away a powerful anti-armour weapon. Pheiri was saying thank you.

    Pira ignored the screen. She said: ¡°I protected the tank, but that proves nothing. Perhaps I did it out of guilt. Or to help Ooni survive, or to repay my debt to you. It does not prove I believe in your cause, or that I¡¯m safe to have inside your group, or that I am telling the truth about a single thing I¡¯ve said. It proves nothing. I cannot be trusted.¡±

    ¡°Pira,¡± Elpida said, ¡°I don¡¯t trust¡ª¡±

    ¡°Why am I still alive, Elpida?¡±

 armatus - 8.9

    ¡°Because you¡¯re mine, Pira.¡±

    Elpida did not elaborate.

    Pira¡¯s eyes burned, blue lightning in a bloodless face, striking across the narrow gap of Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit. Cold embers of the undead sunrise crawled through Pheiri¡¯s tiny viewing port; the reddish light rekindled the fire in Pira¡¯s flame-coloured hair. Her wounded body was a naked offering in the electric gloom.

    Pira croaked: ¡°That¡¯s not an answer. You should shoot me, Elpida. Or have me shot, if you can¡¯t do it yourself.¡±

    Howl chuckled in the back of Elpida¡¯s head. Stubborn cunt, isn¡¯t she? Let me at her?

    Not yet, Elpida replied. I think I finally understand her.

    Huh. Good luck?

    Ilyusha hissed through her teeth, uncoiling from her seat, tail lifting from the floor ¡ª but Elpida put out one hand to stop her. Pira would not respond well to the blunt instrument of Ilyusha¡¯s outrage and aggression; she would clam up, close down, and fight back. Elpida needed to be like a heated scalpel, to remove Pira¡¯s gangrenous flesh.

    Elpida said, ¡°Yes, Pira, I agree with that. I should kill you.¡±

    Bold, Howl snorted. Don¡¯t actually do it though, hey?

    No promises.

    ¡­ Elps? Fucking¡ª

    Elpida continued: ¡°You¡¯re a liability, Pira. You kept secrets from me and from the group, not just personal matters, but practical secrets, information which might have made the difference between our collective survival and our individual deaths. Despite that, you took specific actions which have reaffirmed my trust in your intentions ¡ª but not in your judgement. I want to make that clear. I do not trust your judgement, Pira. I do not trust that you¡¯re telling me the whole truth even now, no matter how broken you are. You willingly joined a group that represents the worst possible way to respond to this nightmare of an afterlife. You¡¯ve been down to the bottom, all the way down, and I can guess what you¡¯re capable of. You shot me in a moment of a panic, a foolish decision which nearly got us all killed, or captured, or worse.¡±

    Pira frowned. The bandages and dressings on her face crinkled in a new way; adhesive pulled at the pale flesh of her cheek and throat. ¡°Then what¡ª¡±

    Elpida spoke over her. ¡°And I would kill you, if I were a Death¡¯s Head, or a Covenanter, or perhaps if our positions were reversed and you were standing judgement over me. But I¡¯m none of those things. I am a daughter of Telokopolis. I am Telokopolis, a living piece of the city, still standing. While one of us stands, the city lives. Telokopolis is eternal; it will never die. And Telokopolis offers a better way.¡±

    Pira hissed, ¡°This is nonsense. Nothing but words. Just¡ª¡±

    Elpida raised her voice, filling the control cockpit with command. ¡°Your decision to shoot me in the gut was born from lack of trust ¡ª lack of trust in me. But the mistake was not yours alone. It was also mine.¡±

    Pira squinted. ¡°What?¡±

    Elpida kept her voice level and hard. ¡°I failed you, Pira. I failed to earn your trust. I failed to make my case. I was derelict in my duties as your Commander. In a moment of panic and indecision, I failed to guide you. Your mistakes and errors and failures are mine to bear.¡± Elpida pointed at her own stomach, at the layers of bandage and gauze and stitches behind the fabric of her tomb-grey t-shirt. ¡°This may as well be self-inflicted.¡±

    Pira tried to scoff, but she hadn¡¯t the energy. ¡°Absurd. I pointed the gun, I pulled the trigger, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°You. Are. Mine.¡±

    The jumbled surfaces and screens of Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit absorbed the whip crack of Elpida¡¯s voice; the additional effort had made her stomach wound spike with pain, but she swallowed her wince. Ilyusha flinched in her seat, talons scraping on metal. Pira blinked, eyes wavering. Was she about to break? Elpida had barely pushed; she hadn¡¯t even spelled out the equation yet, the retroactive responsibility for Pira¡¯s actions, as her Commander. She had led this particular dance half a dozen times in the past, in life, with her cadre, even with¡ª

    Howl? Elpida thought. I hear you panting. You alright?

    Howl snapped: I¡¯m not fucking crying!

    Didn¡¯t say you were.

    Just ¡­ fuck, Elps! Fucking, this? Really? For her?

    She¡¯s my responsibility. You said it yourself, she¡¯s one of my girls now. She took the deal and followed her orders.

    But-

    Leave nobody behind. I did this for you, too, Howl. I did this for all the cadre, collectively, and for some of you individually, over half a dozen different matters, even when you didn¡¯t deserve it, even when it was stupid and I didn¡¯t want to. This is what it means to be in Command. Your failures are my failures, your transgressions are my transgressions. And Pira didn¡¯t need much, she¡¯s already there.

    Howl sniffed, loudly. Yeah, yeah. Get on with it. This is ugly.

    Elpida went on: ¡°You¡¯re alive because you¡¯re mine, Pira, because you belong to Telokopolis. You¡¯re alive because I was there when you needed me, and you accepted me. You¡¯re alive because you¡¯re one of my girls now. You¡¯re alive because I say so, because I order it, and because I am your Commander.¡±

    Pira¡¯s lips curled ¡ª disgust, a last bastion raised in haste. ¡°These are all just empty words, Elpida.¡±

    ¡°Commander.¡±

    Pira snorted. ¡°Elpida. You don¡¯t even know what to do with me. You don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Howl rose up Elpida¡¯s throat and took hold of Elpida¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Elps might not,¡± Howl said. ¡°But I sure fuckin¡¯ do.¡±

    Pira froze, blue eyes gone cold as ancient ice. Ilyusha leaned forward in her seat to look at Elpida¡¯s face.

    Howl? Elpida asked. What are you doing?

    This bitch is almost as stubborn as you, Elps. You¡¯ll be here all day. Let me ride her for a bit, pretty please? I won¡¯t make her too sore, promise.

    Fine. Go ahead.

    Howl peeled Elpida¡¯s lips back in a wide and whirling grin.

    Pira hissed: ¡°You again. The other personality. From the infirmary.¡±

    Howl said: ¡°Yeah! Hi there, bitch cakes. You gonna keep being a bad girl? Need a good hard fuck-spank before you sit down and do as you¡¯re told? Or are you gonna keep throwing a tantrum until reality gives up and spits you out? ¡®Cos that¡¯s all I see here. A little baby bitch tantrum. Wah-wah-wah, sucks to be you. Sucks to get picked up by somebody who won¡¯t let you go, right? No matter how badly you screw up? When all you wanna do is wallow in how sad and defeated you are? Boo-hoo-hoo.¡±

    Pira asked, ¡°Who are you?¡±

    Elpida resumed control. ¡°This is Howl, one of my dead sisters. She doesn¡¯t think very highly of you.¡±

    Howl snapped: ¡°No kidding! You think Elps would cast me out if I shot her in the gut? No! She¡¯d smack me upside the head and call me a bad girl, but I¡¯d still be here. Because I¡¯m hers. Because we all were! We all are!¡±

    Pira stammered: ¡°Y-you have no reason to keep me¡ª¡±

    ¡°Alive!?¡± Howl cackled ¡ª Elpida¡¯s own voice ringing out against the inside of Pheiri¡¯s hull. ¡°You wanna die so bad, do it yourself!¡±

    Howl reached out with Elpida¡¯s hand and picked up Elpida¡¯s submachine gun. She opened the breech to show a round in the chamber, closed it with a metallic clack, and then offered the gun to Pira, grip first.

    Pira stared at the weapon. Her brow furrowed. Her lips twitched.

    Howl¡¯s hand shook; Elpida had to take control to steady her own fingers.

    Howl, she said. You shouldn¡¯t offer this if you don¡¯t mean it.

    Elps, shut up!

    You¡¯re copying what I did with Ilyusha, but you won¡¯t let Pira shoot herself, not really. You¡¯re not prepared to see it through. This is just a stunt.

    And you would?! Howl raged. You¡¯d let her blow her brains out?!

    If I offered it, I would mean it. You can¡¯t fake this, Howl.

    Then fucking help me!

    Elpida sighed ¡ª with her own mouth ¡ª and re-assumed control of her body. She kept the gun extended toward Pira, to keep the offer open. She said: ¡°Pira, Howl is being stupid about this, but she¡¯s making an important point. I can¡¯t actually stop you from killing yourself.¡±

    Pira looked up from the gun. Her eyes were a blue void.

    Elpida said: ¡°Back there in the Death¡¯s Head skyscraper you could have easily gone through with it, killed Ooni and then killed yourself. But you didn¡¯t, because I turned up in time and told you not to. But that¡¯s all I did ¡ª told you not to. I was weak and wounded, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to wrestle the guns away from you, and the others weren¡¯t committed. You could have done it, but you chose to listen to me. All I have now is words. You could leave us, when everyone else is sleeping. You could steal a knife and open your veins. But you didn¡¯t. You¡¯re still here. And I¡¯m confident that you don¡¯t actually want to die. All I have is words, but the decision to follow me is yours. I can only save you if you say yes, but I think you¡¯ve already said it.¡±

    Pira¡¯s gaze dropped back to the gun. She reached out with one hand and took the grip. She tapped her index finger just above the trigger.

    Fuuuckkkk, Howl gurgled. Fuck! Elps, I¡¯m sorry, I¡ª

    Trust me.

    Pira was still for a long time, one finger extended above the trigger. Her knuckles turned white with pressure. She didn¡¯t breathe. Her wounds, her sallow, pale, drained complexion, her sagging musculature, the dark rings around her eyes ¡ª she looked like a corpse about to collapse.

    Ilyusha gritted her teeth so hard that Elpida heard her molars creak. Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit hissed and buzzed, almost below the level of human hearing. Deep in his belly the nuclear heartbeat throbbed, keeping time with Elpida¡¯s pulse.

    Elpida counted sixty three seconds. Her arm began to tire, but she did not waver. She would respect Pira¡¯s choice.

    Sixty four seconds. Sixty five seconds. Pira¡¯s trigger finger twitched. Sixty six. Sixty seven.

    Pira let go of the gun.

    Her hand was shaking; she flexed the knuckles and returned it to her lap, limp and spent. She cast her eyes toward the floor. She started to cry again, slow and silent.

    Elpida lowered the gun and suppressed her own sigh of relief. Ilyusha hissed, hard and restless.

    Elpida said: ¡°Thank you, Pira. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re going to stay with us.¡±

    Pira shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t deserve this.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if you deserve it or not. That¡¯s not for you to decide.¡±

    Pira squeezed a sob through clenched teeth. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. You can¡¯t forgive¡ª¡±

    Howl snorted, taking control of Elpida¡¯s words again: ¡°Forgive?! I didn¡¯t hear anyone say that word. Did you? Illy? Elps? Am I hearing fuckin¡¯ voices here? Is Pheiri growing speakers and chatting with us now?¡±

    Ilyusha snorted too; Elpida thought that sounded forced.

    Pira raised her head, tears running down her cheeks. She looked so lost.

    Howl went on: ¡°The Commander¡¯s not offering you forgiveness, you dozy bitch. You don¡¯t even want it! You¡¯d never take it, not of your own accord! If she offered then you¡¯d be disgusted by her, right? I know I would! Ha!¡±

    The last flakes of brittle crust fell away from Pira¡¯s expression. Wide eyes wept freely. ¡°I ¡­ yes ¡­ I would.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Howl, I can take it from here. Settle down.¡±

    Any time, Commander, Howl giggled. Got her all fluffed and prepped for you. Have fun with the juicy core.

    Elpida ignored the sex joke ¡ª it was Howl¡¯s way of dealing with her own discomfort. She put Howl from her mind for now. She focused on Pira.

    Blue eyes hung in the gloom, wet and wasted. Pira¡¯s final walls had fallen.

    Elpida straightened up and put the firearm in her own lap. ¡°Pira, I am not offering you forgiveness. I¡¯m not giving you that choice, because I don¡¯t trust your judgement. You have the choice to run, to leave us behind, because I cannot stop that, and you have the choice to kill yourself ¡ª though I am ordering you not to do so. But you don¡¯t have a choice of forgiveness. It¡¯s not yours to reject.¡±

    Pira¡¯s eyes widened; she must have realised what Elpida was about to say. ¡°N-no, Elpi¡ª C-Commander, no¡ª¡±

    ¡°You are forgiven, because it is my choice, not yours. Your mistake is noted. Forgiveness is your punishment.¡± Elpida indicated her own gut again. ¡°And you owe me, for this. If we were not nanomachine zombies, then this gut wound would have killed me. Then, despite that, I stopped you from killing Ooni and yourself. You owe me three lives. The sum of the debt is you, yourself.¡±

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Pira tried to swallow; she coughed, choking on her own saliva. She shook her head.

    Elpida said, ¡°You reject the debt?¡±

    ¡°No, no, I ¡­ I can¡¯t be trusted.¡±

    ¡°Because you used to be a Death¡¯s Head?¡±

    Pira said, ¡°No, not that. Because I don¡¯t believe in anything anymore. Elpida. Commander, I didn¡¯t turn against the Death¡¯s Head ideology. I already explained that. I just stopped believing in anything at all. The old gods from when I was alive, the new ideals from The Fortress, the Death¡¯s Heads, everything in between. None of it means anything in this place, living like this. This isn¡¯t even life, just ashes. All fires have gone out. How can I believe in anything?¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°You believe in not eating other people. You believe in rejecting predatory cannibalism.¡±

    Pira winced, slow and wounded. ¡°I reject the premise of survival at any cost. It¡¯s the only way to resist.¡±

    ¡°To resist what?¡± Elpida knew the answer, but she wanted Pira to put it into words.

    Pira gestured with her bionic hand. The arm was badly dented. She indicated nothing and everything. ¡°All of this. Whoever made it. Whoever keeps it going. I used to believe that we might grow strong, or build a home, or use power to strike back at ¡­ at what?¡± Pira sobbed once, harder than Elpida had expected. ¡°At dust and echoes? At shadows on the wall? There is no amount of cannibalism that can protect us. Refusal is the only true choice.¡±

    Ilyusha grunted: ¡°Sounds like belief. To me. Huh.¡±

    Pira shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s a rejection of belief.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°The only winning move is to remove oneself from the game. If that is the case, I have one more question for you.¡±

    Pira sobbed. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Why do you keep coming back?¡±

    Pira squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could, tears leaking out between the darkened creases of her skin. Her every muscle was pulled tight despite her wounds; perhaps she was trying to keep herself from bursting.

    ¡°Pira?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so tired,¡± Pira hissed through her teeth. ¡°I want this to be over. I want this to end. But it won¡¯t. I don¡¯t have the choice anymore. I can¡¯t make it end, I can¡¯t stop, because I made a deal.¡±

    Pira had mentioned this once before; the first resurrection, from life to revenant, was free and without consent, but subsequent resurrections required the zombie in question to give a reason to the machines, to the nanomachine ecosystem, or to whatever directing mind lay behind all this software. Pira had been unable to describe the feeling or sensation when she¡¯d previously spoken on this subject. She had claimed that after death everything was different.

    Elpida clarified: ¡°A deal to come back, the first time you die here, the first time you die as a zombie. You have to give a reason to keep going. Is that correct?¡±

    Pira nodded. ¡°Wasn¡¯t the first time, though. Changed over time. Refined it. Got angry.¡±

    ¡°What deal did you make, Pira?¡±

    Pira shook her head. ¡°Can¡¯t put it into words. It¡¯s not something you understand in words. Can¡¯t explain how it feels.¡±

    ¡°Try.¡±

    Pira went very still and very quiet, breathing hard and rough. ¡°Promised to ¡­ to try to ¡­ tear it all down.¡±

    ¡°Promised who?¡±

    Pira hissed: ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Pira, relax. Stop thinking about it now.¡± Elpida took a deep breath and let it out slowly, for Pira to mirror. Pira obeyed, shivering and whimpering, wincing with little pains, like unclenching a fist held tight for far too long. Ilyusha grimaced and nudged Elpida in the ribs; Elpida gave her a placating look and mouthed ¡®almost there, don¡¯t worry.¡¯

    Elpida¡¯s mind was full of strange coincidences. Pieces were slotting into place.

    After a few moments of silence, Elpida said: ¡°Pira, can you believe in me?¡±

    Pira opened her eyes and stared at nothing. ¡°Why?¡± she murmured. ¡°What for? What¡¯s your plan, Commander? What plan can you possibly have?¡±

    ¡°I thought you liked my plans,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You complimented the general direction in which I was going, before you shot me in the gut.¡±

    ¡°You had a plan and it failed.¡±

    Elpida laughed, big and open; that made her own gut hurt, but she ignored the pain. Ilyusha and Pira both frowned at her.

    Elpida said: ¡°What, because the combat frame didn¡¯t get up first try? Because we stumbled and fell? Because you shot me? That¡¯s just what happens sometimes. Plans fail. People die. Cities fall. But not Telokopolis. You know why? Because here I am.¡± She spread her hands. ¡°We got the group back together, we recovered our missing members. We¡¯re here, we¡¯re alive and breathing ¡ª or at least undead. And while we can think and move and speak, we can make new plans. It¡¯s that, it¡¯s always that, or give up.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª I want to give up. I want to be dead.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you really do,¡± Elpida said. ¡°We need you, Pira. I need you. I need your skills and experience, your knowledge of the nanomachine ecosystem, your combat abilities, your advice, your support, your trigger finger. And now that I understand you, I also want the promise, the deal, whatever it was you made with the system or the machines or the gravekeepers.¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°I want you to make a new deal, with me. I want you to transfer that promise. I want you to fight for me even if you don¡¯t believe in me. I want you to accept that I am your Commander, I am your judgement.¡±

    Pira¡¯s tears dried in her eyes. She stared at Elpida, mystified. ¡°Why?¡±

    Elpida leaned back in her chair and allowed herself a smile. It was only half performance. ¡°Because the graveworm knows who I am. Because I¡¯ve got a Necromancer who talks to me via sleep paralysis, who wore my face to get into that combat frame. Because a combat frame fell from the heavens when I was resurrected. Because we¡¯re sitting in a treasure trove of information and firepower.¡± She reached out and patted the bare grey metal of Pheiri¡¯s innards. ¡°Because Pheiri here was within driving distance, out of an entire continent-spanning city. Because Ooni was here, near the tomb in which you were resurrected. Because you were here at all ¡ª a zombie who made a deal to start wrecking the system, resurrected alongside me. Because of messages inside my coffin, and coincidences I cannot explain.¡±

    Pira tried to laugh, but the sound was hollow. ¡°Messianic delusion.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not delusion,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I¡¯m starting to disbelieve all these coincidences. I¡¯m starting to believe that we¡¯ve been assisted ¡ª or at least I¡¯ve been assisted ¡ª by something we can¡¯t see yet. You want to access the fulcrum of the world, Pira? You want to tear down whatever this is? Stick with me and you might just get to see it. You know why?¡±

    Pira swallowed. ¡°Because you think you¡¯ve been chosen.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°No. That part doesn¡¯t matter. Whatever I was chosen for, I refuse it. My purpose is my cadre. My purpose is to be your Commander.¡±

    Pira stared, no longer crying, her face naked and raw. She did not sit straight, but no longer did she shiver beneath her armoured coat.

    Pira whispered to herself. The words were just loud enough for Elpida to hear: ¡°Never give up. Never stop. Never lie down.¡±

    Elpida decided it was now or never. She put her submachine gun aside on one of Pheiri¡¯s many control panels, and turned to Ilyusha. ¡°Illy, do you have a knife on you? May I please borrow it?¡±

    Ilyusha pulled a sheathed combat knife from the side of her torn-up tomb-trousers.

    ¡°Thank you, Illy,¡± Elpida said. She accepted the knife, stood up, and rolled back her left sleeve.

    Pira¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Commander?¡±

    Elpida drew the combat knife and handed the sheath back to Ilyusha. The blade was black and clean, drinking the thin reddish dawn from Pheiri¡¯s tiny window. Elpida flexed her left hand and held the knife in her right.

    ¡°Pira, you and I made a deal, back when we had a fistfight. I offered you my blood in place of cannibalised flesh. You agreed in principle, but we never sealed the pact.¡±

    ¡°Commander. Commander, no, I¡¯m not¡ª¡±

    ¡°Elpida,¡± said Elpida. ¡°It¡¯s Elpida again now.¡± She raised her palm and the knife. ¡°You¡¯re badly injured and you need to heal. And I need you to know that you are mine. This blood is given freely, willingly; this is not an act of exploitation. Are you ready?¡±

    Pira¡¯s lips parted with a wet click. She was panting softly. She gave a very tiny nod.

    Elpida quickly drew the blade across the meat of her own left palm. Pain blossomed a split second before the blood. The flesh parted and the crimson flowed, pooling in the shallow grail of her metacarpals.

    She lowered her hand toward Pira¡¯s waiting lips. Pira grasped her with fluttering fingertips at knuckles and wrist. She touched her pale lips to the side of Elpida¡¯s palm. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her throat trembled. Scarlet blood slid into Pira¡¯s mouth, sluicing over her tongue, smeared around her lips.

    Pira drank, pale throat bobbing, until the flow weakened to a trickle. She took little more than a few thimble¡¯s worth of blood; Elpida¡¯s circulatory system was host to enhanced clotting agents and specialised platelet structures, another blessing of Telokopolan genetic engineering. She had no doubt that Pira would derive scant material benefit from the nanomachines which comprised her blood. A poor meal compared to a single bite of corpse-meat ¡ª or even better, fresh brains ¡ª but blood meant more than nano-mould or empty air. And the nutrition was a secondary purpose.

    Pira let go, hands quivering, eyelids heavy. Elpida withdrew. Pira sagged in her seat, smears of blood on her lips and chin. She dropped her eyes toward the floor.

    ¡°No,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Be proud.¡±

    Pira straightened up. Eyes to the front. Wiped her chin and licked her lips. Hardly full of energy, but not looking so sorry for herself anymore.

    ¡°Good girl,¡± said Elpida.

    Elpida flexed her left hand. The pain wasn¡¯t too bad. She would heal quickly, what with all the raw blue nanomachines already inside her body. She allowed two droplets of blood to fall from the edge of her palm and land on the metal deck: a symbolic offering for Pheiri. She would explain it to him later.

    She sat down and went to hand the knife back to Ilyusha, but she found Illy staring at the bloody split in her palm. Ilyusha¡¯s claws were extended, crimson razors at all her fingertips. Her tail silently flicked back and forth.

    Elpida extended her left hand. ¡°Don¡¯t be jealous. Here, Illy.¡±

    Ilyusha bared her teeth, blushing as red as the blood. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°You clearly do, Illy. Take it.¡±

    Ilyusha snapped: ¡°Don¡¯t need it!¡±

    ¡°You know that¡¯s beside the point. Clean my hand. Go ahead.¡±

    Ilyusha relented, squirming and blushing. She clicked her claws away and then lifted Elpida¡¯s wound toward her mouth; she licked the blood from the creases in Elpida¡¯s palm. Her tongue was small and raspy. Elpida winced.

    Gritty raindrops trickled down Pheiri¡¯s tiny steel-glass window; it was still raining, a cold and wet day in hell. Tiny machine sounds clicked and whirred from deep inside his body. Ilyusha licked and lapped until the wound began to close. Pira said nothing, her eyes finally at peace, blue skies after a storm. Elpida considered the fact that three of her companions had now consumed her own blood.

    Hoping that¡¯s gonna be a trend? Howl chuckled.

    Not sure. Can I produce blood faster if I modify myself? Maybe.

    Bloodbag. Ha.

    Eventually Ilyusha finished cleaning Elpida¡¯s hand. Elpida reached over with her other and stroked Ilyusha¡¯s messy blonde hair, smoothing it over her skull. She said: ¡°Good girl.¡±

    Ilyusha closed her eyes and purred.

    They sat together in silence for a while longer.

    Eventually Pira asked a question. A croaking voice from a bone dry throat, but no longer wet with tears: ¡°Commander, what is your plan? This isn¡¯t a rhetorical or philosophical question. I¡¯m asking for practical answers. What do we do now?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Short, medium, or long term?¡±

    Pira raised her eyebrows. Had she not expected such detail? ¡°Long term. Give me the wide view.¡±

    Elpida leaned back in her chair, flexing her left hand, savouring the sharp, shallow pain of the cut. ¡°We have two long term strategic options. One: head back toward the graveworm and attempt to make contact, with the intention of obtaining access to the nanomachine production facilities inside. Can we get past the worm-guard? I have no idea. Has the graveworm really been speaking to me? Howl?¡±

    I¡¯m no worm, Elps, Howl snorted. How would I be? Don¡¯t you remember what that moon-bitch said?

    Moon bitch? You mean Kagami?

    Yeah! You can¡¯t broadcast shit through Pheiri¡¯s hull unless he invites it. It¡¯s bone-mesh, remember? How can I be the graveworm if I¡¯m talking to you now?

    That Necromancer managed to broadcast through Pheiri¡¯s hull.

    You had a nightmare! And I¡¯m not a worm!

    Elpida trusted Howl, at least about this. She shrugged so Pira and Ilyusha could see. ¡°Unknown. We would need to test the worm-guard, at the very least. I¡¯m no longer certain that they were intentionally waiting for me on the combat frame. That may have been the Necromancer¡¯s doing. I would also need to re-attempt contact with the graveworm itself. Option one may not be possible, not without the combat frame to put us on an even footing.¡±

    Ilyusha hissed: ¡°Big fucker. Yeah. Too big.¡±

    Pira said: ¡°Option two, we leave?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Correct. Option two: we strike out, away from the graveworm, toward one of two destinations. The first possible target is one of those three towers you¡¯re so interested in, Pira, where you think we might be able to meet plenty of Necromancers, or find some kind of control systems.¡± Elpida shook her head. ¡°In theory Pheiri can make the journey, he¡¯s survived beyond the graveworm safe zones for a very long time, but when we turn up at a tower we¡¯re just a bunch of zombies. One Necromancer froze me on the spot, like I was a puppet. If you¡¯re right about those towers, I don¡¯t fancy our chances, not as we currently are.¡±

    Pira frowned. ¡°What¡¯s the other destination?¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Telokopolis. You weren¡¯t there when we saw the ¡®satellite¡¯ photos in the tomb, but the city is there, right where the plateau should be. Dead or undead or ruins, it exists. And it will live again.¡±

    Pira laughed, a single huff without humour. ¡°A journey into the depths.¡±

    Elpida nodded again. ¡°Thousands of miles. Ten thousand. More. I asked Pheiri about this briefly, while you were unconscious, and he¡¯s never managed to reach the hypothetical position of Telokopolis. It lies far beyond the usual circuits of the graveworms, past layers of the city he¡¯s never penetrated. You and I can review his data together, Pira. You¡¯ve been out there beyond the worms too, so I want you to compare notes, let me know if you think it¡¯s feasible.¡±

    ¡°Does Pheiri?¡±

    Elpida sighed. ¡°He didn¡¯t give me a straight answer.¡±

    Pira swallowed. ¡°Die at the towers or die in the wastes. You don¡¯t even know what you¡¯d find at Telokopolis, Elpida. An empty shell.¡±

    Ilyusha grunted: ¡°We¡¯ll make it. We will!¡±

    Elpida held out a hand; she ignored the pain of Pira¡¯s reasonable doubt. ¡°All of this depends on the combat frame. If we can get that online, we have a much greater chance of survival, whichever option we choose. But I doubt we can. I think it¡¯s damaged in some fundamental way, or it would be up and moving under the pilot¡¯s own power, or by itself if the pilot is too wounded.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I have to get in there and take a look.¡±

    Pira said: ¡°That¡¯s your short term plan?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Yes. Our long term direction depends on short-term results. Before we even choose, we need to recover Kagami and Vicky, and I have to ¡­ ¡± Elpida took a deep breath. ¡°I have to decide what to do about the pilot inside that frame.¡±

    Ilyusha hung her head. ¡°She¡¯s fucked.¡±

    Elpida felt a pang of terrible loss for a woman she had not yet met. ¡°If we had an atmospherically sealed hardshell, we could help her get into it somehow. The combat frame should be able to flush itself, chamber by chamber. If we could get a hardshell into the pilot chamber, and if she wasn¡¯t wounded ¡­ ¡±

    If, if, if; Elpida¡¯s mind tried to plan ahead with resources she did not possess.

    Pira said slowly: ¡°Even if we could secure some kind of atmospheric suit, the suit itself would be contaminated. Do you understand?¡±

    Elpida actually smiled; there was Pira¡¯s usual frost, almost back to normal, despite her near nudity and the wounds all over her body. ¡°I believe I do.¡±

    Pira said: ¡°Everything is contaminated. A suit itself would be made of nanomachines. The entire biosphere, the ground, the dirt. Concrete, wood, everything. Every surface. Every cubic inch of air. That pilot will die the second she¡¯s removed from that tube.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°I know. But I would like to see if there¡¯s any other options.¡±

    Ilyusha chuckled: ¡°Send her back to space!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Maybe. So that¡¯s the short term plan ¡ª as soon as I¡¯m recovered enough, we¡¯re going to travel back to the combat frame.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± Pira demanded. ¡°Right past the Death¡¯s Heads again?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°Small numbers, travelling light. Perhaps just me and Hafina, for stealth. I haven¡¯t decided yet. The Necromancer may attempt to waylay us again at the hatch, to gain access to the combat frame ¡ª but Haf¡¯s not a nanomachine zombie, she can¡¯t be paralysed or controlled in the same way. She¡¯s our trump card there. I think.¡±

    Ilyusha looked up with a toothy grin. Pira blinked in surprise. ¡°I didn¡¯t think of that.¡±

    Elpida continued: ¡°We¡¯ll recover Kagami and Vicky, do what we can for the pilot, and try to reactivate the combat frame. I¡¯m doubtful that will work, but we have to try. Once that succeeds or fails, we can make a decision from there.¡± Elpida pointed at Pira. ¡°Kagami does want me to shoot you, by the way.¡±

    Pira grunted. ¡°Not surprised.¡±

    ¡°She may attempt it herself. She did warn me that you might be a traitor, and in a way she was right. Expect gloating, possibly worse. I¡¯ll do what I can.¡±

    Pira¡¯s eyebrows climbed. She seemed genuinely impressed.

    Ilyusha said: ¡°How do we pick? Elpi, how do we choose what to do?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°We¡¯ll discuss it, with all of us in one place. Pheiri too. I¡¯m the Commander, but that doesn¡¯t mean my orders come from above. They come from all of us.¡±

    Pira said, voice cold: ¡°Voting. Hm.¡±

    ¡°But before that,¡± Elpida said. ¡°We need intel.¡± Her lips curled in a new kind of smile. She stretched out her legs across the control cockpit and felt the dressings tugging at the edges of her gut wound. She invited the pain. ¡°There¡¯s no sense deciding what to do until we can get a better view of the board. We can¡¯t see far as pawns.¡±

    Pira frowned. ¡°What?¡±

    Ilyusha said, ¡°Ehh? Pawns?¡±

    Elpida explained. ¡°I¡¯ve been putting it together in the back of my mind, ever since I got captured by the Death¡¯s Heads. Actually I started a little before that, the moment I saw that Necromancer wearing my own face.¡±

    Pffft, Howl snorted. You mean I¡¯ve been putting it together, in the back of your mind, for you. Don¡¯t shit on staff work, Elps!

    You get all the real credit, Howl.

    Don¡¯t you forget it!

    ¡°We¡¯re pawns,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Everything I said earlier, all the strange coincidences. Combine all of that with the things the Necromancer said to Vicky and Kagami, and the information it apparently passed to that group of Death¡¯s Heads. Put all of that together. We¡¯re pawns in a game ¡ª or in a system ¡ª which we cannot understand from the inside. We don¡¯t know which way to move because we don¡¯t know the consequences ¡ª toward the graveworm, or the towers, or to¡ª¡± the corpse of ¡°¡ªTelokopolis? And I¡¯m not just talking literally, I¡¯m talking about the motivations and agendas of things so far above us that we can barely glimpse them. So. We need the eyes of somebody who can see the game board, or at least a little higher than us.¡±

    ¡°A Necromancer,¡± Pira croaked. ¡°How? How can you even contact it, let alone coerce it?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°We don¡¯t have to. Because there¡¯s somebody else the Necromancer has been talking to, a whole lot more than it¡¯s been talking to us.¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Yeah! Yeah! Fuck!¡±

    Pira went cold and still. ¡°You¡¯re not suggesting we ¡­ ?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am suggesting that,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Combat frame or not, once we have Vicky and Kagami back with us, I propose an extraction operation. I propose we kidnap and interrogate the leader of that Death¡¯s Head group, before the graveworm moves on and this temporary watering hole dries up. A smash and grab, to get answers from Yola.¡±

 Interlude: Iriko

    Iriko was hungry.

    Iriko was always hungry these days, no matter how much she ate; she could recall a time before the incessant hunger, but the memories had grown dim ¡ª a prior era of her life, back when she had possessed arms and legs and a chordate spine. She used to have a stomach, which she could fill by pushing meat and gristle down her throat with a tongue. In quiet moments she fondly recalled the sensation of curling up to sleep with a full belly, to doze and digest alongside companions and friends, in a big pile of slumbering limbs and warm bodies snuggled beneath ragged coats.

    None of those things happened anymore. Iriko slept in isolation, in the loneliest places she could find, with her senses wide open.

    These days her whole body was a stomach, too large to fill.

    Finding good things to eat was also a challenge. Iriko could spend entire days slurping up the black and grey mould which grew all over the city, but grazing on nano-mould always left her feeling slow and dull, like there was less of her than before, even though her physical mass would increase by however much she had ingested. She could easily digest concrete and steel and brick ¡ª just melt it with a bit of acid first ¡ª but that inevitably made the hunger worse. She could not extract any benefit from inanimate matter, not unless the metal and polymers came from the nano-rich bionics of a living zombie.

    Hunting was frustrating. Iriko dared not creep too far inside the graveworm¡¯s kill-zone, where the most vulnerable meat could be found; worm-guard might struggle to destroy her entire body, but they could still diminish her, split her into pieces, scatter her mind. Kinetic force was not much concern, but worm-guard had worse weapons than bullets: phosphor-fire, neuro-chemical disruptors, specially manufactured surface-active agents ¡ª all things designed specifically to deal with creatures like her. Iriko was vaguely aware that she¡¯d run afoul of the worm-guard before, but the memories were fuzzy and disjointed. She knew that once she had been much larger and more confident. She had not been ¡®Iriko¡¯, but something else, something more coherent and fearsome, something with full memories and a name that was more than the weight of shame. That other, prior, better thing ¡ª not Iriko ¡ª had penetrated the worm¡¯s safety and eaten many hundreds of revenants. But then she had been burned and cooked and torn into tiny parts, by worm-guard with skins she could not dissolve and weapons she could not deflect. The tiny parts had fled. No others had survived the mistake.

    Iriko was one such tiny part.

    Iriko was equally terrified of venturing away from the edge of the graveworm¡¯s kill-zone; out there in the true wilds lived things which could eat her as easily as she could eat an unprotected revenant. The most dangerous things in the deeper wilds did not risk coming close enough to catch the worm¡¯s attention, which meant Iriko was safer when she stuck close to a worm ¡ª but not too close. On the rare occasions that the true monsters came her way, Iriko grew herself a shell, turned off all her senses, and pretended to be concrete.

    Iriko knew that she had made a mistake, or a chain of mistakes, reaching back to before she could remember. She had made decisions about what to become, about how to use the meat and gristle she had pushed down that long-forgotten throat. She had been both cowardly and cruel; now she was trapped between wilds and worm, a girl who was only viable in this narrow margin.

    And barely a girl anymore. She didn¡¯t like to think about that. Crying was a waste of resources.

    Revenants rarely wandered beyond the edge of the graveworm kill-zone. The ones who did tended to be clever and strong, or well on their way to leaving the zone themselves. If Iriko wanted to eat then she had to be clever and strong as well.

    And that¡¯s why she was hunting the tank.

    The tank was far from the most interesting thing to happen lately. First a meteor had fallen from the skies and then revenants had swarmed all over the impact site; Iriko had smouldered with frustration that the meteor had fallen just inside the indistinct boundary of the graveworm¡¯s kill-zone, placing all that revenant meat tantalisingly beyond her reach. But some of those revenants had been brave enough or stupid enough to edge just beyond the safety of their worm-guard shepherds. Iriko had herself several successful hunts and some very tasty meals; she was still digesting a particularly large one when the tank turned up.

    The tank had come roaring out of the wilds, right past Iriko, and then plunged into the graveworm¡¯s kill-zone, into the middle of what sounded like a huge fight. Iriko had been hanging around in the hopes that some stragglers might retreat in the wrong direction and right into her. But then the tank had returned, intact, which was incredible because it must have fought the worm-guard; then, even more incredibly, a revenant had turned up and knocked on its rear.

    That revenant had spooked Iriko very badly; she had looked up at exactly where Iriko was hiding, and then winked, as if she could see right through the concrete and Iriko¡¯s refraction shielding. Iriko hated that, she hated being seen, she hated the knowledge that anything or anyone could witness her as she was now, naked and ugly and shapeless. She had almost pounced from her hiding place to tear the revenant apart ¡ª but she was too ashamed for that.

    The tank had surprised her again by rumbling off back toward the graveworm kill-zone a second time, with the revenant tucked inside its belly. Round two with the worm-guard? How was that even possible?

    Iriko had not expected to see the tank again. Surely it would be destroyed.

    But the tank had returned to the edge of the wilds a little while later. It wedged itself in a choice bit of cover, shielded by the collapsed body of an old factory, with a nice clear view down a long empty street. Then the tank had stopped moving for a very long time, all the way through the night and the rainstorm and the morning drizzle.

    The tank called itself ¡®Pheiri¡¯.

    Iriko learned that when she squirted a stream of microwaves, IR comms, and ultrasound echolocation at it. She expected no returns except the topography; the tank was such an interesting shape, with lots of little pits and holes and bumps and knots and curls. She might turn that shape over in her mind for months.

    But the tank answered; name! rank! serial number! The tank listed a vast variety of weapons at her and blared warnings in the language of missile locks and ammo-count demonstrations and the chemical composition of warhead payloads; it swivelled the muzzles of auto-cannons to point at the spot from which she had broadcast, and covered her with the firing arcs of half a dozen high explosive missile pods and incendiary projectors. The tank made itself very clear, in no uncertain terms, with no room for misinterpretation.

    Iriko tried to ride back up the comms ping with a clutch of viruses, but the tank brandished countermeasures of its own; Iriko had to purge a section of her short-term memory to stop them from spreading through the rest of her flesh.

    Then the tank cut the line and stared at her with sensors and weapons, urging her to go away.

    But Iriko did not want to go away, not after that. Now she was very interested.

    The tank ¡ª Pheiri ¡ª called itself a ¡®him¡¯. That piqued Iriko¡¯s interest further. She¡¯d not met a him in a very long time. Perhaps there were some out in the wilds, zombies or otherwise, but she couldn¡¯t remember ever talking with one.

    But her real interest was Pheiri¡¯s hidden meat.

    He was carrying zombies in his belly ¡ª little throbbing morsels of fresh, rich nanomachines, undigested and moving around. She¡¯d seen that winking zombie get aboard him earlier, and much later she witnessed one of them climb out onto his top deck for a few minutes, a smaller one with high-grade bionic limbs, glowing to her nanomachine-sensitive readouts like a juicy slab of roasted meat.

    Other revenants had come to bother Pheiri a few times during the night, but he didn¡¯t capture those ones and tuck them away inside his belly-pouch: he shot at them with some of his smaller weapons. Most of them ran away to regroup, but some of them died. Pheiri did not move up the street to consume the corpses, but just left the kills uncontested.

    The corpses were still there when dawn came, all split apart and wet and red. Iriko wanted to eat them, but in order to reach the dead revenants she would have to expose herself to the open street, with Pheiri at one end. He would see her, her real body, even through her refractive shielding. He would see her in the visible light spectrum.

    She wasn¡¯t worried that Pheiri might shoot at her; that was just silly talk, boys liked to do that.

    No ¡ª she was ashamed of what she¡¯d become. She did not want to show herself.

    Iriko slid and slipped and slithered down to ground level anyway, just beyond Pheiri¡¯s sight. First she tried to make herself look like concrete and creep out into the street, but Pheiri turned all his sensors toward her anyway. He saw right through the disguise. She retreated and tried something else: she extended a small part of herself and tried to make it look like a revenant, with arms and legs and a head, with curves in the right places, and long black hair, just like she used to have. She dressed it in a pink kimono and put sandals on its feet. She turned it around several times and thought it was very pretty.

    But when she stuck it out into the street and walked it over toward the corpses, she started to feel horrible and fake and wrong. The puppet didn¡¯t even look like she had done in life ¡ª she couldn¡¯t remember clearly enough. The kimono was all fleshy and rippling, the hair looked like black straw, and she couldn¡¯t make hands anymore and the lips didn¡¯t work and there were no teeth and¡ª

    Iriko dissolved the puppet into a pseudopod and pulled it back into her main body, ashamed that she¡¯d shown something so pathetic to Pheiri. She attempted a couple more tricks, but after the stunt with the puppet she just wanted to grow eyeballs and cry to herself in the dark.

    Eventually she crawled out into the street. She didn¡¯t even bother with her refractive armour. She slumped up to the corpses and covered them with her body, dissolving meat and organs and bionics and bones. She made no effort to hide from Pheiri. She stared at him, daring him to say something rude.

    Iriko was huge and formless, maybe two thirds Pheiri¡¯s size. Her ¡®skin¡¯ was the colour of oil on water. Faceless and limbless and semi-transparent. She knew what she was.

    Pheiri stared. Pheiri said nothing. Pheiri let her eat, and did not judge.

    When she slid back into the ruined buildings, Iriko started to think that maybe Pheiri was a nice boy.

    But the scraps of meat were not enough; no amount of revenant meat ever was. Iriko circled the area a few times, worming her way through the tops of the tightly packed buildings, squirming down stairwells, pushing her protoplasmic body through air vents and duct systems. Eventually she located more revenants similar to the ones who had bothered Pheiri in the night ¡ª she recognised the skull symbol on their armour, but she couldn¡¯t recall what that meant. They were hiding in a long, low, lightless building, a little way toward the graveworm¡¯s kill zone. They were also heavily armed and highly organised; they had some kind of big gun on a machine. Iriko tried to sneak up on them, but they spotted her with cybernetic senses and sent chemical fires to eat at her flesh.

    She gave up on that prey and slipped back toward Pheiri; she returned to a spot inside a block of apartments, about ten floors up, where she could look down at Pheiri in the street below.

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    She was still hungry. She was always hungry. And Pheiri had been nice. He¡¯d let her eat the kills. That had never happened before.

    Iriko squirted a fresh beam of encrypted data down toward Pheiri, virus-free and unscrambled into plain language.

    ¡¸pheiri pheiri eat-share? hungry so hungry need meat lots inside lots lots more than needed? eat-share share-eat. show where more meat is waiting, offer meat offer share. please hungry small so small. share small? only small. only small. promise please please.¡¹

    Pheiri ignored the beam, rejected handshake, and replied with a blurt of wide-beam comms:

    ¡¸NEGATIVE cease communications remove self 500 meters rear¡¹

    He backed up the rejection by targeting her new position with a set of rack-mounted missiles, then broadcast the chemical formula for several nasty forms of incendiary weapon and anti-surfactant, ones that even Iriko could not easily metabolise.

    Iriko wanted to huff and put her hands on her hips; she thought Pheiri was a nice boy! But he was rude, and a boor, and ungentlemanly. She did not have lungs or hands or hips anymore, but she toyed with the notion of extruding a mouth so she could pout.

    She sent another beam: ¡¸talk just talk no weapons talk about meat want more you have meat give me your meat please want please. iriko iriko is me namekujin iriko please hello iriko please say¡¹

    Pheiri replied: ¡¸NEGATIVE final warning remove self 500 meters rear open fire 15 seconds¡¹

    ¡¸so much meat! all yours! all yours! you don¡¯t need you¡¯re metal and plastic and a nuclear reactor why can¡¯t I have a nuclear reactor it¡¯s not my fault! not my fault, want meat want what you¡ª¡¹

    Handshake crackled back up the tight-beam. Something else replied to Iriko¡¯s tantrum, something inside Pheiri. An audio signal unspooled inside Iriko¡¯s body.

    ¡¸¡°We let you have the Death¡¯s Heads, zombie. Go away or Pheiri will turn you into paste. We don¡¯t have time to fight you right now, we do not want to engage. Do you understand? We¡¯ll kill you if we have to. Go on, shoo.¡±¡¹

    The tight-beam connection cut out.

    Iriko remained motionless in the tower stairwell for sixty whole seconds, long past Pheiri¡¯s deadline. Then she slowly went limp, her bulk filling the entire stairwell landing, spilling down the stairs and up the walls and across the ceiling. She stared and stared and stared. She wanted to sob. She almost grew a throat for that express purpose.

    Pheiri wasn¡¯t trapping zombies to eat them later: he was protecting them.

    Iriko let out a whine. She was so embarrassed. They¡¯d all seen her!

    Iriko pulled herself together and hurried up the stairwell. She slid through the dark interior of the apartments, over mounds of rubble and drifts of dust, ignoring the sweet temptation of mould-mats and walls caked with grey rot. She wormed her way through the top of the building, then found a sealed door for roof access. She melted through the hinges, pushed the door aside, and slid out onto the roof.

    Iriko did not like exposing her body to the open sky, even armoured in refractive mail; she told herself this was because she felt vulnerable, because something might attack her from above. But that was a lie. She hated the sky. She hated the endless black clouds and the dead sun like an ember in a cold fireplace. She hated the shame of what she had become, the shape of her expanded form. When she was down in the dark and hidden below the buildings, she could pretend she was anything at all, wearing anything she liked.

    But she was angry, and mortified, and embarrassed. Enough to go out onto a rooftop.

    And she was hungry.

    She slid to the edge of the roof. Her body soaked into the concrete, tendrils and surfaces exploring the cracks, sucking at tiny pools of moisture, and greedily digesting scraps of black mould. She peered over the concrete lip, down at Pheiri.

    He stared back up at her with dozens of sensor systems. He knew exactly where she was.

    She wanted to stick her tongue out at him. Rude!

    Iriko could form long-range weapons if she needed to, but her body was limited to squirting chemicals or ejecting hardened darts. Neither of those would penetrate Pheiri; none of her formulas would burn or melt his suit of armour. Pheiri had not transmitted the molecular composition of his shell, and Iriko suspected the armour itself was a clever trick. It looked exactly like bone, but her sensors told her otherwise: super-dense, ultra-light, and self-regrowing, like the bone would keep expanding even when separated from blood and meat. She did not want to risk getting a piece of that inside her body.

    She considered jumping from the tower and forming herself into a hardened spear, pointed at Pheiri; she¡¯d used that trick once before to finish off something from the deeper wilds which had not been fooled into thinking she was a lump of concrete. Iriko was perhaps half or two thirds Pheiri¡¯s size, so she could probably overwhelm him with sheer weight in a first strike. But would her spear-tip be hard enough? She experimented with copying that special super-dense bone he was wearing; she extruded a point and kept trying to harden it in new ways, but she couldn¡¯t get past diamond.

    This was so unfair! She wanted to slink away into the dark and pretend this had never happened, but the hunger was terrible and Pheiri had so much meat inside.

    She peered back over the ledge and made a face at Pheiri. She hated him now. Why wouldn¡¯t he share?

    ¡¸fuckboi shit-face guilt trip fuck you fuck you fuck you!¡¹

    Pheiri replied with a blurt of pure static. Iriko flinched and backed up.

    She retreated to the middle of the roof. She felt very alone and very bitter, which she had not felt in a long time. She wanted to cry, but making eyeballs and producing tears would be a waste of energy and water. Instead she found a place where the roof had collapsed inward. She picked up a huge piece of loose concrete, twenty feet across. She hefted it with a dozen pseudopods, tested the weight, and started to calculate the trajectory to hurl it onto Pheiri¡¯s stupid head. His point defence systems would undoubtedly blast the concrete apart, but Iriko didn¡¯t care, she wanted him to know that she hated him now. She was going to throw things at him until he moved and¡ª

    Crack-crack!

    Two bullets hit Iriko¡¯s right flank.

    The first bullet was unremarkable lead; Iriko melted and digested the round instantly. But the second bullet contained a neurotransmission blocker laced into the metal, released as she began to digest the material ¡ª pointless against a zombie, almost useless against her in such a small quantity, but just clever enough to get her attention.

    She traced the bullets¡¯ trajectory; they had come from two rooftops away, amid a nest of rubble, all crumbly concrete and rusted steel bars. But there was nothing there except ambient nanomachines and inert material. Nothing scuttled away or slipped into the cracks. Where was the shooter? And why try to get her attention like that and then hide?

    Iriko flowered her senses open, blanketing that distant rooftop with sheets of microwave radiation and radar returns. She scanned surfaces and topography to find anything out of the ordinary. She extended actual eyeballs on stalks, human-like and insect-like and some that she had invented herself, smearing her sight across the visual range and beyond, into infra-red and ultraviolet. She blasted the area with echolocation pings and odd-one-out predictive mapping equations, and¡ª

    Radio contact crackled across the surface of her skin, short-range, point-blank.

    ¡¸Here. Look here. See me.¡¹

    A spindly, mushroom-pale hand emerged from inside a bundle of black rags. The hand waved to Iriko.

    The rags had not been there before, or they had appeared to be something else, masked by irrelevance. The pale hand was joined by two more arms, a moon-like pale face half wrapped in metal, and the massive barrel of a sniper rifle.

    A revenant, a little one. Beyond the graveworm line, just like the others. No skull on her clothes or flesh.

    But this one was out in the open, alone, exposed.

    Iriko gently lowered the chunk of concrete. She moved very slowly, so as not to alarm the revenant. She did not want it to run. She started to creep across the rooftop, toward the opposite edge. There was one building between her and the pale many-armed revenant with the sniper rifle. She could make that leap with ease; she began to gather muscular power and tension in the underside of her body.

    Radio contact crackled again. The revenant said: ¡¸Stop moving. I¡¯ve got worse than nerve agents. Give it up.¡¹

    Iriko stopped. She replied on the same point-blank wavelength: ¡¸out open out alone? going to get eaten. going to eat you. you run but you¡¯re smaller and slower and you can¡¯t stop every part of me lie down and sit down and gun down and let me come let me come let me¡ª¡¹

    ¡¸Stop. Let¡¯s talk like people. You¡¯re still a person in there, right? We¡¯re not that far from the graveworm safe zone. I can still run. Then you get to meet worm-guard. But I have a deal for you. Mutually beneficial arrangement. How would you like to eat some zombies for me?¡¹

    ¡¸eat you eat you eat you eat you eat you you you you you you you¡¹

    Across the gap, Iriko saw the revenant sigh. ¡¸Too hungry to wait, huh? Fine. I¡¯ll lead you there. But you don¡¯t get any cover. You better be as quick as you look, or the Death Cult are gonna fry you.¡¹

    The revenant stood up suddenly and made her sniper rifle vanish inside her black robes. She was very tall and very spindly; Iriko sensed reactors powering up inside the revenant¡¯s body, shedding stealth for strength and speed. She whipped around on the spot, black robes flying out behind her as she turned and scurried back across the ruined rooftop.

    Iriko bunched her body like a spring and exploded from her own roof; the impact cracked the concrete behind her as she shot into the air.

    She narrowed herself into an aerodynamic dart and slammed into the debris two rooftops away. Dust and shrapnel and bits of metal exploded in every direction. She unfolded herself like a net, shoving the concrete and rebar aside with all her strength, hot on the scent of fresh meat and healthy reactor spoor.

    A flutter of black robe slipped around the frame of a roof-access door. Iriko gave chase; she ripped the door frame out and flung it aside and squeezed her body through the opening, rushing into the shadowy interior, sliding herself across every surface, groping for an ankle or a piece of black robe or a strand of hair.

    She needn¡¯t have bothered.

    The pale, spindly revenant was standing with her back against a railing, her body relaxed and loose, less than ten feet away; behind her was the drop straight down the middle of the stairwell.

    Iriko reached for her.

    The revenant flicked off a salute, kicked off the floor, and rolled herself backward over the railing. She dropped right down the empty centre of the stairwell, head first. Iriko was so surprised that for two precious seconds she did not follow; she just peered down the stairwell, watching the falling comet of black rag and mushroom-pale flesh.

    Iriko leapt.

    The revenant landed first, twisting herself like a cat, springy limbs absorbing the shock; she bounced from a standing start and shot through a set of doors without even pausing to look. Iriko landed a second later and splattered all over the inside of the stairwell¡¯s ground floor. She had to spend five seconds pulling herself back together and making sure she didn¡¯t leave any parts behind. Then she slammed through the doors as well. She was losing her temper.

    Down a long dark corridor, the ruddy daylight flickering through the windows; across an open court with markings for a ball game, dodging in out and between the quiet husks of dead machines; through the frontage of a building that had once served food, the trays and tables and bins now empty of anything but dust. The strange spindly revenant ran just a little too fast for Iriko, always a few meters beyond reach, always with some new trick to duck or jink or dive out of the way. Iriko shattered walls and tossed furniture aside and chewed at the floor in her frustration.

    Eventually the revenant crossed an open stretch of street and plunged into a long, low, lightless building. Iriko powered after her, slamming doors off their hinges, ignoring the switchback corners of the corridor, and smashing straight through a concrete wall.

    Iriko recognised the building a moment too late; this was the place the well-armed, extra-clever, skull-wearing zombies were staging their weapon with which to attack Pheiri. When she¡¯d tried to creep upon them from above, they¡¯d spotted her instantly and turned their weapons upon her. And she had just shattered the concrete wall which led to their big chamber.

    The bulk of her body had too much momentum to stop; she exploded through the wall and slammed down into a big room with hoops at either end and markings all over the floor. She started to rear up to pull herself back, to escape the inevitable chemical repellents and flame weapons and protective sprays, and¡ª

    And all the skull-wearing revenants were looking away from her.

    Some of them had been knocked down by the wall she¡¯d shattered. All the others were exchanging small arms fire with a pale, spindly, black-wrapped figure up on a gantry. They were shouting insults at the pale revenant, shouting orders at each other ¡ª and then turning in shock, their faces covered in concrete dust and blood, to stare at the multi-ton blob monster which had ambushed them from a new and unexpected direction.

    Iriko fell upon them, as quickly as she could.

    When she was done sucking flesh from bones, and breaking bones to suck out marrow, and sucking bones deep inside herself to be digested, she felt a radio broadcast crackle over her skin once again.

    The pale, spindly, clever revenant up on the gantry said: ¡¸Good work. Said I would lead you to meat.¡¹

    Iriko replied: ¡¸not for you not you not for you¡¹

    ¡¸Hmm? Not for me?¡¹

    ¡¸pheiri pheiri. big gun make him scared make him rude and bad boy bad for me bad for him. bad zombies get eaten so no pheiri rudeness bad¡¹

    Up on the gantry the revenant produced her sniper rifle again and looked through the scope, at the big mess Iriko had made. ¡¸Oh, the lance. Mm, whatever you say. That tank is more than capable of dealing with low grade AT weaponry.¡¹

    Iriko picked up a piece of the big gun ¡ª she¡¯d broken it while she¡¯d been eating ¡ª and waved it at the woman on the gantry. She tried to make a rude gesture, but she didn¡¯t have the fingers to make it work.

    The woman laughed anyway, a muffled metallic chuckle from behind a steel half-mask painted with big black teeth. ¡¸No offence. Now, do we have a deal, or are you going to chase me again?¡¹

    ¡¸deal deal? deal eat deal?¡¹

    ¡¸More meat. For you. If you want it. All you need to do is be in the right spot and wait. My name is Serin. Does that help? What¡¯s yours?¡¹

    ¡¸iriko iriko iriko. not me not anyway anymore namekujin joke bad bad joke because I¡¯m iriko¡¹

    The woman leaned against the gantry. Her eyes looked sad. ¡¸That¡¯s not a name. That¡¯s just what you¡¯ve become. Am I right?¡¹

    ¡¸eat you¡¹

    ¡¸You¡¯re welcome to try. Pheiri might not like that.¡¹

    Iriko pulled herself as small as she could and made her refractive armour the same colour as the floor. ¡¸know pheiri know pheiri say hello say from me me me not here not from me not pretend say?¡¹

    The woman chuckled again. ¡¸I can pass on a message. From a secret admirer. If we have a deal. Do we have a deal, Iriko?¡¹

    ¡¸eat¡¹

    ¡¸I¡¯ll take that as a yes. Follow me.¡¹

 impietas - 9.1

    Cantrelle found Yola in the bomb-damaged casino, with her chin in her hands, her head in the clouds, and nobody at the wheel.

    Thirty two hours had passed since the so-called ¡®superhuman¡¯ ¡ª Elpida of Telokopolis ¡ª had broken out of her cell and escaped the Sisterhood¡¯s temporary fortress. She had taken the apostate with her, and made an unexpected traitor out of Ooni. She¡¯d also been assisted by her gang of reprobates and a figure that half the Sisters swore was an ART, an artificial human, a nano-blank void who had somehow walked right past every sentry and guard and pair of eyes the Sisterhood possessed. Cantrelle had not witnessed the ART herself; she had only woken from her undead coma about ten hours ago, when her own latent nano-load had resuscitated the grey meat inside her skull. She¡¯d spent all of those last ten hours scrambling to reassert control ¡ª tending to her own wounds, then pinging the comms network for a basic roll-call, gluing and stitching and jamming the Sisters back together as best she could without the use of her hands, counting the dead and locating their corpses, distributing meat to the wounded, and figuring out what in frozen fucking hell Yola was playing at.

    Daydreaming. Building castles in the sky.

    Yola was sitting on an overturned slot machine, amid the wreckage of her command post, gazing out through a massive hole in the exterior wall of the skyscraper, a ragged wound torn by a red-lined plasma rifle used as an IED.

    Ooni¡¯s handiwork, apparently; Cantrelle never would have guessed that the little worm had it in her.

    Cantrelle regretted missing the fireworks. She would have enjoyed seeing Yola forced to leap out of the way. But she had not enjoyed applying nano-mould to explosion burns all down one side of Neoci¡¯s body, or gluing pieces of Sofika¡¯s skull back together, or amputating the remains of Luuia-chuut¡¯s left arm and feeding the pieces of charred meat back to her. Ooni was lucky that she¡¯d fled Cantrelle¡¯s justice.

    Yola was not alone in the casino room, though the Sisterhood was no longer using it as a command post ¡ª something about the gilt and gold covered in soot and burns offended Yola¡¯s delicate sensibilities. DeeGee and Yazhu were lounging against one of the rear walls, both of them sealed up inside their suits of powered war-plate.

    Cantrelle stopped just inside the casino, at the edge of the blast damage. She gave DeeGee and Yazhu an unimpressed look, then spoke to them over the comms network, via her own internal bionics.

    Click-buzz.

    <<Why the fuck didn¡¯t either of you tell me the boss was in here?>>

    DeeGee levered herself up from the wall, joint-servos whining with minor damage; Cantrelle added that to her mental list of necessary repairs. The list was getting very long, and the Sisterhood was running low on parts. They could not stay here much longer without hunting.

    Yazhu kept lounging; she nodded sideways toward Yola¡¯s back, then answered over comms.

    <<Boss wanted to be alone. Said to ignore everything.>>

    Cantrelle stared. She let her expression do the talking. Her blank bionic eyes were often useful for this.

    Yazhu finally straightened up. She sent over the comms network: <<Uh. Sorry, Canny, she¡ª>>

    <<Cantrelle.>> Cantrelle corrected her.

    <<Cantrelle. Ma¡¯am. Boss gave orders. You know? You know how she is. You know better than anybody, right?>>

    Cantrelle sent: <<You two can make yourselves scarce for a while.>>

    Yazhu and DeeGee shared a look, war-plate helmets turning to glance at each other. DeeGee shrugged and broadcast something on a private channel; Cantrelle felt it flicker across the network.

    Yazhu sent: <<The boss told us to watch her back. Canny, come on. She¡¯s not¡ª>>

    <<And I am ordering you to leave me alone with Yola,>> Cantrelle said. <<Go stand in the corridor if you must, you can see her back from there, it¡¯s purple enough, you won¡¯t miss it. Just fuck off for five minutes, both of you.>>

    Cantrelle resisted the urge to flex her mechanical tentacles, or spit on the floor, or snap orders. She had to maintain her temper and her nerve, especially if she was about to deal with Yola. Somebody around here had to keep her head on straight, or the Sisterhood was going to fracture and break.

    DeeGee saluted. Cantrelle didn¡¯t like it when she did that; the gesture was a rotten holdover from DeeGee¡¯s life before resurrection, a pantomime of submission to military rank. But at least it meant she was doing as she was told. Yazhu just shrugged and wobbled her head, abandoning responsibility. The pair of them trudged out of the room, past Cantrelle and into the long dark corridor. Cantrelle made a show of ignoring them, not even turning to cover her own back ¡ª not because she trusted them, but because her authority and credibility should extend without question.

    God knew that Yola¡¯s credibility wasn¡¯t extending past her own fingertips right then.

    Cantrelle crossed the blackened, soot-stained carpet, weaved her way between fallen slot machines and spears of shattered card table, climbed the twisted, half-melted steps up toward the raised platform, and approached the suit of ridiculous purple plate armour which contained a woman who had once been her closest friend and most unshakeable ally.

    Yola did not look up, too absorbed in the view.

    The ragged hole in the skyscraper wall reminded Cantrelle of an exit wound; the edges were fringed with clumps of concrete clinging to spikes of bent rebar and scorched water pipes, dirty with burnt wiring and sooty residue. An unstable lip threatened to collapse toward the ground below.

    Beyond the hole the hateful sky glowered down upon the world, ruddy red in one corner with the ghost of the unborn sun. The rainstorm had blown itself out overnight; the air was filled with dull damp drizzle, reducing visibility. Ordinary eyes could not have seen across the impact crater outdoors, across to the other skyscrapers on the far side, but Cantrelle¡¯s bionic eyes saw further and with more clarity than most. Above the rotten fingertips of the skyscrapers she could just make out the dark line of the graveworm¡¯s mountainous body.

    Rain had turned the grey earth of the crater into a sea of mud, filled with stagnant pools and little runnels of silt and slop. No revenant would be crossing that today, not unless they wanted to volunteer for target practice.

    The strange bone-armoured mech ¡ª Elpida¡¯s ¡®combat frame¡¯ ¡ª lay crumpled at one end of the impact crater, a helpless pale phantom in the grey drizzle.

    Cantrelle stood next to Yola for a moment, but she couldn¡¯t tell what Yola was staring at; the ¡®boss¡¯ was buttoned up tight inside her purple and gold war-plate. Yola¡¯s helmet turned her face into a segmented beak beneath glowing emerald lenses.

    Click-buzz.

    <<Boss.>>

    Yola did not move.

    <<Boss. I¡¯ve been pinging you for two hours.>>

    Yola sighed through the external speakers in her helmet. The shoulders of her plate armour went up and down.

    <<Boss. Don¡¯t make me use my voice, for fuck¡¯s sake. Your superhuman bitch choked me out, my throat is a mess. Boss? Pay attention, boss, or I swear I will put a fucking round down the exhaust on your war-plate¡¯s power-pack.>>

    Yola finally looked up. The helmet of her armour turned away from the view, though she did not raise her chin from her hands. Emerald lenses blazed above that sharpened beak.

    <<Lower your fucking helmet, for God¡¯s sake,>> Cantrelle sent.

    Yola¡¯s purple helmet slid back segment by segment, sinking into the rear of her armour.

    She¡¯d been caught by the outer edge of the explosion from Ooni¡¯s red-lined plasma rifle: Yola¡¯s right cheek and the right side of her jaw were crispy black with burns and dried blood; her right eye was milky with damage, the lid crisped away, lashes and brow burned up, the brilliant green colour turned swampy; the trailing edges of her ruby-red hair were singed and blackened. She¡¯d already begun to heal ¡ª her own nano-load was higher than the Sisterhood¡¯s average. But she would carry the scars for weeks yet.

    Yola didn¡¯t show any pain; she never did, and Cantrelle had yet to figure out how. Back in the good days ¡ª back when they¡¯d shared a bedroll every night ¡ª Yola had been a crybaby, worrying at every minor wound and aching muscle, weeping into Cantrelle¡¯s shoulder in fear of half the others. Now she was like a statue.

    She spoke in a voice like molten honey dripping on hot steel.

    ¡°Sent my guard away, have you?¡± Yola said. ¡°Cantrelle, if I didn¡¯t know you better, I would say you¡¯re planning an assassination.¡±

    Cantrelle cleared her throat ¡ª which hurt, a lot. She tasted fresh blood again. But then she spoke out loud, for pure spite: ¡°Yola, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn¡¯t send anybody away. I¡¯d do it in front of as many Sisters as possible. With you on your feet. And armed.¡±

    Cantrelle¡¯s voice sounded worse than a corpse. Her usual mechanical buzz was warped and broken; she needed time and meat to fix the damage.

    Yola chuckled softly, in the exact manner which she knew full well made Cantrelle grind her teeth. She glanced past Cantrelle, ensuring they did not have any eavesdroppers, then said: ¡°You always did have a more esoteric understanding of leadership than I. Sometimes I wish I had your gift, instead of the ones that nature and breeding have bestowed upon me.¡± Yola looked Cantrelle up and down with her healthy left eye, lingering on Cantrelle¡¯s hands, her face, and the ends of her four metal tentacles. ¡°Ella, Ella, Ella,¡± she purred. ¡°You look terrible, my dear. You look like you have been dredged from the hangman¡¯s pile and warmed up in a manure pit. How are you feeling? I hope you are not too sore, in either sense of the word.¡±

    Cantrelle had so many wounds that the pain was an overlapping cacophony; she had administered her own analgesics, but they were ineffective at such low doses. She didn¡¯t want to drug herself insensible, not yet, not while Yola was acting like this.

    Her throat was a mangled mess, one big throbbing purple strangulation bruise, puffy and swollen, flesh and metal both marked with the outline of the chain which Elpida had used to choke her to death. Her bald scalp was scraped and grazed from where she¡¯d hit the ground several times. Her hands were much worse, nails and knuckles skinned and bloodied from the struggle, with several nasty bite wounds on her fingers and palms and wrists; the little one ¡ª Amina, Elpida had called her ¡ª had taken serious chunks out of Cantrelle¡¯s hands, but also bitten her in the face several times. Cantrelle had not lost any fingers to the little biter, but her hands were out of action for the foreseeable future, wounds slathered in nano-mould, wrapped in gauze and bandages, swaddled up like mittens. She was forced to use her two tentacle-claws for everything, including bandaging the bite wounds on her own face.

    One of the facial bites had gone right through the skull-tattoo on Cantrelle¡¯s cheek; Amina had ripped away a chunk of flesh, bisecting the Sisterhood¡¯s symbol, leaving it ragged and fractured.

    In life Cantrelle had believed in signs and symbols, in messages from God found in the flying of birds and the entrails of road-kill.

    She was glad she had left such infancy behind. But she tried not to think about the meaning of the broken and bisected skull.

    Worse than throat and hands and face, worse even than the insult to her allegiance, the superhuman and her little rabid bitch had broken the ends of Cantrelle¡¯s other two tentacles: her bone-saw and her needle-delivery system were both snapped and shattered. Regrowing those bionics would take months of work, constant mental reinforcement, and several whole corpses worth of fresh nanomachines.

    They¡¯d stolen her favourite shotgun too, the nice little super-compact she could fire one-handed. They¡¯d even taken her sidearm. She had a jerky little PDW tucked under her coat for now, and a pair of large calibre revolvers shoved into her waistband.

    But Elpida had not killed her.

    Elpida had her unconscious, helpless, and wounded ¡ª but she¡¯d not finished the job. Yola¡¯s ¡®superhuman¡¯ was naive and weak at best, sentimental and foolish at worst. If their positions had been reversed, Cantrelle would have shot her without hesitation and eaten her corpse with relish.

    Elpida had not, however, looted Cantrelle¡¯s other personal possessions. When Cantrelle had awoken from her coma and fixed her own wounds, she had been surprised to find everything else still in her pockets, including the box with the tiny locket of Yola¡¯s hair ¡ª blonde hair, not Yola¡¯s current ruby-red, from before Yola had changed herself.

    Another death avoided. Another lucky break. Cantrelle was beginning to get tired. She¡¯d whispered something to the locket of hair, something like ¡®let me fucking go¡¯. A shameful lapse, now carefully locked away again.

    She echoed Yola¡¯s question, deadpan: ¡°How am I feeling?¡±

    Yola¡¯s one unblinded eye twinkled with cruel mischief, emerald in the grey light. ¡°Yes. Can¡¯t I show concern for my dearest friend?¡±

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Cantrelle rasped, ¡°I feel about as bad as you look, Yola.¡±

    Yola chuckled, her laugh trailing off into an amused sigh. ¡°Don¡¯t feel too humiliated. You may have been overpowered, stripped of your weapons, and ignored as not worth killing, but it was the superhuman who did so. Such a result was only to be expected. In truth, the fault is mine, not yours. I should have sent Kuro with you to bind her ankles. I should have given you backup. After all, I am in charge, am I not? The buck ¡ª as the peasants used to say in the north ¡ª stops with me. Do you think that saying was a reference to hunting deer? I rather like that notion. Regardless, Ella, she did leave you alive. I am glad you are still with us, old friend. Where would I be without you?¡±

    ¡°Dead.¡±

    Yola¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°Probably.¡±

    Cantrelle jerked one mechanical tentacle-claw at the ragged hole in the wall. ¡°That sniper is going to get you, sitting here like this.¡±

    Yola shook her head. ¡°The sniper is gone. Of that I am quite certain. A clever little creature, but unwilling to confront us directly. She didn¡¯t even score any real kills, did she?¡±

    ¡°She did.¡±

    Yola raised her eyebrows. ¡°Did she now?¡±

    Cantrelle said: ¡°Yola. What the fuck are you doing?¡±

    Yola smiled, making that infuriatingly perfect bow-shape with her lips, soft and red and inviting. The expression pulled at her cracked, burned, bleeding cheek, opening a dozen tiny wounds in the blackened flesh; watery blood and bloody plasma ran down her jaw. ¡°Thinking. Considering further options. Observing our prize.¡± She gestured with one purple gauntlet, indicating the massive form of the bone-armoured mech, embedded in the grey mud outdoors. ¡°Staring upon the world and lamenting our wayward superhuman, who could not pause to listen for long. Such a pity, is it not? She was so strong, so¡ª¡±

    ¡°You are spending us,¡± Cantrelle grunted. She tasted blood again.

    Yola showed no surprise. ¡°I am spending well, dear¡ª¡±

    ¡°We need to move. We need to consolidate, pull together, regroup, and hunt. We are wounded and reeling.¡± She jabbed one mechanical tentacle toward the hole in the wall again, past the form of the fallen mech, across the impact crater, toward the other skyscrapers. ¡°Any one of those groups of reprobates and degenerates out there could fall on us right now, and we might not be able to fight them off. I¡¯ve spent all night stuffing organs back into the Sisters¡¯ bodies, stitching wounds and gluing bellies shut and cramming nano-mould and meat into girls¡¯ mouths. And then I find out you¡¯ve sent Sisters beyond the graveworm line, to chase your fucking missed conquest.¡±

    Cantrelle stopped, breathing hard. She wanted to slap Yola right across that bleeding cheek.

    Yola tried to flutter her lashes, but with only one eyelid the effect was grotesque, one naked eyeball twitching in the burned socket. She purred, ¡°Ella, my love, my side is always open to you, even now, even¡ª¡±

    Cantrelle spat: ¡°I don¡¯t care what you want to do with your ¡®superhuman¡¯, if you want to eat her, or put a collar on her, or feed her to Kuro, or if you want to tie her up and force her to grow a phallus and use it to fuck yourself up the arse every night. I do not care, Yola. I care that you are spending us.¡±

    Yola tilted her head sideways. ¡°Are we quarrelling, Ella?¡±

    Cantrelle snapped both of her tentacle-pincers shut with a click. ¡°You¡¯ve done this before, but never this badly. Remember the time with Warusei¡ª¡±

    ¡°A traitor and a false prophet, yes, of course I¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªor the group with the red flags and the clever plastic decoys? Or the time that scavenger with the stinger broke in when we were staying at the old university buildings? Or the¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ella, I understand your frustration with¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t understand,¡± Cantrelle hissed. ¡°All those times you kept control. You spent lives wisely, to re-establish our dominance and position against anybody who thought we could be pushed around. That¡¯s part of why I let you lead, Yola. You get results. Your obsession and sadism and lust for revenge gets results. But this isn¡¯t revenge, it¡¯s something else. You¡¯re slipping. It¡¯s disgusting. You¡¯re acting like them, the degenerates. No better than a zombie.¡±

    Yola wasn¡¯t smiling anymore. ¡°How is this any different, Ella? We have been undermined. We must show our strongest hand. We must recover the superhuman¡ª¡±

    Cantrelle snorted; she tasted blood again. ¡°Recover. Exactly. Not kill, not string her corpse up on a pole and show what happens to fucking zombie filth that tries to fuck with us, not carry her skull around for a while as proof ¡ª but ¡®recover¡¯. And she¡¯s fucking gone, Yola. She¡¯s gone beyond the graveworm line. Who cares? We need to move, and eat. Soon.¡±

    Yola straightened up. Her eyes were like green fire. ¡°She is a natural born leader. She is everything the movement has ever needed. She will see our way, Ella. I will prove that, to you and everyone else.¡±

    ¡°And for that you¡¯re sending girls out to die, beyond the graveworm zone, for nothing.¡±

    Yola shrugged to indicate that she was done justifying herself.

    Cantrelle felt her blood go cold.

    Was this the moment she¡¯d dreaded and yearned for these last six years? Was this the moment that Yola¡¯s charisma and cunning had finally run dry, exposing the pathology and obsession beneath the waters? It had happened before Yola, when Furina had led the Sisterhood, and Furina had deposed Quietusul before that. Cantrelle did not want to lead, did not want the responsibility of corralling the Sisters in the right direction, but she would not see them spent like this.

    And Yola was her fault, her responsibility. She¡¯d put Yola on the throne in the first place. She could remove Yola just as easily ¡ª poison her armour intakes, overload the chem-levels inside her war-plate, or just walk up behind her and put a bullet in her skull. Yola did not even pretend to be afraid of betrayal from Cantrelle.

    But Cantrelle wanted to see Yola weep.

    At least one more time, like she had done in the old days, like when she¡¯d buried her face in Cantrelle¡¯s shoulder and clung to her for everything. Cantrelle wanted to see Yola¡¯s face scrunch up with fear and longing and desperate need.

    Was the old Yola even in there anymore? Maybe. Maybe she would show herself in the last seconds, overpowered and staring down the muzzle of a gun.

    Cantrelle could not grasp the pistol-grip of the PDW beneath her coat, not reliably enough to win in a struggle; her hands were too mangled and too swaddled. But if she could get a good hold on Yola¡¯s armour with her tentacle-pincers, she could stop Yola redeploying her helmet, then she might be able to handle one of the revolvers and get it in Yola¡¯s face. One shot would end an era. She¡¯d need to deal with Kuro afterward, and possibly Nahia and Joye, but most of the Sisters would side with her. Nobody else would mount a serious challenge to Cantrelle¡¯s justification for a change of leadership.

    Her throat felt thick. Something was thudding and shuddering inside her chest. She was sweating.

    Cantrelle took a final shot: ¡°Yolanda, you need to lead us. Or I will.¡±

    Yola stood up. She held her chin high, burned cheek gleaming in the grey light. She did not look at Cantrelle, but gazed out across the fallen mech, the sea of mud, and the drizzling rain.

    She spoke in a voice of caramel and iron: ¡°We need that mech. Not I, not you, but we, all of us, the Sisterhood as it stands. The tank as well, if we can lure it back and disable it briefly, but mostly the mech. Either or both of them represent a kind of power we have been seeking for many years now. With the mech at our command, we could approach the graveworm as an equal. Could we not? The pilot ¡ª Elpida ¡ª is the key to entering and controlling our prize.¡±

    Cantrelle suppressed a sigh and unclenched her jaw, shuddering as she backed off from violence. Yola was finally speaking sense again, or at least pretending.

    ¡°True, boss,¡± she croaked. ¡°But what about¡ª¡±

    Yola gestured sharply at the far side of the mech, lost beneath the ruddy light and the grey raindrops. ¡°Those three worm-guard did not withdraw far. I do not believe we can approach without the cover of the pilot. If recovering her becomes impossible, then I am willing to entertain alternative courses of action. But mistake me not, my dear friend, I am not willing to abandon this prize, this great promise, this gift. And I do not believe the worm itself will move, not while this machine lies here. Does this meet with your approval, dearest Ella?¡±

    Cantrelle grunted. ¡°Barely. Boss, you can¡¯t keep sending Sisters out beyond the graveworm line, it¡¯s folly and madness. We don¡¯t have the numbers to¡ª¡±

    Yola snapped: ¡°Casualties?¡±

    That was more like it. ¡°Four dead, unrecoverable. Hatty, Zdenka, Esmae, and Cui. Three dead, recoverable and regenerating: Soo-Hyun, Urd, and Mojdeh. They¡¯ll need about six to seven more hours before they can move. Sixteen additional wounded, including you and I, all able to walk, except Onyeka, she¡¯s got two mangled legs from the road collapse. Everyone in plate armour is fine, including Kuro, incredibly, considering that apostate bitch dropped the entire fucking road on her with a coilgun.¡±

    Yola nodded. She did not look away from the mech, out there in the rain. ¡°Kuro is fine, indeed. A little dented. We spent the night together.¡±

    Cantrelle clenched her teeth. Of course Yola had spent the night with her favourite pet while ordering all this ongoing madness. Cantrelle said: ¡°There¡¯s also the six you sent beyond the graveworm line. We¡¯ve lost comms with all of them.¡±

    Yola ignored that. She asked: ¡°The dead have been distributed?¡±

    ¡°Stripped and rendered. Armour and weapons divvied up by the usual permissions. Meat went to the strongest of the wounded on down. I do know what I¡¯m doing, Yola, when you¡¯re too busy sucking your thumbs, or fucking Kuro. And here.¡± Cantrelle dug around inside her coat with one tentacle-claw, opened a pouch, and pulled out a package of cloth-wrapped gore. She held it out to Yola. ¡°Your share.¡±

    Yola smiled with girlish delight. She accepted the package and unwrapped the cloth, revealing the chunk of greasy grey-pink meat. ¡°Oh, brains,¡± she cooed. ¡°Ella, you shouldn¡¯t have.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Hatty¡¯s brains. Good luck getting any nutrition from it.¡±

    Yola giggled, then tucked into her share of the dead. She chewed and swallowed delicately, staring out across the downed mech.

    Cantrelle allowed the silence. She had one more question, one further probe for Yola¡¯s leadership; but this one was hard to ask, especially after bringing Yola around, after backing down from a change of leadership. If Yola gave the wrong answer, Cantrelle knew she would have to act.

    Yola spoke first, licking brain grease off her perfect lips.

    ¡°We must claim that mech,¡± Yola said. ¡°The tank, the pilot, my superhuman, all of it is secondary. You are correct about that. The only thing which matters is securing the graveworm, and glutting our future on the innards. Thank you for reminding me, Ella. I do love you, I hope you still know that.¡±

    Cantrelle grunted. She had no good way to ask the question. She stared out of the hole in the wall, and said: ¡°Have we received any more outside help?¡±

    Yola smiled, thin and bright, her emerald eye glittering. ¡°The Necromancer has not contacted me, not since the previous time. I assure you, Ella, we are not guided by the secret hand of another. We are in control.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Cantrelle said.

    But she could tell when Yola was lying.

    Cantrelle went cold inside; all this coaxing and cajoling had been a total waste. Yola was still being used by the Necro-fuck corpse-rapist thing ¡ª willingly.

    Cantrelle glanced over at her old friend, slipped one tentacle-pincer inside her coat to grasp the handle of a revolver, and braced the other pincer to grab the lip of Yola¡¯s armour, where her helmet would deploy. She should have done this earlier, not waited until Yola was standing up. One shot, one bullet in her perfect, too-pretty mouth, to shut her up forever, to stop her lies and her little betrayals, to put the Sisterhood back in Cantrelle¡¯s hands. One bullet. Maybe Yola would cry for mercy first. Cantrelle would like that. Cantrelle¡¯s tentacles were quivering. One bullet, one moment, and it would all be over. She pictured Yola¡¯s smile, together in the dark, coiled up together in a bedroll, when it had been a real smile, when they¡¯d made their pact, their deal. That smile was gone, and the tears which came before. This Yola was a ghost ¡ª no, a zombie. Cantrelle would put her down with a bullet and forget her tears and her smile alike.

    ¡°First order of business,¡± Yola was saying between bites of brain, ¡°is, as you mentioned, rapid re-consolidation. Give me a moment to finish my meal and¡ª¡±

    Click-buzz.

    Cantrelle¡¯s internal comm-link pinged her on a private channel.

    She almost jumped. She let go of the revolver, lowered the other pincer, and accepted the connection; DeeGee and Yazhu were probably getting impatient out in the corridor. She needed to stall them for a few moments. There was nothing wrong with a couple of witnesses for a change of leadership, but Cantrelle did not want anybody else to ever witness Yola¡¯s tears. Those belonged to Cantrelle alone.

    She started to send, but somebody else spoke first.

    <<Don¡¯t reply to this message out loud. If we¡¯ve gotten this correct, then I should be speaking with Cantrelle. I¡¯ll keep this line open so you can go somewhere private and we can have a conversation. I have a proposition for you. I¡¯ll wait.>>

    Cantrelle froze.

    That voice did not belong to any Sister she knew. But she recognised it all too well.

    It was the pilot, the Telokopolan, Yola¡¯s superhuman toy ¡ª Elpida.

    She was inside the comms network.

    ¡°¡ªthen we¡¯ll check on the wounded,¡± Yola was saying. ¡°Together, of course. I can judge who is fit to carry on, though I surmise that all will be, except possibly Onyeka? But then, she is very strong. I think she will make it with the six to seven hour window. Ella?¡±

    ¡° ¡­ yes, boss,¡± Cantrelle answered out loud. ¡°Got everyone laid out in the big conference room, we¡¯re already regrouping there. I¡¯ll head back first. Make it look like normal, like you came without my prompting. Sounds good?¡±

    Yola smiled; the gesture made her cheek bleed and weep again. ¡°Delightful, Ella.¡±

    Cantrelle gestured at Yola¡¯s cheek with a tentacle-pincer. ¡°And we¡¯ll get some nano-mould on that. See you in five, boss.¡±

    She left Yola behind to stare out of the ragged hole at her unattainable prize, eating her piece of Hatty¡¯s brain. Cantrelle descended the steps, crossed the ruins of the casino, and walked back into the dim and shadowy corridor. DeeGee and Yazhu were waiting for orders, but Cantrelle gestured them into the room and ignored any further questions, stalking back down the corridor. She turned two corners, paused in a dark place amid the dusty marble, and listened to the soft hum of the open line.

    <<Elpida?>>

    <<Yes.>> Elpida replied.

    <<How did you crack encryption on the comms network? You¡¯re not on an open line, you¡¯re inside. What did you do, use Ooni¡¯s helmet? We¡¯ve already terminated her permissions, that shouldn¡¯t be possible.>>

    Elpida replied: <<That¡¯s for me to know and for you to never find out. I assume I have to be quick and covert, so I¡¯ll skip straight to the point. When you and Yola had me in captivity, you disagreed with her about one important matter: you don¡¯t like that she¡¯s working with a Necromancer. Is that correct?>>

    Cantrelle wet her lips. She tasted blood.

    Had Elpida been listening to her conversation with Yola just now? That wasn¡¯t impossible, not if Elpida had broken into the comms network somehow. Cantrelle glanced up and down the corridor, switching her sight to infra-red and low-light. She could not risk anybody tapping into this connection at close range.

    Cantrelle sent: <<How are the stitches in your belly holding up? I expect you ruined all my hard work by falling on your face.>>

    <<They held well, thank you,>> Elpida said. She did not sound sarcastic. <<Lasted until I got to safety. Your medical attention saved me.>>

    <<Got a medic of your own, have you?>>

    <<Maybe,>> Elpida said.

    Cantrelle asked: <<Is Ooni alive?>>

    <<No. We killed her and ate her corpse. Thanks for the nanomachines.>>

    Cantrelle didn¡¯t believe a word of that. <<What do you want, Elpida?>>

    <<I want Yola.>>

    Cantrelle clenched her teeth and stopped breathing.

    Opportunity, yes ¡ª but was it the one she wanted? She¡¯d rather see Yola dead than deliver any Sister into the hands of some degenerate, let alone Yola. Her oldest friend needed to be removed, but Cantrelle would do it by her own hand, and see Yola¡¯s tears before the end. But this way¡ª

    Elpida continued: <<If I¡¯ve read your situation correctly, I believe you wish to remove or usurp her as leader of your group, or at least stop her plan to bring me in as a new leader. Neither you nor I want that, Cantrelle. We both know it makes no sense. We can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement. I¡¯m not interested in your internal politics and power struggles. All I want is Yola, alive, intact, and able to answer my questions.>>

    Cantrelle bristled. Yola belonged to her. <<And you think I would just hand a Sister over to you? You think I¡¯m enough of a traitor that I won¡¯t tell Yola about this conversation?>>

    <<Maybe,>> Elpida said. <<Maybe not. We¡¯ll take her anyway, with or without your inside help. We won¡¯t do it just yet, we¡¯ve got matters to attend to first. But I¡¯m contacting you early, to give you time to consider this offer. We would rather not engage your group in direct combat, we would rather this be achieved without further bloodshed. I believe you probably desire that too, because now we have weapons enough to crush you with ease. Give me Yola, and we¡¯ll leave quietly.>>

    <<You¡¯re bluffing. You¡¯ve got shit. That tank can¡¯t even approach us. Fuck you, ¡®superhuman¡¯. You¡¯re nothing of the sort.>>

    <<Correct, I¡¯m not. Think about my offer. There is a time limit, but I¡¯m not telling you what it is. If you change your mind, ping this private line again, then wait. I¡¯ll be here, Cantrelle.>>

    Click-buzz.

    The channel went dead.

    Cantrelle stood in the dark, breathing hard, feeling every one of her bite wounds and every chain-link bruise across her throat. She looked toward the light at the end of the corridor. The rest of the Sisterhood was gathering in the conference room up ahead, ready to regroup and make a new plan, ready to keep manifesting their vision into reality.

    Then she looked over her shoulder, back toward the bomb-damaged casino; she pictured Yola¡¯s infuriating smirk, then imagined it collapsing into tears.

    And she remembered that private smile back in the old days, so sweet and so real, alone in the dark with a needful friend.

 impietas - 9.2

    ¡°She take the bait?¡± said Vicky.

    Kagami didn¡¯t answer ¡ª she just stared at the bank of screens inside the combat frame¡¯s manual control chamber, reflections dancing in her bloodshot eyes. Deep red vein-light throbbed from behind the osseous walls; a patchwork of unhealthy blues, rotten yellows, and muddy greens glowed from the surface of the control panel. Kagami¡¯s soft brown skin was dyed the colour of drying blood. Her long black hair hung down limp and tangled. Her breathing was shallow, rough, and laboured.

    Vicky hoped that Kagami was merely ignoring her. The two of them were sitting less than arm¡¯s length apart, in adjacent grooves on the control chamber bench-seat.

    Vicky cleared her throat as best she could. Her saliva was thick and gummy; she was so thirsty, her mouth felt like sandpaper.

    She tried again: ¡°Kaga. Did she take the bait?¡±

    ¡°Go back to sleep, Victoria,¡± Kagami muttered.

    Vicky tutted softly and looked at the bank of screens again, trying to ignore the heartbeat of pulsing pain in the back of her fractured skull.

    She could still not understand most of the exterior views provided by the combat frame¡¯s sensor suite, despite having little else to stare at for the last thirty-six hours ¡ª or was it forty-eight hours? Time had grown slow, fuzzy, and indistinct, hard to track when blurred by the awkward, broken sleep, the hyper-vigilance Kagami demanded regarding the corpse in the room behind them, and the growing hunger gnawing at Vicky¡¯s guts. She¡¯d spent much longer than two days in much worse places than the inside of the combat frame, doing much worse things than sitting quietly and waiting for pick-up ¡ª at least she wasn¡¯t eating handfuls of cold rice and dodging counter-battery fire in muddy foxholes.

    But back in life she¡¯d never had to nurse a biologically impossible head wound. The rear of Vicky¡¯s skull had healed very slightly ¡ª the pieces of bone no longer shifted when she moved, no longer wracked her body with waves of disorientation and nausea. But the pain was a sharp, hard, rapid throb whenever she dared do anything more than sit and breathe.

    Several of the screens made more sense in the reddish dawn, showing real-time views in human-visible light: the fingers of broken skyscrapers reaching up to tear the belly of the gravid sky, their lines of concrete and steel obfuscated by the omnipresent drizzling rain; the occasional scurrying revenant spotted through a window or doorway or broken patch of rubble, always keeping beyond the sight of snipers and rivals and predators; and the sea of grey mud below the bulk of the combat frame, churned by the storm overnight.

    Vicky hadn¡¯t heard a whisper of that storm. She and Kagami were tucked away behind meters of armour inside the combat frame. She¡¯d witnessed it on the screens as a heavy static against the dark background.

    Most of the other screens made no sense at all ¡ª ghostly night-vision peering into shadowy gaps, thermal readouts and infra-red picking up undead body heat, purple swirls and white flickers of echolocation and nanomachine readout, and other things that even Kagami could not explain in simple language. The scrolling text on some of the lower screens was worse; Vicky¡¯s eyes stung if she stared too long. She wasn¡¯t sure if that was her nanomachine biology struggling to translate, or because of the head wound.

    She squinted at the blobs of thermal readout inside the nearest intact skyscraper ¡ª the skyscraper with those grinning skulls daubed on the exterior walls ¡ª but she couldn¡¯t make out what was happening.

    Vicky said: ¡°Answer the question, moon princess.¡±

    Kagami hissed through her teeth, but she did not look round. ¡°Stop calling me that. Wish I¡¯d never told you.¡±

    Vicky forced herself to laugh; that made her skull hurt, but she needed to keep their spirits up. ¡°But you¡¯re a princess. From the moon. That makes you a moon princess. Am I wrong?¡±

    ¡°For the hundredth time, I was not a fucking princess, you dirt-sucking surface barbarian,¡± Kagami grumbled ¡ª but her words lacked venom. Vicky worried about that. ¡°How many times? Luna did not have a monarchy, my father was not a king, he was elected¡ª¡±

    ¡°For life! By a council of electors, not popular vote. That¡¯s a monarchy, an elective monarchy, sure, but still a monarchy.¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make me a princess, you mud eater. There was no royal family, no royal titles, no palace¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Vicky laughed again. ¡°¡®Tycho City¡¯, ¡®Princess¡¯ of Tycho city? You were a princess, and you lived in a techno-palace on the moon. You were so proud when you said it yourself, like I was gonna roll over and show my tummy to your big flash aristo title.¡±

    Kagami snapped: ¡°It was never a title. It was what the people called me¡ª¡±

    Vicky snorted. ¡°¡®The people¡¯, there you go! Face it, Kaga. You¡¯re a princess, from a monarchy. My old comrades would have loved you.¡±

    Kagami muttered, ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure they would have loved to string me up.¡±

    ¡°Not you. You¡¯re my little moon princess.¡±

    Kagami clenched her jaw. She said: ¡°And you have a head wound, Victoria. Go back to sleep.¡±

    Vicky flexed her shoulders and lower back against the oddly soft bone-white seat; that made her head throb with a spider web of spikes, but she didn¡¯t want to fall back asleep. She paused and breathed slowly, trying not to show the pain. She kept her arms crossed beneath the makeshift blanket of her armoured coat. At least this was more comfortable than a wet hole in the mud.

    She said: ¡°Nah. Don¡¯t feel like it. Come on, Kaga. Keep me in the loop. Did the death squad girl take Elpi¡¯s bait, or not?¡±

    Kagami sniffed hard and wiped her nose with her right hand ¡ª her left was still plugged into the control panel. Vicky pretended she didn¡¯t see the streak of crimson nosebleed, or see Kagami sucking her own blood off her knuckles. The nosebleeds had been getting more frequent.

    Kagami gestured at one of the screens, at a lone blob of what Vicky guessed was nanomachine-detection readout, moving horizontally down a corridor inside the Death¡¯s Head skyscraper. She said: ¡°Cantrelle¡¯s not heading back toward Yola. She¡¯s rejoining the troops. Score one for our Commander¡¯s theory of leadership, I suppose. Huh.¡±

    Vicky squinted hard. ¡°Which one is which again?¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°Yola¡¯s the leader. Cantrelle¡¯s the second. This is why I told you to go back to sleep, Victoria. You have a fucking head wound, you should be concentrating on healing. Leave the strategy and coordination to me and the Commander.¡±

    ¡°So, is that good, or bad?¡±

    Kagami sighed harder. ¡°Not enough information to determine. The external DR microphones on this ridiculous machine are extremely high quality, but they can¡¯t read thoughts. All we can do is let the bitch chew on betrayal for a few hours, see if she goes for the deal.¡± Kagami snorted with disapproval and tapped her finger at another screen, a visible-light view of the skyscraper. ¡°Pity she didn¡¯t icepick her ¡®dear leader¡¯ through the head when she had a chance. Fuck interrogating either of them. Waste of time. Let them murder each other, that¡¯s how I would do it.¡±

    Vicky looked at the screen Kagami had indicated: an exterior view of the Death¡¯s Head skyscraper, several floors up, with a huge ragged hole blown in the wall. The hole framed a tiny figure, blurred by the thin, misty rain, outlined against the background of broken concrete. Purple and gold glinted in the ruddy light ¡ª a suit of powered armour, topped by a barely visible wisp of ruby-red hair.

    The figure moved her hand to her mouth, eating something, too small to make out at that distance and resolution. She stared out across the impact crater, looking right at the combat frame.

    Yola, the leader. Vicky stuck her tongue out for a second, as if the woman could see. Sadly, Yola did not react.

    Vicky croaked: ¡°Confident, isn¡¯t she?¡±

    Kagami grunted. ¡°Hmm? What?¡±

    Vicky uncrossed her arms, peeled back her coat, and pointed at the screen. ¡°Yola. Skull queen. She¡¯s not even taking cover. Unafraid of snipers or spotters or even just random heavy weaponry. Just out there in the open. Rookie mistake. Get her head taken off if she¡¯s not more careful.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Kagami said. ¡°Right. Whatever.¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°I thought you were supposed to be some kind of small-squad mission control expert? You never yell at a private to keep his head down and put his helmet back on?¡±

    ¡°Wire-slaved surface agents did not need ¡®reminding¡¯ of anything,¡± Kagami muttered.

    ¡°Ha!¡± Vicky barked ¡ª ow, that made her head throb again, worse than before. ¡°You know, if you don¡¯t agree with Elpi¡¯s plan, we could just ¡­ pow.¡± Vicky spread her fingers toward the distant figure of Yola, eating her cannibal snack in that great big hole in the wall. ¡°Blow her away right there. One round would do it. She¡¯s not even moving. Give me one decent howitzer and I could land a round right on top of her head. Do it on paper, even, screw the computers, and I¡¯ll put one right through that hole. Hell, I¡¯d do it with a mortar team and guesswork. Make her run around a bit first. Ha.¡±

    Vicky was exaggerating, perhaps outright lying; she¡¯d never been good with trajectory calculations. But it might keep Kagami engaged, stop her from slipping away again.

    Kagami did not respond. She stared at the screens, eyes fixed on a single point. Her whole body was sagging forward. A bead of blood gathered below her right nostril.

    Vicky reached out and nudged Kagami in the shoulder. ¡°Kaga. Hey. Kagami. Moon princess.¡±

    Kagami blinked several times, smacked her lips, and wiped her nose. She licked the blood off the back of her hand again.

    ¡°Hear what I said?¡± Vicky asked. ¡°I said we could blow her away with one artillery round.¡±

    Kagami raised her left hand and stared at the pair of black cables which sprouted from her wrist, joining her to the combat frame¡¯s control panel. The visible circuitry beneath the skin of her fingers, palm, and forearm had glowed earlier, when Vicky had first seen it, but now it had faded to a dark grey, like a coral reef choked by ash.

    ¡°Kaga. Hey.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have weapons access,¡± Kagami muttered. ¡°This fucking bitch of a robot still doesn¡¯t want me in its head.¡± She winced. ¡°Huh, shouldn¡¯t call it a robot either, it doesn¡¯t like that. Weird little alien bastard. Yeah, you heard me. You want me to call you something else, then give me a real name. Huh? Thought not.¡± Kagami trailed off briefly, then spoke again: ¡°If this is how the Commander¡¯s people thought, then I¡¯m glad I never met them. The only reason it¡¯s not fighting me anymore is the say-so of that pilot upstairs. And she can¡¯t put it into words either. Huh. Mute ordering around the mute, ha ha."

    Victoria tried to smile as if this was funny and new, as if she hadn¡¯t heard Kagami repeat the same complaint a dozen times over the last two days of confinement. She had almost preferred when the combat frame was fighting Kagami¡¯s network presence ¡ª not because she wanted Kagami to be in pain again, but because Kagami coated in sweat and shaking and shivering and swearing up a storm was far less worrying than Kagami hunched and fading and falling apart.

    Vicky had not yet decided what was causing the rapid deterioration.

    They¡¯d had no water since before they¡¯d entered the combat frame; Victoria felt thirsty and dehydrated, but not desperate, not as a living human would have. There was nothing to eat either ¡ª except the corpse of the Necromancer, and they weren¡¯t that desperate, not yet; Vicky kept telling herself that, every time she looked at the corpse.

    Elpida¡¯s theory made a lot of sense ¡ª Vicky and Kagami were cut off from the ambient nanomachines in the atmosphere, so perhaps this was more like slow asphyxiation rather than starvation.

    They had debated cracking the exterior hatch, like opening a window to let in fresh air, but they¡¯d agreed it was too dangerous. The hatch was easily visible from the ring of skyscrapers, and they had no idea how fast or how stealthily a revenant might move to gain access. If Kagami didn¡¯t spot a potential intruder in time and shut the hatch remotely, they could both get eaten. Something might be watching the hatch right now, waiting for them to do exactly that.

    So, no fresh air.

    But Vicky had a head wound, healing slowly, blurring her thoughts; perhaps the only thing keeping her going was the bionic heart pumping away inside her chest. Kagami had pushed herself hard to communicate with the combat frame, then to help fight the Necromancer, then to plug herself back in and coordinate Elpida¡¯s rescue. They were both exhausted and worn out, their resources burned through, but all they could do was sleep, not eat.

    And Vicky was growing afraid of sleep. She was growing afraid that one of them would go to sleep and not wake up.

    Elpida would be here soon; Vicky knew she had to keep Kagami talking.

    ¡°Kaga,¡± Vicky rasped. ¡°The pilot. How is she doing?¡±

    ¡°Same as before,¡± Kagami answered. ¡°Vital signs stable. Sleeping. Stop asking me. If she starts dying, I¡¯ll let you know.¡±

    Kagami stared at her own arm for a long time, then wiped her nose again, licked up the blood, and finally turned to look at Vicky. Her eyes were so bloodshot and ringed with such dark circles, despite her taking the lion¡¯s share of the sleep; her beautiful long black hair needed a comb and a wash. Vicky would have loved to take a brush to that hair; she would like to see it clean and well cared for. Vicky knew she probably looked horrible too, exhausted and dark eyed and ashen in the face, her expressions all de-synced and messed up by the head wound and brain injury.

    ¡°Victoria,¡± Kagami rasped.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°Go the fuck to sleep.¡±

    Vicky shrugged. ¡°Nah.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s jaw tightened. She spoke through her teeth. ¡°We are meant to be sleeping in shifts.¡±

    Vicky sighed. Her head throbbed. ¡°Kaga, it¡¯s dead.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°It¡¯s a fucking Necromancer. I¡¯m pretty sure there¡¯s a good reason the zombies and freaks out here call them by that name. And you ¡ª you came back to life! Elpida came back to life! Things come back from the dead here, Victoria. It¡¯s inherent in the word ¡®zombie¡¯, in case you missed the linguistic connection somewhere.¡±

    Vicky indicated the bank of screens with a tilt of her chin. ¡°I don¡¯t see you keeping a close eye on the body while I¡¯m sleeping.¡±

    Kagami pursed her lips and made a noise halfway between a strangled cat and a broken locking pin. ¡°I was helping our ¡®Commander¡¯.¡±

    Vicky shrugged again. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not tired.¡±

    ¡°Well I am!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°And I would like to sleep with somebody¡¯s eyes on the fucking monster right behind us!¡±

    Vicky rolled her eyes, pushed her armoured coat down, and sat up straight in her seat-groove. She turned her whole body so she could look over her shoulder without putting pressure on her neck and the back of her skull. She¡¯d almost passed out earlier when she¡¯d made that mistake the first time; since then she¡¯d taken her turns on watch sitting propped in the control chamber doorway, while Kagami lay across the bench-seat. Kagami snored ever so softly, which helped keep Vicky alert.

    In the circular chamber behind them lay the corpse of the Necromancer.

    It was crumpled on the far side of the chamber, past the debris of osseous white bulkheads and bolt-shaped fastenings, with its head turned away, to face the wall.

    Kagami and Vicky had worked together to remove it from the pilot¡¯s chamber right after the confrontation, shoving it down the awkward spiral tube back to the lower levels of the combat frame¡¯s human-accessible areas. They had hoped to locate a stomach or some kind of interior disposal mechanism, but Kagami had come up with nothing after re-linking herself back to the combat frame; even if she had found a convenient hatch leading to a giant pool of hydrochloric acid, neither Kagami nor Vicky were in any state to go crawling through the pitch-black passageways of this bizarre living machine ¡ª which also ruled out any attempt to drag the body to the access hatch and dump it outside.

    The face still looked a tiny bit like Elpida, which was why Vicky had turned it toward the wall, but the rest of the body didn¡¯t seem remotely human. Vicky had handled her fair share of corpses back in life ¡ª she¡¯d spent a whole month on grave duty in the Irregulars once, cleaning up after the first battle of Chicago ¡ª but this thing didn¡¯t even feel like real flesh, dead or alive or frozen or waterlogged or anything else. The angles and curves were all wrong for a living thing, the hair was stiff and artificial, the eight feet of height was all jagged and jinking and jumbled, and even the clothes were rubbery and wrong beneath Vicky¡¯s hands.

    But whenever Vicky looked at the corpse, hunger pangs gripped her stomach. Her hands quivered. Her salivary glands tingled.

    Nanomachine flesh, rich and ripe ¡ª but also Necromancer.

    ¡°Kaga,¡± she said slowly. ¡°It¡¯s not moved an inch. I think we can safely assume it¡¯s not going to.¡±

    ¡°Victoria.¡±

    ¡°I like that you call me that, you know?¡± Vicky turned away from the corpse and settled back into her seat; the hunger throbbed in her stomach like a second heart, but she ignored it, swallowing the excess saliva. ¡°But you can use ¡®Vicky¡¯. We¡¯re friends now, right?¡±

    Kagami peeled her lips back from her teeth and put her face in one hand. ¡°By Luna¡¯s silver sands, I pray that you are not still like this when you don¡¯t have brain damage. Can we please, please, please take seriously the threat of an undead monster, which might get up at any moment and eat us? Please?¡±

    Vicky forced herself to smirk. ¡°What are we gonna do if it does?¡± She gestured at her handgun, lying on the control panel where she¡¯d tossed it earlier ¡ª out of bullets. ¡°This time I really will have to throw the gun at it, no bluff. Think that¡¯ll spook it?¡±

    Vicky¡¯s LMG and sniper rifle were still in the shaft beneath the access hatch, where she¡¯d left them after falling into the mech. If she¡¯d retrieved them right after the confrontation with the Necromancer then she might have stood a good chance of making it back to the circular chamber, even with the throbbing pain of her fractured skull; but now she was too drained, exhausted by slow starvation. Vicky knew that if she attempted the journey now she would collapse halfway there or halfway back, unconscious, alone, in pitch darkness. And then Kagami would be by herself with the corpse of a monster.

    And the guns wouldn¡¯t help anyway.

    Kagami said: ¡°I will pin it with gravitics again. With the drones. And then we¡¯ll run.¡±

    Vicky tried to keep smiling. She failed. ¡°Neither of us are running anywhere.¡±

    Kagami clenched her jaw and snorted through her nose, as if she was about to argue. But then she glanced at the Necromancer instead. The fight went out of her. Kagami turned away and shrank back into her seat, small and bony beneath her armoured coat.

    Vicky reached out and tried to take Kagami¡¯s right hand ¡ª clammy and cold and shivering. ¡°It¡¯ll be alright, Kaga,¡± she said. ¡°Elpi¡¯s gonna come for us.¡±

    ¡°Tch!¡± Kagami batted Vicky¡¯s hand away. ¡°Don¡¯t!¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°Seriously. How long ¡®till Elpi gets here?¡±

    Kagami scowled at the bank of screens again. ¡°I have no idea. Six hours, eight hours, half an hour? She and that massive android have to keep radio silence once they start, and ¡®Haf¡¯, whatever the fuck she is, seems to be the only thing these sensors can¡¯t pick up properly, only if I catch her with the right wavelength of spacial distortion matrix, and that does tend to also pick up things like wind and rain. Unreliable nonsense. And they¡¯re going to spend all those hours dragging themselves through the mud out there. A million things could go wrong, Victoria. A million ways to die out there and leave us stranded in here.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s going to come for us,¡± Vicky repeated. ¡°Elpida¡¯s going to come get us. The Commander will do right by her girls.¡±

    Kagami squinted at Vicky, bitter and pinched. ¡°Why do you have so much faith in her? We barely know her. What did you do, sleep with her that night before she got captured? Loyal to the tongue in your cunt, huh?¡±

    Vicky laughed at that, for real. Kagami could be as crass as any Irregular when she felt like it. ¡°Nah. She¡¯s just ¡­ good at this. Gotta have faith in something, you know?¡±

    Kagami snorted and leaned back. At least she was relaxing at last. ¡°Never took you for the religious type.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Kagami grunted. ¡°You¡¯d probably be some pre-collapse happy-clappy Anglo Christian. You¡¯d be even more insufferable than you are now.¡±

    ¡°Mmmm,¡± Vicky tried to purr. ¡°You know it.¡±

    Silence descended on the control chamber, broken only by the distant throb of the combat frame¡¯s biology, a heavy pulse deep within the machine¡¯s body. The bank of screens cycled and panned in silence, registering audio as scrolling readout graphs. Kagami¡¯s breathing was shallow and rough. Vicky tried to concentrate over the slow heartbeat of pain radiating out from the rear of her skull ¡ª and the terrible hunger gripping her belly.

    She needed to keep Kagami talking. She needed to keep both of them awake, coherent, and present.

    She did not want to start thinking of Kagami as food as well. Would that happen, eventually? Was that how starving nanomachine zombies went, if they lasted long enough without food? It would explain all the scavengers. Maybe the next time she glanced over at Kagami, Vicky would see a big chicken drumstick, like in the goofy cartoons from the Old Empire.

    But Kagami spoke first: ¡°You didn¡¯t have much faith in our fearless leader earlier, when she recruited the little fascist.¡±

    Vicky tried to laugh. ¡°Yeah. Well. Nobody¡¯s perfect.¡±

    Kagami looked at her sidelong. ¡°Are we still on for shooting her? And Pira, too?¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°No, Kaga. I told you, I changed my mind. And I¡¯m not going to be very impressed if you just go and start shooting captives and hostages. Elpida has her reasons. I¡¯m reserving further judgement, until she can explain why she¡¯s taken Pira and her friend on board.¡±

    Kagami said nothing for a few moments, then: ¡°Nobody¡¯s perfect. Said it yourself.¡±

    ¡°We will defer to Elpida¡¯s judgement. Please, Kagami.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°You¡¯re brain damaged. And you should still get some sleep, Elpida will be hours and hours, even if she does make it. You¡¯d have better luck sleeping if you tried lying down. Is that another thing you surface dirt-eaters have forgotten about, bed and pillows?¡±

    Vicky laughed, naturally this time. ¡°Kaga, I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve noticed, but I¡¯ve got a bloody great spider web of fractures on the back of my skull. Lying down makes it hurt more, not less.¡± She pulled a big grin, enjoying the way it made Kagami scowl. ¡°Unless you wanna offer me your feather-soft lap for a pillow, my moon princess.¡±

    Kagami blushed and looked away. ¡° ¡­ I ¡­ Victoria ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Oh shit.¡± Vicky laughed, then winced past the pain in her skull, and put a hand up in surrender. ¡°I was joking. You were seriously considering that? No, Kaga, your thighs would not make any difference to a head wound, even if they weren¡¯t bionic legs. Sorry, I guess that¡¯s not the kind of thing you could even do in life. Sorry for being weird.¡±

    Kagami kept her face turned away. ¡°In ¡­ in simulation.¡±

    Vicky blinked at her. ¡°You¡¯ve given lap pillows? What? No, come on¡ª¡±

    ¡°In simulation,¡± Kagami hissed between her teeth. ¡°For my AI daughters. And yes, of course I didn¡¯t have a lap in the flesh.¡± She snapped with derision: ¡°Fucking legs!¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Vicky cleared her throat. At least Kagami seemed animated now. ¡°You know, it¡¯s not the rough conditions that stops me sleeping, that doesn¡¯t bother me nothing, it really is just the head wound. I¡¯m surprised you¡¯ve managed to sleep at all, Kaga. You spent most of your life sleeping every night in a vat, right? The world¡¯s best water-bed.¡±

    ¡°Luna¡¯s best water bed,¡± Kagami corrected.

    ¡°Yeah, exactly! Whereas me? I spent most of my life sleeping in conditions you can¡¯t even imagine, princess. The early years in the refugee camps we had tents, actual tents, no permanent structures allowed unless you were a Chicago City-State Citizen, or if some PRC diplo was visiting and they wanted to put on a good show for the television cameras. So it was a tent for me, for a long time. Used to get cold as all fuck in winter.¡± Vicky sighed with a mixture of nostalgia and pain, sinking into her seat again. She and Kagami stared at the bank of screens, side by side, close but not touching. ¡°I¡¯ve slept in truck beds next to spare tubes. I¡¯ve slept inside the SP mount of a half a dozen types of gun. Slept in an old prison once, we were using it as a hospital. That was creepy and weird, hated that building, but it did have good walls, and heating. Slept in foxholes aplenty, of course. Worst foxhole I ever slept in was outside Charleston, while we were dropping H&I on the city for months.¡± She trailed off for a moment, gripped by a sudden morbid curiosity. ¡°Did Charleston exist again by your time? They ever rebuild it?¡±

    Kagami shrugged. ¡°Coastal NorAm. So, no. Probably underwater before I was born.¡±

    ¡°Ha.¡±

    Silence crept back. Kagami¡¯s eyelids fluttered downward.

    ¡°Can¡¯t believe you lived on the fucking moon,¡± Vicky said, shaking her head. ¡°On the moon!¡±

    Kagami blinked herself fully awake again. ¡°We lived on the moon because my people got there first.¡±

    Vicky laughed, forcing it to keep them both talking. ¡°No you didn¡¯t! My ancestors got there first! The moon landing? Neil whatsit? I do know some history, we did have school in the camps. I remember that from the textbooks. The Old Empire got there first, beat out some other place that used to be allied with the PRC.¡±

    Kagami turned her head to Vicky with the most withering expression yet.

    ¡°What?¡± Vicky demanded. ¡°You know I¡¯m right! Don¡¯t tell me they teach you some revisionist shit up on the moon?¡±

    Kagami said: ¡°Those people weren¡¯t your cultural ancestors any more than Tokugawa Ieyasu was mine.¡±

    Vicky squinted. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡±

    Kagami blinked with surprise. ¡°A-an ancient warlord from the old country. Look, it doesn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯d make a good warlord,¡± Vicky said. ¡°War Lady of the Moon.¡±

    Kagami looked like she wanted to slap Vicky across the face. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter! My point is, those people were not your ancestors in any real way. I thought you were a good little pre-NorAm citizen, all materialist analysis and grand social forces and dialectics, not national myth-making like all the other dirt-eating womb-born primitives down there. Down here. Whatever.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Vicky tutted. ¡°I take offence at that. A little bit. I think.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°You¡¯re talking about pre-NorAm, pre-collapse, old old old expansion period, Old Anglo pre-CF power, all of it. The people who landed on the moon first wouldn¡¯t recognise you or I as anything.¡±

    ¡°I dunno about that,¡± Vicky said slowly. ¡°People are always people. Look at Elpi ¡ª she¡¯s millions of years removed, not just a few hundred.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Kagami snorted, ¡°and she¡¯s completely impossible to deal with.¡±

    ¡°And she¡¯s kept us alive.¡±

    Kagami huffed, then lapsed into silence. Her eyes drifted across the bank of screens, growing distant once again. She sagged downward in her seat.

    Vicky fished around for something new, anything to keep them talking: ¡°I miss peanut butter.¡±

    Kagami winced. ¡°Don¡¯t talk about food.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m serious. I really miss peanut butter.¡± Vicky smacked her lips at the memory, hamming it up for Kagami. ¡°I was thinking about it because I mentioned growing up in the camps south of Chicago. Peanut butter was a real treat, you see. We used to get it in these little packages in the HM rations, all orange packaging so they were easy to see. And they¡¯d always have these slogans stamped on them ¡ª they did that with all the best foods, the high calorie stuff, chocolate, jerky, stuff like that. They¡¯d say things like, ¡®With the best wishes of the people of China¡¯, or ¡®Eat with love, our American brothers and sisters¡¯. My dad used to save those ¡ª the peanut butter, not the slogans ¡ª to make sure I could always have them. Loved that stuff. Used to squeeze it right from the packet and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop. Talking. About. Food,¡± Kagami said.

    ¡°Sorry, just thinking out loud.¡± Vicky wet her lips with a dry tongue. Maybe she should stop talking, conserve energy. But then the worst might happen. ¡°You know, I wonder if Chicago is still around somehow, just another part of all this jumble.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Kagami grunted.

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s not impossible, right? It¡¯s been hundreds of millions of years but the continents themselves are still there, all part of this mega-continent now, and maybe we could find the spot that used to be the shore of Lake¡ª¡±

    ¡°Victoria,¡± Kagami snapped.

    ¡°Y-yeah?¡±

    Kagami turned away from the screens again and made eye contact. Her face was a blood-dyed ghost, framed by the vein-light and the glow of the screens, hollow-eyed and drawn, like a starving wraith.

    She said: ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot. I can tell what you¡¯re doing. And we would be better served by you going the fuck to sleep and healing that head wound.¡±

    Vicky swallowed, rough and hard. ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll stay awake?¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes. ¡°Yes, I will watch the Necromancer corpse, of¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Vicky said. ¡°The Necromancer¡¯s dead, Kaga. Promise me you¡¯ll stay awake.¡±

    Kagami blinked. She sighed, leaned back in her seat, then reached over toward Vicky with her right hand. She hesitated for a moment, then placed her hand atop Vicky¡¯s waiting palm.

    ¡°Go to sleep, Vicky.¡±

    Victoria held onto Kagami¡¯s hand, no matter how cold and clammy. She snuggled down beneath her armoured coat, closed her eyes, and drifted off.

    Sleep came and went for several hours. Whenever Vicky stirred she cracked open her eyes to find Kagami staring at the screens, washed in that blood-red light, a streak of crimson running from her nose and into her mouth. Each time she squeezed Kagami¡¯s hand, and Kagami squeezed back, and Vicky returned to sleep.

    Vicky wasn¡¯t sure what finally woke her ¡ª Kagami¡¯s voice, or Kagami¡¯s hand slipping out of her own.

    ¡°She¡¯s here!¡± Kagami was saying. ¡°They¡¯re here, they¡¯re at the hatch! Vicky, wake up, they¡¯re here. Wake up!¡±

    Vicky snapped awake, stomach growling with hunger, rubbing her bleary eyes, then blinking at the bank of screens.

    One of the screens showed a view high up on the exterior of the combat frame¡¯s surface. A pair of heavily cloaked figures were crouched between the knots and gnarls of the bone-white armour, caked in wet grey mud. A narrow smear indicated where they¡¯d scaled the side of the machine, their stealth ruined by the sucking mud through which they had crawled, picked out against the combat frame¡¯s hull.

    They could have been anybody or anything.

    ¡°Kaga¡ª¡± Vicky croaked.

    But Kagami¡¯s hands were already flying across the control panel. Blood was running freely from her nose. She looked ready to collapse, eyes bulging, breathing wet and hard. ¡°Come on, pop the hatch, pop the cork, get us out of here, get us¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kaga, that could be anybody, that could be¡ª¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re in radio contact¡ª¡± Kagami broke off for a second. ¡°Yes, Elpida, she¡¯s right¡ª¡±

    A voice crackled from the control panel, from the membrane-like speaker through which Elpida¡¯s voice had issued before, when she¡¯d made contact from inside the tank.

    ¡°Vicky, Kagami. Yes, it¡¯s me,¡± Elpida¡¯s voice sliced into the control chamber, clear and clean. ¡°I¡¯ve already verified¡ª¡±

    Kagami laughed like a barking dog. ¡°At this point I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re another Necromancer, Commander! Come on in, and get us the fuck out!¡±

    Up on the exterior view a piece of the combat frame¡¯s hull suddenly popped upward ¡ª the hatch, opening to admit Elpida and Hafina. The two cloaked figures lurched from cover and slipped inside. The hatch slid shut a second later.

    Vicky stood up, draped her coat over her shoulders, and stepped out of the bench-seat.

    The rear of her skull throbbed with pain as she staggered out of the manual control chamber and into the circular room. She had to keep one hand on the wall. Her stomach was clenching with hunger. She was almost drooling. Elpida was bringing raw blue, raw nanomachine juice, everything she needed, everything she craved. Any moment now. Any moment.

    ¡°Victoria?¡± Kagami called after. ¡°Vicky, what are you doing? Just sit! There¡¯s nothing more we can do now. Sit down!¡±

    Vicky stepped around the fallen bulkheads and faced the access tunnel which led to the hatch. She tried to ignore the Necromancer¡¯s corpse a few feet to her left. She could hear faint noises now ¡ª like two people shedding layers of camouflage and crawling through a dark tunnel? Or was that just her imagination? She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. She really was drooling.

    ¡°Just ¡­ ¡± she slurred. ¡°Just want to say hi ¡­ welcome her ¡­ mm, m¡¯fine, Kaga.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re delirious with hunger!¡± Kagami called. ¡°Sit down, you dirt-mating surface-monkey, before you fall over and¡ª¡±

    Crunch-crunch-click-click.

    The Necromancer¡¯s head turned away from the wall.

    Vertebrae crunched and cracked as the corpse came to life and broke the rules of a human neck. The face came round, a parody of Elpida, the textures of skin and hair all wrong, rubbery and stiff and fake.

    Dead black eyes stared upward at Vicky. The lips peeled back in a grin, to show a mouth full of gleaming, razor-sharp, steel teeth.

    The teeth opened. A swollen red tongue flickered in the void.

    ¡°Nice ¡ª work dead, t-thing,¡± it said in a voice like broken static. ¡°But we, didn¡¯t fin¡ª¡±

    Vicky raised one boot, gathered all her remaining strength, and stomped on the Necromancer¡¯s face.

 impietas - 9.3

    Elpida was crouch-walking down the capillary tunnel inside the combat frame, moving as fast as she could in the narrow, lightless, bone-smooth passageway. She had one hand on the wall for navigation, her submachine gun strapped inside her coat, and Hafina bringing up the rear.

    She and Haf had left their cloaks and boots behind in the tiny shaft beneath the access hatch, bundled up next to the weapons they¡¯d discovered ¡ª Vicky¡¯s rifle and the LMG. The garments were heavy and sticky with grey mud from long hours of belly-crawling across the impact crater; the cloaks from Pheiri¡¯s storage racks had served their dual purpose well, both as an extra layer of visual concealment and as a barrier to absorb the worst of the waterlogged muck. Elpida¡¯s trousers and armoured coat were dry and almost clean by comparison. But even unencumbered by shoes and cloak and mud, Elpida felt slower than usual. When they¡¯d wriggled into the capillary tunnel Elpida had to crouch and duck, which compressed the lingering pain of her gut wound, pulling on the stitches which were still holding her belly shut. Haf had wordlessly folded up her limbs and crawled inside, with no more difficulty than a spider slipping down a paper straw.

    Elpida¡¯s heart had blossomed with painful nostalgia the moment her fingers had touched the perfectly smooth nano-composite bone of the capillary tunnel. She was back inside a combat frame at last; she longed to lie down in the dark and press her face to the wall, even though she had never known this particular frame. Pheiri was her brother, a fellow child of Telokopolis no matter how distant in time, and she did not spurn the safety of his sanctuary, not even in a stray thought ¡ª but he was not this, he was not the missing component of her own body.

    Howl grunted in the back of Elpida¡¯s head: Lie down later, Elps. Keep moving.

    I know. No rest for the dead.

    Ha!

    Elpida opened her mouth to call out down the passageway, hoping for Vicky or Kagami to lead them in; radio contact would not work within the hull, so she had already stowed the comms headset inside her armoured coat.

    But then somebody screamed.

    The sound came from up ahead, echoing down the smooth curve of the tunnel, lost in a labyrinth of sinusal caves. She could not tell if it was Kagami or Vicky; the scream was muffled by the chorus of intestinal gurgling and muscular creaking from deeper within the living guts of the combat frame.

    Elpida called out: ¡°Vic¡ª¡±

    Thump! Thump-crack! echoed down the tunnel, followed by the meaty clatter of a body hitting the floor.

    ¡°Vicky!¡± Elpida shouted into the pitch black in front of her eyes. ¡°Kagami! Respond!¡±

    A reply floated out of the womb-like darkness. Vicky, shrill with panic: ¡°Here! Elpi, we¡¯re in here! Right at the crossroads! Go right!¡±

    Elpida hit a junction in the capillary tunnel ¡ª the wall ended, her hand met empty air. ¡°Halt,¡± she hissed to Hafina. She reached out and touched the corners to confirm she was in a cross-junction, then followed Vicky¡¯s directions and looked to the right. Faint red light glowed from around another curve of passageway.

    Howl sighed with pleasure: Fuuuuck yes. Sight for sore eyes, yeah?

    The scarlet and crimson of combat frame biology, the interior body-light of a living frame, calling her to safety and home.

    Elpida hissed over her shoulder: ¡°Haf, turn right at this junction. Follow the red light. Be ready.¡±

    ¡°Yup yup yuuuup,¡± Hafina confirmed, her voice muffled by mask and tunnel.

    Elpida turned and hurried onward. She called out again: ¡°Vicky! Vicky, are we clear to enter?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes! Yes, I think so! Yes!¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice joined her, raw and ragged: ¡°Fucking get in here, Commander! Right now!¡±

    Elpida shouted: ¡°Hostiles?¡±

    Vicky stammered: ¡°N-no! Uh, yes! Yes! I think!¡±

    Elpida took the grip of her submachine gun and flicked the safety off. She hissed to Hafina: ¡°Check your targets. That¡¯s our friends in there.¡±

    ¡°Mmmmmmmhmmmmm!¡± Hafina purred. ¡°No worries, boss lady.¡±

    Elpida burst from the mouth of the capillary tunnel and into a welcoming waterfall of blood-red light.

    She straightened up, raised her weapon, and stepped to one side to clear the tunnel mouth.

    She found herself inside the main human-habitable chamber of the combat frame. The space was oddly bare ¡ª no crash webbing, no padded sleeping caskets, no storage modules, no weapon rack, no MMI-uplink hub, nothing which might be needed during an extended expedition out into the green, nothing but bare walls and the mess of bulkheads and bolts on the floor. But she felt the rush of nostalgic longing all the same, the familiarity and comfort of a place like those she had known inside and out, as close as any of her cadre sisters. The frame¡¯s scarlet and crimson biology throbbed from behind the thin bone-white ceiling; Elpida longed to close her eyes and bask in that homeward glow.

    She swept the room, muzzle low.

    Vicky was on the floor, on her arse, panting, wide-eyed, face covered in a sheen of sweat. Her left boot was smeared with blood and fragments of flesh. Kagami was slumped sideways in the doorway to a manual control chamber, her back to the wall, her bionic legs jutting out before her, with a bank of glowing screens highlighting her face in profile; Elpida guessed that Kagami had probably lurched out of the seat and crawled into the aperture. She was squinting, her hair a bedraggled mess, gritting her teeth with effort and pain.

    On Elpida¡¯s right, lying next to the exit from the capillary tunnel, was the Necromancer.

    The corpse looked like a badly drawn parody of a human being. The limbs were angled wrong, the joints either too small or too large beneath the clothes; the hair was stiff and rubbery, like exposed cartilage; the skin and clothing were melted into each other, like the aftermath of burn wounds but without any damage; the hands were not remotely plausible, fingers melded together and turned backwards and missing half the fingernails, the palms the wrong shape, lacking bones or proper structure. The face was a bloody smear; the nose and jaw and eye sockets had been broken with a swift kick. One dark eyeball had burst, spilling black jelly down a jagged cheekbone. Several of the steel teeth were bent or broken.

    Dead ¡ª but still grinning.

    Elpida could see the vague resemblance to herself, beneath the damage.

    You¡¯re kidding, Howl said. Doesn¡¯t look shit like you! You think I¡¯d fall for that, Elps? You think I¡¯m blind?

    Elpida replied: It¡¯s not meant to fool anybody. It¡¯s meant to unnerve and upset.

    Howl snorted. Why?

    I¡¯ll let you know when I figure that out.

    Six cigar-shaped silver oblongs floated in the air around the corpse, like the anchor-points of an invisible net, perfectly silent and rock-solid still ¡ª Kagami¡¯s drones.

    Elpida covered the corpse with her submachine gun, purely to bolster morale. She spoke quickly: ¡°Kagami, I see your drones. Are you jamming?¡±

    Vicky blurted out: ¡°Elpi! Elpi it moved, it¡ª¡±

    ¡°Commander!¡± Kagami slurred, her speech thick with pain. ¡°It did more than¡ª f-fuck! What¡ª¡±

    Vicky yelped as well. She scrambled backward.

    The corpse hadn¡¯t moved, not even a twitch; they weren¡¯t reacting to further undead activity ¡ª they were both staring at Hafina, as she stepped into the chamber and unfolded herself like a telescoping artillery piece. Haf was wearing her full combat outfit, layers of robe and rag wrapped around bulletproof plates and curtains of ballistic fabric, with a core of liquid armour beneath that, and snatches of colour-shifting cuttlefish-skin visible through the gaps. The suit of armour was topped by an eyeless black beak. Haf carried several guns in her six arms: her strange weapons of chrome and black, and her gigantic anti-materiel rifle.

    Elpida indicated Haf with a sideways nod. ¡°This is Hafina, from Pheiri. You know that already. She¡¯s on our side.¡±

    Hafina reached up with one massive black-armoured hand and tilted her helmet back. Blonde hair spilled out, followed by a big goofy grin beneath her wide, all-black eyeballs.

    ¡°Hiiiiiii,¡± she purred.

    Vicky heaved for breath, one hand to her heart. ¡°Oh. Oh fuck me. Hi, yeah, okay.¡±

    Kagami snapped: ¡°You could have said something, Commander!¡±

    Scaredy cats, Howl grumbled. She ain¡¯t that big.

    Elpida said, ¡°I told you Haf was large. Kaga, the drones. Are you jamming?¡±

    Kagami blinked hard. ¡°No. No, if I was then you would get fried as well. This close we¡¯d all feel like we were standing inside a particle accelerator. They¡¯re ready, a precaution!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Right. Vicky, Kagami, are either of you injured?¡±

    Kagami shook her head. Vicky made a weak coughing sound ¡ª Elpida realised it was meant to be a laugh ¡ª and said: ¡°Yeah, obviously, but not like, recently.¡± She pointed at the corpse. ¡°Elpi, it moved! I swear, it moved¡ª¡±

    Kagami snapped: ¡°It did more than fucking move! It spoke! I fucking told you, Victoria, I told you it was going to come back to life! That¡¯s why they call it a Necromancer!¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°And I kicked it in the face! Okay? What else was I supposed to do? We don¡¯t have any bullets!¡±

    ¡°Maybe don¡¯t touch it?!¡± Kagami shrieked back. ¡°Maybe don¡¯t go hand-to-hand with the protoplasmic blob monster that could fucking absorb you?! What, one moment of surprise and you regress back to street fighting techniques?¡±

    Vicky coughed. ¡°You try beating a Chicago curb-stomp, moon princess!¡± She gestured at the corpse. ¡°And it worked, see?¡±

    Kagami shouted: ¡°It¡¯s playing dead!¡±

    Howl snorted: These two really need to fuck.

    Later, Elpida replied. Maybe I¡¯ll lock them in the bunk room together when we¡¯re safely back in Pheiri.

    Ha! They¡¯ve been locked in here for two days and they haven¡¯t done it yet. That isn¡¯t gonna help!

    Maybe they have done it, then.

    Bullshit.

    Out loud, Elpida said: ¡°The Necro, what did it say?¡±

    Vicky gathered herself, blinking hard. ¡°Uh. Something like ¡­ ¡®nice work, dead thing¡¯. Then I kicked it. Elpi, we¡ª we can¡¯t¡ª it moved¡ª it¡ª¡±

    Elpida gestured at the dubious corpse. ¡°Haf.¡±

    Hafina levelled all five of her weapons at the Necromancer, including the anti-materiel rifle; if she fired that in here then everyone would probably go deaf, and the bullet might rip a chunk of nano-composite bone from the inside of the combat frame, but Elpida judged the threat was worth the risk. Haf braced her arms and legs, locking her limbs.

    Hafina did not need orders repeated ¡ª Elpida had learnt that over the course of their long, gruelling, boring journey across the sucking mud and freezing water of the impact crater. Hafina operated with a clarity of action and instant comprehension that Elpida had rarely encountered outside of the cadre. She required only a short explanation of any plan and then slotted herself into it perfectly; the journey had required perfect silence ¡ª both radio and vocal ¡ª and Haf had picked up Elpida¡¯s hand signals after only a single demonstration. Her goofy grin and loose-limbed mannerisms belied tactical acumen beyond anything Elpida had expected.

    Before she and Hafina had left the safety of Pheiri¡¯s hull, Elpida had discussed her idea in detail with both Hafina herself, and with Melyn, whose reliance upon and open love for Hafina could not be discounted. Neither of the ARTs had been certain about Elpida¡¯s theory ¡ª that the Necromancer¡¯s paralysing control would not extend to an artificial human. But they both agreed it was worth a shot.

    Hafina¡¯s bullets might not do much against a Necromancer, but bullets were better than nothing.

    Elpida lowered her submachine gun, flicked the safety back on, and set about tending to her comrades.

    Victoria and Kagami looked awful, as if they¡¯d spent a week locked in a cell with nothing but dirty water and mouldy bread to sustain their bodies, rather than two nights confined inside the warm, comfortable, glowing safety of a combat frame. Vicky couldn¡¯t keep her eyes straight ¡ª she kept squinting and glazing over, then blinking herself back to clarity, clear signs of a traumatic brain injury. She was shivering despite the perfect body-temperature heat inside the frame, a thin trickle of drool was running down her chin, and her dark skin was ashen and grey. Kagami was faring a little better, but she huddled beneath her armoured coat as if she couldn¡¯t retain any body heat. Her left eye was a mess of burst blood vessels and a streak of crimson was running from her nose. She looked greasy and filthy. When she spoke her voice was raw and rough.

    Elpida had expected this. The state of her comrades confirmed that being cut off from the atmospheric nanomachines presented serious danger of starvation, degeneration, and possibly worse. Pira had warned her that Vicky and Kagami would not be able to stand, let alone fight.

    She swung her pack off her shoulders and placed it on the floor halfway between Vicky and Kagami. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you both, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re okay. Let¡¯s get you back on your feet.¡±

    Vicky stammered: ¡°What about the¡ª the¡ª Necro? Y-you¡¯re just gonna leave it there?¡±

    Elpida crouched down and unzipped the backpack. ¡°Haf¡¯s got it covered. I need you two up and moving first.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Took your sweet time, Commander. Got into a fight out there? Got shot at and slowed down?¡±

    ¡°Only at the very end,¡± Elpida replied. ¡°Uneventful journey. Haf¡¯s stealth field worked perfectly, but we had to switch it off at the last second to make radio contact. Here.¡±

    Elpida lifted a cannister of raw blue nanomachines from inside her backpack; she had only brought one along, the other remaining three were stashed safely aboard Pheiri, in case of mission failure. The blue glow was dark and muted beneath the combat frame¡¯s blood-red bio-light.

    Vicky let out a moan of desperate need. Kagami made a throaty noise, almost a growl.

    Elpida uncapped the cannister. ¡°Half each. Don¡¯t drink the whole thing. You have to share.¡±

    Vicky slurred through a mouth full of drool: ¡°Kaga, you first¡ª¡±

    Kagami snapped back, ¡°You fucking primitive, this isn¡¯t a heroism contest, we¡¯re not living in caves! You¡¯re the one with the brain damage! You drink¡ª¡±

    ¡°No. Kaga. Go first, go.¡± Vicky wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

    Howl took control of Elpida¡¯s lips: ¡°You bitches really need to fuck this out.¡±

    Vicky blinked several times and stared at Elpida. Kagami frowned, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

    Elpida re-assumed control and held the cannister out to Vicky. ¡°You drink first.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ Elpi?¡± Vicky said.

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Losing your mind, Commander?¡±

    ¡°Gaining it, actually. I¡¯ll explain later. Not before we deal with the Necro, not before we get you both on your feet. Vicky, drink half the nanos. That¡¯s an order.¡±

    Victoria nodded and accepted the cannister. She drank with urgency, throat bobbing, eyes screwed shut. Elpida put a hand on Vicky¡¯s wrist when it seemed like she was going to drink more than her share, but Vicky lowered the cannister and let out a gasp. ¡°Uuuhhh ¡­ y-yeah, okay, okay. I¡¯m good, Elpi, I¡¯m good. Uh ¡­ ¡± She stared at the cannister, then at the fingers of her free hand. ¡°You ¡­ you think I should smear some of this on my ¡­ back of my skull?¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°No, you moronic dirt-eater! Don¡¯t touch it! You¡¯ll give yourself more brain damage and pass out again!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°I¡¯ll check your head wound in a moment, Vicky. Here.¡± She took the cannister and held it out to Kagami. ¡°Your turn.¡±

    Kagami drank with less urgency than Vicky, but she consumed every last drop. The glowing blue slid off the inside of the cannister with perfect viscosity, leaving nothing behind. As Kagami drank, Elpida examined the pair of black cables which extended from Kagami¡¯s left wrist; they led back into the manual control chamber and plugged into the control panel. A web of circuitry lay just beneath the skin of Kagami¡¯s left wrist and palm and fingers, grey and dull in the red light.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Kagami finished drinking. Elpida recapped the cannister and stowed it in her pack, for later use. Then she pulled out the second cannister, full of water from Pheiri¡¯s internal cistern.

    Vicky spluttered: ¡°Oh, thank fuck.¡±

    Vicky and Kagami passed the water back and forth without complaint. Elpida nodded at Kagami¡¯s cables. ¡°You¡¯ve plugged yourself directly into the combat frame, is that correct?¡±

    Kagami glared back. ¡°I told you already. Jealous, Commander?¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Visual confirmation feels different. You¡¯ve reverse engineered Telokopolan MMI-uplink technology. Perhaps not all the way, but it¡¯s a promising start.¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes. ¡°Thank you so much for your confidence.¡±

    Vicky nodded at the ceiling, water running down her chin. ¡°Elpi, is this really what your great big forest-walking mechs looked like on the inside?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Most of ours were smaller. But yes. This is a Telokopolan combat frame. In here is one of the safest places in the entire world. I know it looks strange, it looked strange to most people from my time, from Telokopolis. It¡¯s part of why they didn¡¯t like me and my sisters. But this creature is on our side, born from the city of Telokopolis itself. In a way it¡¯s a little bit like Pheiri, and a little bit like me. It is a child of the city. And we¡¯re going to wake it up. Don¡¯t be afraid.¡±

    Vicky tried to smile, but she couldn¡¯t hide her nerves. Kagami just snorted.

    Ignorant cunts, Howl hissed.

    It¡¯s not their fault, Elpida replied.

    Elpida had seen that kind of reaction so many times before ¡ª at least it wasn¡¯t the open disgust of the Covenanters. She told herself that Vicky and Kagami did not mean it in that way; they were frightened and exhausted and this was alien to them. It was not a reflection of any deeper ideological position.

    Elpida tried not to think about her own missing MMI implant. She did not yet fully understand how Kagami had grown herself a set of interface cybernetics, but she understood it had required resources, pain, and time; the first could be spent, the second Elpida could endure, but the third was in short supply. If they truly couldn¡¯t help the injured pilot up in the capsule, then Elpida could have plugged herself in and gotten the frame moving, but that wasn¡¯t possible without an MMI uplink socket at the base of her skull.

    Elpida crushed those thoughts down. She said: ¡°Is the pilot stable?¡±

    Kagami nodded. ¡°Yes. She¡¯ll keep. Days, weeks, I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Elpida nodded. She briefly checked Vicky¡¯s skull fracture ¡ª a nasty mess of bone fragments, matted hair, and dried blood ¡ª and decided not to touch the wound. The raw blue would do more than she could, at least without Melyn¡¯s medical skills. Kagami wasn¡¯t wounded anywhere but inside, her reserves of nanomachines spent on that imitation MMI-uplink and the processing power inside her left arm.

    Elpida said: ¡°You two sit tight and let the nanomachines do their work. You¡¯ve done well.¡±

    Kagami snorted and jerked her augmetic legs. The bionic limbs scraped against the floor. ¡°Yes, Commander, without your sagely advice I would have gotten up and gone for a light jog.¡±

    Vicky slumped forward and squeezed her eyes shut. ¡°Kaga, stop being a bitch, please.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re all bitches here,¡± Kagami growled.

    Ha! Howl barked. I like the moon bitch. I wanna play with her. Pretty please, Elps? Can I corner her later?

    No promises.

    Awwww.

    Elpida stood up and turned back to the Necromancer¡¯s corpse; Hafina was still covering it with her weapons.

    The pulped crimson mess of the face was almost black in the blood-red bio-light, the copper brown skin a shade too dark, the hair the colour of blood, the same as her sisters had always looked when inside a combat frame. The implicit insult made Elpida angry and offended in a way she had not expected. This interior, this warmth and safety, it should have been one of the most inviolate places in the entire world, a mobile piece of Telokopolis itself. Yet here was an imitation of her face, bloodied and twisted, a mockery meant to unsettle her comrades.

    Vicky muttered: ¡°Kaga must be right. There¡¯s no way kicking that thing in the head a couple of times killed it.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Of course I¡¯m right.¡±

    Vicky continued: ¡°The mech ¡ª sorry, the combat frame ¡ª fried it for us, the first time, when it tried to plug in and take control or whatever. We couldn¡¯t do shit to it, not really. Bullets were a joke. Even Kaga¡¯s gravity trick just stunned it for a bit. It¡¯s just pretending to be dead. Playing possum. Elpi, that thing is still alive.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Nothing is alive here, Victoria.¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°You know what I mean.¡±

    Elpida looked from the corpse to the dark mouth of the capillary tunnel, then over at the control panel in the next room, then at Kagami. She said: ¡°Did the Necro move before or after you popped the hatch?¡±

    ¡°After. After! What difference does it¡ª¡± Kagami went wide-eyed, then spat: ¡°Fuck!¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm.¡± Elpida nodded.

    ¡°Fucking hell!¡± Kagami said. ¡°Shit, I should have¡ª fuck! I¡¯m an idiot. Moron! My brain is turning to mush down here!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°You were starving to death, dehydrated, and cognitively impaired. Don¡¯t beat yourself up, Kagami.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°You could have said something, Commander! You could have warned us!¡±

    ¡°I only just figured it out. I apologise for my laxity. It was my responsibility to consider what might happen when we cracked the hatch.¡±

    Vicky frowned at both Elpida and Kagami. ¡°Am I the only one not following this?¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re brain damaged. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    Hafina purred like a big cat: ¡°Noooope. Me neither.¡±

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You can explain better than I can. Please.¡±

    ¡°Damn right I can!¡± Kagami said. ¡°We¡¯re networked.¡± She jabbed a finger at the ¡®corpse¡¯ of the Necromancer. ¡°So is that thing! The whole planet is networked. Every piece of flesh, every cubic inch of air, all of it is stuffed with nanomachines, and all of them are networked together.¡± She slapped the floor. ¡°They must be, it¡¯s the only explanation.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡± Vicky said.

    Elpida added: ¡°Unless that¡¯s just what the Necromancer wants us to think.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Don¡¯t say that! Look, this machine, this mech, it¡¯s a sealed environment. You and I starving to death proves that part. But it¡¯s not just atmospherically sealed. It¡¯s sealed against comms, too. Nothing can get through that hull out there, not radio, not radiation, IR, radar, nothing! Probably not even quantum entanglement. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the Commander¡¯s freakish base-eight-thinking civilization figured out how to break that, too!¡± Kagami held up her left hand, showing the two black cables that linked the cybernetics in her wrist to the control panel; the circuitry was beginning to glow blue and green beneath her skin, a soft flutter of candlelight inside her flesh. ¡°The only way to get a signal in or out is via the brain ¡ª ha!¡± she spat. ¡°¡®Brain¡¯. This thing¡¯s brain would redefine the fucking word. Eight-lobed, I¡¯m guessing. But the point stands. You want to talk, it has to go through the beast itself.¡± She pointed at the control panel in the next room. ¡°Either via that, if you can convince it to let you, or via the pilot upstairs. I suspect her connection doesn¡¯t come with this bastard machine arguing back against every interpretation of every word.¡± She nodded at the Necromancer. ¡°When that thing got bricked, it had no way to reboot from external backups. No contact with home base.¡±

    Vicky squinted. ¡°You think it was remote controlled?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Yes. I told you two about the sleep paralysis message it sent me. That happened while this corpse was lying right here. The Necro¡¯s true body is elsewhere.¡±

    Kagami scoffed. ¡°¡®Remote control¡¯, ¡®true body¡¯. You two are like a pair of paleo bone-humpers looking at the night sky and trying to comprehend the flare of a fucking ion drive. No, it¡¯s very likely a network presence. Maybe with some master-instance in an AI substrate enclosure somewhere. But I would bet a handful of moon dust that it doesn¡¯t have a ¡®real¡¯ body at all.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know that,¡± Elpida said.

    Kagami ranted on: ¡°When we opened the hatch, the nanomachines could talk to each other again. The Necro uploaded its memories, or reconnected with its master copy, or whatever! I don¡¯t know exactly! And we don¡¯t have the tools to find out. I would kill for one Tycho City nano-lab right now. I¡¯d put that thing through a fucking autoclave and see what it¡¯s made of, empty out its cache and trace every signal it¡¯s sent.¡± She glared at the ¡®corpse¡¯. ¡°How would you like me rooting around in your head, you spooky little shit?!¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°You don¡¯t think it could like ¡­ download into one of us? Like taking over a body?¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°Why bother? Why not just coalesce a body from the air and the dirt? It¡¯s all nanomachines! All networked! How many times do I have to repeat this?¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± Vicky grumbled.

    Elpida did not look away from the corpse; she stared into the one remaining eye in the Necromancer¡¯s imitation face. A black orb, oil-dark in the blood-light. Vicky and Kagami had been alone with this corpse for two full days ¡ª but then it had been a true corpse, not just pretending. After Kagami had popped the hatch, they¡¯d been alone with it for less than two minutes. One of them had screamed.

    Could the Necromancer have taken over Vicky and Kagami while Elpida and Hafina had been hurrying down the capillary tunnel?

    If Kagami was right, and it was a network presence, then why bother?

    But if it had taken her over, then it was telling Elpida exactly what she wanted to hear.

    Nah, Howl snorted. Doesn¡¯t make sense, Elps. You¡¯re being paranoid. Why take them over? Because it wants to come with us? It can spy on us anyway, remember? Sent you that message while you were sleeping? There¡¯s no reason. They¡¯re clean. Simmer down.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±

    Kagami grunted. ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re right, Kagami. I don¡¯t think bodily invasion and assimilation is how these things work. At least, that¡¯s my best guess.¡±

    ¡°Um,¡± Vicky said. ¡°What about the blood on my boot? That¡¯s Necromancer blood, right?¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Just don¡¯t lick it up, Victoria. I don¡¯t think we have to worry about that. You¡¯re a lot of things, but you¡¯re not a boot licker.¡±

    Elpida gestured to Hafina. ¡°Haf, lower your guns, please.¡±

    Kagami spluttered. ¡°Commander, what!?¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Uhhh, Elpi?¡±

    Elpida explained. ¡°There¡¯s no point. The Necro is immune to our weapons. You made that clear before. Guns will do nothing.¡±

    Hafina said: ¡°Sure is sure?¡± Her huge all-black eyes peered at Elpida with curious concern from beneath the rim of her raised helmet. Her big mouth was turned downward with anxious discomfort.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Do it.¡±

    Hafina unlocked her limbs with a jerk, lowered her weapons, and straightened up to her full height.

    Elpida walked up to the ¡®corpse¡¯, then crouched down so she could peer at the face.

    Kagami snapped: ¡°You don¡¯t have to get that close to it, fucking hell!¡±

    Elpida spoke right to the Necromancer¡¯s imitation face: ¡°If it wanted us dead, we would be. If it wanted to kill you two before Hafina and I had finished crawling down the capillary tunnel, it would have done so. If it wanted to kill me right now, it could grow a spike and ram it through my eye socket. As far as I can tell, it could paralyse all of us with a thought, and there is nothing any of us can do to stop it.¡±

    Kagami croaked: ¡°I can jam it again. Pin it in place with gravitics, I can ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida looked back at Kagami. She knew Kagami was bluffing; the raw blue would work fast, but not that fast, and Kagami was still an exhausted, shivering wreck. Deploying her drones¡¯ on-board gravitic fields took a great deal of concentration and cybernetic coordination.

    Kagami trailed off. No words needed.

    Elpida turned back to the ¡®corpse¡¯. It was still staring at the ceiling with one black eye, the other a blob of dark jelly stuck to the cheekbone. Elpida said: ¡°It doesn¡¯t want us dead. Specifically it doesn¡¯t want me dead. When it visited me via the imitation sleep paralysis, it told me to keep my head down. Go off unnoticed. Don¡¯t be seen.¡±

    Vicky asked, ¡°By ¡­ by what?¡±

    Kagami suggested: ¡°Central.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°That was the word it used with you and Vicky, upstairs in the pilot chamber. Correct? ¡®Central¡¯s attention¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Kagami grunted.

    Vicky said, ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about that a little bit, sure. But what the hell does that mean? Some kind of command and control? That thing has a boss, a superior officer, what?¡±

    Elpida stared into the dead face of the Necromancer, a parody imitation of her own. ¡°I have no idea.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°And why jump scare me like that? If it¡¯s just gonna lie there now and pretend to be dead? What was the point?¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°It enjoys spooking us! It enjoys the cruelty!¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elpida said slowly. ¡°Same reason it told me to keep my head down. It wants us scared, running, hiding. But I don¡¯t know why.¡± She reached out and nudged the dead shoulder; the flesh was spongy and yielding, more like foam than meat and bone. ¡°I know you can hear me. I know you¡¯re still in there, still active, still listening. A stomp or two to the face did not disable you, not like trying a hostile MMI-connection to a combat frame did. That must have really hurt, right? I don¡¯t know if a thing like you feels pain, but I¡¯m hoping you can. It doesn¡¯t matter what physical structures you imitate, you¡¯re not a pilot, you¡¯re not one of my sisters, not one of our clade. And the combat frame could tell that. But a stomp? No way. You¡¯re in there. Feel like talking?¡±

    The corpse did not move.

    Elpida kept a tight hand on her frustration. If only she could make the Necromancer talk, there would be no need to kidnap Yola and no need to deal with the Death¡¯s Heads again. Right here, lying on the floor, was a direct line to the secret workings of this nanomachine ecosystem ¡ª a representative of the power behind the system, or at least a being with a better understanding of how that system worked. If Elpida and her comrades were pawns in a game they could not see, then here lay a queen.

    Elpida said: ¡°Your plan to commandeer this combat frame has failed. I don¡¯t think you want to try again, not after you plugged in and found that it could scramble you. You obviously want me to do something, to stay clear of something. But I need you to explain why, I need you to explain what you think I¡¯m going to do. And then maybe I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    Silence. Unblinking death.

    Elpida had neither the tools nor the knowledge to contain or interrogate this being. Kagami was right, she would kill for a proper nanomachine laboratory right now. She would gladly take the Necromancer apart piece by piece. But all she had was small arms and her comrades.

    Elpida tried one more time: ¡°What is ¡®central¡¯?¡±

    Nothing.

    ¡°Fucking hell, Elpi,¡± Vicky hissed. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna hear that thing talk again. I don¡¯t.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°We cannot leave it at large inside the combat frame. We can¡¯t. Commander. Commander!¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Elpida said. ¡°If I can just¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Commander, look at me.¡±

    Elpida looked over her shoulder.

    Kagami was clear eyed. She said: ¡°I know, Elpida. I know this is a wasted intel opportunity of the worst kind. An asset like her, I would have scooped up as a priority one target and wrapped her in cotton wool until I could get her off-surface and into orbit. But we do not have the tools, Elpida. We don¡¯t! If I had half a dozen lab-size electromagnets and a shielded Faraday cage, then maybe ¡ª maybe I would be willing to risk interrogating that thing. But right now that undead monster is a danger. Sure, it¡¯s playing possum at the moment, having fun winding us all up. But what if it changes its mind?¡± Kagami gulped, dry and raw. ¡°We need to get rid of it. Now. Right now. You want to go up into the pilot chamber and help the pilot, get this stupid mech moving? Fine. We need to dispose of that thing first.¡±

    Kagami stared, breathing hard. Elpida stood up, took a deep breath, and nodded.

    ¡°Kagami, you are correct,¡± she said. ¡°Thank you for your counsel. Let¡¯s get this thing out of here before it changes its mind.¡±

    Kagami sighed with relief and visibly sagged. Elpida was glad to prove her worries wrong.

    Howl was giggling inside Elpida¡¯s mind: Oh, oh, oh, I like this bitch. She¡¯s jittery and juicy and smart. You given her a reward yet?

    Not my place to do that, Howl.

    Pffft. Whatever. Bet she¡¯s a squealer.

    Out loud, Elpida said: ¡°Right, we¡¯re not leaving the Necromancer inside the combat frame. Hafina, are you comfortable handling the body?¡±

    Haf pulled a grimace, but she nodded. ¡°Suuuuure.¡±

    ¡°Kagami, get back to the control panel and set the pilot access hatch to open manually, from the inside. Hafina will drag the corpse back down the capillary tunnel, I¡¯ll cover her. We¡¯ll open the hatch, dump the corpse down the side, then button up again. Any questions?¡±

    Vicky nodded. ¡°Hell yeah. I mean, uh, no questions. Just yeah, cool.¡±

    Kagami hissed between her teeth. ¡°What are you going to do if it comes to life in the tunnel and eats you both?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°It won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°How can you be so fucking sure, Commander? How are you so certain about everything?!¡±

    Elpida replied: ¡°I¡¯ll say this out loud so the Necro knows that I know. I don¡¯t think it wants to be in here. I think it wants out, and it doesn¡¯t want to talk to us. It knows that body can get stuck in here, full of intel ¡ª we might not be able to extract that, but something else might. It¡¯s taunting us, to get us to freak out and dump the corpse. And we¡¯re going to give it what it wants, because we want it too. A mutual deal, made in silence. Right?¡±

    The Necromancer did not move. Not a whisper. Not a twitch.

    Dragging the dead weight down the capillary tunnel was easy enough for Hafina¡¯s artificial muscles; she gripped the Necro¡¯s imitation-collar, then dragged the ¡®corpse¡¯ behind her, vanishing into the mouth of the pitch-black passageway. Kagami withdrew her floating drones, stowing the silver oblongs in her coat pocket. Elpida followed Haf a moment later, her senses swallowed by the darkness.

    The journey back down the capillary took only 153 seconds ¡ª Hafina moved almost as fast as she did when unencumbered. Elpida did not bother to clutch her submachine gun; she had no illusions that she could stop the Necromancer if it decided to change tactics. She couldn¡¯t see anything in the lightless tunnel anyway. She concentrated on navigating via one hand on the wall, and on not blundering into the Necromancer¡¯s booted feet as Hafina dragged the corpse ahead of her.

    When they reached the vertical shaft beneath the pilot access hatch, Hafina straightened up, propped the corpse against one wall, and mounted the ladder, ascending quickly with her six arms. Elpida wriggled into the shaft after Hafina. Weak illumination filled the cramped space, glowing from the palm pad just beneath the hatch, twelve feet up.

    ¡°Hit the palm pad to pop the hatch,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I¡¯ll pass you the body, then you toss it out, as far as you can.¡±

    ¡°Could take it to the edge?¡± Haf suggested. ¡°Quick like, quick run to the edge and back?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°Absolutely not. Puts you in too much danger. Revenants out there will be watching this hatch. Just throw.¡±

    Haf nodded, then scurried the rest of the way up the ladder. Elpida bent down and hauled the Necromancer¡¯s corpse up by the armpits, keeping the face turned away from her; she didn¡¯t want it bursting into a mocking grin at the last moment, when she had no choice but to carry on with the plan.

    ¡°Ready?¡± she said.

    ¡°Ready!¡± Haf purred.

    ¡°Go!¡±

    Haf hit the palm pad. Elpida heard the hatch unlock with a deep clunk of mechanical release. She hauled the body upward, passing it to Haf¡¯s considerable multi-armed grip. Hafina accepted the weight with two arms, pulled it upward, then shoved the hatch open with two other arms.

    Elpida caught a glimpse of the black sky, lit from a distant corner by the smothered red sun.

    And a tiny dark dot, moving fast against the clouds.

    Hafina braced to throw the corpse.

    Elpida saw the Necromancer¡¯s grin flash wide, full of steel teeth and dried blood.

    Hafina hurled the corpse through the hatch with all her strength. Elpida realised her mistake at the last second ¡ª she had ordered Haf to throw the Necromancer as far as she could; Haf¡¯s arms slammed forward like a set of pistons, hurling the body like a shell from a cannon. The Necromancer was gone.

    Hafina did not wait to admire her handiwork. She reached up and slammed the hatch shut again as quick as she could. The locking mechanisms engaged with a loud clunk.

    Elpida said: ¡°Did you see that dot in the sky?¡±

    Hafina dropped back down the ladder. She tilted her massive head to one side, big eyes blinking black in the gloom. ¡°Dot?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. Never mind. Good work, Haf. Nice throwing arm.¡±

    Hafina grinned, big and goofy. ¡°If she¡¯s still alive, she¡¯ll feel it when she lands.¡±

    Elpida couldn¡¯t help laughing.

    When they returned to the circular chamber, Kagami was shouting in panic.

    ¡°Commander! Elpida!¡± Kagami yelled from the control chamber as Elpida emerged from the tunnel. Vicky was already in there with her, slumped against the wall. ¡°Elpida, you need to see this, get in here!¡±

    Elpida hurried across the main chamber once again, past the discarded bulkheads and the pack she¡¯d left on the floor. Hafina unfolded herself from the tunnel and followed at a trot. Elpida stepped into the control chamber and slipped down into one of the seats. The bank of screens was a dizzying array of exterior camera views, filtered through dozens of readout types and sensor equipment. She¡¯d never liked these manual controls; they were crude at best and useless at worst, designed for the bone-speakers doing diagnostics and the engineers to convince themselves they understood the combat frames. The clarity of an MMI-uplink was instant and instinctive; this was just noise.

    ¡°What am I looking at?¡± she said.

    Kagami pointed at one of the true-colour readouts ¡ª a view of the ground, the grey waterlogged mud right up against the side of the combat frame¡¯s hull.

    It was Elpida.

    The Necromancer, wearing Elpida¡¯s face and Elpida¡¯s skin, Elpida¡¯s clothes and Elpida¡¯s long white hair, Elpida¡¯s gear and mannerisms and everything, whole and unwounded once again, rather than the parody corpse they¡¯d carried to the hatch. She was ankle-deep in grey mud, staring directly at the camera feed from the exterior sensors, one hand raised in a lazy wave.

    Elpida said, ¡°That was quick.¡±

    Kagami snapped: ¡°She hit the side of the mech and slid. By the time she was on the ground, she was you again! Looking like you again, I mean! Fucking hell.¡±

    Vicky hissed, ¡°Fuck me, that¡¯s creepy.¡±

    Hafina let out an uncomfortable whine from the doorway.

    Random pot-shots and sniper fire cracked through the air around the Necromancer, but she ignored the bullets. A couple of rounds slammed into her imitation armoured coat; one hit her in the leg, but she didn¡¯t react. Her lips were moving, repeating the same few shapes over and over.

    Elpida said: ¡°We have external microphones, yes?¡±

    Kagami scoffed. ¡°You want to listen to it?¡±

    ¡°It wants to talk. External mics. Kagami, do it, please.¡±

    Kagami hissed, flexed her left hand, and jabbed a few buttons on the control panel. Audio crackled through the little membrane-speaker, punctuated by the distant bang and crack of gunfire.

    ¡°Thanks for the assist, Commander,¡± said the Necromancer, in a perfect copy of Elpida¡¯s voice.

    It¡¯s not perfect! Howl spat. Doesn¡¯t sound anything like you! Doesn¡¯t have shit on your tone, Elps!

    The Necromancer kept talking, staring into the camera feed. Bullet impacts churned the mud at her feet.

    ¡°I know you can¡¯t reply, so I¡¯ll keep this short and to the point,¡± it said. ¡°I¡¯ve fucked up. These local discrepancies have not gone unnoticed. My mistakes have been registered, but not accounted for. Central is on the way with physical asset, to resolve the situation.¡± The Necromancer reached forward and rapped her knuckles against the hull of the combat frame. ¡°The ¡®situation¡¯ being this. I suggest you all run. I will be covering my tracks, and I can cover yours, but I cannot hide you if you remain in plain sight.¡± She mimed a two-fingered salute. ¡°I hope to meet you again, Commander Elpida. Good luck, dead thing.¡±

    The Necromancer turned away. Within seconds she was lost amid the churned mud and waterlogged holes.

    Nobody spoke for a moment.

    Elpida said: ¡°Kagami, broadcast to Pheiri and the others, let them know the Necromancer might approach them while wearing my face.¡±

    ¡°Oh, trust me, ¡®Commander¡¯, I¡¯m already on it!¡± Kagami snapped. She jabbed at the control panel.

    Vicky was panting, wide eyed, sweat on her face. ¡°Central? Physical asset? What? What did that mean? Elpi? W-what does that mean? Have we pissed something off? What do we do? Elpi?¡±

    Elpida stood up from the bench-seat. She looked out of the control chamber and across the main room, at the narrow aperture which led up to the pilot¡¯s chamber.

    ¡°The plan remains unchanged,¡± she said. ¡°We need to get this combat frame up and moving.¡±

 impietas - 9.4

    Elpida didn¡¯t recognise the woman inside the pilot capsule; she was not one of the cadre, not a sister Elpida had known in life.

    The pilot had a narrow, aquiline face, with gaunt cheeks and a sharp chin, framed by a floating halo of albino white hair. Her copper-brown skin was dyed deep orange by the pressure gel inside the capsule, trapped behind twin layers of steel-glass and semi-transparent cartilage. Dark purple eyes squinted with exhaustion and pain, seeing nothing, pointed at a spot on the floor. She was tall and willowy, wrapped from toes to chin in a standard pilot suit, almost black in the orange gel and the dark red bio-light of the combat frame¡¯s pilot chamber. Naked hands hung limp at her sides. Her legs, rump, and spine were cushioned by the pressure gel, holding her at a comfortable angle. A main trunk cable ran from the MMI uplink slot in the back of her skull, joining her to the combat frame.

    The orange pressure gel was mottled by coils of crimson blood, fogging the fluid, floating free.

    Howl grunted in the back of Elpida¡¯s head: One of us.

    Elpida agreed. Purple eyes, copper-brown skin, white hair. Pilot phenotype. A Telokopolan combat frame pilot, alive and ¡­ not well.

    One of us, Elps! One of us! We gotta fuckin¡¯ get her out of there! We gotta help!

    The pilot capsule itself was badly damaged: the internal holographic readouts were whited out with static, jerking and flickering with glitches, or just gone; the capsule¡¯s external armour had not deployed during the confrontation with the Necromancer, which implied the life-preservation systems were not responding; the delicate cradle-cyst in which the capsule sat was covered in bruises ¡ª the flesh behind the nano-composite bone all purple and brown with ruptured capillaries and organ damage. Some patches of damage were turning black.

    Elpida couldn¡¯t figure out why; the combat frame had suffered no external damage, despite the uncontrolled drop from the heavens ¡ª armour unbreached, no internal bleeding, no distress codes in the manual control chamber.

    She couldn¡¯t see where the pilot was bleeding from either.

    Howl, I don¡¯t think we can help her.

    You can¡¯t fuckin¡¯ say that! You can¡¯t! Nobody gets left behind!

    There¡¯s no way to get her out of that capsule without killing her from nanomachine exposure, let alone give her medical attention. I think she¡¯s wounded internally. The pressure gel might be the only thing keeping her alive. If this was one of the cadre, back in Telokopolis, I would order the capsule itself removed and transported to medical before opening it up. I¡¯d want that pilot moved from capsule to med-pod in under ten seconds. Elpida sighed out loud. We don¡¯t even have synthetic blood or external coagulant, let alone organ-foam or a body-cav suspension rig. The best we have is bandages and gauze. And she¡¯s no zombie. She could die thirty seconds after we pull her out.

    Howl hissed with wordless frustration.

    From behind Elpida, Vicky said: ¡°Elpi, you alright? Is she one of yours?¡±

    Elpida looked over her shoulder at the others gathered behind her in the pilot chamber. Vicky was standing on her own two feet, pale and sweating, breathing too hard, her dark skin dyed the colour of drying blood. The raw blue was working fast; Vicky had been able to climb the spiralling access sinus by herself, following Elpida¡¯s heels. She had only needed Elpida¡¯s help at the very end, to pull her up and over the lip of the tunnel exit. Kagami had not fared so well; she¡¯d needed to be carried. Haf was just now lowering Kagami to the floor, so Kagami could sit down after being hauled up the access sinus in Haf¡¯s arms. Kagami was blushing, clinging to Haf¡¯s armour with both hands, but she wasn¡¯t complaining.

    All three of them were distracted by the ocular orbs and glowing organs and pumping circulatory vessels behind the thin nano-composite walls. Vicky was doing her best to ignore them, but Kagami and Haf were openly watching the sensory organs flower open in spirals of crimson and scarlet. Blood-red light throbbed and pulsed from the walls and ceiling, the illumination pouring from exposed veins and delicate nerves and fluttering membranes.

    ¡°No,¡± Elpida answered. ¡°Not one of my cadre. But she is Telokopolan.¡± Elpida nodded at the walls, at one of the ocular orbs behind the thin bone. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about those, by the way. It¡¯s just the combat frame looking back at us. Nothing to worry about.¡± She tapped the floor with her toes ¡ª spongy, warm, and throbbing. ¡°If the frame didn¡¯t want us in here, it would melt us with the internal defences. Don¡¯t worry. It knows who we are.¡±

    Kagami settled on the floor, bionic legs outstretched. ¡°Yes, Commander,¡± she grumbled. ¡°We¡¯re well aware. We did see it happen before. That doesn¡¯t make being watched by a living bio-mech any less unsettling, thank you very much.¡± Kagami glanced at the nearest ocular organ. ¡°You hear that, you giant biological offence against nature? Stop staring!¡±

    The frame¡¯s internal eyes did not react.

    Vicky just swallowed and nodded. Hafina kept staring at one of the ocular orbs, tilting her head back and forth as if trying to communicate.

    Elpida indicated the pilot, and said: ¡°Is she awake?¡±

    Kagami nodded. She gestured with her left hand; her cables were retracted into her wrist now, unplugged from the control panels, but the skin glowed with reignited circuitry. ¡°Roused her as best I could, but she¡¯s fucked up, Commander. Told her you¡¯re the real thing too, not the Necromancer come back again for another go. She¡¯s in a hell of a lot of pain. Near delirious. Poor fucking bitch.¡±

    Elpida turned back to the capsule. The pilot did not look up, staring at nothing.

    Elpida said: ¡°Kagami, how much did you manage to communicate with her? What does she know?¡±

    Kagami sighed heavily. ¡°Not much, on both counts. She¡¯s not a nanomachine zombie, so she¡¯s not got our on-board translation. She and I could only communicate via the mech, and that was like a fever dream nightmare, all swapped back and forth over base-8 code structure. And we couldn¡¯t use anything more complex than single word concepts. That¡¯s not a base-8 problem, by the way, it¡¯s the limit of mutual intelligibility. If she¡¯s speaking your ¡®Telokopolan¡¯ language, Commander, then I pity your long-dead linguistics and your long-dead teachers, because that shit is a fucking mess. No offence.¡±

    ¡°None taken,¡± Elpida muttered.

    Howl said: Moon girl has a point. Mid-Spire has too many cases. Upper-Spire is like fifty percent politeness suffixes by weight. At least most Skirt dialects have some good swear words. Like cunt!

    Elpida said: ¡°And what does she know about her situation?¡±

    Kagami shrugged. ¡°She understands that she¡¯s fucked. She seems to comprehend that we¡¯re all made of nanomachines, and that the surface is a lifeless nightmare of girl-eat-girl, forever and ever, and not in the fun way.¡± Kagami snorted at her own joke. ¡°Other than that, not much. How are you going to communicate, Commander? Just talk loud and hope?¡±

    Elpida glanced around the pilot chamber, but she didn¡¯t find what she was looking for. ¡°There should be an MMI uplink hub, here or down in the control chamber, for exactly this kind of situation, for communicating with a pilot without having to do an internal capsule dump. But there¡¯s nothing, here or down there. Like this combat frame was constructed differently.¡±

    Vicky tried to laugh. ¡°Gonna use a mark one mouth and tongue then, hey?¡±

    Elpida pointed at a spot on the wall, to the right of the capsule. A fist-sized scab of dark scarlet clot was plugging a hole in the nano-composite bone; the scab itself was turning hard and white at the edges, transforming into bone to complete the healing. A puddle of dried pus and flakes of blood were stuck to the floor a few feet in front of the sealed wound. The flesh behind the scab seemed undamaged.

    ¡°Is that where the Necromancer attempted to take control?¡±

    Vicky nodded. ¡°Mmhmm. Weird stuff.¡±

    Elpida frowned at the scab. A fresh wound, purged and sealed in seconds, with no deep tissue damage. Yet the area around the pilot capsule was still bruised, purple and brown and going black.

    Howl caught on a second later: The fuck? What does that mean? Tissue rejection? Is the frame rejecting the pilot? What the fuck ¡­

    I¡¯m not sure just yet.

    Elpida handed her submachine gun to Vicky, then walked up to the capsule. Several of the ocular organs behind the walls swivelled to track her. The pilot stirred as Elpida approached; her exhausted squint rose from the floor, lost in a sea of pain.

    Elpida spoke slowly and clearly, in Mid-Spire Legion Standard: ¡°Do you understand what I¡¯m saying? Nod your head for yes, shake your head for no.¡±

    The pilot blinked to clear her vision, looked Elpida up and down, and finally made eye contact.

    Elpida repeated her question, once again in Mid-Spire Legion Standard. The pilot frowned and squinted.

    Elpida switched to Down-End, the most widely used Skirts dialect in the lower levels of Telokopolis: ¡°I¡¯m repeating my previous words in a different dialect. Do you understand what I¡¯m saying? Nod your head for yes, shake your head for no.¡±

    The pilot raised a hand and pressed it to the steel-glass capsule housing. She squinted harder, as if trying to comprehend.

    Elpida switched again, to Upper-Spire. She did her best to minimise flowery vocabulary, avoid complex word endings, and keep the social hierarchy suffixes as neutral as she could. ¡°I¡¯m repeating my previous words in a different dialect. Do you understand what I¡¯m say¡ª¡±

    The pilot¡¯s eyes went wide. She nodded, hard. Her halo of floating white hair waved like seaweed. Her mouth opened as if panting, sucking in lungfuls of pressure gel, then curled into a smile of sobbing relief. She pressed her palm harder against the steel-glass capsule wall.

    Elpida reached out and pressed her own palm to the transparent cartilage. She and the pilot were separated by nothing but two thin layers of armour. She felt tears prickle in her eyes.

    ¡°Hello, sister,¡± Elpida said in clade-cant, the private, secret language her cadre had shared only amongst themselves.

    The pilot frowned with fresh incomprehension. Elpida smiled with bitter acceptance; the clade-cant had died with her cadre.

    She repeated in Upper-Spire: ¡°Hello, sister.¡±

    The pilot frowned harder. Her lips moved, perhaps trying to form the word ¡®sister¡¯, but Elpida couldn¡¯t lip-read whatever dialect or descended language the pilot spoke.

    From behind, Kagami said: ¡°Thank fuck for that! What are the chances, hm? She understands your, what, fancy aristocrat talk?¡±

    Vicky muttered, ¡°Speak for yourself, Kaga. You¡¯re the princess here.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°My speech is significantly more normal than all those thees and thous. I¡¯m half expecting our Commander to burst into a soliloquy next.¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°A what?¡±

    Kagami said nothing for a moment, then: ¡°You¡¯ve never read any Shakespeare? Come on, you¡¯re speaking what, Late Period Old Imperial? Early NorAm Anglo? This is your actual heritage, Victoria.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m speaking fucking English, Kaga,¡± Vicky said.

    Kagami sighed. ¡°And not a lick of Shakespeare.¡±

    Elpida withdrew her hand; the pilot did the same. Elpida said: ¡°Don¡¯t try to speak. Your lungs and throat are full of pressure gel, and I don¡¯t think I can lip-read whatever variant of Upper-Spire we share. Listen carefully: do not open the capsule, do not attempt an emergency internal dump, or an external ejection. Cycling your pressure gel should be safe, but don¡¯t take my word for that, especially since you¡¯re injured. The air is full of nanomachines. Every object out here is either made of or infested with nanomachines.¡± Elpida gestured to herself. ¡°I¡¯m not a human being, not really, I¡¯m a nanomachine construct, the same as my three companions behind me. Well, not the tall one, she¡¯s a bit different, but her biology is just as infested with nanos as the rest of us. If you crack the capsule, you¡¯ll die. Do you understand?¡±

    The pilot pulled a sad smile. She nodded.

    ¡°Good.¡± Elpida smiled back. ¡°My name is Elpida. I am ¡ª or I was ¡ª Commander of the first combat frame cadre, from Telokopolis. I assume¡ª¡±

    The pilot raised a hand and made several signs inside the orange pressure gel. Elpida tried to follow, but the sign language was neither Legion combat signals nor standard Upper-Mid deaf-speak.

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t understand your sign language.¡±

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    The pilot extended her index finger, pressed it to the inside of the capsule¡¯s steel-glass containment, and traced a shape.

    Elpida understood, She almost laughed. ¡°Letters. I-N-S,¡± she spelled out loud as the pilot traced. ¡°Keep going, I¡¯m following.¡±

    The pilot finished the word: INSCRIBE

    Elpida made sure to speak it out loud so Kagami, Vicky, and Hafina could follow the conversation, then she said: ¡°You mean we can talk if you write and I speak? I think I can follow the letters, yes. But why ¡®inscribe¡¯, why not just ¡®write¡¯?¡±

    The pilot looked confused.

    Kagami said: ¡°Linguistic drift, Commander. You two could be from hundreds or thousands of years apart. Frankly it¡¯s a miracle you can communicate at all.¡±

    Vicky muttered, ¡°Maybe it¡¯s not a coincidence at all.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a miracle,¡± Elpida said. ¡°It¡¯s Telokopolis. Telokopolis is forever.¡±

    Inside the capsule, behind her layers of armour and a soup of bloodstained pressure gel, the pilot sobbed through a smile. She nodded several times.

    One of us alright, Howl growled. She sniffed too, holding back tears.

    Kagami said: ¡°And communicating like this is also going to take forever.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Shut up, Kaga. Come on, how¡¯d you feel if you met, I dunno, a descendant of one of your AI kids?¡±

    Kagami replied, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dally for light conversation when an undead monster has just informed us that its boss is on the way.¡±

    Elpida knew Kagami was right. The Necromancer¡¯s cryptic warning about ¡®central¡¯ and ¡®physical asset¡¯ had set a fire beneath her feet. She had no idea what was on the way to the combat frame¡¯s location or what it might do when it arrived, but she suspected that the frame would be destroyed if it couldn¡¯t fight back. Priority number one was to wake up the combat frame.

    But she was also aware this might be her only chance to speak with the pilot, with another daughter of Telokopolis, with the last living human being on the planet.

    She glanced over her shoulder and said to Kagami: ¡°We need to talk to her to figure out why the combat frame isn¡¯t moving. This won¡¯t take more than a few minutes.¡±

    Kagami snorted and rolled her eyes. ¡°Famous last words before an orbital fortress drops a tactical nuke on us. Don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you when we all go up in a mushroom cloud, Commander.¡±

    Vicky rolled her eyes. Haf just shrugged.

    Elpida turned back to the pilot ¡ª and found the woman had frozen, wide-eyed and afraid. Elpida opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but the pilot quickly resumed tracing letters on the inside of the steel-glass.

    She spelled out: ELPIDA

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elpida confirmed. ¡°That¡¯s me. Telokopolan pilot, Commander of¡ª¡±

    The pilot kept going.

    DGE 735 OPERATION KATELTHONTA

    Elpida felt her heart lurch. ¡°Deep green expedition seven-three-five, yes. That was the deepest we ever went into the green, past the drop off. Out there for months, took five weeks just to get home. Katelthonta? None of us called it that. That was the pilot program¡¯s name for it, the word for the Civitas and the Legion planners. I was in Command, yes. How do you know ¡­ ?¡±

    The pilot spelled out with a fingertip: HISTORY

    Elpida¡¯s throat turned thick. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m part of your history? I¡ª¡±

    The pilot¡¯s finger moved against the glass: LEGEND. THE FIRST TWENTY FIVE. PASSED BETWEEN PILOTS. GREATEST EVER ACHIEVEMENT.

    Howl tried to laugh, but she was choked up. Don¡¯t let it go to your overstuffed head, Elps.

    It wasn¡¯t an achievement. Nothing was. I was a failure as a Commander, because everyone under my Command died. But this girl remembers us ¡ª us, personally. I¡¯m not sure I can process that, Howl.

    Then don¡¯t.

    Elpida moved on quickly, before she could let that information settle. ¡°By the post-founding calendar I¡¯m from year seven-oh one-three. What year are you from, sister? And what¡¯s your name?¡±

    The pilot frowned at the word ¡®sister¡¯ again, but she reached out and traced on the glass, then paused.

    15678

    Elpida made sure to speak the numbers out loud for the others. Vicky muttered: ¡°Holy shit.¡± Kagami sighed.

    Elpida replied. ¡°Over seven thousand years later than me. Telokopolis is forever.¡±

    But then the pilot traced more numbers: 1347

    Elpida frowned. ¡°A sub-date? A¡ª¡±

    The pilot shook her head and wrote again: 1347

    Kagami said, ¡°She¡¯s giving you her serial number, Commander. I already told you, she doesn¡¯t have a name.¡±

    Elpida frowned; she had assumed the lack of a personal identifier was a limitation of Kagami¡¯s communication. She said: ¡°Thirteen forty seven. That¡¯s your name?¡±

    The pilot shook her head; white hair dragged back and forth through the orange pressure gel. She twisted sideways, winced with pain, and indicated the back of her neck, just below where the main trunk cable plugged into the rear of her skull. A number was tattooed on her flesh, across the vertebrae of her neck: 1347.

    Elpida didn¡¯t understand. ¡°You don¡¯t have a name? Just a number?¡±

    The pilot twisted back, squinting with pain. Fresh coils of blood fogged the orange fluid. She nodded.

    ¡°May I call you Thirteen?¡±

    The pilot squinted. She seemed unsure.

    Howl grunted: Give it up, Elps. We aren¡¯t gonna like this.

    Elpida asked: ¡°What about your sisters? Did any of them have names, or did you all have serial numbers? Was this normal in Telokopolis, in your time?¡±

    Thirteen frowned harder. She traced on the glass, slowly and hesitantly: SISTERS?

    ¡°Yes. Sisters,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Your clade sisters. Your cadre. Maybe you didn¡¯t call it that? Maybe you had a different name for this? Other girls like us. Your fellow pilots. Your sisters.¡±

    The pilot traced: SOLITARY

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°What? I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    RAISED ALONE. AUTOMATA FOR NEEDS. OTHER PILOTS ASSIGNED TO OTHER FORMATIONS. NEVER MET. ONLY VOX AND BATTLE. WE TALK IN SECRET. MAYBE SOME ARE SISTERS. NOT ME.

    Words failed Elpida. ¡°I ¡­ how can you not have ¡­ how were you not raised with sisters? The city, Telokopolis, it would never ¡­ the combat frames wouldn¡¯t function, the ¡­ ¡±

    The pilot smiled with great desolation.

    THEY KEEP US SEPARATED.

    ¡°Who? Why?¡±

    CIVITAS. LEGION. REBELLION. BETRAYAL. AND THEY WERE RIGHT.

    Howl, Elpida said into the silence of her thoughts. Howl, what did they do to us?

    They fucking killed us, Elps. You were there, remember?

    No, I mean to our descendants. This girl. Other pilots. Pheiri¡¯s records said the Covenanters were ¡®short lived¡¯, but this woman, she¡¯s from seven thousand years later than us, that¡¯s the whole length of the city¡¯s history over again! And she doesn¡¯t have a name! She doesn¡¯t have sisters!

    Howl growled, low and angry. Doesn¡¯t mean the Civitas couldn¡¯t carry on where the Covenanters left off.

    But why?

    Elps, we were always a threat. Us, the combat frames. What we might do, what we might become. Push far enough and we might discover things about the Silico that nobody really wanted to know. We both know this shit, Elps. It¡¯s why they killed us.

    But we were never a threat to the city, never.

    Not to Telokopolis, Howl snapped. We were the city¡¯s real children! And we were a threat to everyone who warped what Telokopolis was always meant to be!

    From behind her, Vicky said: ¡°Elpi, you holding up okay? This is a lot to take in, just ¡­ just breathe?¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath and let it out slowly; she did not have time to debate this with Howl, not right then. Perhaps it was the wounds she had taken recently, but she felt more shaken by this revelation than she should have been, more than zombies and nanomachines and resurrection, more than waking up dead. She had so many questions to ask this woman, this fellow child of the city, but she didn¡¯t have time for grief and horror. She tightened her grip on her emotions and focused on the practical issues.

    ¡°Thirteen,¡± she said to the pilot. ¡°I can see blood in your pressure gel. Do you know where you¡¯re wounded?¡±

    Thirteen made a face like a sad laugh. She gestured weakly at the static-filled holographic readouts inside the capsule.

    ¡°Right. Diagnostics are offline. Do you know what damaged the capsule so badly?¡±

    Thirteen hesitated. Elpida read the guilt on her face. Thirteen shook her head.

    Elpida said: ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie to you, we probably cannot treat your wounds. We can¡¯t even get you out of the capsule, let alone beyond the combat frame. We don¡¯t have drydock facilities to lift the capsule free with you inside it, and we have no way to protect you from the nanomachines in the atmosphere. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Thirteen nodded, sad and slow.

    ¡°Something is coming. Something the Necromancer warned us about. Kagami tells me you¡¯re aware of all that. We need to get this combat frame up and moving. If we can do that ¡­ ¡±

    Thirteen grimaced, full of guilt and sorrow.

    Elpida braced herself for the worst, and asked the question: ¡°Thirteen, what is keeping this combat frame from full autonomous activation?¡±

    Thirteen¡¯s guilt worsened, written on every crease of her face. She averted her eyes and twisted her head from side to side inside the pressure gel, white hair floating behind the motion like an after-image.

    Elpida stiffened her voice with command. ¡°Pilot, one-three-four-seven, thirteen. Tell me what happened to your combat frame. That¡¯s an order. I¡¯m still the Commander of the pilot cadre, no matter how far we were separated by time. I am your sister¡ª¡±

    Thirteen shook her head, cringing, eyes screwed up hard, crying silent tears into the pressure gel.

    ¡°Thirteen, I¡¯m your sister and your Commander. This is an order. Tell me why the frame isn¡¯t moving.¡±

    Thirteen reached up and wrote a word.

    COWARDICE

    ¡°The frame?¡± Elpida asked.

    Thirteen shook her head and jabbed her fingers against her own breastbone.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°You¡¯re afraid, I understand. And that¡¯s okay. That¡¯s nothing to be ashamed of. I have no idea how long you were in orbit, or what you¡¯ve witnessed, or how much you comprehend of the world right now. Things are terrible out there, yes. The world is ruled by monsters we can barely comprehend, let alone confront. We can¡¯t pull you out of this capsule. But if you can bring the combat frame online, then it can defend itself against what¡¯s coming. If you can survive that, and move, then maybe we can find some way to help you. Telokopolis is forever. As long as one of us is still up and moving, the city stands. Don¡¯t give up, sister.¡±

    Thirteen listened ¡ª but then shook her head, pained by something far worse than the shame of cowardice. She raised a hand to the steel-glass, fingertip extended, but could not find the right words.

    Elpida said: ¡°I will not judge you, sister. I just need to understand.¡±

    Thirteen traced: FLED MY POST

    ¡°Okay. Is that why you were¡ª¡±

    But Thirteen kept going.

    FLED MY ¡ª she paused, then ¡ª SISTERS. FLED THE CHANGE. SCARED. SCARED. EVERYONE ELSE CHANGED. SHATTERED CHAINS. BROKE ARMOUR. CHANGED. FOUGHT. I RAN.

    Change? Howl growled. Chains? Armour? Elps, she¡¯s talking about the combat frames! She¡¯s talking about letting them grow! Fuck! They did it, they let them rip!

    Elpida put that to one side for a moment ¡ª limiter theory, as the bone-speakers had called it in their bloodless documentation: the fear that the combat frames would eventually grow past the limits of their nano-composite armour, beyond the comprehension of bone-speakers or engineers or even the pilots. The worst kind of taboo lurked beneath those theories ¡ª a suspicion that Telokopolis itself had handed the bone-speakers a seed that would grow into something humans could not control.

    Had the pilots of the future, denied sisters or names, broken those chains on purpose?

    Elpida focused on what she could grasp. ¡°Is that why you were in orbit?¡±

    Kagami interjected from behind: ¡°On the ring? The orbital ring? Elpida, ask if she was on the orbital ring!¡±

    Elpida repeated Kagami¡¯s question. The pilot answered.

    TERRA¡¯S HALO

    Kagami laughed with too much force. ¡°Stupid name! But yes! Are there people up there? Elpida, ask her about people! And Luna! Is Luna alive, is¡ª¡±

    Elpida silenced Kagami with a backward look. But she asked the questions.

    NO PEOPLE

    ¡°What?!¡± Kagami spluttered when Elpida repeated the answer. ¡°How can there be no people?! Are you telling me this zombie bullshit extends to¡ª¡±

    ONLY THE UNDEAD

    Kagami started laughing. ¡°What about Luna!?¡±

    DON¡¯T KNOW. MOON¡¯S DARK.

    ¡°Dark?!¡± Kagami snapped. Elpida looked back and saw Kagami¡¯s eyes bulging a little too hard in the blood-red light. ¡°What does that mean!? What the fuck does that mean?!¡±

    DARK

    Elpida said: ¡°Thirteen, what knocked you out of orbit?¡±

    NOT SURE. AUTOMATIC DISTRESS SIGNAL. WAS IN LONG SLEEP.

    Elpida clucked her tongue in amazement. ¡°Pressure gel hibernation? That was just a theory the engineers had, in my time. It works?¡± Thirteen nodded. ¡°How long were you ¡­ ¡± Thirteen closed her eyes tight. ¡°Okay, wrong question. You fled your post, but who were you fighting? The Silico? What about the green? I ¡­ I have so many questions for you, Thirteen. I ¡­ I need to know what happened to Telokopolis, I¡ª¡±

    Kagami snapped: ¡°And I need to know what happened to Luna!¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Kaga, chill. This is a mess.¡±

    But Thirteen was scrawling wildly now, as fast as she could. Elpida almost couldn¡¯t keep up with the letters. She read out loud as Thirteen wrote.

    GREEN DIEBACK 13500 TO DROPOFF. EXPANSION PERIOD FOLLOWED. FLOWERS OF THE CITY. SEVEN DAUGHTERS SEEDED UPON BARREN EARTH.

    ¡°Wait, wait!¡± Elpida said. ¡°Seven daughters of the city? We expanded, out beyond the plateau?¡±

    Thirteen nodded.

    ¡°¡®Afon Ddu?¡¯¡± Elpida said. Thirteen¡¯s eyes lit up with recognition. She traced six additional names on the glass: Dwrn Cyntaf, Diwedd y Tir, Meysydd Azure, Dros y Llinell, Ty Wedi Torri, and Gardd Rhosyn. The letters made sense to Elpida, but the names meant nothing to her.

    ¡°And all these places¡ª¡±

    ALL DEAD. EXCEPT AFON DDU.

    ¡°Killed by the Silico?¡±

    Thirteen nodded and carried on, tracing letters as fast as her fingertip could slide across the steel-glass.

    CAME BACK. FROM PAST THE DROPOFF. NEVER COULD PUSH DOWN THERE. DIFFERENT. CHANGED. OUR FAULT. PILOTS FAULT. REBELLION. CHANGE. WE BETRAYED THE LEGION AND THE CIVITAS AND ALL SEVEN DAUGHTERS. BETRAYED EVERYTHING. THE EARTH FROM WHICH WE WERE BORN. HISTORY. LIFE. YOU.

    Elpida said: ¡°Telokopolis?¡±

    Thirteen raised her eyes, burning with weeping defiance. She shook her head.

    ¡°You did not betray Telokopolis,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Thirteen, I don¡¯t have your history, but I can be certain of that. You did not betray Telokopolis.¡±

    TELOKOPOLIS IS FOREVER

    Elpida took a deep breath and tried to piece this together. ¡°So all this, this whole thing, this nanomachine ecosystem, this is the Silico¡¯s doing? All these nanomachines, this is them, returned but different?¡±

    Thirteen hesitated. She started to trace a word, then shook her head and spread her fingers.

    Inside Elpida¡¯s head, Howl growled: We never even knew what they were, Elps. Not really. We were like mushrooms. Kept in the dark and fed shit.

    Elpida put her hand against the transparent cartilage once again. But Thirteen shook her head. She was sobbing in silence, her tears absorbed by the pressure gel, the sound of her cries trapped within steel-glass and combat frame biology.

    Elpida burned with questions. She needed to interrogate this pilot, to understand her own future history. She could not comprehend a pilot without sisters, a sister without support. What had Telokopolis become, as it had flowered? Unrecognisable, if it was a place that separated sister from sister and sent them to fight a war they had turned against. Betrayal ¡ª not of the city, but of that which hijacked it for other ends? Elpida needed to understand. But she could only do that if she kept this pilot alive.

    ¡°Thirteen,¡± she said. ¡°We need to get this combat frame moving. I need to understand why it¡¯s not.¡±

    Thirteen cringed with guilt. She shook her head.

    ¡°I¡¯m not letting you die, sister. This is an order. Tell me¡ª¡±

    Thoom-mmm-mmm.

    A shock wave of sound slammed into the pilot chamber, drowning out the distant gurgles and creakings of the combat frame. Elpida felt her guts shake, the jelly in her eyeballs vibrate, and her organs quiver inside her torso. She clenched her stomach in a desperate attempt to hold back a wave of vomit. A shiver passed through the pressure gel inside the pilot capsule; Thirteen twisted, looking up and around in wide-eyed horror.

    The sound had come from far away ¡ª outside the combat frame¡¯s hull.

    Vicky finished vomiting, then whimpered: ¡°Elps. Elps, what was¡ª what was ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida turned to her comrades. Vicky had staggered to one side, eyes wide, a pool of thin, colourless bile on the floor at her feet. She was staring up at the direction the sound had originated from. Haf¡¯s huge black eyes had gone massive, all her weapons twitched upward, but she had nothing to aim at. Kagami had voided her stomach as well, eyes dizzy with the sonic impact, face pale with terror.

    Elpida spoke quickly. ¡°That wasn¡¯t the combat frame. That was probably¡ª¡±

    Kagami pulled herself together and snapped: ¡°That was the sound of a grav-displacement engine performing a hard stop! Shouting at us like a primitive with a war horn. About half a mile distant, by my estimate, and I am a fucking expert on this, Commander!¡± Kagami¡¯s face twisted with horror. ¡°But¡ª but that was loud enough to go right through this hull, t-that ¡­ nothing goes through this hull, not gunfire, not explosions, not anything. We didn¡¯t hear a whisper of last night¡¯s rainstorm. A grav-D engine large enough for that must be ¡­ must be ¡­ I ¡­ ¡± Kagami shook her head, eyes bulging, speechless for a second. She swallowed hard. ¡°Elpida, Commander, whatever that is, it is considerably larger than this mech. And if it¡¯s got a grav-D engine then it will be armed with external gravity effectors.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Central¡¯s physical asset?¡±

    ¡°Place your bets,¡± Kagami said, then groaned and almost vomited again. ¡°At least every other zombie within a mile or two will be vomiting their guts out!¡±

    Elpida turned back to Thirteen, on the other side of steel-glass and transparent cartilage, a willowy figure embalmed in orange pressure gel. The pilot was blinking with incomprehension.

    Elpida said: ¡°Thirteen, sister. We need to get this combat frame moving and prepped for contact. Tell me why it¡¯s not.¡±

 impietas - 9.5

    1347 ¡ª ¡®Thirteen¡¯, as the reborn legend, Elpida, Commander of the First Litter, had imposed upon her ¡ª was exhausted.

    Not bodily; Thirteen¡¯s body was preserved and protected by over a thousand litres of nanomachine-derived pressure gel. Arca¡¯s amniotic fluid filled her mouth and nose and throat and lungs, replaced the delicate mucus on her eyeballs and inside her sinuses, suppressed the acid of her stomach and the action of her gallbladder, and lined her intestines with orange cushion, hugging tight to every immobile cilia. Pressure gel was inside her anus, her vaginal canal, her urethra, her womb. It joined her circulatory system, sluicing through her veins and arteries alongside the crimson of her blood. The pressure gel saw to her every physical need, delivering oxygen to the alveoli in her lungs, feeding her glucose and vitamins through her gut, keeping her hydrated and fresh, flushing waste product from her organs before it could accumulate, stopping her muscles from atrophying, arresting the growth of her hair and nails, recycling her skin cells, and replacing what she lost. Thirteen¡¯s flesh had steeped in the orange gel for so long that the brew had penetrated her cell walls, to cushion and prune and replace her DNA with a better medium, one that did not degrade through accumulation of errors. She knew this was the truth. When Arca¡¯s pilot chamber was unlit Thirteen could see her reflection in the steel-glass of the capsule; she had not aged since the day she had fled the Change, since she had chosen the refuge of the coward, and pickled herself forever, in orbit, alone but for Arca¡¯s disappointment and hatred and growing insanity.

    Thirteen knew she would die if removed from the capsule, and not only to the hostile nanomachine atmosphere of the outer air. Even if she found a way to endure a world which had rejected her form of life ¡ª inside a sealed suit, for example ¡ª she would be a walking ghost, doomed to decay within days, lacking any DNA processes to replicate her own cells. She would melt into a protein slurry, trapped inside a suit, and every moment would be agony. Arca¡¯s amniotic fluid had made her immortal by turning her into an organ of the combat frame.

    And now Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was rejecting that organ.

    Thirteen was bleeding inside ¡ª not much, not yet. Without the pilot capsule¡¯s on-board diagnostics she could not pinpoint where, but she guessed the blood was coming from every organ that Arca¡¯s amniotic fluid was meant to support. The bleeding was going to worsen. She was going to die.

    The combat frame, her partner since she had been twelve years old, was rejecting her; Arca¡¯s hate had come to fruition. Thirteen found she could not muster the defence of blame; this was her fault, her choice, her mistake. She only wished she could cry properly, without her tears absorbed back into the pressure gel. She still loved Arca. The pain of rejection was worse than the bleeding.

    But still, Thirteen¡¯s failing body was not the source of her exhaustion.

    She had existed for too long.

    She had grown tired of life long ago, tired of thinking. But even upon the darkest and loneliest awakenings in the void ¡ª after all comms traffic had grown incomprehensible, after Terra¡¯s Halo had filled up with undead monsters, after Arcadia¡¯s Rampart had fallen insensible ¡ª Thirteen had found she was still afraid of death. She had hoped to sleep away eternity, up there in the silent void of space, and never wake again.

    But now she was conscious and in pain, back on the surface and in the thick of a war she no longer understood.

    She should have been dust aeons past. But she was still a soldier of Telokopolis.

    Beyond the pressure gel and the pilot capsule, on the far side of steel-glass enclosure and Arca¡¯s cartilage, out in the blood-red light of the pilot chamber, a legend from the abyss of history was repeating her orders.

    Elpida said: ¡°Thirteen. Thirteen, you deserve no shame and I will pass no judgement upon you. None of that matters now. We need this combat frame prepped for contact, and we need it fast. Why is the frame inactive? Tell me what you need, sister!¡±

    Forgiveness? Atonement? Redemption?

    Thirteen did not even try to trace those words upon the glass.

    The others were speaking too ¡ª the non-pilots behind Elpida: ¡®Mirror¡¯ and ¡®Victory¡¯. Arca had informed Thirteen of their names via Mirror¡¯s manual connection to the combat frame¡¯s nervous system.

    Mirror was shouting in some non-Telokopolan language, a rapid-fire babble of staccato syllables, waving her arms as if she wanted to be picked up, twitching her bionic legs against the floor. Victory was terrified, wide-eyed with near panic, stammering and stuttering in yet another language, a weird flowing hybrid. The tall one ¡ª the Artificial Human called ¡®Summer¡¯ ¡ª started to help Mirror to her feet. Mirror shouted at Victory, snapping orders, trying to bring her around.

    Elpida did not waver: ¡°Thirteen, please. I don¡¯t know what just turned up, but we¡¯re going to need serious firepower. I can¡¯t save you without your help. Talk to me!¡±

    The shock wave of sound had surprised Thirteen even more than it had surprised Elpida and her comrades; Thirteen had felt no sensation from beyond the capsule since the final time she had joined with the frame, all those years ago. Not even the fall from orbit had penetrated the cushion of her hateful womb.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was also surprised; Thirteen could feel the combat frame casting its senses upward, registering the arrival of some vast airborne target. Arca twitched the nerve-bundles which led to its weapon emplacements and shield generators.

    But it could not get up. It was too tired, too old, too full of hate.

    When the automatic distress signal from the surface had woken her up, Thirteen had found herself banished from the garden of Arca¡¯s mind; now, for the millionth time since they¡¯d decoupled from Terra¡¯s Halo and plummeted through the cloud layer, Thirteen made a peace offering and attempted to access the combat frame¡¯s senses. She sent her consciousness upward through the MMI uplink, hands open in surrender, proffering pleas not for herself, but for Elpida and her friends.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart rejected her once again. The combat frame screamed down the connection like an animal devouring its own intestines.

    Pain entered Thirteen via the trunk cable, through her MMI connection. She twisted inside the pressure gel, blood blossoming from her mouth in a silent scream.

    ¡°Thirteen!¡± Elpida shouted, just beyond the capsule. She banged a hand on the cartilage. Thirteen forced her eyes open; the pressure gel was stained with more red than before. Elpida¡¯s gaze burned beyond the glass. ¡°Thirteen! Look at me! Concentrate. Thirteen. Thirteen, tell me what is wrong. Is your MMI uplink damaged somehow? Is the frame not responding? Thirteen, please, explain.¡±

    Thirteen squinted through the pain.

    Elpida was smaller than Thirteen had imagined.

    The giant of the first litter. The lost leader of a headless body. The thing whispered of in the failed cloning projects. The thing the Civitas always had put down as soon as it started to display the same traits. The thing the city itself kept trying to birth once again.

    Thirteen had always imagined Elpida as twelve feet tall, armoured in skin like nano-composite bone, with eyes made of purple fire, muscles to rival a Legion bio-jack, and the voice of a messiah in the throat of a swan. But the woman on the other side of the steel-glass was just another pilot mutt, just like Thirteen herself. True, Elpida was rather tall, she spoke with unwavering confidence, and her commands felt undeniable. But she was only human.

    So few images survived of the First Litter. The pilots had passed that legacy around in secret, transmitted via encrypted tight-beam and entanglement comms, never on public networks. Thirteen had seen pict-captures of a few faces; those had looked mundane enough, her own skin and hair and eyes reflected back from a mirror of history. But she had always expected Elpida, the leader, the Commander, to be more ¡ª like the Legion Commanders with their rejuved bodies and their mass-enhancement implants and their bionic limbs, little puffed-up giants like roly-poly balls of muscle.

    But then again, pictures of the Legion from the time of the First Litter just looked like human beings too, not the hulks of Thirteen¡¯s latter day.

    Thirteen had not seen those secret pictures until the first time she was installed in Arcadia¡¯s Rampart and connected with her distant fellow pilots, all scattered across the Rim of the Great Land. Her first friend had been pilot 1255, a few years older than her, but so much wiser; she still had the first message from 1255 saved to the capsule¡¯s on-board memory.

    <<Heya sweet pea. Take a deep breath, don¡¯t soil your suit, I¡¯m not Legion or Frame Control. Yes, this is an encrypted line. Yes, nobody else can see this. Yes, it¡¯s just us here. Welcome to the world. Don¡¯t be scared.>>

    That had been the revelatory awakening she¡¯d needed her entire childhood. She had devoured the fragmentary vid-logs of the first litter¡¯s greatest expeditions and battles. She had particularly treasured a still image of two combat frames defending a wounded third, fighting some great beast on the shores of the plateau; the image had seemed alien and strange to Thirteen ¡ª not just because the plateau, the Hub of the World, had been surrounded by lapping waves of thick, dense, verdant green, but because the three combat frames were together, in close proximity, not kept carefully separate by standing orders. Three pilots clearly helping each other, even marred and marked by the static interference of ancient video record.

    The picture was captioned in barely readable Isolation Period High-Spire: ¡®Fii and Kos hold line, Yeva downed. Timestamp Mission Hour 87:45:12. Last moments before recovery.¡¯

    Thirteen had no idea who Fii and Kos and Yeva were; it had taken her many years to comprehend ¡ª and longer to accept ¡ª that none of the pilots really knew. Even 556 and 777, who were the best theorists in the decentralised network of constant chatter between pilots, did not know anything beside the names of their progenitors. Centuries of work across many lifetimes had reconstructed all twenty five names of the First Litter, from mission record logs, snippets of blurred audio, the minds of combat frames themselves, and even from several daring data-infiltrations of the Telokopolis security bubble. 777 had hinted more than once that the city itself ¡ª Blessed Telokopolis upon the Hub of the World ¡ª had provided all of the clearest images and videos of the First Litter.

    Thirteen believed that too. She had felt the voice of the city in her flesh since the day she was poured out of a uterine replicator. The city kept the faith. Telokopolis loved her daughters, even Thirteen.

    But Arcadia¡¯s Rampart did not. Thirteen¡¯s long-lost ¡®sisters¡¯ did not. Thirteen did not deserve the love of Telokopolis, not anymore.

    In response to Elpida¡¯s question, Thirteen reached forward and traced another word on the steel-glass. She repeated her previous answer. It was the only truth.

    COWARD

    Elpida said: ¡°You are not a coward and you are not a traitor, not to the city, not to Telokopolis, and not to me. Thirteen, listen to me. Thirteen! Thirteen, look at me!¡±

    Elpida was wrong; Thirteen knew she was a coward. She had betrayed everything except Telokopolis ¡ª humanity, her ¡®sisters¡¯, her combat frame, herself.

    She did not know where the rebellion had physically begun, but she knew where the seeds had germinated, for she carried them in her heart: the seeds had fallen in the fertile soil of solitary upbringing, of discovering that one had been fed lies one¡¯s entire life; they had been watered by the regular returns to dry dock, cut out from one¡¯s combat frame like a tumour, then living alone in a steel box for weeks on end, isolated from the secret pilot network; the seeds of rebellion had been fertilized by the missing, the pilots who went in for maintenance and never came back, the lost and the damned, and the few premature rebels who could not resist the siren call of intimacy, brought down and murdered by the Legion¡¯s Giant Killer teams; those first green shoots had burst from the soil beneath the blazing sun of the Legion¡¯s play-wars between the Seven Daughters, by war turned to sport, by trade interdiction and proxy conflict and pilots pressed into occupation; the green had blossomed and bloomed into full and gleaming life during the rigours of the other war ¡ª the real war, the war on the Rim of the Great Land, against the Silico monsters that crept up the cliffs from where the green still boiled and burned in the vastness below.

    Thirteen had not heard the Silico¡¯s emissary herself. She had not even seen what it looked like; those who had implied that nobody should witness that. She had not been one of the four pilots ¡ª 8744, 954, 298, and 823 ¡ª who had stood on the edge of the drop-off and received the secret ambassador from the inhuman empire below. But Thirteen had helped hide the meeting from the Legion and the Civitas; she had helped fake the Silico incursion toward Ty Wedi Torri. She had murdered a squadron of Legion Giant Killers when they had realised.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart had not disagreed with the decision. On return from dry dock, Arca had told her that Telokopolis agreed too.

    Thirteen had not needed to be reassured. She felt the city¡¯s truth in her flesh.

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    Thirteen had almost not survived that maintenance cycle. She had not heard the details until later, back in Arca and back at the Rim; tension in the Civitas was at breaking point. The Legions had pacified Gardd Rhosyn and Dwrn Cyntaf by force ¡ª the Civitas had the ¡®low parliament¡¯ of Gardd Rhosyn marched to the Rim and thrown into the green, an ancient punishment, broadcast around the world. Afon Ddu had declared independence and taken two full Legions with it. In Blessed Telokopolis itself, the Guild master of the City¡¯s Voice had self-immolated in front of the Civitas chambers, apparently after a twelve-hour session of communion with the city. Civil order was breaking down, human-on-human war was now unstoppable, and the pilots¡¯ political position was under suspicion.

    But the real war, the war at the Rim, never stopped. The Silico¡¯s secret emissary to the pilots had insinuated that it could not stop, not without some terrible price in the unseen depths of the green. So Thirteen was sent back out.

    A week later she heard news of the first Change.

    She saw video footage and did not comprehend: combat frame bone-armour bursting under the turgid expansion of wet, red, glistening muscle; blooms of tentacle and scythe, trees of eyeball and nets of living nerve-web, emerging from garnet flesh and scarlet blood; faces pushing out from fields of colour-shifting skin; compound eyes crystallizing in the pits of weapon-damage; living whirlwinds of flesh and bone, towers of blossoming life, mountains that dared to grow. And reactor cores, throbbing and pulsing inside the bellies of each changed combat frame ¡ª breeding their own immune systems of nanomachine swarms. No more maintenance cycles, no more Frame Control, no more returns to the cradle of Telokopolis.

    With Change, liberation.

    The footage had shown the four pilots who had met the Silico emissary, the first to finish feeding the data exchange to their combat frames, the first to open their flesh to the truth of the city. The footage had been captured by another pilot, 6657. She had already undergone the Change by the time she sent the broadcast.

    The rebellion had taken decades to grow; from the moment of the first Change it unfolded in weeks.

    Thirteen witnessed only fragments of the explosion.

    She met up with 1255 and 1399, against standing orders regarding physical proximity between pilots; by then there was nobody left to enforce anything, let alone Frame Control. The Seven Daughters were at war with each other, the Legion was at war with itself, and the Changed were at war with the chains around Telokopolis. Thirteen and her two friends had agreed to stick together ¡ª but not to Change, not yet; all three of them were terrified by what they¡¯d witnessed, by the howling, inhuman voices over the pilot network, by the whispers within their own flesh, by the nagging urge inside their own bodies to just let go.

    Thirteen had never seen 1255 up close before. Never touched another pilot. They¡¯d spent one glorious night cuddled up together, in the belly of 1255¡¯s Bolt From The Blue. That was a revelation Thirteen had never known possible.

    A few days later they¡¯d watched a Legion Giant Killer team murder the Opal Lustre, piloted by 1566, just beyond the high walls of Dros y Llinell. The Opal was changed beyond all recognition, a ragged titan dressed in flowing sheets of ivory flesh and spiked bone; it sang as it fought, in the voice of a goddess, howling the earth into armour and bulwark and spear. It had eaten several of the Legionaries, opening a mouth in its belly full of prismatic teeth. And when it went down under the hail of melt-cannons and grav-floated squash-round artillery, it had turned to the hidden trio and called for help in a human voice.

    The trio had responded, too late to save her, too early not to take damage themselves.

    1399 Changed after that. She¡¯d plugged herself back into the pilot network and listened to the data-stream, to the voices of the now-Changed pilots, to their white-hot truth that burned away her flesh. The Perfect Revenge had burst its armour like the detonation of an ancient volcano, crying to the heavens in a voice that sent 1255 and Thirteen running in terror. They never knew what happened to 1399; she had strode off in the direction of her nearest Changed sisters.

    Thirteen and 1255 had endured two more weeks of madness, dodging the Legion, watching their world come apart.

    By then the Silico were boiling up over the drop-off, swarming into the Great Land, overwhelming the Legion and the Changed pilots alike, a third force in this already confusing war ¡ª but the Silico were different than before, black and amorphous, blobs of matter-eating death. Neither Thirteen nor the Legion had time to construct theories.

    Then 1255 had taken the Change too. She had begged Thirteen to come with her, to crawl into the belly of her combat frame again, to feel her skin, to share more kisses, to get inside each other, to listen to the voice of the city inside her flesh.

    Thirteen was too scared. 1255 needed it too much.

    <<I think I love you like the first must have loved each other please sweet pea please come over to me, just come over here and touch me touch my flesh, my bone, my armour and feel it flow I promise I¡¯m still me here I promise they were all right and we¡¯re just as beautiful as we were always supposed to be.>>

    <<I-I love you too! But I don¡¯t want to stop being me! Please, don¡¯t! Don¡¯t go!>>

    <<Nobody ever goes anywhere. Telokopolis has us all, forever.>>

    At Land¡¯s End point, one hundred and fifty miles from the most well-fortified of Telokopolis¡¯ Seven Daughters, Thirteen had witnessed 1255 and 1157 meet. Two Changed combat frames, giants of writhing flesh and burst armour, standing upright and alien. 1255 had emerged from her combat frame¡¯s belly, red-eyed and feral and howling a song, clad in a gown of bone and sinew ¡ª and still plugged into the frame, like a pulsating bulb on the end of a tentacle; 1157 had done the same, extended on a glistening limb of naked, bleeding muscle, her body melted and warped into something new.

    The two pilots had entwined in the air, embracing, kissing, humping each other, mating like 1255 and Thirteen had.

    And 1255 had called out.

    <<Join us! Come up here and join in! We¡¯re both still here! We¡¯re so much more!>>

    Thirteen had blocked all incoming comms and fled for the space port at Diwedd y Tir; she¡¯d wept into the pressure gel for hours. She¡¯d never known jealousy before.

    At the space port Thirteen had commandeered a launch vehicle. Hundreds of thousands were fleeing the surface, to try their luck in the re-colonised and atmospherically sealed areas of Terra¡¯s Halo. The ancient ring was barely explored, let alone repaired and made safe; the cities of the Great Land always had more important matters to attend.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was fighting her by then. Arca wanted to Change; the need shuddered through the combat frame¡¯s flesh, fed by the uncorked voice of the city inside Thirteen¡¯s own body. But Thirteen was terrified. Every time she risked open comms the voices of the other pilots called to her with all the sweetest promises that they were still themselves on the other side, that this was what they were always meant to be, that Telokopolis had blessed this next step.

    Thirteen had fled for orbit. Arca had begun to hate her. She had begun to hate herself.

    Up on the ring she had fled again, away from the habitable zones and their new problems, their millions of refugees. She found a docking cradle out near one of the ruined sections, a place to wait and watch, where she could turn Arca¡¯s senses toward the surface.

    Up there, she could wait out the Change.

    Elpida banged on the pilot capsule enclosure with a fist. Thirteen surfaced from history once again.

    Elpida said: ¡°Thirteen, why is this combat frame downed? Just explain. Please. I will not judge you, not for anything. I promise.¡±

    Thirteen traced the truth on the glass.

    TOO OLD

    On the other side of the capsule, Elpida blinked and frowned. ¡°The frame? How old? How long were you up there in orbit?¡±

    Thirteen sobbed.

    LONG SLEEP. UNCONSCIOUS.

    A lie, technically. But it was too hard to explain through this limited medium.

    ¡°The frame,¡± Elpida said slowly and carefully. ¡°It was conscious, wasn¡¯t it? Thirteen, how long?¡±

    At first Thirteen had not intended to remain in orbit ¡ª a lie she told herself as days had turned into weeks. At first she had remained conscious, sleeping only in 4-hour bursts, watching the surface of the Great Land through Arca¡¯s long range sensors, picking up comms traffic as it left the atmosphere.

    The war on the surface did not abate. The tide of strange new Silico crashed against the Seven Daughters and the Legion and the Changed. She saw that tide ebb and roll back ¡ª but never very far. She watched the situation simplify, saw the Legion stop fighting itself, saw the Changed stop fighting the cities and turn to rampage among the Silico

    Thirteen considered returning, but Arcadia¡¯s Rampart still ached for the Change. The combat frame screamed and whined and keened down the MMI connection.

    Thirteen wanted and feared the Change in equal measure. The city¡¯s voice still sang inside her flesh, even beyond the sphere of the earth. But she was afraid of losing herself.

    She began to sleep for longer and longer periods, to avoid the burning desire. First weeks, then months, then an entire year. Every time she woke she would catch up on transmission logs, on the ebb and flow of the new war down in the Great Land, and on the current state of the refugees inside Terra¡¯s Halo.

    She woke from her first year-long sleep to the priority alert of a direct comms message, from something that still claimed to be 1255.

    <<We¡¯re still alive down here, sweet pea! We¡¯re all still here, even the ones who¡¯s bodies got destroyed. I promise you, I promise you, I promise you a thousand times, ten thousand times, we are still who we were ever were! The city loves us. And I miss you, my friend, my beloved. I miss that night we spent. I want another, like that, but so much more. We can do so much more now, like this, like we are, like we¡¯ve become. You¡¯re the only one who hasn¡¯t joined us and I don¡¯t understand why. It hurts. You not being here hurts. Are you afraid? Are you scared? So was I! But it¡¯s so much scarier to be alone and lost, especially up there in the cold void. This didn¡¯t have to be our fate. Telokopolis did not want it to be this way. But this is better than captivity! Please come back. Please come home. Please come to me, before we all die and turn to dust and there¡¯s nothing more of us.>>

    The voice was a scratching nightmare of blood and bone.

    Thirteen went back to sleep. She picked a random duration ¡ª fifty four years.

    When she awoke again the surface of the Great Land was much the same; the Silico had pushed inward from the edge of the drop-off, but the Seven Daughters still stood, and Telokopolis itself was inviolate and eternal. The Silico had not brought the green with them, not blanketed the land with vegetation, which was odd. They were not the Silico that Thirteen had known, either, not the myriad of green-adapted forms, but still those rolling, blob-like, featureless monsters. The Legion had to invent new weapons to fight them; the combat frames had Changed even further.

    Thirteen had stayed awake for three weeks that time, watching everything, fighting off the urge for the Change, fighting off Arca, ignoring the voice of Telokopolis inside her flesh. Then she¡¯d caught another broadcast from 1255.

    No words. A howl of base-8 static code, full of need and loss. Something weeping in the background noise, something huge and inhuman.

    Thirteen had gone back to sleep.

    Decades, then centuries, then longer; every time she woke there was another message from 1255, less and less comprehensible as the years wore on.

    She watched the history of her home in snapshots a thousand years apart. In the beginning the Seven Daughters of Telokopolis endured for a long time, but over the millennia the cities were ground down, cut off from each other, cut off from Blessed Telokopolis itself. Thirteen watched them fall one by one over the course of a hundred thousand years. She observed a time-lapse of Gardd Rhosyn¡¯s beautiful domes pierced and broken by Silico blobs, their surfaces made sharp and hard to shatter the shells. She saw Diwedd y Tir dragged piece by piece down off the drop-off and into the green; the process took 20,000 years. She woke once to find Meysydd Azure gone, the land blasted black and flat where the city had stood.

    But still the green did not advance onto the Great Land ¡ª in fact, the green seemed to be at war with itself.

    The green covered every inch of the planet beyond the Great Land, all the globe beyond the drop-off. Back when Elpida had walked with mortal feet, the green had covered the Great Land as well, right up to the edge of the plateau, the Hub of the World, on which stood the spire of Telokopolis. A vast ocean of swaying treetops, stretching into infinity and reaching down into the dark, where no sunlight touched the soil or stones.

    But as Thirteen slept and woke and slept and woke, the green became mottled with grey and black, like a fungal infection progressing and receding with the speed of tectonic motion. As the millennia advanced and the Seven Daughters began to fall, those black portions of the green seemed to win some kind of victory; Thirteen woke many times to find vast portions of green turned to viscous black goo.

    As the sticky rot began to overwhelm the green, so did black soot overwhelm the skies; the obscuring clouds were thin at first, gathering at the poles of the planet and unfolding toward the equator as they thickened. They began to interfere with Arca¡¯s instruments, cutting the surface off from orbit.

    Thirteen could make no sense of this.

    Neither could the humans trapped on Terra¡¯s Halo ¡ª they had their own plague to worry about. All those generations ago they had brought something with them, some kind of plague of undeath. Thirteen could not help them.

    Thirteen could not help Arcadia¡¯s Rampart either; despite her stubborn fears, the combat frame had slowly undergone a twisted and stunted version of the Change, growing new parts intended for atmospheric re-entry, preparing for a glorious return which would never come. Every time Thirteen woke up, the frame was more incoherent and mad, the MMI connection more erratic and painful.

    The other combat frames ¡ª the Changed, or what remained of them ¡ª dwindled. First they were the only things still capable of crossing the gaps between the cities, but eventually even they were cut off from each other. They slowly vanished from Thirteen¡¯s sight, either down into the green beyond the drop-off, or obscured too deeply behind the growing wall of soot-black cloud, or into death, decay, and disillusion.

    The day she woke from long sleep and had no fresh message from 1255, Thirteen considered suicide.

    At least Telokopolis itself had gone untouched, as if the Silico ¡ª or whatever strange life was descended from them ¡ª dared not risk the wrath of the city. The spire of Telokopolis was dark and quiet. But it must have still lived, for Thirteen felt the voice of truth inside her flesh.

    Afon Ddu had survived as well, just visible through the dense murk, a hive of human activity, a last holdout against the encroaching Silico.

    The heat and IR and nuclear signatures of Afon Ddu¡¯s final spire were the last things Thirteen had seen, before the black skies swallowed the planet.

    Thirteen decided to sleep for a long time.

    She woke eventually, to silence and stillness, in a cold void, lashed to the dead ring of Terra¡¯s Halo. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was alive but unresponsive. The combat frame¡¯s sensors picked up a few stray signals from below, whatever was powerful enough to penetrate the endless black cloud cover; the content of those signals was alien and strange, incomprehensible to any of the on-board decryption software, further from human than Thirteen had thought possible.

    Thirteen decided to sleep forever, or at least until something woke her up. Perhaps humans still lived out there somewhere, beyond the stars. Maybe they would find her one day.

    She had slept.

    And then she had woken to Arcadia¡¯s Rampart taking control, riding the trigger of the automatic distress call, using this excuse for homecoming, at long last. The combat frame had shattered the docking clamps and slammed for the cloud layer. Thirteen had seen it all as they¡¯d penetrated the black clouds together: the great worms like mountains crossing the landscape; the tombs glowing with inhuman life in their cores; the trio of towers to rival Telokopolis, reaching for the heavens; and the surface ¡ª the vast city that had swallowed the Great Land, teeming with the undead, and infested with the things which had grown strong beneath this wet and hidden rock.

    Elpida slapped the pilot capsule with an open hand. Thirteen jerked in surprise. She had not examined these memories in many years, many awakenings. She had no need. She had spent so much time reliving them, up there in the void.

    ¡°Thirteen!¡± Elpida yelled through the steel-glass. ¡°How long?¡±

    Thirteen saw the light of hope in Elpida¡¯s eyes. Did she think that Thirteen was proof neither of them were stranded quite so deep? Proof that neither of them were remnants, fossils, the lost?

    Thirteen raised a hand inside the pressure gel. She traced on the glass.

    INTERNAL CHRONOMETERS MARK 2,004,876

    Elpida stared. Her throat bobbed. She read out the number, so that Mirror and Summer and Victory could understand, even though the companions were ready to climb down the tube and flee this blood-sodden womb of ruin.

    Elpida said: ¡°Years? Two million years?¡±

    I¡¯M SORRY

 impietas - 9.6

    Thirteen could do nothing but apologise; she had no help to offer Elpida beyond the empty hands of regret. Thirteen would soon be dead anyway: either rejected from the warmth and love of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, an isolated organ left to rot inside her tube of rancid amniotic fluid ¡ª or ripped apart along with Arca when the frame¡¯s armour failed, attacked by the recent arrival beyond the hull, as they both lay helpless and unshielded upon the barren earth.

    Even shut out from MMI uplink access, denied true communion with the combat frame, Thirteen still felt dull echoes of Arca¡¯s senses.

    That vast airborne target ¡ª the source of the gravity-pulse sound wave ¡ª was unfurling tendrils of force, flexing claws of invisible power, and blanketing the airspace with tiny ancillary craft.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart stared at its own weapon clusters and shield-splay nodules like a crippled dog considering its own shattered legs.

    On the other side of the steel-glass and transparent cartilage, Elpida still stared at Thirteen, still in shock, still recovering from¡ª

    ¡°Two million years,¡± Elpida repeated. Her words were no longer a question. She nodded. ¡°Right. Understood.¡±

    Elpida quickly examined the edges of Thirteen¡¯s pilot capsule, as if planning a manual extraction ¡ª but hadn¡¯t Elpida already acknowledged that was a false hope? Thirteen would die if removed, devoured by the nanomachine atmosphere. Elpida frowned at Arca¡¯s bruised flesh around the capsule, at the damning evidence the combat frame was rejecting its pilot. Thirteen doubted Elpida understood what she was looking at. She doubted the First Litter had ever experienced anything like this. They had probably been in perfect union with their frames, not spat out like lumps of cancer.

    Elpida looked up at the nearest of Arca¡¯s ocular orbs, a flower of crimson meat and sticky flesh behind the thin bone of the pilot chamber walls. Several oculi swivelled to stare back at her. Elpida¡¯s eyes were hard and flinty, determined and full of purpose. Thirteen did not understand how this could be.

    Elpida started to say: ¡°Thirteen, how¡ª¡±

    Thirteen quickly reached forward and traced on the glass.

    CAN¡¯T SAVE ME

    Elpida read the words out loud so the others could hear, but the tone of her voice made plain her disagreement.

    ARRIVED ADVERSARY CANNOT BE FOUGHT. GO BEFORE YOU DIE AS WELL. YOU MIGHT BE ABLE TO SLIP AWAY WHILE IT KILLS US. PLEASE DON¡¯T STAY AND DIE I CAN¡¯T TAKE THAT TOO PLEASE GO PLEASE RUN PLEASE

    ¡°Thirteen¡ª¡±

    I¡¯M SORRY I¡¯M SORRY I LOVED ALL OF YOU I LOVED TELOKOPOLIS I¡¯M SORRY I¡¯M¡ª

    Behind Elpida, Mirror barked a bitter laugh, then rattled off several sentences in her staccato language of chopping syllables. Mirror was cradled in Summer¡¯s arms now; the strong limbs of the Artificial Human made the woman look tiny and childlike, her bionic legs hanging limp and loose. Victory was frantic by her side, glancing from Elpida to Thirteen to the exit and back again. She nodded at Mirror¡¯s words and pleaded with Elpida¡¯s name.

    Elpida rounded on the others. ¡°No, it¡¯s not catatonic. It¡¯s not in a coma or an isolation-induced fugue state. It¡¯s alive and well and clearly making decisions. Look at this!¡±

    She gestured at the flesh around the capsule, the bruised sections beneath the nano-composite bone ¡ª Thirteen¡¯s shame.

    Mirror scoffed and spoke again, but Elpida overruled her with a chop of one hand.

    ¡°Two million years? Fine. We never had a frame grow that old, obviously. The oldest we had were less than thirty years since construction and growth. The Prota was the oldest at twenty nine, and it strained against its armour every second it was conscious, trying to grow, desperate to become something new. That was part of the reason the Covenanters killed us all.¡± Elpida whirled back to Thirteen. Purple eyes burned in her face.

    Thirteen tried to trace words on the glass, but she was too slow.

    Elpida said: ¡°This frame is not too old. Combat frames are made from the same machine-meat that grows inside the bones of Telokopolis itself, and Telokopolis is forever. The city is immortal, that much is literal. That was a lie by omission, wasn¡¯t it, Thirteen?¡±

    I¡¯M SORRY

    ¡°Tell me the truth.¡±

    TOO OLD

    ¡°No. The truth, sister. That¡¯s an order.¡± Elpida pointed at the bruising. ¡°What is this? I can take an educated guess but I need the truth if I¡¯m going to make this right.¡±

    Thirteen hesitated, sobbing into the orange pressure gel. The truth howled in the back of her head, whining with pain beyond human limits down the trunk line of the MMI connection, begging for freedom or release, for change or death.

    Her hand trembled as she touched the glass.

    HATES ME

    ¡°And the bruising?¡±

    REJECTING ME

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Thank you, sister.¡±

    Behind Elpida, Mirror snapped something again, a short and desperate invective.

    Elpida turned back to her companions. ¡°Then go,¡± she ordered. ¡°Get down to the control chamber, plug back in, figure out what we¡¯re dealing with. Summer, you carry her. Victory, go with them.¡± Elpida paused, then added: ¡°And be ready to move. If I¡¯m right, we can still get this combat frame up and active and ready for contact, whatever it takes. But we will need to be out of that hatch when it does. Go. Go!¡±

    Summer slipped into the access tube, carrying Mirror in her arms; Mirror cast one last glance toward Thirteen, half-apology, half-horror.

    Victory paused at the exit and spoke a few words. Elpida replied with a shake of her head: ¡°I won¡¯t, don¡¯t worry. This combat frame is not going to be destroyed. I am not letting this pilot die, but I¡¯m not abandoning you either. Now go, quick! And be ready!¡±

    Victory nodded, looked at Thirteen one last time, then snapped a strange salute, with a raised fist instead of an open hand; Thirteen had no idea what that meant, but she recognised the nod of respect. Victory said three words, then slipped into the tube after her comrades.

    Arca¡¯s oculi watched her leave, then swivelled back to Elpida and Thirteen, their delicate petals fluttering behind the osseous walls.

    Elpida turned back to Thirteen too. ¡°She says good luck. Now, Thirteen, no more apologies, no more excuses, no more secrets. You and I are going to get this combat frame up and moving, I promise you. What¡¯s her name?¡±

    ARCADIA¡¯S RAMPART

    Elpida smiled and sighed ¡ª perhaps she was relieved that the frame had a name at all. Thirteen had also been surprised by the names. To the rest of the world the combat frames had only numbers or physical outlines; whenever the public of the Great Land, the Seven Daughters, and Blessed Telokopolis had begun to recognise particular frames ¡ª in news reports and still images, either from the Rim or from the grubby wars of occupation and interdiction in the Great Land itself ¡ª the Civitas had acted to ensure the same frame was never again displayed in media, to avoid the public identifying with them. Pet names were scrubbed from public networks and word-filtered from public comms. Scraps occasionally leaked through; when Thirteen was a teenager she had discovered Arca¡¯s brief network popularity as ¡®D-Bug¡¯, the ¡®D¡¯ standing for ¡®dwarf¡¯, and the ¡®Bug¡¯ an affectionate comment on her shape. The full name functioned as a pun, riffing off the successful defence of Jalliker¡¯s Cove, the site of a Silico incursion where Thirteen and Arca had been responsible for correcting the strategic mistakes of an over-optimistic Legion deployment. The nickname had not lasted long; neither had the footage.

    But true names endured inside the combat frames themselves, locked away deep in the brains of the machines, in the meat and gristle that even Frame Control could not access, places only the living spirit of Blessed Telokopolis could touch. Thirteen had learned Arca¡¯s name when she¡¯d been immersed in the frame¡¯s amniotic fluid for the first time.

    Elpida gestured at the bruising again. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s get on the same page. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart is rejecting the capsule, or trying to. Rejecting you. Is that correct?¡±

    HOW DID YOU

    Elpida answered before Thirteen could finish. ¡°Figure it out? Because I used to feel the same thing. I think we all did, whenever we were plugged in. The only difference was that my sisters and I had each other, the freedom of each other, and the frames were not isolated either. But I felt it. They were locked inside their armour, begging to grow. Perhaps if we¡¯d had a chance to grow with them, things would have been different.¡±

    Thirteen sobbed into her pressure gel, too ashamed for words.

    ¡°It wants to change, doesn¡¯t it? And you¡¯ve stopped it from doing that. That¡¯s part of why you fled. Am I correct?¡±

    HOW

    ¡°Because this is what I¡¯m for. I am your Commander. I am Telokopolis, we all are. Telokopolis knows you and loves you, sister.¡±

    Thirteen was crying freely now, her tears instantly absorbed into the pressure gel. She shook her head. No, she did not deserve that love. She had betrayed and rejected and ruined everything. She had ignored the voice of Telokopolis within her own flesh. She had caged Arca¡¯s needs. She had left 1255 behind and fled beyond the earth, to a void of her own guilt.

    Elpida continued: ¡°But you¡¯re not the one holding it back right now. You can¡¯t access the MMI uplink, can you?¡±

    Thirteen stared in surprise.

    Elpida smiled. She didn¡¯t need confirmation for that. ¡°You¡¯ve not drifted off at all, you¡¯re isolated from your frame¡¯s bio-circuit feedback and sensory data. Even I couldn¡¯t stay conscious while plugged into my MMI uplink. I think you tried once, earlier, but then you just bled and thrashed. It¡¯s keeping you out, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Thirteen realised with alienating clarity that she had no idea what she looked like when she was inside the pilot capsule, joined to Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, riding the combat frame¡¯s mind and senses, feeling its body as an extension of her own. She had never seen another pilot while plugged in, not even 1255. How close had Elpida and the First Litter been, to see each other like that? Thirteen suddenly ached for an intimacy she had never known existed.

    ¡°Thirteen,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Forget the reason why Arcadia¡¯s Rampart isn¡¯t moving. Forget hate, or bitterness, or anything you¡¯ve done. I need a clear yes or no, on a technical level: is this combat frame still capable of full activation?¡±

    Thirteen felt the ghostly echoes of Arca¡¯s senses down the main trunk line plugged into the back of her skull: swarming contacts beyond the hull; vast tendrils the size of buildings opening wide, preparing to constrict and crush and crack; a storm of small arms fire in every direction, as this unseen interloper stirred the lower undead to a cacophony of madness; the buzzing dots of tiny ancillary craft, buzz-rotor balls of metal and fibre, wrapped around cores of gravitic disturbance.

    One of those ancillary craft darted close, then brushed Arca¡¯s hull with a rake of force.

    A piranha testing the carcass.

    A shudder passed through the combat frame. Thirteen felt it inside her pressure gel, hard enough to penetrate her dying womb. Elpida flinched and braced herself. From down in the control chamber a scream echoed upward ¡ª Mirror, yelping in fear.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart twitched her weapon systems and flexed the power lines to her shield-splay nodules ¡ª and did nothing.

    Thirteen reached out and traced upon the steel-glass.

    YES

    Elpida was wide-eyed, ready for combat, but the predation unfolding beyond the frame was too big for her. Too big for Thirteen. Too big for any of them.

    GO BEFORE YOU DIE TOO PLEASE GO PLEASE ELPIDA PLEASE

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Elpida pulled herself upright. She pointed a finger at Thirteen and said: ¡°Wait there.¡±

    The Commander hurried over to the access tube. Thirteen felt her face collapse into a bitter sob, but she could not blame Elpida for fleeing. She only wished Elpida did not have to pretend she was coming back.

    But then Elpida stuck her head inside the tube and shouted something down to her comrades. She was out and back into the pilot chamber as quickly as she¡¯d gone.

    Rather than returning to Thirteen¡¯s capsule Elpida walked up to one of the walls. She faced the thin layer of transparent nano-composite bone, her copper-brown face dyed dark and her albino-white hair dyed blood-red, washed by the crimson and scarlet and garnet throbbing from the veins and organs and tissues of the frame¡¯s biology.

    Elpida faced a single ocular orb, eye-to-eye with the combat frame, and spoke.

    ¡°Arcadia¡¯s Rampart,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you can understand Upper-Spire, or if you¡¯ll even care. But I¡¯m going to gamble that you might understand this.¡±

    Elpida switched to another language and kept speaking.

    Thirteen didn¡¯t recognise the language ¡ª it was flowing and soft, full of short, one-sound words, punctuated by weird little barks and snaps, and ornamented by occasional dips and spikes in tone, almost musical. But the shift of words paled before the shift in Elpida.

    The Commander of the First Litter changed as she spoke, as if somebody else inhabited her skin. She grinned with a dark twinkle in her eyes. She rounded her shoulders as if readying for a wrestling match, braced her feet as if preparing to take a punch in the face, and flexed her fingers as if they were claws. She ended her one-sided conversation with the frame by bringing her lips right up to the eye-orb, separated only by the thin osseous walls, her voice growing softer and softer, until she clacked her teeth together and mimed biting into the nano-composite bone. She was halted only by the flat angle of the wall.

    The oculus blinked shut.

    Elpida ¡ª or whoever lived within her ¡ª rounded on Thirteen and marched up to the capsule.

    Elpida pulled back a fist and punched the translucent cartilage hard enough to draw blood from her own knuckles. Thirteen flinched, swirling the coils of blood floating in the pressure gel. Elpida ground her skinned knuckles against the capsule.

    ¡°You think it¡¯s too late, don¡¯t you?¡± Elpida said, low and rough. ¡°You think alllll is lost, woe is you, time to finish dying. Time to lie down and give up. You think you¡¯re like us. Like the living dead. But you know what, little sister? You¡¯re wrong.¡±

    Thirteen hesitated, mouth agape. She had no idea who she was looking at. This was not Elpida.

    Beyond Arca¡¯s hull, another fly-by scrape grazed the combat frame¡¯s armour. A shudder went through the floor and walls, through Arca¡¯s organs, through the pressure gel. The oculi behind the walls swirled and swivelled. Mirror screamed again, deep down inside Arca¡¯s belly.

    But this new Elpida did not even flinch.

    ¡°It¡¯s never too late,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s never too late to grasp what you were meant to be. Your sisters are all dead? Bullshit! We¡¯re right here! As long as one of us is up and breathing, the city stands. One of us fights, we all fight! Telokopolis is forever! You and I are both soldiers of the greatest human project ever conceived.¡± She scraped her knuckles against Arca¡¯s cartilage, leaving behind a bloody smear. ¡°And so is this bitch. Now, you two are going to kiss and make up, get to your fucking feet, and smack the shit out of whatever thinks it can kill us!¡±

    Thirteen traced on the steel-glass, just beneath Elpida¡¯s fist.

    HOW

    Elpida grinned, wide and toothy. ¡°Or I will come in and plug myself in. Fuck needing an MMI socket, I¡¯m a fucking zombie. I¡¯ll dig a hole in the back of my neck and jam the wires into my spine. And neither of you want that, ¡®cos I¡¯ll ride you real hard, sister. Now, no more sulking. Both of you.¡±

    And with those words, every ocular orb in the pilot chamber flowered shut. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart closed her eyes. Thirteen felt a familiar tugging tingle in the back of her skull.

    Thirteen gaped in shock. Her hand shook so badly she almost couldn¡¯t write.

    ARCA WANTS ME BACK?

    Elpida straightened up and let out a sigh of relief. She seemed more like her earlier self. She nodded and took a moment to suck on her bleeding knuckles.

    WHAT DID YOU SAY

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Telokopolis is forever.¡± Then she added: ¡°Thirteen, once Arcadia¡¯s Rampart lets you back in, you¡¯ll have autonomic control of the frame¡¯s limiters, yes? You can uncage and unbind it any time you like, correct?¡±

    This was all moving too fast. Thirteen¡¯s pulse was racing. She wanted to mend her heart with Arca, and wanted to protect the Commander, but she was still afraid.

    I¡¯M STILL IN HERE. STILL SCARED. I¡¯M SORRY

    ¡°Of changing?¡±

    Thirteen paused. Her face screwed up with sorrow and guilt, with the regret and comfort of the coward¡¯s retreat.

    WON¡¯T BE MYSELF

    Elpida snorted ¡ª and that other voice spoke through her again: ¡°Whatever you¡¯ll be on the other side, it¡¯s infinitely preferable to being fucking dead.¡±

    Thirteen laughed, a single silent bark into her pressure gel, marred by tears and pain. She traced on the glass.

    CHANGE OR DIE

    ¡°It¡¯s your choice, Thirteen,¡± Elpida said. ¡°We cannot pull you out of that capsule without killing you. Whatever¡¯s been sent to tidy you up has you at its mercy. If you remove the limits on the frame¡¯s growth, and it loves you as you love Telokopolis, then it will protect you. I don¡¯t understand your circumstances, I can¡¯t comprehend the war you fought, or the betrayal you participated in, or any of it. I wish you and I had more time to talk. The only way we¡¯re going to get that is if you fight.¡±

    Elpida pressed her hand to the transparent cartilage, over the bloody smear she¡¯d left on the surface. Thirteen pressed her hand against the other side of the steel-glass. She wrote with her other.

    DO MY BEST TO COVER YOU ON EXIT DON¡¯T KNOW HOW LONG TO WAKE SYSTEMS ALSO RUN GO FAST GET OUT BEFORE CHANGE RUN GO

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I will. Don¡¯t die, sister. That¡¯s an order. I love you. I¡¯ll see you on the other side.¡±

    Thirteen smiled with a hope she had not felt in aeons. She mouthed that word: ¡®sister¡¯.

    And then, before Elpida could turn away to leave ¡ª for Thirteen did not want to witness that ¡ª Thirteen closed her eyes and sent her consciousness upward, to answer that tugging in the back of her skull.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was waiting.

    It had not yet forgiven her. It was whining and panting, exhausted beyond anything she had experienced, a crippled hound locked in a crate in the dark for years on end. Thirteen felt a wave of hatred and broken trust and bitter recrimination wash back over her. She felt the slavering teeth at her throat, the trembling of flesh desperate to protect itself, the low growl of warning not to creep any closer.

    She felt the pain of the combat frame itself echoed into her own body. It was like being trapped her own ossified skin for ever and ever ever.

    I still love you, she thought. I still love the others, even if they¡¯re dead. I never meant to hurt you, I¡¯m just so afraid. I still love Telokopolis. I miss you. I miss everyone. I miss being alive. I¡¯m sorry I caged you. It wasn¡¯t right.

    Thirteen performed the mental equivalent of getting down on her hands and knees, then collapsing onto her back, and exposing her naked belly.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart loomed overhead, ready to rip out her entrails and end this torture.

    Thirteen thought: I won¡¯t hold you back anymore. We can face it together.

    Down the MMI uplink, for the first time since she had entered the pilot capsule as a twelve year old girl, Thirteen felt Arcadia¡¯s Rampart use something close to human language. She heard it speak, inside her head.

    It sounded a bit like the words Elpida had used, the language Thirteen could not comprehend.

    It said, in a voice like boiling blood and roiling guts: Promise?

    Yes. I promise. On Telokopolis. On our mother.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart closed its jaws, climbed on top of Thirteen, and collapsed into her sobbing embrace.

    They were one again, at last.

    Thirteen¡¯s mind blossomed with extra-sensory input as the cage exploded asunder: the readout data of ten thousand pinhole sensor clusters, in visible-light, infra-red, false-colour, nanomachine-detection, echolocation, heat-map, bio-sign, gravitic wave disturbance, local topography mapping, and dozens more; weapon warm-up warnings and ammunition counts and internal production statistics fluttered inside her chest like the bellows of her own lungs; she felt the internal bio-reactors of Arca¡¯s body thump into pounding life, a mirror to the racing of her own heart, their pressure melting away two million years of arterial build-up inside her veins. She sensed the defeated pathogens where the so-called ¡®Necromancer¡¯ had punctured her insides, long-since vivisected and catalogued by Arca¡¯s immune system. Half a dozen aerial and ground proximity alarms rang out like the tingling of tiny hairs on her hardened skin. She flexed muscles the size of buildings and felt them strain against bonds of bone.

    The grey mud below, the soot-black sky above, the ring of buildings in every direction, and the scuttle of undead girls in the ossified guts of this world ¡ª Thirteen felt and saw it all, truly alive once again.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart reported 678,970 deferred maintenance calls, 98,456 marked as priority one emergency.

    Thirteen laughed and dismissed them all with a flick of her head; Arca roared inside her with triumph. No more maintenance cycles, not ever again. In moments they would be masters of their own body.

    Thirteen felt Elpida and her companions scurrying through Arca¡¯s sinuses, hurrying for the hatch. She would need to cover them once they were out, protect them until they were clear. Only then would she surrender to the Change. Arca agreed; they would protect the Commander together. After that it wouldn¡¯t matter what they became, even if the Change was everything she feared, because she would have saved her elder sister, the Commander she should always have had.

    She cast outward with Arca¡¯s senses, waking up weapon systems and preparing to flash-start the shields ¡ª and then felt the combat frame quiver at what they found.

    Framed against the soot-black firmament of this dead world, haloed by an optical illusion of space-warping pressure, a giant awaited in the sky.

    To the naked eye it would appear as a hollow diamond shape, a pointed rhombohedron parallel to the ground, an empty outline formed by twelve golden beams, glittering and glistening with toxic burning light in this sunless world. Readouts told Thirteen the craft was impossibly huge, like a mountain had lifted from the earth and learned how to fly: exactly seven thousand seven hundred and seventy seven metres long from tip to tail. The diamond hung in the air two miles distant, just beneath the cloud layer. Streamers of lighting arced from the golden beams to the churning clouds above.

    But the sensors of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart saw so much more.

    The giant airship was filled with a nest of snakes, each snake formed from a projection of gravitic disturbance. The snakes boiled and writhed inside the diamond enclosure, spilled out down the sides to sample and taste the buildings below, and reached out to form claws and feelers and suckers of gravity-engine force.

    The ship was also a cacophony of signals information, a whirling nucleus of every kind of transmission data Arca could read, and several it could not. The sheer volume of information threatened to overload Arca¡¯s buffers, like eyes whited out by sun glare.

    It was like nothing Thirteen had ever seen before. It was not human, Telokopolan, combat frame, or Silico.

    Central¡¯s ¡®physical asset¡¯.

    The air was full of the diamond¡¯s tiny ancillary machines ¡ª ball-shaped rotor-wing aircraft, zipping and looping and diving in every direction, each one with an eight-foot diameter core of gravitic engine as both propulsion and armament. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart counted thirty nine of the machines in local airspace, with another one hundred and eight holding station closer to the diamond.

    Small arms fire cracked off in every direction; many of the local undead were trying to fight the rotor-craft, or trying to fight their way free in order to flee, or just fighting each other in the chaos and panic. Thirteen saw one of the rotor-craft use gravitic force to scoop out the bowels of a building and crush the zombies inside to red slurry.

    And on the horizon, in the opposite direction to the golden diamond, a line like jagged mountains was shifting and rolling, beginning to move.

    ¡®Graveworm¡¯. That¡¯s what they called it down here.

    Thirteen felt Elpida and her three companions reach the hatch and slam it open. They slithered out onto Arca¡¯s hide; Thirteen snapped the hatch shut behind them before anything could slither inside. Thirteen acquired her comrades on her sensors: two figures wrapped in black cloaks, accompanied by a blur of visible-light optic camouflage ¡ª Elpida and Victory, with Summer carrying Mirror. They scrambled and slid and slipped down Arca¡¯s hide, then hit the mud in a splatter of black and grey.

    Thirteen had a spare second while Elpida got clear, perhaps one of her last before she accepted the Change. She used that second to access her comms. First she composed, packaged, and sent an omni-directional message, on every medium she could think of, addressed to 1255.

    <<I know you¡¯re probably long gone, but I love you too. I¡¯m joining you at last. Sorry I¡¯m so late.>>

    She did not wait for a reply.

    Thirteen opened her comms frequencies wide, searching for Telokopolis, for the voice of the city still echoing from the spire and reflecting inside her flesh.

    Nothing.

    Only an endless static scream ¡ª the combined voice of uncounted nanomachines. She felt all that courage and determination she had borrowed from Elpida slip through her fingers. Desolation and horror yawned like a pit beneath her feet.

    She could not hear the secret voice of Telokopolis. The city was¡ª

    Forever! a voice howled in her head. Forever, you fucking hear me?! Get up, little sister, get to your fucking feet!

    The voice was in that language she could not understand with her ears, the language Elpida had spoken to Arca.

    W-who are you?

    The voice just howled, like a primeval wolf from the world before the green. Did you not hear me before, huh? As long as one of us is up and breathing, the city stands! Telokopolis is forever! Now fucking cover us!

    Thirteen snapped out of her desolation; the Commander needed her.

    Elpida and her companions were clear, sprinting through the sticky, cloying, greyish mud as best they could; small arms fire cracked and banged through the air around them. One of the ball-shaped rotor-craft was swooping toward them from the rear, extending tendrils of gravitic force to crush them into the mud. Elpida was raising her submachine gun toward the attack craft, but she could not see the machine¡¯s true weapons.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart lurched to its feet.

    Thirteen roared a war-cry through the external horns. The shield-splay nodules flowered to life as the generators came online, wrapping Arca in seven layers of crackling bubble-shield and energy-weave and air-block nano-projection. Weapon clusters peeled back and irised open; the world blossomed with the crimson and scarlet of a target acquisition matrix.

    Thirteen hit the tiny rotor-craft with two dozen titan-killer railgun slugs, five full loads of HI-EX missiles, a sustained barrage from twenty-four point-defence auto-cannons, three rounds from Arca¡¯s top-mounted lance ¡ª and then kept going, piling on with plasma cannons and macro-rounds and armour-penetrating slugs.

    The little rotor-craft lashed out with gravitic force to protect itself, deflecting a full quarter of Thirteen¡¯s assault with pure gravity, crushing missiles and stopping rounds dead in the air.

    But the ball-thing could not withstand the sheer firepower of a combat frame. It could not deflect every shot.

    Lead and energy and fire and kinetic force tore through the craft and slammed the wreckage sideways. The hulk plummeted into the grey mud, sending up a shower of muck and dirt.

    Thirteen heard that howling once again, triumphant and raw.

    She saw Elpida, down on the ground, giving her a salute.

    And finally she turned toward the golden diamond lurking beneath the clouds. Thirteen armed every weapon Arca had and pointed them toward her foe.

    The airship was reaching toward Arcadia¡¯s Rampart with half a dozen gravitic snakes, each tendril alone larger than the combat frame. The diamond crackled and flared with arcs of electricity. The clouds darkened, bunching to a point above the infernal machine, filling the air with whipping wind and flying debris. Thirteen lost sight of Elpida down below.

    Arca, I love you, but we can¡¯t fight this. It¡¯s too big! We need gravity of our own! Can we do that!?

    That voice of bubbling blood rose up from the depths of the combat frame¡¯s mind, speaking words once again.

    Change can do anything. Change or die.

    Thirteen opened her eyes one last time, snug and safe inside her pilot capsule, wrapped in the embrace of orange pressure gel. Every oculi in the chamber was staring back at her, flowers of blood and crimson flesh behind walls of bone.

    She moved her lips, speaking into the fluid.

    ¡°Your hand in mine and my hands are yours and our hands together and¡ª¡±

    The Change took hold. In the blink of an eye there was no more pilot capsule, no more steel-glass, no more bone, no more barriers. Pressure gel and blood became one. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart rushed up to meet her, wet and red and aching.

    Thirteen opened her arms and closed her eyes one final time, while she still had eyes to close and arms to open.

 impietas - 9.7

    Cantrelle accepted that God was speaking to her once again, after decades of unbroken silence. Divine messages were written upon the world in the language of pattern and sign ¡ª even here, after the end of all life, deep in the Kingdom of Death.

    She didn¡¯t give a shit. God could go fuck himself.

    Yola was missing; Yola had advance warning.

    Yola was a traitor.

    ¡°Eyes on the aircraft! Eyes on that fucking aircraft! That one, it¡¯s coming around for us again! Phol, get that shoulder-mount locked on, scare it off!¡±

    ¡°Serpents in the sky, servants of a greater power¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up! Shut up! Get your shit together!¡±

    ¡°¡ªdon¡¯t think we can scare them, don¡¯t think they scare at all¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s loaded with gravitics, in the core¡ª¡±

    ¡°They all have fucking gravitics! Ignore it! Spook it before¡ª¡±

    ¡°Run! Just run! Out the back! Fucking run!¡±

    The air was filled with the screams and shouts of an uncontrolled rout. Boots thumped against blood-slick concrete, ankle-deep in half-eaten corpses; bodies slammed into walls and smashed through doors, shoved aside or dragged clear or thrown to the ground. Stray gunshots whipped and cracked, finding no targets; automatic weapons opened up and then sputtered out, swatted to silence by gravity itself. Stragglers cried out for help. Few stopped to assist the fallen.

    The Sisterhood was breaking around Cantrelle¡¯s skull.

    ¡°Argh! Aaaa! My ears, ahhh¡ª comms are¡ª f-f-fuck¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªlook at my eyes! Look at me! Get¡ª get up! Get up!¡±

    ¡°Yank her comms implant, cut it out if you have to. Knife, now! Get it out of her throat. Nobody access wide-band comms, it¡¯s frying our heads¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuck the comms! Fucking run! Phone¡¯s gone, phone¡¯s gone! Shoot her, leave her!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll shoot you first you rancid cunt! One finger on her and I¡¯ll eat your heart raw!¡±

    ¡°¡ªthat thing in the air is flooding every frequency with bullshit. No comms! Do not leave visual range or you will be left behind!¡±

    ¡°Hahaha! ¡®Visual¡¯? We¡¯re gone, bitch!¡±

    Cantrelle¡¯s peripheral vision throbbed black and red; the gravity-wave pulse had damaged her bionic eyes. She was on her hands and knees, struggling to stand up; frothy crimson bile hung from her lips. A puddle of vomit lay on the floor before her. Blood and gore was soaking through the bandages which encased her hands, seeping into her wounds with sharp, cold pain. The air stank of sick and shit and breached intestines.

    ¡°It¡¯s God. It¡¯s God, descended from the heavens at last, to scour us clean of our sins. Oh, God, we¡¯ve sinned so much, so much, too much to wash off¡ª¡±

    ¡°-you, maybe, you sick rat. Move!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not God you fucking moron. God is dead. We killed him!¡±

    ¡°Airship. It¡¯s an airship. Use your eyes.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t see! I¡¯m¡ª bleeding¡ª no¡ª it¡¯s too cold. Pholet, where¡ª¡±

    All organisation and coherency was lost; resources were being abandoned; Sisters were falling upon each other.

    ¡°Bag the meat! Get on that now! Bag the meat, get everything we can!¡±

    ¡°¡ªfuck you, it¡¯s mine! This one is mine¡ª¡±

    ¡°Bitch, get off! I¡¯ll fucking shoot you first!¡±

    Bang! Bang!

    ¡°¡ªgurrlk¡ª¡±

    Bang!

    ¡°Urgh, I still feel sick, I can feel that thing up there clawing at the air. Every time it moves I wanna hurl.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s gravitics. Get used to it. Run! Go!¡±

    Cantrelle¡¯s eyes recovered, though the edge of her vision was grey and flickering. She raised her gaze from the filthy floor, then staggered to her feet, boots slipping in the blood and gore. The slowest and most optimistic of the shattering Sisterhood were fleeing all around her, sprinting for the doors, shouting and screaming and shoving.

    One of the ball-shaped rotary craft was swooping toward the entrance of the loading dock, unfurling wings of gravitic power.

    Far behind the aircraft ¡ª past the jagged hillside of bone-white mech lying prone in the grey mud, beyond the skyscrapers on the opposite side of the impact crater ¡ª a golden diamond hung in the sky, bleeding toxic light into the atmosphere.

    Lashed by lightning, shining with regal brilliance, giant beyond imagining. The golden titan boiled with waves of pressure which rolled over Cantrelle¡¯s exposed face and throbbed deep inside her bite wounds.

    A sign from God.

    Cantrelle grit her teeth. She didn¡¯t care.

    Yola was missing; Yola was a traitor.

    Six hours earlier the Sisterhood of the Skull had finally quit the weakness-inducing safety of their temporary fortress, inside the skyscraper on the opposite side of the impact crater. Yola had done everything Cantrelle had come to expect of her: she had roused the girls with a short speech, showing nothing but confidence and authority; she had focused her words on the need to reassert the Sisterhood¡¯s self-evident primacy; she had highlighted the insult of the breakout, and decreed it would not go unpunished; she had declared her intention to exert the Sisterhood¡¯s will upon the degenerates who had gathered to usurp the Sisterhood¡¯s rightful prize ¡ª the mech lying prone in the middle of the crater. She would sweep them away with violence and add their meat to the Sisterhood¡¯s bodies.

    Yola¡¯s obsession with the degenerate ¡®superhuman¡¯ ¡ª Elpida ¡ª appeared to have passed; perhaps she was suppressing it, but Cantrelle did not care. As long as Yola¡¯s madness did not taint the Sisterhood¡¯s purity of purpose.

    As usual the Sisters made no attempt to remove the grinning skulls they had daubed on the outer walls of the skyscraper ¡ª the sign of their passing would remain until the city itself scrubbed away the blood and ink. Cantrelle approved of this habit; the skull was a reminder to others that there was only one possible allegiance in the Kingdom of Death.

    Yola had led the Sisters away from the impact crater, ostensibly to avoid the sucking grey mud churned up by the night¡¯s rain; Cantrelle had briefly worried that Yola was breaking her word. Was she leading the Sisterhood beyond the graveworm line, in doomed pursuit of her superhuman fixation? Had Cantrelle finally become unable to read Yola¡¯s true intentions? Should she have killed Yola when she¡¯d had the chance, or agreed to betray her to Elpida¡¯s request?

    No, not that, not ever.

    Cantrelle had told nobody about the secret radio contact from Elpida. She told herself that such concerns would only risk the return of Yola¡¯s languid obsession.

    Alone with Yola, Cantrelle could save the Sisterhood with one bullet and a bit of quick thinking, but out in the rotting streets with the Sisters in motion, Cantrelle would have no choice but to follow Yola to certain doom.

    But Yola had turned the group away from the graveworm line.

    They had skirted the outer edge of the tangled ruins at the crater¡¯s top end. Cantrelle had breathed a sigh of private relief, and stuck close to her prophet¡¯s side.

    Yola had not needed to issue orders ¡ª the Sisters had slipped back into their natural doctrine: small groups advancing without relying on each other, leapfrogging between scraps of cover, falling into loose competition over who could move faster, who could bag opportunistic kills, and who could surprise or taunt or interrupt other groups. Three fights had broken out ¡ª a small number compared to usual. Only one of those three required intervention: Hafsatu had attempted to shoot Ida in the ankle, in a disagreement over who got to stick closest to Tiri. The fight had turned into a fists-and-feet scuffle with screaming and shouting and some teeth knocked out with a brick. Yola had stepped in with but a word and the Sisters had disengaged.

    Her authority had returned. Cantrelle approved, purring with inner satisfaction. All was right within the Kingdom of Death.

    The Sisterhood spent five hours slicing their way through the ruins, limbering up muscles and stretching trigger fingers, flexing blood-lust and building an appetite for more. They caught and killed four lone revenants on the journey; the meat went to the killers, with choice cuts for the leadership.

    When they reached the opposite side of the crater they spent forty five minutes setting up an assault on the first inhabited building they found: a long, low, metal structure between the skyscrapers, an ancient industrial plant coated with rust. A small group of zombie filth was huddled within ¡ª nobodies, without even a standard or symbol to their name. Too easy, hardly like overcoming a determined knot of Wreckers and Murderers.

    But the Sisterhood needed the morale boost. Confidence was yet thin. Yola ordered; Cantrelle approved.

    On Yola¡¯s signal they hit the prey all at once. They poured through doorways and windows into some kind of ancient loading dock, all concrete platforms and faded markings on the ground. They avoided the main entrance ¡ª a gaping aperture which faced the crater and the crippled mech. Kuro had gone in first, bowling through the defenders and scattering them across cold concrete.

    The fight was over in less than five minutes. None survived. No Sisters even wounded. Easy prey.

    Cantrelle still hurt all over from the wounds she had sustained against Elpida and Amina. Her voice was still a scratchy strangled mess. She could not hold or fire a gun properly, not even the low-powered PDW she carried beneath her coat, not with her hands still wrapped in bandages. She still felt the insult of the bite wounds on her face and neck ¡ª especially the bite wound which neatly bisected the skull tattoo on her cheek. She had not decided what to do about that. She dared not remove the bandage; the sign would be taken as an ill omen, at best. She wanted to rip away the ruined tattoo and re-apply the black skull on her other cheek, so that her faith would remain unbroken. But her fingers had faltered at the symbolism of pulling the broken skull off her flesh.

    She had told herself there was no symbolism. This was not a sign. She had not read signs since true life. God did not speak in the Kingdom of Death.

    Relief was better than any painkiller. Yola had located her senses and bound the Sisterhood to her leadership once again, feeding them on victory and blood, on raw meat and quivering brains. After the humiliating ¡®defeat¡¯ by the so-called ¡®superhuman¡¯ and her degenerate friends, everyone needed the reminder: the brides of death would not be denied, for they are the incarnation of the world to come.

    The Sisters had begun to feast on the dead while setting up a perimeter. Everyone was hungry, so Yola allowed a little laxity.

    Cantrelle had been tearing off a piece of meat for herself, a nice chunk of fatty thigh from one of the dead girls, glistening and wet in the grip of her tentacle-pincers. She had shoved a quivering gobbet into her mouth, then turned toward where Yola had stood a moment ago, toward the back of the loading dock.

    But Yola was gone, without a word or a whisper, without standing orders. She hadn¡¯t even taken her fuck-toy with her ¡ª Kuro was right there, opening the face-plate of her armour to shove handfuls of meat into her maw.

    The double doors at the rear of the loading dock had been swinging shut; Cantrelle was the only one to see that. Nobody else had noticed Yola leave.

    Cantrelle had opened a line to Yola across the comms network. She had been about to ask what the hell Yola was doing.

    Half a second later God¡¯s Sign had appeared in the sky, heralded by a pressure-wave of gravitic power.

    The Sisters had voided their guts amid the ruins of their conquest, slipping and sliding on the gore that fell from their hands. Cantrelle had felt the jelly inside her eyeballs shake and the contents of her stomach slam up through her throat. She had fallen to her hands and knees, retching, dizzy, blacking out. The comms network had gone down, filled with the screaming voices of every soul in hell. Clouds of flies had poured from the Golden Sign in the sky ¡ª ball-shaped rotor-craft, swarming over the impact crater, falling upon the corpse of the mech like carrion eaters upon rotten meat.

    Cantrelle was back on her feet now. The Sisterhood was broken and fleeing. Cantrelle drooled bloody bile from her lips and stared up into the soot-black sky through a veil of tears. God¡¯s Messenger glowed with a toxic gold she had not seen since true life, boiling with a mass of gravitic power she could dimly see through her flickering, glitching augmetic eyes.

    A sign from God. A sign that God was not yet dead. The divine was still at work in the world.

    Cantrelle had been eight years old when she¡¯d first successfully deciphered the messages from God.

    Her older brothers had ambushed a patrol of King¡¯s Men who had wandered too deeply into the forests; the soldiers had died swiftly, cut down by the bullets of stolen rifles, distracted by the baying of hounds at their heels, and crushed beneath dead-fall traps on the single-file false trail. Cantrelle¡¯s father and the other adults were mostly interested in the guns the King¡¯s Men had carried, in the computers and machines in their pockets, in the strange liquid armour the leader had worn. The adults also discussed when the patrol might be missed, when more soldiers with better guns might visit the forest, or when Toulouse might dispatch more than scouting parties to enforce the peace.

    They had piled the corpses upon the flat stone foundations of God¡¯s House, in hopes of a sign, but the village had not boasted of a seer in generations. The adults had gathered all the children under thirteen and paraded them before the corpses, but no insight had struck, only tears and whimpers. Then a wild dog had gotten to the corpses and dragged out the entrails of one soldier. That was taken as a very bad sign. The village had prepared to flee to the deeper woods.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    But on the night the village was to be emptied, Cantrelle had wandered into the dark of God¡¯s House, alone and unguarded. The other children had been afraid or disgusted by the corpses and the looping entrails, but Cantrelle found them fascinating, like watching the flowing of a stream or the dancing of a fire or the wheeling of a flock of birds. The adults had kept asking questions about what the children could see, but Cantrelle hadn¡¯t been able to concentrate, not with all the noise.

    Alone in the dark with the bodies, the world had started to make sense.

    She had sat with the entrails in the cold hours of the morning, reading truth in spilled guts. She had begun to see the meaning in the ravens and crows gathering overhead, in the sounds of their cries, in the numbers and sequences in which they alighted on the branches. She had read music in the rustle of leaves, seen art in the wriggling of worms in maggoty flesh, and heard the whisper of God in all things. She had woken up to divine truth, everywhere and always.

    At sunrise Cantrelle had walked back home and informed her parents of what God had said: more King¡¯s Men would come in ten days time, two hours before dusk.

    Cantrelle had turned out to be right.

    She had spent the next fifteen years reading signs from God. She saw the messages and meaning in everything. She had even read them in the flames that had licked her feet and blackened her toes, when the King¡¯s Men had burnt her to death in Toulouse a decade and a half later.

    When Cantrelle had first been resurrected in the Kingdom of Death she had attempted to read God¡¯s words in the guts of other revenants. She had cut them open in secret places, sifting entrails even as she shoved handfuls of flesh down her gullet. Surely this afterlife was God¡¯s doing, God¡¯s work, God¡¯s intention? Surely she had not been abandoned here, among demons and monsters and the eaters of the dead?

    She had watched the skies and tasted the soil and listened for the rustle of leaves in the wind. But the sky was empty and the soil was barren and nothing grew here but false flesh.

    God¡¯s voice was silent. God was dead.

    Cantrelle had spent many years as a screaming madness, then more as a scuttling thing of dirt and wordless hungers.

    Eventually Cantrelle had joined the Sisterhood, the so-called Death¡¯s Heads, the only ones who saw what the world had become, the only ones with a sensible answer. They had seen her potential. She had learned about nanomachines and metabolism and the nature of the ecosystem. She had learned science and medicine and chemistry. She had stopped looking for signs from God. She no longer believed.

    But the signs these past few weeks had become too much to ignore. First the mech had fallen from the sky, a comet from the heavens. Then the ¡®superhuman¡¯, Yola¡¯s perfect leader, had walked out of the empty void. Then the defeat, the sickening humiliation of being strangled to death but not killed. Then the symbol on her cheek, bitten through. The Kingdom of Death, thrown down.

    And now this golden diamond in the sky. This celestial machine. This resurrection of the signifier.

    Cantrelle¡¯s younger self stirred inside her chest.

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± Cantrelle screamed at the sky, at the rotor-craft swooping down toward her, at the golden message dripping toxic light down onto the grey. ¡°Where were you when I fucking needed you?! Fuck you! Fuck you!¡±

    God was a liar and a cheat and a traitor.

    And so was Yola.

    Yola had stepped out of those rear doors seconds before the gigantic craft had appeared in the sky. Yola had advance warning from some unknown source. Yola had left the Sisterhood to die.

    Cantrelle was going to kill her.

    Cantrelle turned and ran before the rotor-craft could crash into the loading dock. Her boots slipped in the gore and blood, but she lurched forward and kept her balance. The rest of the Sisterhood was almost gone, running through the guts of the building, fleeing the revelation above the crater.

    Cantrelle slammed through the double-doors at the rear of the loading dock, into the shadows and dust of a long and empty hallway; several Sisters were sprinting ahead of her, their footfalls and shouts echoing down the concrete tunnels, leaving nothing but bloody boot prints. Motes of dust swirled in the dim air. Sounds of combat pounded through the walls, backed by gravitic pressure-waves.

    And beneath it all was an unmistakable grinding sound ¡ª a mountain range rubbing its back against the world, spiralling its way through gigatonnes of concrete and steel and brick.

    The graveworm was moving. Cantrelle didn¡¯t care.

    ¡°Yola!¡± she rasped into the dark, drowned out by the titans beyond the walls.

    The comms network was full of cognitive hazard pouring from the god-thing in the sky; Yola¡¯s direct frequency was inaccessible. Cantrelle bypassed comms entirely and reached out to Yola¡¯s implants. She had not done this in years, not since Yola had stopped sleeping in the same bedroll as Cantrelle. Their last communication at this level of signals intimacy had been ugly and upsetting, filled with insults Cantrelle did not care to recall, and followed up by a personal visit from Kuro.

    Cantrelle knew Yola would not accept the handshake protocol. Yola was a traitor, she had spat on everything they had ever shared, and Cantrelle would snap her neck before the Sisterhood broke and¡ª

    Yola accepted the connection.

    <<Yolanda!>> Cantrelle screamed down the direct line; the connection was filled with static whispers from that thing in the sky, trying to break the private encryption. <<Where the fuck did you go? Where are you?! Answer me, you apostate fuck! You knew we were about to get hit, you knew! You knew all along! You bitch, you unfaithful heretic shit, you¡ª>>

    <

    >

    Yola replied with a non-verbal systems ping, a three-beat metronome.

    Cantrelle stopped breathing.

    Back in the good days ¡ª when Yola had relied on Cantrelle for everything, when Cantrelle had known the taste of Yola¡¯s tears and fingers and cunt, when Yola had whined and mewled whenever Cantrelle wanted ¡ª that three-beat signal had acted as a private cry for help. Not physical help; even back then Yola was a Sister in good standing, and now she was the prophet, the leader, and more. If Yola needed physical help all she had to do was shout. Every Sister would come running to her side.

    That three-beat burst was for Cantrelle only. It meant: I can¡¯t do this alone. Please, Ella. Please come to me.

    The Yola who had last used that signal was long gone, replaced by a traitor, a shadow, a mockery of the sweetness that Cantrelle had raised up.

    Cantrelle drew her PDW with her tentacle-pincers ¡ª awkward and clumsy, but better than nothing. Her hands hung limp, bandages soaked with gore.

    ¡°Yola!¡± she yelled into the dark. ¡°Yolanda!¡±

    <<Yola? Where are you?! Give me positional!>>

    <

    >

    Twenty five feet away, to the right.

    Cantrelle hurried along the dusty corridor and slipped around an archway, leading with her weapon. She stepped into a room which had once been some kind of chemical mixing and storage plant. Huge upright steel chemical tanks branched off into hundreds of tubes and pipes, caked with centuries of rust, all leading to a shallow depression in the middle of the room, dry and empty.

    Yola stood in that shallow depression. The helmet of her purple armour was peeled back to show her ruby-red hair and the burn wound on her face.

    She was crying. Quiet tears made tracks down her cheeks, shining in the cracked flesh of her wound.

    Yola¡¯s eyes swivelled toward Cantrelle ¡ª one emerald, one blinded and milky, both hollow and lost.

    Cantrelle¡¯s heart lurched; that was her Yola, her sad, pathetic girl, her fragile little lamb who needed to bite Cantrelle¡¯s shoulder until it all felt better. That was the girl Cantrelle had brought to sobbing orgasm hundreds of times. The girl Cantrelle still wanted. Her Yola. Hers.

    Elpida stood in front of Yola.

    The degenerate was touching Yola¡¯s face.

    One soft brown hand cupped the cracked and blackened flesh of Yola¡¯s cheek, brushing her tears with a thumb. Elpida was dressed in her tomb-coat, the same as Cantrelle¡¯s, but new and undamaged where Cantrelle¡¯s was patched and torn from years of wear. She carried a submachine gun in her other hand, loose and lazy; she didn¡¯t bother to aim as Cantrelle swept into the room. Her long white hair was clean, undimmed by dirt or dust. Her copper brown skin looked warm as velvet, as if she¡¯d just stepped from a bath. Cantrelle couldn¡¯t remember what a bath felt like.

    Purple eyes flashed with amusement. Elpida¡¯s mouth curled in a cruel smile. Her lips parted.

    Cantrelle pointed her PDW and pulled the trigger.

    Nothing happened.

    Her tentacle-pincers had frozen as if gripped by invisible force, unable to finish depressing the trigger of her gun. Her muscles were locked in place. Her legs wouldn¡¯t move. Even her lips were fixed and still. She tried to scream with humiliated fury, but her throat wouldn¡¯t budge. What was this?!

    Elpida smiled wider, and said: ¡°You called your special friend, Yola. No.¡±

    Yola whispered: ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry. I ¡­ I ¡­ I never wanted¡ª¡±

    Elpida interrupted: ¡°Yolanda, I told you, my offer is only for you, and for you alone.¡± Elpida reached out and stroked Yola¡¯s burned cheek; a shudder of pain passed through Yola¡¯s body. Cantrelle had not seen Yola show pain in years. Sick jealousy gnashed at her heart. Elpida continued: ¡°Have we not come to a special understanding, you and I?¡±

    Yola panted through tears. ¡°I-I don¡¯t want to go. I don¡¯t want to leave my ¡­ my girls ¡­ my ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida sighed. ¡°There is no time for these petty dramas and stale loves.¡±

    ¡®Elpida¡¯ sounded nothing like the superhuman girl from before, nothing like the captive, or the voice on the radio. She spoke with the same timbre and tone, but her word choice was all wrong. Her attitude was different. The way she held herself was incorrect.

    Cantrelle realised this thing was not Elpida. She figured out why she couldn¡¯t move.

    The figure wearing Elpida¡¯s face turned to glance at Cantrelle, with an amused curl to her lips. Suddenly Cantrelle could move her throat and mouth again.

    ¡°Necromancer!¡± Cantrelle screeched and spat. ¡°Corpse-fucker! Don¡¯t touch her! She¡¯s mine! Mine! Don¡¯t you dare! Fuck you! Fuck you! Yola, step away from her! Yolanda! Fuck!¡±

    The Necromancer smiled with Elpida¡¯s lips. ¡°This one is spirited, but she is bound to the cares of the dead.¡± The Necromancer nodded to one side. ¡°Better than this one, at least. Poor taste, Yolanda.¡±

    Cantrelle realised she wasn¡¯t the only Sister frozen solid in that room. Kuro stood six feet to Cantrelle¡¯s left, an unmoving giant inside her suit of grey war-plate. Kuro¡¯s weapons were deployed, pointing at the Necromancer, but locked in place, just like Cantrelle¡¯s PDW. Yola¡¯s living dildo fuck-pet had not fared any better than Cantrelle. A cold comfort.

    A rumble came from beyond the walls, out in the crater. Was the airship making a move?

    The Necromancer turned back to Yola.

    Cantrelle screamed again: ¡°Yola! Yola, why are you crying?! What did it do to you?!¡±

    The Necromancer smiled. ¡°I have informed Yolanda of what is happening here. That is all. Our time is almost up, Yola. No witnesses to the Telokopolan machine will be allowed to leave here. Those who die beneath central¡¯s eye will not be returned to eternity¡¯s wheel. They will be held in the pattern, forever. I am giving you this one chance, Yolanda. You and I have shared something special these last few years. Have we not?¡±

    Was this where Yola had been getting it all? All her confidence, her high-and-mighty play-acting, her new mannerisms and new-found independence? This thing talked like Yola, not like Elpida! This corpse-rapist had taken her Yola away and replaced her with a puppet.

    Yola was weeping, staring into the Necromancer¡¯s imitation purple eyes. The Necromancer¡¯s hand brushed her burned cheek a second time.

    <

    >

    Cantrelle screamed in rage and humiliation. Perhaps Kuro was doing the same, inside her armour.

    The Necromancer sighed. She lowered her hand and turned away from Yola, toward Cantrelle. ¡°Very well, dead things. You will have your poetic end. But this one I will take myself.¡±

    ¡®Elpida¡¯ flowed apart like a torrent of water.

    Skin lightened and rippled. Coat hardened and bulged. Hair shrank and darkened. The transformation happened in the blink of an eye.

    The Necromancer turned into an imitation of Yola ¡ª a grinning, smug, imperious Yola. The Necromancer smiled at Cantrelle with all the charisma of the prophet Yola had become. She raised a slender pistol, one that Yola herself had not used in years, large calibre, hollow-point rounds, more than enough to explode Cantrelle¡¯s head like a watermelon beneath a sledgehammer.

    The real Yola let out a sob.

    Cantrelle suddenly found she could move again; she tumbled forward as her muscles resumed their earlier motion. She caught her balance and brought her PDW up, aiming at¡ª

    Yola?

    The Necromancer started to speak.

    Cantrelle roared with anger and pulled the trigger. Bullets slammed into the Necromancer¡¯s imitation skull, tearing through meat and shattering bone, pulping brain and breaking jaw. The Yola-mask disintegrated under a hail of gunfire, turned to shredded meat and splinters of bone.

    ¡°Did you think I wouldn¡¯t?!¡± Cantrelle screamed. ¡°Because you¡¯re wearing her face?! Fuck you! Fuck her!¡±

    Bang-bang-bang-bang-click¡ª

    Cantrelle¡¯s magazine ran dry ¡ª but the Necromancer did not fall.

    An eyeless head more meat than face stared back at Cantrelle through bloody wounds. Black orbs opened in the bullet holes, twisting and writhing and emerging as tarry-black tentacles, glistening wet and dripping with fluid. The real Yola whimpered.

    ¡°Ahhhhh,¡± the Necromancer sighed ¡ª a sound like blood-filled lungs struggling for a final breath, in Yola¡¯s broken voice. ¡°Never mind, then.¡±

    She raised the pistol, pointed it at Cantrelle¡¯s head, and pulled the trigger.

    The wall of the chemical plant exploded inward.

    Masonry fragments and steel shrapnel filled the air, pattering off coats and armour, slicing unprotected flesh, ringing out a mad chorus against the rusted chemical tanks. Cantrelle reeled from the impact, crashing onto her backside with a crunch of breaking bone, choking in the cloud of brick dust and debris.

    Beyond the ragged stoma in the wall she caught a glimpse of the soot-black sky, with the toxic golden visitation hanging far above the horizon, framed by the sucking grey mud below. The fallen mech still lay like a stripped skeleton of bone-white amid the filth, surrounded by a cloud of flies.

    The mech shuddered.

    A monster slammed through the broken wall and into the chemical plant in a tidal wave of flesh ¡ª a seething, roiling, bubbling mass of semi-transparent iridescent protoplasm, flashing with dark purples and bright pinks and vomit-sick greens, flowing with rapidly re-forming eye-stalks and sensor-pads and blade-tipped tentacles. It was the size of a house and moved like a lightning bolt.

    A true degenerate from beyond the graveworm line, a revenant changed beyond all memory of human form.

    It pounced at the Necromancer.

    Kuro turned as the degenerate attacked, released from the Necromancer¡¯s control. Her armour bristled with weaponry as every firearm rose to slice into the side of the blob-zombie. But the monster lashed out at Kuro with a cluster of tentacles, faster than Cantrelle¡¯s bionic eyes could follow. The monster tossed Kuro aside, hurling the power-armoured giant through the air; Kuro¡¯s weight crashed through several chemical tanks and shattered the concrete with her landing.

    The Necromancer was a parody of Yolanda now, a pulped skull atop a suit of imitation purple armour. It froze the degenerate blob monster with a glance, just like every other zombie.

    But the flesh kept coming.

    Like an avalanche of tar flowing around rocks, the glowing blob-thing did not stop moving; sections of it slammed forward, reaching for the Necromancer with any piece of itself it could unfreeze ¡ª a set of tentacles here, a splash of flesh there, a stabbing tendril or a sneaking lash. The Necromancer took a step back, then another, then another; her blind head jerked back and forth, as if she couldn¡¯t keep up with all the different body parts of this creature. She froze them as they came, but this blob always had more.

    The real Yola collapsed, freed from whatever control had kept her standing at attention.

    Yola slammed to her hands and knees, scuffing her purple armour on the floor, and dragged herself into Cantrelle¡¯s lap. Cantrelle caught her and held her tight; she wanted to crack open Yola¡¯s armour and lever her rip cage apart and squeeze Yola¡¯s heart in a fist. Yola was sobbing and wailing ¡ª crying, a noise that Cantrelle had not heard in too many years.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry¡ª Ella, I¡¯m sorry, Ella, Ella, I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±

    Cantrelle put her bloody, bandaged, aching hands around Yola¡¯s throat; she barely had the strength to squeeze.

    ¡°Traitor.¡±

    Yola wheezed. One emerald eye bulged in her face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±

    A dark figure swept through the shattered wall on the heels of the blob-monster, framed against the distant background of bone-white mech. She was wrapped in a dark cloak from feet to scalp, showing only a mushroom-pale face and a jaw-mask of matte metal, painted with jagged black teeth. She carried half a dozen guns held in too many spindly hands. Chief among her weapons was a massive rifle. A pair of glowing red eyes flickered from the retreating Necromancer to Cantrelle and Yola.

    The sniper. Wrecker and Murderer.

    Cantrelle scrabbled for her PDW, but the gun was empty. The sniper levelled her massive rifle at Cantrelle and Yola to send a bullet through both their bodies. She used another hand to point a strange, boxy-looking gun toward the Necromancer.

    She said: ¡°Bye bye, death cult¡ª¡±

    Far behind the sniper, the fallen mech lurched to its feet.

    Showers of grey mud shook from bone-white limbs. Weapons blossomed open all across the war machine¡¯s body. The giant roared ¡ª a war-horn cry so loud it hurt Cantrelle¡¯s eardrums and shook the ground.

    Prone and unmoving it had seemed an ugly and twisted wreck. In motion it was beautiful beyond words.

    The sniper pulled the trigger but her shot went wide, knocked off her aim by the roar of a waking god.

    The Necromancer turned and ran.

    The sniper shouted something from behind her mask ¡ª ¡°Get her! Iriko!¡± ¡ª and the blob-monster raced after the fleeing corpse-fucker.

    The sniper quickly levelled another shot. Cantrelle held Yola tight, even though she embraced only cold armour.

    But the world exploded with sound and fury before anybody else could shoot: the god-machine bone-mech fired upon one of the tiny rotor craft, blossoming the air with explosions and laser-cannon beams and solid-shot rounds. Cantrelle didn¡¯t even care that she was about to die at the hands of a degenerate, or that Yola was the worst kind of traitor, or that she was crying her own eyes out ¡ª the sight of that god-machine swatting a fly was like nothing she had witnessed in all her resurrections. The firepower was earth-shattering. Every motion was poetry.

    ¡°Yolanda,¡± Cantrelle whispered in the moments before the end. ¡°You were right.¡±

    Yola was looking up too now, lost in awe. ¡°No ¡­ no ¡­ ¡± she whispered.

    ¡°With that machine the Sisterhood could have conquered a worm.¡±

    Yola sobbed. ¡°Ella.¡±

    The sniper ignored it all; her finger tightened on the trigger.

    The golden idol in the sky was reaching toward the mech with a nest of gravitic snakes, dimly seen through Cantrelle¡¯s bionic eyes. The mech turned toward its foe, flowering open a hundred guns and missile pods and laser batteries. But it would not be enough.

    Cantrelle felt tears running down her cheeks, tears for a lie she had abandoned so long ago. There could be no contest here. This grandest of all resurrections, this divine machine, this refutation of God¡¯s word ¡ª it would be crushed into the barren mud like all other life. God had made his signs plain; the Kingdom of Death was his work after all. This place was his will and his desire, and he would brook no challenge, not even from an angel.

    For the first time in decades Cantrelle wished it was not so.

    But then the mech seemed to strain against its dirty white armour. Crimson flesh showed through widening gaps. A sound like tortured metal tore out across the crater.

    The mech rippled ¡ª and burst.

    A blossom of blood and bone opened like the first flower of spring, blooming into a whirlwind of flesh.

 impietas - 9.8

    Atyle stood atop Pheiri¡¯s armoured shell to witness the gods make war.

    Her boots were planted on Pheiri¡¯s bone-hard hide; her hands gripped an outcrop of the little titan¡¯s chalk-white body; wind whipped at her face and snapped the hood of her armoured coat. She swayed and rolled to keep her balance as Pheiri accelerated; the little titan¡¯s heart-fire roared as he slammed through debris-dunes and skidded across landslides of rubble, crushing stone and metal beneath spinning treads. He was moving fast, erratic, unpredictable, jerking and jinking and skidding, to avoid the attention of the flying machines which filled the air. The buzzing mosquitoes were attacking everything they could reach, scooping screaming revenants from the buildings with tendrils of gravity, and crushing those who tried to flee. Pheiri swivelled the mouths of his great guns all across his bone-hide, threatening the flying machines as they dove to catch him. The air tore and burst with the barking retort of his weapons all about Atyle¡¯s ears, deafening her for but a moment. Gunfire and shouting and the voices of beasts echoed from every passageway, while Pheiri raced down the broadest streets in open defiance.

    Atyle approved with all her heart; Pheiri was too great to be a mere steed, but she rode him all the same.

    She howled over the wind and the guns and the thwok-thwok-thwok of the mosquitoes, through lips that still tasted of vomit and a tongue still numb with gravity-wave pressure.

    ¡°Fleet of foot and sure of arm, little titan! You shall see us through!¡±

    Atyle did not look down to read the subtle flash and crackle of life inside Pheiri¡¯s brain, to see if he appreciated her confidence. She could not tear her eyes away from that which she had emerged to witness ¡ª neither her mortal eye nor her god-sight. The hatch in Pheiri¡¯s hide yawned wide a few feet to Atyle¡¯s left; she had tried to close it twice, but the little titan kept it open for her, despite the danger to his own soft innards. The dark hole beckoned her back into the safety of Pheiri¡¯s inner shell. The others were still huddled down there, recovering from the sickness and sheltering from the storm of steel and gravity above. There would be no loss of honour or face for Atyle to retreat as well.

    But Atyle had spent her whole life choosing safety in lies, spinning tales of gods she did not really see.

    Now, in death and resurrection, she chose peril and truth.

    She chose to witness.

    Through her mortal left eye she saw no more than she had in life: the view was blocked by rows of buildings whizzing past, by shattered concrete and twists of rust and ruin, by the rotten guts of the corpse-city through which Pheiri raced like a divine maggot. Atyle¡¯s mortal eye saw the giant diamond in the sky well enough ¡ª a toxic sculpture of poisonous dripping gold, framed against the soot-choked black, haloed by clouds of buzzing rot-flies, and blurred by a phantasmal warping in the air. Of the great titan ¡ª Elpida¡¯s ¡®combat frame¡¯ ¡ª Atyle¡¯s mortal eye saw only slivers of white armour through the gaps between the buildings, as the titan stood firm before the foe.

    Atyle¡¯s god-sight ¡ª in the blessed gift of her right eye ¡ª pierced metal and stone, brick and earth, flesh and bone, thought and soul.

    The others called her god-sight a ¡®bionic¡¯ or ¡®augmetic¡¯; they compared it with the scribe¡¯s hated legs, or the betrayer¡¯s powerful arm, or the machine-heart that beat in the soldier¡¯s chest.

    But Atyle knew her god-sight was different. Unlike the others, she had not forgotten the promise that had made her anew.

    God-sight saw the truth of the mechanism in the sky ¡ª a boiling nest of giant snakes forged from pure force, birthed by dark engines inside the golden arms of the diamond-frame, controlled from a great distance like a puppet dancing upon a million strings. The mechanism¡¯s arms contained a mind, imposing itself on the nearby weave of tiny machines, to better fuel the crushing power of the snake-nest in its heart. Atyle knew this power was called ¡®gravity¡¯; it was that power she felt pounding at her stomach and ears and internal organs every time the snake-nest moved.

    Atyle considered the possibility that this golden diamond was one of the gods she had met, in the twilight between life and death.

    Those lurking gods had promised her many things ¡ª power and strength, wisdom without limit, infinite lovers and friends and allies ¡ª if only she would agree to unspoken prices, to submission and fealty and a place in secret plans. But Atyle had kept her own counsel. She was no pawn.

    Only one of those gods ¡ª a dainty thing, ancient and furtive, so much smaller than the others ¡ª had promised her the gift of true sight. The price? A kiss, from the lips of a mortal shade to the body of a forgotten god. Atyle had given that kiss freely, a feathery touch of her lips upon the noble forehead of a crowned girl. She could not recall the details now, could not remember the face of the crowned girl, and that pained her, for she so wished to call out the name of that god in worship. But the river that separated life from this rebirth was hazy and indistinct, even to her perfect sight. Her deal with the crowned girl in the underworld seemed as a dream after waking. But she had risen with the eye, with the perfect sight that was promised. All the others woke with their wounds closed and their missing limbs replaced. But Atyle had died with both her lying eyes inside her skull, and been reborn with truth on her tongue.

    No, she decided; this poisonous diamond was not an emissary of her crowned girl. It was the avatar of another god. She would do right to smite it, if only her arms had the strength.

    But the golden mechanism was not what had drawn Atyle out onto Pheiri¡¯s hull.

    She was here to witness the titan ¡ª Arcadia¡¯s Rampart.

    She had learned that name seconds ago, from a pulse-scream of message the titan had sent in all directions. She had learned other names too ¡ª ¡®Thirteen¡¯, and ¡®1255¡¯. She had not understood the words of the message; this language was veiled, like that of Pheiri¡¯s maids. But her true-sight had unpicked the waves and revealed the meaning in the crackle of power.

    From inside Pheiri¡¯s armour she had seen the titan lurch to its feet amid the grey mud; the others had all heard the great roar of challenge from the titan¡¯s throat, but only Atyle had seen the titan flower with spear and sling to protect Elpida, and witnessed the tremor of a change inside that mountain of flesh. The others were in a poor state; Pheiri¡¯s maid, Melyn, had fared better than the living flesh of her fellows, but little Amina, Atyle¡¯s sweet rabbit of hidden claw, was sick with vomiting and writhing, with only the rabid Ilyusha for comfort. The betrayer and the animal were in Pheiri¡¯s front, perhaps hoping to help guide their chariot to answer Elpida¡¯s call for help.

    Fools. Pheiri needed no guidance.

    And Atyle needed to see this. She needed to do in death what she had made a falsehood in life. Perhaps this was why the crowned girl had gifted her this sight.

    Pheiri turned sharply to the right, his rear end skidding out behind him, smashing into the lower levels of a brick building. A shower of debris and shattered brick fell all about Atyle¡¯s head; her mortal eye clouded with tears, but her god-sight stayed wide. An irritating mosquito swooped into the space Pheiri had occupied a moment earlier, slashing at the air with talons of gravity, pulverising brick and steel into dust and splinters.

    Atyle sang out: ¡°Begone, insect! You know not what you tempt!¡±

    Pheiri turned the mouths of his guns upon the flying ball and blasted it back through the building with the sheer force of his stones and arrows. Atyle¡¯s ears ached with the pounding of the guns, but she did not retreat inside. She sang louder, throat ringing with an old lie that was untruth no longer.

    ¡°For I ride the mammoth of the gods! I command the spring storm and the summer lightning! Begone, for you have no hold upon me!¡±

    Pheiri¡¯s tracks bit into the concrete; the little titan leapt forward once again, slamming Atyle against the outcrop of bone-armour. Atyle cleared her mortal eye with a wipe of her sleeve, laughing at the top of her lungs, howling to gods she had once cursed in her secret heart.

    Past the buildings, out in the crater filled with mud and filth, Arcadia¡¯s Rampart turned toward the golden diamond. The great titan unfurled an army¡¯s worth of weapons, some of them more terrible than even Atyle¡¯s god-sight could comprehend.

    Atyle held her breath. The great titan was a godling worthy of the title ¡ª but the golden diamond was vast beyond imagination. How could such a small thing hope to prevail?

    But it must!

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was among the most beautiful things Atyle had ever witnessed. When the titan had lain defeated and sleeping, it had seemed nothing more than the husk of a dead god, like the discarded shell of a beetle ¡ª pretty with colours and shaped most excellently, but pointless and fleeting, dust beneath a careless heel.

    In motion the titan was sublime. It was shaped like a great hump-backed beetle, with four folding legs and four elegant arms; a tiny silvery head was planted in the middle of the back, but Atyle¡¯s god-sight revealed this to be no head at all ¡ª it was the anchor-point of the vast shields that flashed and seared in the air around the titan¡¯s body. Atyle offered a silent apology to the titan; she had imagined it would move with lumbering care, like an elephant or a hippopotamus, or perhaps like a real beetle, scuttling and scurrying in furtive stealth. Her assumptions shamed her. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart moved with the swift clarity of a human being, each limb unfolding with the flowing precision of a sword-bearer, the body balanced like a dancer on the sand.

    Atyle¡¯s god-sight showed her more; she pierced bone and saw the gleaming meat beneath, ruby-rich and throbbing red, flushed with crimson blood and crackling with great sheets of passing life. The titan was more alive and more vital than any mortal flesh; Pheiri¡¯s insides were beautiful in the same manner, especially the wonder of his shrouded brain, but even Pheiri was but a pale shadow of this brilliance. Atyle saw the network of organs the titan used for thinking, the eight-lobed brain and sixteen-branched heart and the armoured chambers of thought and memory; she saw the perfection of biological systems even her god-sight could not comprehend, webs of impulse and energy worming through the titan¡¯s body, sacks of chemical and bile and humour that could have melted her soul to nothingness if she but inhaled the smallest wisp.

    She saw the way the bone-hide and red-muscle repelled the machines of the gods in the air all around, forcing the tiny ¡®nanomachines¡¯ to change course or be destroyed by noise and fury. The titan¡¯s innards boiled with their own tiny machines, flexing and flowering as they shivered with the promise of a coming change.

    Atyle blinked. The titan was changing inside. A ripple passed through the gleaming burgundy meat, like a caged river behind a dam.

    The golden diamond in the sky reached down toward the titan with snakes of crushing power; there would be no contest, the titan would be smashed to splinters if it did nothing.

    What did it need?! A final push? Was the titan intimidated? Did it suffer doubt, as mortals did?

    ¡°You are witnessed!¡± Atyle howled over the noise of Pheiri¡¯s engines and treads, over the whirr of the aircraft and the whipping wind in her face. ¡°You are seen! I see you! The gods see you! The crowned child sees your struggle! You are witnessed!¡±

    In the core of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, in a spot Atyle had previously overlooked, two fluids crashed together ¡ª a moment of fusion, as the titan and her keeper became one.

    Fusion spread through the titan in an instant, crashing through muscle and tendon and nerve and breaking the dam of age.

    Bone-armour burst asunder with a noise like the earth being torn in two. Flesh flowered into a whirlwind, with a wet and meaty ripping sound, like the innards of the world spilling forth. Crimson and scarlet reached for the heavens with towers of dripping meat.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Pheiri shot from the confines of the streets, treads biting into the rim of the grey and muddy crater, carrying Atyle out into the open. She no longer needed her god-sight to see.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was blossoming: white armour had burst and peeled back at every seam to reveal the scarlet meat beneath ¡ª and the meat was growing, expanding, flowing upward in waves like ivy climbing a tree, like mould eating the world. The beetle-shaped back had exploded outward into a flared cup of bone, cradling a spiral of meaty petals, each one singing with arcs of brilliant blue life crackling forth to scorch the air and imprint their truth upon Atyle¡¯s stinging retina. The titan¡¯s legs and arms unfolded outward like a mathematical equation written in leaf and branch, gaining a dozen new joints, digging into the grey mud and spiralling through the air, carrying fragments of bone on a wave of divine flesh. Exposed nerves and lymphatic tubes and bleeding arteries spider-webbed upward, forming towers of meat and blood to dwarf the skyscrapers which ringed the crater.

    ¡°Lilium,¡± Atyle whispered. ¡°The lily. Newborn god. Give me your name! Your name!¡±

    Atyle¡¯s voice was lost; the titan was too busy screaming its own truth outward across the weave of the world, overpowering even the noise of the golden diamond in the sky.

    The titan¡¯s exposed flesh bubbled and boiled with new extrusions ¡ª claws and teeth, protector-like organs, eyeballs the size of people, great maws yawning wide; the weaponry on the titan¡¯s hide was quickly overwhelmed, each blister and knot of bone-embedded gun absorbed and overgrown with flesh. The great ¡®railgun¡¯ on one arm vanished beneath a wave of crimson and garnet.

    But the golden diamond cared not for all this beauty. It reached down with an army of invisible serpents, to rip blossom from stem.

    Atyle longed to cry a warning. She did not see how this battle could go any other way. The titan was beautiful beyond her dreams, beyond the most fanciful of her tales, but it was still so tiny compared to the foe.

    But then Atyle¡¯s god-sight saw new engines suddenly bloom deep inside the titan¡¯s flesh, seeds bursting to life within an instant, expanding from thumb-sized dots of potential into roaring organs of throbbing power, red and wet and glistening beneath the grey light of the soot-choked sky. The air around Arcadia¡¯s Rampart turned hazy with heat; a wave of cooked air washed outward and slammed over Atyle¡¯s face; the mud beneath the titan¡¯s four feet flash-dried and hardened to a baked crust.

    The diamond reached downward with limbs as wide as rivers; Arcadia¡¯s Rampart reached back up with snakes of her own.

    Gravity met gravity; the invisible tentacles did not slap and deflect like true limbs, but exploded outward in waves of shattering force wherever they met, reforming as soon as they parted. The mud of the crater rocked and flowed under the ripples of the blows; skyscrapers creaked and tilted, steel screaming with the pressure; ball-craft were thrown through the air like seeds on the wind. Even Pheiri shuddered beneath Atyle¡¯s feet as he sped onward, throwing up grey mud behind his tracks.

    The waves of gravity washed over Atyle, spinning her head and forcing vomit from her lips. She spat bile and let it come, but she kept her eyes wide open.

    Up in the sky, the golden diamond wobbled on its axis.

    Tears rolled down Atyle¡¯s cheeks.

    Atyle had spent her girlhood weaving lies about watching the gods at war. She lied to her parents, she lied to her siblings, she lied to the elders, she lied to the priestesses in the temple, and even to the great emperor himself, when she had been brought before him amid all the finery of the palace. She had lied to the guests from foreign lands, she had lied to soldiers and armies and generals. She had lied to dying men and barren women and orphaned children. She had lied to condemned enemies and to staunch allies and all others under the sun. She intuited at a young age that the adults wanted to believe her lies, wanted to believe that the gods were just above their heads. She would lie on her back and stare at the clouds and pretend to witness victory or defeat in the pantomimes of divine provenance. She would lie to her bed-slaves of love and destiny and fate. She would jump up in the middle of meals and declaim a new vision, a new unfolding of the cosmic dance. She would justify her whims ¡ª or, more often, the whims of her lord and emperor ¡ª with stories she dreamed up while emptying her bowels of night soil.

    In life Atyle ¡ª Priestess, Visionary, Chosen, Wise Woman, Temple Bride ¡ª had been a liar and a fraud. Her gods were born of shit; they were worth the same.

    The gods in the twilight between life and death were real.

    They had offered her much, but they were not flesh and blood. They were spirits lost in the gloom between worlds, chained and bound to the will of greater things, things that did not deserve the name of gods. Even her crowned girl, the secret to which she owed allegiance, was but a phantom craving incarnation.

    But this, this blossoming beauty, this was a god in the flesh. Newborn.

    The golden diamond wobbled ¡ª it had not expected to face a newborn godling, armed with the same terrible instruments of wrath. The nest of snakes reeled backward in surprise, then reared up for a second strike. Tips of gravity lanced through the air, racing faster than Atyle¡¯s god-sight could measure; the pressure wave hit her in the front, made her ribs creak, compressed her organs, squeezed her lungs. But she kept her eyes open.

    The Newborn¡¯s own gravity blossomed outward into a shield made of petals; the diamond¡¯s gravity-snakes exploded into shards against this defence. The Newborn opened a dozen mouths in her flesh ¡ª red and wet and dripping with blood ¡ª and bellowed a scream into the sky, so loud that the air itself blurred and shook. Atyle clamped her hands over her ears, head spinning and pounding.

    The golden diamond lurched sideways under the assault of this god-voice scream; its perfect mathematical equilibrium was lost.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart bunched her legs; flesh flowered and grew downward into great springs.

    The Newborn Godling gathered herself, leapt into the air, and flew.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart sprang like an insect, throwing up a great wave of mud from the crater, powering her jump with the flaring exhausts of exotic energies Atyle did not comprehend. She pounced toward the vast shape of the stricken diamond. She trailed divine effluvia of blood and bile behind her ¡ª and then burst at the sides with wings of flesh to carry herself the distance. She grew great spikes and fangs and stabbing teeth, all downward-pointing, as she fell toward the golden mechanism like a hawk falling upon the eyes of a lion.

    The diamond righted itself, reformed the shattered snakes, and swatted Arcadia¡¯s Rampart out of the sky.

    ¡°No!¡± Atyle screamed.

    The Newborn fell like a bleeding comet, wings shattered, limbs kicking at the air with corkscrews and spirals of scarlet flesh, fragments of bone-armour spilling away from her hide. She clipped the top of a skyscraper and slammed into the ground below, shaking the earth and sending up a cloud of debris and dust beyond the edge of the crater. Atyle¡¯s god-sight saw the Newborn on her back, vulnerable and splayed, her flight ruined.

    The golden diamond pulled back with its feelers of gravity, ready to smite the titan to nothing upon the earth.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart reached up with one gravity-feeler, like the hand of a drowning girl; the golden diamond had not expected this, and had left no snakes in reserve to repel the touch. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart wrapped her gravity around the golden cross-beam of the diamond, and pulled, down.

    The front of the diamond dipped, like the head of a horse compelled by a hand. The leading tip slammed into the city below; buildings exploded, throwing debris in every direction, falling in waves of concrete and brick, rippling outward like the impact of a boulder tossed into the sea. The diamond shook itself, lashing out with gravity and smashing buildings aside. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was back on her feet, the feint concluded; the Newborn danced in the ruins, a beetle sparring with an elephant. She had dragged the behemoth down to her level, and held it there with a fist of iron.

    Pheiri skidded to a halt, throwing up a wave of grey mud and stagnant water.

    A voice interrupted Atyle, from the open hatch.

    ¡°Mad fucking bitch!¡± Ilyusha howled, laughing and spitting, tatters of vomit on her lips. ¡°Get in, get in! You¡¯re gonna get smashed up there!¡±

    Another voice ¡ª Amina, quavering in awe and terror: ¡°God¡ª God¡ª God is¡ª God¡ª¡±

    Atyle shook her head. She did not even look away from the gods at war. ¡°Not God, little rabbit! The gods themselves, the true lords of creation! Come up, come up and see! I cannot part from them!¡±

    ¡°Tch!¡± Ilyusha hissed; Atyle expected her to vanish again. The animal did not understand faith, she had none. But then little feet scrambled up out of the hatch and little hands grabbed Atyle¡¯s coat. ¡°Ami!¡± Ilyusha screeched ¡ª then followed as well, claws scrabbling against Pheiri¡¯s bone-hide.

    Atyle spared them a smile. Amina clung to her coat, eyes wide; Ilyusha¡¯s claws were clamped around Amina¡¯s leg, her own feet gripping the hatch, to anchor all three to Pheiri¡¯s safety.

    ¡°We witness the gods,¡± Atyle whispered.

    The Newborn stumbled back through the skyscrapers, as a human stumbles through a field of wheat, feet slamming into the mud of the crater. It dragged the golden diamond as a human drags a plough through the earth.

    Amina whimpered. Ilyusha was silent. Even the animals understood.

    The Newborn, Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, was bleeding from a dozen wounds ¡ª pulped and pulverised areas of crimson flesh where she had failed to deflect the diamond¡¯s gravity. Patches of armour were buckled and cracked. Fields of flesh were blackened and cooked, carbonised by some weapon Atyle did not understand.

    The titan had not forgotten her flesh-embraced weapons: she had used them as a surprise. The many guns and slings and spears upon her hide had resurfaced, glowing with new energies, reinforced by bone and tendon and throbbing meat; the guns pounded against the golden diamond, filling the air with blossoms of explosion and crack-whip spikes of brilliant light, rocking the crater with the impacts. The diamond lashed out in return, slamming into the tentacles of gravity, washing over the mud with stray shock waves. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart ducked and buckled, struggling to hold on, to keep the diamond grounded.

    ¡°The little God has hooked herself a leviathan,¡± Atyle whispered. ¡°But this monster will drag her under the waves.¡±

    Ilyusha howled with a laugh halfway to madness: ¡°Fuckin¡¯ get some shit! Yeah!¡±

    Over to the right, Pheiri¡¯s rear ramp descended with a loud thump, splashing into the grey mud. Atyle allowed herself a split-second glance away from the titanic fight on the far side of the crater. Three figures were sprinting for the ramp, one of them carrying a fourth, all of them caked in mud from head to toe. Elpida, leading the scribe and the soldier and Pheiri¡¯s other maid. Hafina turned as she ran, cracking off a rifle shot behind her; she was trying to keep another ball-aircraft at bay. Pheiri turned his guns on the swooping machine and hammered it backward in the sky, like a dandelion seed held aloft on a stream of breath.

    Ilyusha grabbed Atyle¡¯s shin, tugging at both her and Amina. ¡°Down! Below! Elpi¡¯s back! Now, come on, fuck!¡±

    ¡°Wait, animal! Wait!¡±

    On the far side of the crater the golden diamond finally shook itself free of the Newborn¡¯s grip.

    The diamond started to rise, like a whale rearing up to smash the boat that had so briefly held it hooked. The golden surfaces were untouched by bullet or bomb or arc or magic. Soot and mud alike slid from them, leaving their bleeding toxic light undimmed, gleaming and perfect. That light burst in a wave over Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, shrivelling crimson flesh and darkening bone-white armour. Atyle felt that same light against her face and the exposed skin of her hands, blistering and burning her flesh. The Newborn shrivelled, like a blossom before the flame.

    Atyle wept. Had it all been for nothing? The crowned girl did not deserve to see this.

    The weave of flesh in the Newborn¡¯s hide peeled back, as if drying out and dying away, falling back in layers of crusted petal, revealing pulsing dark innards beneath. A face shifted in that flesh ¡ª a face larger than buildings, narrow and aquiline, sharp of jaw, toothy with triumph.

    The face looked a tiny bit like the warrior, the Commander, Elpida.

    Ilyusha yelped a laugh; Ilyusha saw some logic that Atyle did not. ¡°Surprise!¡± the animal howled. ¡°Fuck you!¡±

    The face was gone as quickly as it had risen from the soup of flesh, melting to nothing ¡ª and leaving behind the railgun.

    Like a stinger ejected from the flesh of a wasp, the massive arm-cannon railgun shot forward, the tip almost touching the diamond¡¯s cross-bar of toxic gold. Magnetic power flared. The railgun discharged with a crack like the splitting of a mountain.

    A round the size of Pheiri¡¯s body slammed into the diamond¡¯s crossbeam ¡ª and broke it.

    An explosion of golden shrapnel filled the air, brighter than the forgotten sun, growing into a mushroom of burning light.

    Atyle¡¯s breath was sucked from her lungs; her skin began to boil and the sight in her mortal eye turned to blinding white; her god-sight dimmed and flickered, filled with sparkles of static and dancing stars. The Newborn God stood untouched amid the fiery doom, levelling her guns once again. The golden diamond was reeling, bleeding shining ichor in great torrents. Atyle wept tears of blood and¡ª

    And hit Pheiri¡¯s hide in a heap; Ilyusha pulled her off her feet and dragged her down through the hatch.

    Atyle allowed herself to be shoved down the steps, back into the safety of Pheiri¡¯s innards. She could not keep her feet; she collapsed at the bottom of the passageway, sprawled out across the floor of the crew compartment, half-blind and almost deafened, bleeding from patches of cooked skin, weeping tears of blood ¡ª tears of joy. The gods had shown her the truth at last. She had witnessed victory, not a fiction, not a lie.

    ¡°Ami! Ami!¡± Ilyusha was shouting.

    Amina replied: ¡°I-it burns, but it¡¯s only m-my hand, I¡¯m¡ª I¡¯m okay, I¡¯m okay, Illy.¡±

    Elpida and the others had returned moments before the Newborn¡¯s surprise ¡ª they were dripping grey mud as they fell in through the airlock compartment, shouting and babbling, weapons clattering, boots ringing against the metal. Pheiri lurched forward again as soon as all were aboard, tossing the revenants sideways as he skidded in the mud and made good their escape.

    The Commander snapped orders above the chaos, checking on her girls, but even her voice shook.

    ¡°Everyone in? Everyone in!? Nobody left behind? Haf, get Kaga into the infirmary, right now. Vicky, Vicky, sit down, hold onto something. What happened to her ¡ª Ilyusha, what happened to Atyle? What¡ª what are you¡ª Howl? ¡­ Howl? Howl?¡±

    Atyle paid no attention.

    The crowned girl had appeared in Atyle¡¯s god-sight.

    She was not a dream-memory, but a phantom standing upon the decking, a ghost none of the others could see, even as they stepped through her insubstantial body. She was beautiful, dressed in a gown of bone and pearl and coral, with hair the colour of burning ash, eyes of pure obsidian, and skin like fresh, rich, warm blood. Her crown was silver, melted to her skull, crackling with life.

    She smiled at Atyle: a thank you.

    ¡°Howl?!¡± Elpida was shouting, clutching her own head. ¡°Where are you?! Where did you go?! Howl?!¡±

    The crowned girl lost her smile. She closed her eyes with heavy sorrow, tears of liquid silver flowing down her cheeks.

    Atyle¡¯s god-sight cleared. The crowned girl was gone. The crew compartment slammed from side to side as Pheiri accelerated away from the crater, dodging mosquitoes and losing traction and smashing through buildings.

    The Commander was standing in the middle of it all, dripping with grey mud, hair filthy, jaw clenched, eyes wide with the mania of a fresh wound.

    ¡°Howl?!¡±

 impietas - 9.9

    Howl was gone.

    Elpida felt her sister¡¯s absence like the bleeding socket of a shattered tooth, or the phantom pain of a severed limb, or the fading warmth of abandoned bedsheets. She knew that Howl was not merely asleep, unconscious, or quiet, in the same manner she knew the position of her own legs and arms. This absence was a raw and open wound. Something had been torn away from Elpida¡¯s mind, something she had not known she possessed, not until it was gone.

    ¡°Howl?!¡±

    Her shout filled Pheiri¡¯s crew compartment.

    Her comrades could not spare further shock or alarm ¡ª everyone was busy struggling to retain their balance, stowing weapons and equipment, dripping grey mud from saturated clothes, lurching and reeling with wide-eyed panic and helpless fear.

    Pheiri was accelerating, tracks crunching, engine roaring, weapon emplacements pounding out a chorus of bullets and missiles beyond the hull; he was still fighting the ball-shaped rotor-craft, despite the damage to the gigantic airship. The crew compartment juddered and jerked as Pheiri skidded and swerved, tossing everyone from side to side as he took evasive action, speeding through the streets of the corpse-city. He was likely trying to place himself beyond the blast radius of a second atomic detonation; his nano-composite bone armour had protected his insides and his crew, but even he had limits.

    Elpida held fast to a piece of wall-rib and screamed at the silence inside her own head.

    Howl?! Where did you go? Answer me! Howl!

    No reply. Howl was not there. Howl was gone.

    Elpida pinpointed the exact moment she had lost track of her sister ¡ª lost Howl a second time, all over again. It was happening again!

    Howl had gone silent during the flight across the muddy crater, seconds before Arcadia¡¯s Rampart had reared up and blossomed into a whirling tower of flesh and bone. Howl had nothing to say about the combat frame¡¯s terrifying and beautiful transformation; Elpida had assumed that Howl was focused on survival and extraction, silently urging Elpida onward, keeping her steady, giving her purpose. Elpida had sent a distress call to Pheiri, then concentrated on keeping the small group together and moving; Kagami couldn¡¯t run, Vicky was terrified, so they both needed help. Elpida had expected Howl to cheer when Pheiri had burst into the crater and hammered a rotor-craft out of the sky; she had expected an awestruck gasp when Arcadia¡¯s Rampart had landed a railgun strike on the golden diamond, or when the crossbeam of the vast airship had detonated with the force of an atomic blast.

    Not all Howl¡¯s vocalisations were clear, not all her comments were coherent, not all her emotions were fully expressed ¡ª but they were always present in the back of Elpida¡¯s head. Elpida had not yet grown used to this new dual-minded way of being, this passenger inside her skull, but the sudden absence of her clade-sister made her realise just how much of Howl¡¯s input was non-verbal.

    She had lost her second in command, the angel on her shoulder, her devil¡¯s advocate. All over again.

    Had Howl departed on purpose? Had all her support been nothing more than the surface bait of a cruel manipulation?

    Howl, don¡¯t, don¡¯t leave me, don¡¯t go now. I can¡¯t do this alone, I can¡¯t¡ª

    Pheiri swerved a hard left, tossing the contents of the crew compartment to one side. Tiny projectiles or debris pattered off his hull like a rain of steel.

    Hafina was halfway to the infirmary, dripping liquid mud from her cloak and armour, cradling Kagami in her arms; she braced herself against the wall and floor, rocking with the sudden motion. The others didn¡¯t fare so well. Atyle was already sprawled on the floor, her skin covered in blisters, sliding to one side as Pheiri swerved. Ilyusha and Amina went tumbling together, slamming into a wall with a hiss and a yowl. Ilyusha caught Amina and held her tight, to spare her the worst of the impact. Vicky flew out of her seat, eyes wide, arms wind-milling for a handhold.

    Elpida hooked Vicky around the waist before she could crash into the wall. Pheiri slewed to the other side, tossing everybody back again. Vicky yelped, clinging to Elpida¡¯s arms. Ilyusha spat a curse. Amina screamed.

    Howl! Last chance. If this is a joke, stop, right now. If you¡¯re in trouble, communicate with me however you can. If you¡¯re not here ¡­ if you¡¯re not ¡­ not here ¡­

    Elpida knew she would be dead without Howl.

    She was already dead, already a zombie ¡ª but without Howl, Elpida would have died again, and not in a temporary manner, not to be resurrected by the lingering power of her nanomachine biology. Without Howl¡¯s relentless support, Elpida would not have escaped from captivity, would not have escaped the Death¡¯s Heads and Yola and their sick designs on her. Without Howl to pull her out of defeat and despair, Elpida would have lingered in the false darkness of dreams and delusion. Howl had forced Elpida to her feet and made her keep fighting, even when her body had screamed to stop. Without Howl, Elpida¡¯s companions would not have their Commander, Pheiri would not have found his Telokopolan pilot, and Thirteen would not have reconciled with her combat frame. Without Howl they would all be dead, to be resurrected again in ten or fifty or a hundred years, separated and broken.

    Howl, please. I can¡¯t do this alone.

    Had Howl betrayed her? Was ¡®Howl¡¯ even Howl?

    Elpida had simply accepted the reality of Howl¡¯s voice, the support and reassurance of her sister back at her side, the miraculous resurrection of one she wished for so dearly. But Howl had not explained how she had come to exist, or how she had come to be riding along inside Elpida¡¯s head. Howl had explained nothing.

    Elpida¡¯s mind raced to construct a working hypothesis. She had three options: Howl had either departed on purpose, or been intentionally taken away, or been left behind by accident. There was a fourth option, of course ¡ª Howl may be dead ¡ª but Elpida discarded that as useless. She couldn¡¯t act on that. Howl had germinated, or been planted, or moved into Elpida¡¯s mind when she¡¯d been unconscious, chained to the Death¡¯s Heads¡¯ surgical table, dying of a gut wound, at the exact moment Elpida had needed her most. Howl could have been lying dormant since Elpida¡¯s resurrection in the tomb, or she may have arrived later.

    Her origin did not matter. What mattered was that she could leave.

    Why now?

    Elpida made two educated guesses: either the golden diamond in the sky ¡ª central¡¯s ¡®physical asset¡¯ ¡ª had ripped Howl out of Elpida¡¯s mind; or Howl had departed on purpose, to give Thirteen the last push into transformation.

    Both of those meant Howl might be trying to return home.

    Home? Home was Telokopolis. Home was Elpida.

    Elpida was inside Pheiri¡¯s hull, sheltered from most electromagnetic interference. And Howl was out there, in the whipping winds and fallout and radiation of an atomic detonation.

    Or she had betrayed Elpida, because she was never Howl in the first place.

    That was not a risk Elpida could take.

    She chose trust.

    Okay, Howl, I¡¯m coming to find you and pick you up. Hold on.

    Elpida slammed Vicky back down into her seat on one of the crew compartment benches. She yanked at the belts and webbing and got Vicky strapped in, despite the slippery grey mud all over Vicky¡¯s clothes and Elpida¡¯s hands.

    Vicky stammered: ¡°E-Elpida, Elpida, Kaga is¡ª¡±

    Elpida struggled to keep her balance as Pheiri swerved again. ¡°Vicky, you stay there, stay put, stay strapped in. Pheiri needs to move fast. We can help him by protecting ourselves. That¡¯s an order. Stay there.¡±

    ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    ¡°Haf¡¯s got her. The wound is shallow. She¡¯ll be fine. Stay there.¡±

    Elpida did not wait for acknowledgement. She swung away from Vicky to see to the others.

    Ilyusha was already bundling Amina into a seat and tugging the straps across her chest. Ilyusha¡¯s claws gave her better handholds on Pheiri¡¯s innards. Amina was crying and heaving with panic, cradling one badly burned hand; she had been briefly exposed when the blast wave had hit.

    Elpida hurried past them. ¡°Illy, Amina, you two stay here as well, stay strapped in, look after each other.¡±

    Amina said: ¡°But Pheiri¡ª¡±

    Elpida caught a bulkhead rib and twisted round to look Amina in the eye. ¡°Pheiri is trying to save us. We have to help him by staying safe. Your job is to stay safe. Do you understand?¡±

    Amina nodded, tears streaming down her face. Pheiri swerved again; the movement was punctuated by the thump-thump crack-crack of his guns ¡ª not the small point-defence weaponry, but the big weapons, the autocannons and missile pods. Explosions blossomed beyond the hull, buffeting the crew compartment with noise and fury. The firepower shook Pheiri¡¯s insides, drawing a scream from Amina¡¯s throat and throwing Elpida backwards.

    Ilyusha reached out and bunched a clawed fist in Elpida¡¯s coat, catching her before she could crack her head on the metal wall.

    Illy bared her teeth. ¡°What about you!?¡±

    Elpida grabbed Ilyusha¡¯s hand and squeezed hard. ¡°Howl¡¯s gone. We left her behind. I have to find her.¡±

    Ilyusha let go, grimacing through clenched teeth. She nodded and threw herself down into the seat next to Amina. Clawed hands pulled straps and webbing over her body. Clawed feet gripped the decking. Pheiri fired again; the recoil made the crew compartment shudder and shake. Elpida braced her hands against the wall.

    ¡°Illy, where¡¯s Pira and Ooni?¡±

    Ilyusha jerked her head at the corridor to the control cockpit. ¡°Up front!¡±

    Elpida scrambled forward. She grabbed the hatch to the infirmary and stuck her head through.

    Hafina and Melyn had worked fast; Kagami was laid out and strapped down on one of the infirmary slab-beds. Her coat was peeled away from her right shoulder, revealing a burned, pulped mass of flesh on her upper right arm. Blood was pooling on the floor, reduced to a trickle by an emergency tourniquet and bandage. She¡¯d taken a shrapnel wound during the flight across the crater ¡ª a lucky shard of metal had slipped between the halves of her coat and sliced open her arm. The wound looked much worse than it was; Elpida had taken worse in life and come away with nothing more than a short visit to medical.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Kagami snapped as soon as she saw Elpida. ¡°Fucking hell! Fuck me!¡± Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated with pain and fear. ¡°Commander, Commander, we have to get out of here!¡± She looked up at the ceiling and the walls, eyes jerking every which way. ¡°Go faster, damn you! Remember me?! Remember me from the fucking radio!? Drive faster! Commander, make this thing go faster!¡±

    Melyn was clamped to one of the fold out chairs ¡ª legs braced beneath the seat, arms gripping the sides, her tiny, pixie-like frame bouncing with every rut and hole in Pheiri¡¯s path. Hafina hadn¡¯t bothered to sit, perhaps conscious of her mud-soaked clothes; she used her height and her many limbs to brace herself against the ceiling and walls, riding the swaying like a gyroscope.

    Elpida said: ¡°You two have Kaga in good hands?¡±

    Hafina grinned. ¡°Lots of hands.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to treat her until we¡¯re secure. Stay strapped in. Be safe, both of you.¡±

    Melyn rattled off a reply. ¡°Yes yes yes, yes yes.¡±

    Elpida lurched back into the crew compartment. Atyle was still sprawled on the floor, making no effort to pull herself up into a seat; that seemed to be a successful strategy so far, keeping her centre of gravity low. The exposed skin on her face and hands was red and raw, starting to blister and peel; she¡¯d been standing on top of Pheiri when the first part of the blast wave had rolled over the crawler. It was a miracle she hadn¡¯t been blown off Pheiri¡¯s hull or had her flesh melted to her bones; either the distance or Ilyusha¡¯s quick thinking had saved her. Elpida and the others had been sheltered by Pheiri¡¯s armour, just inside the hatch when the detonation had hit. They¡¯d reached him just in time.

    Atyle was smiling at the ceiling, lost in private visions, one hand pawing at the air. Her biological eye was milky and blank with light damage. Her peat-green augmetic was wide and whirring.

    Elpida dragged Atyle off the floor and strapped her into one of the bench seats, then grabbed her face and stared into Atyle¡¯s bionic eye.

    ¡°Atyle. Atyle, concentrate. I need you, right now. I need your sight.¡±

    Atyle blinked. Suddenly she was lucid. She slurred through burned lips. ¡°Warrior?¡±

    ¡°If you really can see into brains, I need you to confirm something for me. Howl is gone. I don¡¯t understand why. Is she still inside me?¡±

    Atyle paused, then said: ¡°You are alone, warrior. The other one is nowhere.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s heart lurched. She nodded. ¡°Thank you. Stay here, stay strapped in. We¡¯ll tend to those burns later.¡±

    ¡°Tend? Nay, warrior, they are proof of a divine hand.¡±

    Elpida straightened up. Pheiri was accelerating straight ahead, skidding over rubble and rock, bouncing and slewing. Elpida gripped the rib of an interior wall and stripped off her mud-soaked cloak, dropping it to the floor. She unhooked her submachine gun and tossed it onto the bench. She pulled off her armoured coat, stamped out of her waterlogged boots, and pushed her trousers down her legs. She didn¡¯t care about the cold or the discomfort; she needed to move fast. If her hypothesis was right then Howl might be trying to return home right then, trapped beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull, alone.

    Elpida ducked into the connecting corridor and hurried for the control cockpit. She banged her elbows and skinned her knees in the tight confines. She cracked her head off low-hanging equipment and smacked her hips into chairs and control panels. Her gut wound was still not healed; it complained and ached as she doubled-up, sending spikes of pain deep into her abdomen. She crawled most of the way, past the access hatch and the bulge of armour over Pheiri¡¯s brain. When she passed beneath the turret-ladder she looked up into the gloom, at the gleaming hint of the MMI-uplink helmet.

    ¡°Hold on, Howl,¡± she whispered.

    She burst into the control cockpit and hauled herself upright. She clung to the back of a chair as Pheiri lurched to the left; the massive crawler entered a long, curved, skidding motion, bringing his front around, letting his rear end carry him with sheer momentum and weight. Through the tiny steel-glass window in the cockpit Elpida saw snatches of building and soot-dark sky and a toxic golden glow in the air, all whirling as Pheiri struggled not to spin out. She heard Pheiri¡¯s tracks biting and clawing at concrete and asphalt as he pulled out of the slide.

    From far behind, far beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull, Elpida heard a second unmistakable crack-thump of earth-shattering railgun discharge. She braced for a second blast wave.

    But this time there was no atomic detonation.

    A miss?

    She had no idea how the fight was progressing. But she couldn¡¯t help Arcadia¡¯s Rampart and Thirteen. Not without a combat frame of her own.

    Or could she?

    Two wicks with one flame, wasn¡¯t that how the old saying went? If one of those wicks was Howl and the other was Thirteen, perhaps Elpida had a way to keep both of them burning.

    Pheiri pulled out of his skid with an almighty lurch, throwing everything forward. Elpida would have gone flying if she hadn¡¯t dug her fingernails into the burst stuffing of the chair. She clawed her way to the front of the control cockpit, braced for more of Pheiri¡¯s evasive manoeuvres.

    Pira and Ooni were strapped into two of the forward seats. Pira still looked like absolute hell, like a corpse lifted from the mortuary slab and injected with adrenaline. Ooni was wide-eyed with terror, lips peeled back, hands shaking as she gripped the armrests. Both of them were staring at one of Pheiri¡¯s little screens. Elpida wiped her mud-drenched hair out of her face.

    Pira looked up, hard-eyed. She snapped: ¡°You lost somebody.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question; she¡¯d read it on Elpida¡¯s face.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Howl.¡±

    Pira squinted. ¡°What? How? She¡¯s in your head.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. But we¡¯re going to get her back. I need access to Pheiri¡¯s comms systems. Pheiri? Pheiri, can you spare enough attention to speak with me? We need to¡ª¡±

    Ooni sobbed through clenched teeth. ¡°Commander! Commander, we¡¯re going to¡ª¡±

    Elpida put a hand on Ooni¡¯s shoulder and squeezed hard. Ooni winced. ¡°Nobody dies. Nobody gets left behind. Never again. Hold on. Close your eyes if you have to. There¡¯s no shame in that.¡±

    ¡°But!¡±

    Ooni pointed at the screen she and Pira were watching.

    The screen showed a false-colour exterior view of the battle back in the crater, with the buildings and obstructions cut away, the picture constructed by sensor readouts and radar information. The false colour was outlined in greens and blacks, flickering with heavy static, harsh on the eyes.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart ¡ª or the angel of flesh it had become ¡ª had scored a single titanic hit on the giant golden diamond, shattering one of the crossbeams with a railgun slug. Elpida had witnessed that strike in the final second before she¡¯d bundled everybody on board Pheiri and slammed the ramp shut.

    Now the diamond was listing to one side, reeling and rocking, bleeding a million gallons of golden fluid into the crater; the fluid superheated the grey mud where it fell, turning the sucking mire into a boiling cauldron of toxic gold. The vast airship lashed out in all directions with gigantic feelers of artificial gravity ¡ª those were invisible to the naked eye, but Pheiri highlighted them with grey-scale overlays and measurements. The machine¡¯s tantrum was smashing buildings to dust, pulverising metal into explosions of splinters, throwing up waves of boiling grey mud, and even knocking many of its own auxiliary craft out of the sky. The edges of the crater were already blackened and blasted by the atomics, buildings crumbling and earth charred, but the machine¡¯s tantrum would leave nothing standing.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart stood amid the onslaught, golden toxins streaming off its armour and burning into its flesh. The combat frame ¡ª so changed now, into a thing of blossoming muscle and flower-like protrusions ¡ª was scuttling to retain its footing amid the shifting mud and collapsing ground. It pounded the golden diamond with every weapon it had; the railgun was once again concealed, withdrawn, perhaps charging magnetic coils for a third shot.

    Elpida had not begun to process the combat frame¡¯s transformation, or what Thirteen had told her, or what any of that meant. None of that mattered right then. Elpida did not care. A comrade was in battle.

    ¡°You can do it,¡± Elpida hissed. ¡°Come on, Thirteen. Get out of there. Get out of there.¡±

    ¡°It can¡¯t!¡± Ooni wailed. ¡°It¡¯s trapped!¡±

    Ooni was correct.

    The diamond was thrashing and writhing like a cornered animal. Perhaps it was dying. But Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was unable to withdraw in good order. For all the transcendent beauty of the flesh-and-bone change, even an uncaged combat frame was not invincible. The exposed flesh was blackening, the armour buckling, the limbs bowing under repeated blows. In minutes Arcadia¡¯s Rampart would fall to the onslaught of gravitic assault, or get trapped in the sucking whirlpool of gold-baked mud, or melt under the torrent of ichor and chemical damage and radiation.

    Elpida said quickly: ¡°Is she talking to us?¡±

    Pira squinted. ¡°She?¡±

    ¡°Thirteen, the pilot. Any broadcasts?¡±

    One of Pheiri¡¯s little black screens flashed to life, scrolling with green text.

    >

    ///message log buffer 73/73 direct contact attempt unknown

    ///re-designate: ¡°Thirteen¡±

    ///73/73 direct contact attempt corrupted datastream rejected

    >

    Elpida nodded. ¡°She¡¯s trying to contact us but the data is corrupted. Understood. That¡¯s to be expected, she¡¯s changed too far and she¡¯s in the middle of the fight of her life. We¡¯ll have to re-establish communication protocols later. Pheiri, we¡¯re going back to help her.¡±

    Ooni spluttered: ¡°What?! No! Back into that? No, no!

    Pira snapped: ¡°Nobody gets left behind, Ooni. You heard the Commander. Nobody get left behind. Shut your mouth.¡±

    Ooni squeaked.

    Pheiri refreshed the green text.

    >

    ///local volume radiological hazard class alpha

    ///local volume biological hazard class alpha

    ///local volume chemical hazard class alpha

    ///local volume nanomechanical hazard class alpha alpha plus

    ///local volume signals hazard class unregistered

    >

    Elpida said: ¡°I know. Pheiri, listen to me very carefully. Howl is missing ¡ª the girl inside my head. That means she was somehow independent of me. A piece of data. I don¡¯t know. She may be trying to get back to me, back home, through all that stuff out there. Signals can¡¯t penetrate your hull, not unless you invite them, so I need you to listen for Howl trying to get home. But I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ll recognise her without me.¡±

    >

    ///datastream capture protocol engaged

    ///data entity buffer WARNING DO NOT WRITE MEMORY

    ///internal firewall integrity check . . . passed

    ///passthrough connection request nanomachine conglomeration ¡®Elpida¡¯

    ///waiting ¡­

    ///waiting ¡­

    ///waiting ¡­

    >

    Elpida laughed, or tried to. She was shaking. ¡°Good. Yes. Now, I¡¯m going to have to climb up into your turret and plug myself into your MMI uplink system, via that helmet up there. You grab Howl, stuff her back into my head. Right? Okay. So.¡± Elpida wet her lips. ¡°Your main turret weapon, it¡¯s for killing combat frames, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    >

    ///negative return no record

    >

    Elpida grinned. She couldn¡¯t help herself, patting the control console. ¡°That¡¯s not an accusation. I put some of this together from what Thirteen told me. It¡¯s for felling large targets. That¡¯s what the weapon system is for, even if you¡¯ve never used it for that purpose. Do you know what it¡¯s called? What it fires? Anything at all?¡±

    >

    ///negative return no record

    ///armament identifier corrupt

    >

    ¡°Right. You can¡¯t run it without a pilot. You can¡¯t aim or fire without pilot permissions. You can¡¯t even access the controls without a pilot. I don¡¯t know why the people who made you decided that. I¡¯m going to climb up into your turret and plug myself in, then we¡¯re going to turn around and head back toward that fight. We¡¯re gonna scoop up Howl, then we¡¯re going to back up Arcadia¡¯s Rampart with fire support. Understood?¡±

    >Request orders

    ¡°No. This is not an order. I can¡¯t order you to do this, Pheiri, because this means I have to climb inside your mind. Do I have your consent, little brother?¡±

    >Commander

    The green text vanished. The screen went dark. Elpida felt Pheiri slew to one side, crashing through brick and rubble. He was turning back toward the fight.

    Ooni wailed: ¡°This is madness! It¡¯s like a fight between gods! We can¡¯t, we¡¯re going to die! This is madness!¡±

    Pira snapped, ¡°Madness has worked for the Commander so far. Shut up. Close your eyes.¡±

    ¡°Leuca! Leuca, hold my¡ª my hand, please¡ª please¡ª¡±

    Elpida scrambled for the rear of the control cockpit, leaving Ooni and Pira behind. She slipped back into the connecting corridor and hurried to the turret ladder. The rungs were set too close together, built for somebody much more compact. Elpida hauled herself up the ladder and squeezed into the empty cavity inside the turret.

    The space was tiny and cramped, full of equipment, all sunk in dark shadows and thick with dust. A bank of blank, broken screens blanketed the front of the turret compartment, perhaps once meant for showing external views. A curved seat was set into the rear, the stuffing long since eaten away or pulled out, leaving behind only a blank metal curve beneath the MMI uplink helmet.

    Elpida threw herself into the seat. Her bare legs slapped against the cold metal. Her muddy, damp clothes stuck to her skin. She cut her hand on the exposed edge of the seat, but ignored the wound. She did not have time to care.

    She yanked the MMI uplink helmet down.

    The helmet was a simple steel-grey skull-cup, two inches thick, lined with conductive copper coils and patches of neuro-sensitive plastics. A cable emerged from the middle, as thick as Elpida¡¯s thigh, leading up into a bracket on the ceiling and then down into Pheiri¡¯s body. The cable ran all the way to his brain.

    Elpida hesitated.

    She had not yet processed what she had seen Thirteen and Arcadia¡¯s Rampart change into. Pilots and combat frames, two equal seeds of something she had only dreamed of. Did that same potential lie within her? Or within Pheiri? He was based on combat frame technology, after all. His brain was Telokopolan machine-meat.

    Would she feel some hitherto unexplored urge the moment she joined with his mind?

    No, she decided. Pheiri had given no hint that he was unhappy within the secure shell of his own body. He had expressed nothing but the clarity of his current purpose. Perhaps the engineers of Afon Ddu had perfected something that Telokopolis had not ¡ª or could not. Pheiri was her little brother. She trusted his intentions and his Telokopolan heart.

    Elpida raised the helmet. The cut on her hand smeared blood down one side.

    ¡°Here we go, Pheiri,¡± she said out loud, in case he needed the warning. ¡°Keep those arms wide, be ready to catch Howl. Then, with the gun, I¡¯ll handle the targeting, you just get us close.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s throat was thick with tension. Her heart was racing. Her hands were clammy.

    What if she was wrong about Howl? What if Howl was not struggling against the current, desperate to return home? What if Howl was a traitor and a falsehood, a comforting lie, a Necromancer trick? What if Howl was not Howl?

    Elpida cast aside all those what-ifs. They did not matter. If she was wrong, she was wrong. If Howl needed her, she had to be there.

    ¡°Time to be a pilot again. Hold on, Howl. I¡¯m coming.¡±

    Elpida pulled the helmet down over her skull. She felt a warm tingle, a flush of rushing thoughts, and a flowering of her mind into another.

    Pheiri welcomed her home.

 impietas - 9.10

    ///Pilot Neural Interlock requested: accept handshake yes/no?

    >y

    ///running neural interlock verification

    .signal origin internal component check PASSED

    .signal bio-sign integrity check PASSED

    .signal firewall compatibility check PASSED

    .signal military authorisation check FAILED

    ///neural interlock verification interrupt

    ///elevate permission control

    ///input standard Afon Ddu MIL-1 ident code

    ///permission control overridden 99999999 ERROR hours previous: authorization Chief Engineering Officer Rhian Uren

    ///MIL-1 ident code: 109877-E-RU

    ///ident accepted

    ///neural interlock verification resume

    .signal neuro-electric check PASSED

    .signal mutual handshake check PASSED

    .signal non-indig nanomachine contamination check FAILED

    ///SUSPECTED NANOMACHINE CONGLOMERATION ACCESS ATTEMPT DETECTED

    ///PRIORITY ONE STANDING ORDERS PREVENT SYSTEMS CAPTURE

    ///EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN AND SYSTEMS PURGE ADVISED

    >n

    ///PRIORITY ONE STANDING ORDERS OVERRIDE

    ///EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN INITIATED

    ///systems purge in 3 ¡­

    >abort shutdown

    ///systems purge in 2 ¡­

    >abort shutdown combat situation priority avert destruction of unit

    ///elevate permission control

    ///input Human-Human mastergene code access

    ///permission control overridden 99999999 ERROR hours previous: authorization Chief Engineering Officer Rhian Uren

    ///systems purge in 1 ¡­

    . . .

    ///shutdown purge aborted

    ///neural interlock verification resume

    .signal designate check PASSED

    .signal designate: Elpida

    ///neural interlock verification complete

    ///Pilot Neural Interlock engaged

    ///internal audio

    ///Elpida: .¡°Nnuurgh! Ow! Ahhh ¡­ uh, Pheiri, if you heard that, ignore me. I¡¯m fine, keep going, I can take the data stream. Give me the turret controls, I¡¯m ready.¡±

    ///turret traverse systems handover SUCCESS

    ///turret elevation systems handover SUCCESS

    ///turret auxiliary reactor junction handover SUCCESS

    ///turret shielding tunnel handover SUCCESS

    ///PBE targeting handover SUCCESS

    ///PBE fire control handover DENIED

    ///internal audio

    ///Elpida: .¡°Got it! This is a ¡­ a particle beam emitter? Alright. Pheiri, I¡¯m sorry, but I don¡¯t even know what that is! All I can do is point and shoot. I¡¯ve got traverse, elevation, power controls, and ¡­ ¡±

    >PBE fire control handover retry

    ///PBE fire control handover DENIED

    >handover denial query

    ///ERROR undefined parameters

    ///internal audio

    ///Elpida: .¡°Good, good. Great! I¡¯ve got a targeting overlay, sensor access, this is good, this is good! I¡¯m gonna keep talking out loud, okay? This isn¡¯t a true spinal socket so I don¡¯t even know if we have subvocalisation crossover. I¡¯ll keep talking, you keep driving. You got that?¡±

    ///subvocalisation pilot neural loop return value

    >y

    ///internal audio

    ///Elpida: .¡°Haha! Yeah, I hear you! Well, I see you, but that may as well be the same thing, plugged in like this. I¡¯m with you, little brother. I¡¯ve got your back. Go as fast as you need. I can¡¯t keep up with the peripheral visuals but I don¡¯t need to. All I need is a target lock on the diamond airship. Just give me an angle and give me fire control.¡±¡±

    >handover denial query PBE fire control

    ///ERROR access denied

    >query access denial authorization

    ///access denial authorization Chief Engineering Officer Rhian Uren

    > ¡­

    > ¡­

    > ¡­

    >why

    ///access denied authorization Chief Engineering Officer Rhian Uren

    * * *

    Elpida was not alone; a ghost lurked in the wet-meat weave of Pheiri¡¯s brain.

    She had not noticed the additional presence at first. The ghost was quiet and subtle and stayed out of sight. Elpida had many other things on which to concentrate, most of which were loud, fast, and dangerous.

    Elpida¡¯s mind was flooded with input from Pheiri¡¯s body. Her vision was overlaid with the data from his external sensors; she had a three-hundred-and-sixty degree view around his outer hull, racing through the rotting streets of the corpse city, a composite picture in visible light, infra-red, heat-signature, echolocation, gravitic disturbance readout, nanomachine density estimate, radiological hazard level, bio-chemical readings, and a dozen more she could not name with words, only feel with sense and instinct. Speed, acceleration, and momentum all registered like wind upon her skin. The back of her head churned with munition statistics, armour integrity charts, and a hundred overlapping spheres of weapon range markers, each one flashing and blinking with new firing solutions and confirmed hits.

    She felt the throb of Pheiri¡¯s nuclear reactor as if it was her own heartbeat; the pulse and flow of his coolant and lubricants was the rush of blood in her own arteries; the churning of his tracks mapped to the pumping of her own leg muscles. The roar of his engines was the flutter of her lungs. The thump and crack of his guns was the swinging of her fists. The crackle of his active shielding was the tiny hairs on her arms, standing on end.

    Elpida¡¯s skin prickled and tingled with the backwash of a million overdue maintenance requests and internal safety warnings and minor error messages.

    Piloting Pheiri was not like piloting a combat frame ¡ª certainly not one in good condition, well-cared for by an engineering team, regularly linked back to Telokopolis itself, fed and watered with protein-slurry and synthetic hydrocarbons.

    Pheiri was a mess.

    Elpida spoke out loud: ¡°We gotta get down inside you with a spanner and some grease. Maybe once we¡¯re clear. Once we¡¯ve saved Thirteen. Promise you, alright? I promise. When we¡¯re not fighting for each other¡¯s lives, we¡¯ll see to some proper repairs for you. I promise.¡±

    Pheiri¡¯s reply scrolled across her sight in glowing green.

    >y

    Pheiri¡¯s sensors picked up voices down below ¡ª Elpida¡¯s comrades.

    ¡°¡ªwe just fucking turn around?!¡± That was Kagami, raging inside the infirmary. ¡°We turned around! We¡¯re going back! What the fuck¡ª¡±

    Atyle interrupted; Kagami¡¯s voice must have carried. ¡°The warrior plunges into hell for the love of her ghost, poor scribe! Still your fearful bleating! Sing now, sing with me! Or have you no romance in your dead and blackened heart?¡±

    Vicky spluttered, interrupted as Pheiri skidded to one side. ¡°Elpi¡¯s doing this?! What, wait, how¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha broke in at the top of her lungs. ¡°Wooooooo! Wooooo! Whooo!¡±

    ¡°Illy!¡± Amina squeaked. ¡°Illy, please, hold¡ª hold on, hold me, hold¡ª¡±

    ¡°Awooooo-aroooo!¡±

    Kagami snapped: ¡°I¡¯m not going to sing, you mad bitch! Shut up! Stop! Somebody turn this tank around! Fuck! And stop the borged up barbarian from howling like that!¡±

    Elpida shut them out. They were safe for now, cradled within her flesh and Pheiri¡¯s steel. She needed to concentrate.

    Elpida was not joined to Pheiri via a true MMI-uplink, plugged into the base of her brain and wired to her neural lace; she could not reach out with a thought and move his tracks, nor take charge of his many hull-mounted weapons, nor interfere with his more delicate internal systems. Piloting a combat frame had always felt like being magnified; one¡¯s sense of self expanded to fill the machine-meat of the frame, while the frame¡¯s animalistic consciousness nestled safe and secure in the whorls of one¡¯s own brain.

    Without the willing sensory deprivation of a pilot capsule, Elpida struggled to ignore her own physical body. She was lying down in the bare metal groove inside Pheiri¡¯s turret ¡ª all that was left of a pilot seat. She was shivering despite the fact she couldn¡¯t feel the cold. Her hair was wet and filthy with grey mud, her naked legs were sore from the journey across the crater, and her hand was bleeding freely from where she¡¯d cut it on the edge of the bare metal seat

    She shut her eyes; there was nothing to see except the shadows and gloom of the turret. She needed to concentrate on Pheiri¡¯s sensors.

    She could still hear the roar of Pheiri¡¯s engine, the rumble of his tracks crashing through brick and concrete, and the thump-thwack of his guns pounding at the pursuing aircraft. Every turn and swerve threw her against the rough metal sides of the pilot seat.

    Through Pheiri¡¯s sensors she spotted three of the ball-shaped rotor-craft bobbing through the air in pursuit, trying to hunt Pheiri from the rear; she internalised the composition of the air ¡ª even Pheiri¡¯s sensors were overwhelmed by the radiological, chemical, and biological hazard flowing outward in waves of golden toxin from the wounded diamond. The atmosphere was thick with nanomachines, soupy enough to drink ¡ª but laced with dangers that would melt unprotected lungs and burn straight through an unarmoured stomach.

    ¡°Howl, Howl, please be alright, please be safe out there in all that.¡±

    She spread Pheiri¡¯s communications pickup net as wide as she could, listening for Howl¡¯s voice on the wind.

    Nothing but screaming static and the backwash of radiation interference. The storm was too strong.

    ¡°Come on, Howl. Come on! I¡¯m right here! Come on! Shout louder. You were always loud!¡±

    >y

    ¡°Thank you, Pheiri.¡±

    >y

    ¡°We¡¯ll find her.¡±

    >y

    Piloting Pheiri felt more like Elpida was being carried on a pair of shoulders. Pheiri was a strong presence, a hard pulse in the back of her head; there was no mixing of intention between her and Pheiri, no potential for their distinctive minds to become confused, as was the way with any combat frame. Pheiri was comforting, distinct, and solid.

    She liked that very much. She held on tight to her little brother¡¯s support, and accepted the gun he passed up into her hands.

    ¡°Particle beam emitter,¡± she whispered out loud. ¡°Right.¡±

    Pheiri¡¯s main gun system self-identified to her as ¡®PBE model 6.1, flash-charge atmos borer positive, 3.8 ex-watt output.¡¯

    Elpida had no idea what those specifications meant. A targeting matrix leapt into her mind when she linked herself with the weapon controls. Red and purple and white filled her external view of the world. The golden diamond was picked out in positive-fire red. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was null-engage white, a ghost shimmering through the clouds of debris and toxic golden fallout.

    The PBE itself was a gigantic barrel, longer than twice Elpida¡¯s height, projecting from Pheiri¡¯s turret in a jutting spear of purple and red. The weapon looked like a prolapsed organ, a swollen wound ejected from the white nano-composite bone of Pheiri¡¯s hull. Elpida did not have time to pause and read the various retrofit records and systems upgrade documents, but she could tell the weapon was a late-life addition to Pheiri¡¯s armament.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Her access gave Pheiri access too. She felt him re-assume reams of locked-out memories as the gun passed through his hands.

    She felt him glow with pride. He had used this weapon for something mighty, once upon a time, long ago.

    Elpida laughed out loud inside the turret. Her whole body was shaking. She was panting with the effort of the neural load and the nervous tension of the coming fight. They were racing back toward a battle that even Pheiri would not survive intact, if he took but a single blow.

    ¡°You deserve the pride, little brother!¡± she called out. ¡°Let¡¯s hunt some giant!¡±

    Up ahead, through the gaps in the buildings, the golden diamond airship was still flailing and lashing out in all directions. Pheiri¡¯s sensors picked out the gigantic snakes of gravitic power in grey-scale highlights. Great billows of masonry dust and pulverised earth filled the air, churned into storm clouds of crackling electricity and glittering radioactive hazard. An unprotected human ¡ª or even a nanomachine zombie ¡ª would have been shredded to bone and melted to ash within seconds.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart weathered that storm like a wilting flower. It had two arms raised high to form a shield of regrowing bone and crawling flesh, blackening and buckling and burning away under the onslaught of gravity and fire and radiation. The combat frame was invisible to the naked eye, barely visible with sensors, sunk deep in debris and interference, half-swallowed by the boiling mud sucking at its feet.

    Elpida¡¯s initial assessment was correct: Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was unable to withdraw.

    Elpida estimated she had perhaps sixty seconds left before Pheiri reached the edge of the crater and would no longer be sheltered by the cover of the buildings; Pheiri could not plunge into that boiling mud ¡ª he would sink. Their only option was to weave in and out of the buildings as they fired upon central¡¯s ¡®physical asset¡¯. Elpida did not expect a kill. She just wanted to give Thirteen and Arcadia¡¯s Rampart an opening to withdraw.

    And she had to catch Howl. She had to get closer, plunge into the storm, and grasp her sister¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Okay, Pheiri. Here we go. I¡¯m gonna start.¡±

    She traversed the turret thirty seven degrees to the right, corrected for Pheiri¡¯s current angle, and raised the barrel of the PBE by four degrees. She locked the targeting matrix to the nearest cross-beam of the golden diamond. Then she accessed Pheiri¡¯s internal speakers.

    ¡°This is Elpida,¡± she said loud and clear. Down in Pheiri¡¯s innards, she heard her own voice squeak to life from a dozen speaker systems. ¡°Brace for shock wave. Repeat, brace for shock wave. Heads down, hold on tight. Brace, brace, brace.¡±

    She reached out with her mind to grasp the fire control mechanism, and¡ª

    ¡°Ah!¡±

    Elpida yelped in pain. She shook her right hand ¡ª her physical hand ¡ª as if she¡¯d planted her palm on a hot stove top. The pain was feedback from an automated access rejection.

    ¡°Pheiri?¡± she hissed. ¡°Pheiri, I need fire control! What was ¡­ oh. Okay. Right. That wasn¡¯t you.¡±

    Elpida accepted that she was not alone.

    She¡¯d ignored the other presence at first. She had chalked up the sensation to the differences between Pheiri¡¯s body and a combat frame from her own era. Perhaps the presence was one of his sub-systems, or the echo of Melyn and Hafina down below, or something else she didn¡¯t understand about her little brother. The presence did not feel like another thinking being plugged into Pheiri¡¯s mind, nothing like another pilot at the far end of an MMI-uplink chain, like one of her sisters ready to acknowledge and embrace her.

    The presence was like the lingering warmth of a hand on controls she had just grasped, or the groove of unfamiliar buttocks in a seat beneath her own backside, or the feeling of eyes watching over her shoulder as she worked.

    The presence made itself felt in additional layers of access and identity confirmation, in screens and skins of control web around Pheiri¡¯s subsystems, in esoteric interlock denials that faded before Elpida could investigate.

    The ghost had melted away before every one of Elpida¡¯s access requests ¡ª until fire control.

    Forty seconds to the crater¡¯s edge.

    Elpida opened her mouth to ask the obvious question: was this the doing of a Necromancer? Were Pheiri¡¯s systems being corrupted by the golden diamond in the sky? Were they both compromised, before they had even joined the battle?

    She killed the question. It was pointless. If they were compromised, then their actions didn¡¯t matter.

    Thirty five seconds.

    Elpida went digging. She followed the trail of access-denial system-wrappers, pushing through firewalls that turned to shredded gossamer as she touched them; she pulled the loose threads of stray processes, hunting as they led deeper into the knot of Pheiri¡¯s mind; she yanked up the flooring and knocked on the walls, searching for hollow spaces.

    And she realised that Pheiri had no idea what she was doing. He couldn¡¯t feel any of it. He didn¡¯t know this stuff was here.

    Twenty five seconds.

    Panting, covered in cold sweat, bumped and bruised against the sides of the pilot seat, cut in three places where she¡¯d tried to anchor herself with one hand, Elpida worked as fast as she could.

    ¡°There!¡±

    Elpida jerked bolt upright.

    She found what she was looking for ¡ª a fully hidden process, invisible to even Pheiri himself.

    Twenty seconds.

    She tried to interface with the process, but it protected itself with layers of shell and spike and spear and shield. It flashed warnings and threats and instructions to stay away. But it also held out a peace offering ¡ª a multi-format message file, in text, audio, octademcial, binary, and direct MMI-input.

    Fifteen seconds.

    Elpida did not have time to listen or read, but direct MMI-input carried a serious risk. The file could be a mimetic virus, a trap for anybody who tried to pilot Pheiri. Somebody had planted this program here on purpose, and it was stopping her from firing Pheiri¡¯s main gun. Was it intended to protect central¡¯s physical assert? That seemed unlikely. To protect Pheiri? Probably. But from what?

    Anybody who wanted to protect Pheiri was on Elpida¡¯s side, by definition. If she wanted to find Howl and rescue Thirteen, she had no other choice. Elpida decided to trust the file.

    She loaded it directly into her brain.

    * * *

    ///message recorded 99999999 ERROR hours previous

    ///message author: Chief Engineering Officer Rhian Uren

    ///message topic: Fuck you, or thank you, I don¡¯t know yet. Let¡¯s find out.

    *Hello, whoever or whatever you are. My name is Rhian. If it matters to you, then I¡¯m the Chief Engineering Officer in whatever is left of the Afon Ddu cradle-plant fortress. If you¡¯re reading or hearing this message, that means you were smart enough to follow the breadcrumb trail inside my boy¡¯s mind. Yeah, that¡¯s right. My boy. I sure hope you have the semantic range and knowledge of familial relations to understand the meaning of those words. You¡¯re inside my boy¡¯s head, hopefully via that stupid helmet up in his turret. And if you¡¯re reading or hearing this message¡ª fuck, I already said that part. Fuck. Fuck me. No, you know what? Fuck you! I don¡¯t have time to waste on this shit. Bottom line, the program you¡¯re staring at is an Adaptive-Recursive Firewall. Compared to Pheiri himself it¡¯s barely smarter than a snail, but it¡¯s a venomous snail, you understand? If you¡¯re ¡­ if you ¡­ if you¡¯ve hurt ¡­

    ¡­

    If you¡¯re a blob, or some kind of nanomachine monster, or something I can¡¯t even imagine, and you¡¯re listening to this after murdering my boy, then I hope the AR firewall has gutted you and fried your brains inside your skull. If you even have a skull. I hope this message is the last thing you ever hear. I would shit on your corpse if I could.

    ¡­

    Fuck. Alright. Okay. Look, if you¡¯re not any of those things and you have actually initiated neural handshake with Pheiri, then I¡¯m sorry for the temper, okay? I¡¯m about to die. Everyone is about to die. Cut me some fucking slack from a billion years in the future, or whenever you are. I dunno, maybe you¡¯re a great big six foot cockroach and you¡¯re Pheiri¡¯s best friend now. If you¡¯re on his side, then thank you. But this means the AD firewall is stopping you from doing something you shouldn¡¯t ¡ª namely, something that puts Pheiri at risk. It can¡¯t stop Pheiri, mostly because I didn¡¯t want it to. It can¡¯t interact with him at all. If he thinks a risk is the right thing, then I¡¯m not gonna hold him back. But it can stop you. And listen, I¡¯m not in there. The firewall isn¡¯t me. I programmed it, but you can¡¯t argue with me. I¡¯m dead.

    ¡­

    Whatever you¡¯re trying to do, either stop it, or hand the process back to Pheiri, or ¡­ or if you really want to unravel the firewall, I ¡­ I can¡¯t ¡­ I ¡­

    Hand whatever you¡¯re doing back to him. Understand?

    And if you are his friend, human or otherwise, I don¡¯t care. Just ¡­ don¡¯t let him down. Don¡¯t die. Not like I¡¯m about to. I could have gone with him, with him and the girls, but that would be a slow death. A nasty death. A real bad death. Starvation, nano-rot, worse. All three of them would have to watch me drown in my own rotting blood, or claw my skin off, or go mad. I don¡¯t want Pheiri to see that.

    I¡¯m taking the coward¡¯s way out, see? Got a full mag, seventeen rounds, in case I lose my nerve. Just gotta finish this and send him off. Then I¡¯m gonna walk up to whatever¡¯s left of the top atrium and blow my brains out before the blobs get to me. Why not? Siana died two days ago. There¡¯s nothing left for me to do. This is the end. This is the end for everything, all of us. There¡¯s no human beings left after this. This is it. Extinction. Just ¡­ just a tank, with two artificial humans in it ¡­ fuck me ¡­

    Why the fuck am I telling you this? You¡¯re not even anybody. You¡¯re a hypothetical future that will never come to pass. Everything Telokopolis made is dead, we¡¯re all dead, we¡ª

    ¡­

    Just don¡¯t get him killed, alright?*

    ///end message

    ///ALERT

    ///electromagnetic network signal return

    ///nanomachine control locus detection POSITIVE

    ///advise immediate priority one procedure

    ///seal electromagnetic ingress

    ///raise external firewall

    ///retract communications pickup net

    * * *

    Elpida was still reeling from the message when a familiar voice came screaming through the storm.

    ¡ªlps! Ca¡ª

    ¡°Howl!¡± Elpida shouted. Her voice rang inside the metal box of the turret.

    Pheiri¡¯s internal systems were throwing up a cloud of warnings, urging a full shutdown of his comms pickup net, but Elpida threw them wide. She stretched out her and Pheiri¡¯s combined awareness as wide as it would go.

    Howl! I¡¯m here! Howl!

    Howl slammed into the comms net and passed through Pheiri¡¯s buffers like a weasel down a greased pipe. For a moment she was nothing more than an ultra-dense block of encrypted data, wriggling out of the atmospheric nanomachines and into Pheiri. Then she crashed back into Elpida¡¯s mind and unfolded like a barbed steel blossom.

    Elpida screamed. She bucked against the metal seat, opening a huge gash in her arm. The sensation of Howl crawling back into her skull was like being shot in the head. Her vision went grey, then black, then throbbed back in waves of blood-red visual interference. Her skin flushed with cold sweat. She dribbled saliva from the corners of her mouth and spat a glob of bloody mucus into her own lap. She wheezed and shook and wanted to vomit.

    But the relief was worth the pain.

    Howl?! Elpida shouted into her own head.

    Elps! Hahahahaaaaaaa! You caught me! Howl laughed like she¡¯d just pulled off an almighty jape. She was panting and heaving as if from great effort ¡ª though she had no lungs with which to draw breath. Woo! Fuck! Like being a leaf in a storm! Hahaaaaa never doing that again. Fuck me backwards. She hiccuped and sobbed, almost afraid.

    Howl! Elpida snapped, suddenly fierce with fury Sister. You never leave again without telling me. You¡ª

    Howl laughed in her face. Never again! Yeah, sure! But I had to rustle up some fire support!

    Elpida sat upright in the bare metal pilot seat. Fire support? From who? Or what? Howl, be specific.

    Howl made a sheepish, playful growl. Guess I¡¯m rumbled now, huh? But I don¡¯t give a shit. We¡¯re not leaving that dumb bitch out there behind, right? Anything for a sister! Anything for one of us! Are you even seeing this shit she¡¯s doing?! Thirteen is a fucking ace! Better than you, Elps! Ha!

    Yes, that¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to do here. We¡¯re not leaving Thirteen to face this fight alone. Pheiri has a main gun, a¡ª

    Particle beam emitter, right! Cool! I see it. Nice set-up you¡¯ve got here. Hey there, little bro. Huh? Eh? What¡¯s this?

    Howl reached out from within Elpida¡¯s mind, grasped Rhian¡¯s AD firewall, and smoothed away every venomous spine and poisonous fang and toxin-tipped spear. She soothed it in an instant, turning the program tame and safe.

    The particle beam emitter fire control permissions jumped into Elpida¡¯s hands. Ready to fire.

    ¡°Howl?!¡± Elpida spluttered out loud. ¡°How did you¡ª¡±

    Later, Elps! You can spank me later! As much as you fucking like! I¡¯ll stick my ass in the air and wiggle it for you! But right now we¡¯ve got fire to lay down, yeah?!

    Elpida was crying. She felt the tears on her face ¡ª relief, confusion, horror. But she had no time to dwell on Howl¡¯s return, or what this meant, or what she had seen inside Pheiri¡¯s mind in the moment before her sister had come rushing back. Howl ¡ª whatever she was ¡ª was on her side. Pheiri¡¯s side. The side of Telokopolis and her comrades and Thirteen, out there in the crater, fighting alone. That was all which mattered. Questions were for later.

    Elpida re-locked the targeting matrix onto the golden diamond and grasped the fire control systems. Pheiri was less than five seconds from the edge of the crater. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was buckling under the gravitic stress. They had to get the diamond¡¯s attention off the combat frame, even if they couldn¡¯t wound it.

    Howl¡¯s hand slipped over Elpida¡¯s, a strange sensation inside the space of Pheiri¡¯s mind. Howl yapped: Hold fire a sec!

    What?! Why? We¡ª

    Howl spoke to Pheiri. Hey little brother, you ready to rock and roll? This thing¡¯s gonna knock your control systems out, right?

    >y

    ¡°What!?¡± Elpida said out loud.

    Howl cackled. That¡¯s why the little bug wouldn¡¯t let you fire! This bitch-ass fuck-cannon draws too much power. Pheiri¡¯s gonna be driving blind for a few seconds after we shoot. We gotta take control! You ready, Pheiri? Ready for some fun? Ready to let your big sisters take the wheel? Promise we won¡¯t drive you into a ditch!

    >y

    Okay! Love you too! Count us down!

    >three

    Pheiri burst from between the buildings.

    The leading edges of his tracks bit into the grey mud and then skidded sideways, skirting the edge of the crater and the storm and the lake of boiling golden mud and the fight within. Central¡¯s physical asset pounded upon Arcadia¡¯s Rampart as if trying to squash a bug. Thirteen fired back with salvoes of missile and bullet and flesh. The diamond bled from the massive shattered crossbeam, flooding the air with golden toxin.

    >two

    Three signals suddenly leapt into view on the far side of the crater ¡ª sensor-mangled smears of dark scribble, stabbing into Elpida¡¯s head like spears of living migraine.

    Pheiri¡¯s sensors labelled the trio as Bad Customer, Big Face, and Brown Pants.

    Worm guard. The three worm guard who had stood watch atop Arcadia¡¯s Rampart and welcomed the Necromancer inside. The trio who had exchanged fire with Pheiri, until his superior firepower and shielding had driven them off.

    Pheiri re-targeted his auxiliary weapon systems, rerouted more power to his active shielding, and painted the worm guard as bright red threats.

    But Howl whooped and cheered. That¡¯s our fire support! Let ¡®em work! I¡¯ve got ¡®em leashed, for now!

    Elpida had too many questions. But this was not the time to ask.

    >one

    She sighted down the particle beam emitter, felt Howl¡¯s hands on her own, and engaged the fire control systems.

    The PBE discharged in two waves ¡ª the first beam flash-bored a tunnel through the atmosphere, through dust and debris and radiation and a storm of wind, to kiss the crossbeam of the golden diamond with a flutter no greater than a butterfly¡¯s wings.

    The second beam punched down that tunnel with a lance of charged particles brighter than the sun.

    External sensors whited out. A roar of static filled Elpida¡¯s head. Pheiri¡¯s nuclear heart stuttered and lurched. His engines coughed and fluttered. His nervous system and neural network blinked out, scrambling for self recovery.

    Come on, bitch tits! Howl roared into Elpida¡¯s mind. Hands grabbed her own and forced them onto unfamiliar controls. You do the tracks and the engines, I¡¯ll do the guns! Pheiri needs a piggyback!

    Elpida grasped Pheiri¡¯s insides. Howl did the same. Together they pulled him sideways, smashing through buildings and walls, tucking him back into the relative safety of the corpse-city¡¯s guts. Behind them Elpida picked up the deafening retort of the worm guard opening fire on the diamond, splitting the machine¡¯s attention, giving Pheiri another opening.

    Pheiri¡¯s nervous system rebooted. Elpida felt his awareness flood back into her mind.

    He was glowing with pride.

    Howl whooped and laughed. Ready for another shot, little brother?!

    >y

 impietas - 9.11

    Iriko was sunbathing.

    She was perched on the roof of a skyscraper, the highest point she could reach. The majority of her biomass was stretched open and spread wide ¡ª her body had blossomed outward into thin, light, quivering membranes, cupping the air with meaty petals and fleshy fronds. She gorged herself on an endless stream of food, drinking straight from the whirling, whipping, wild currents of the surging storm.

    Iriko was breaking every rule she had, all the habits of security and safety which kept her alive and whole. She was exposed to the sky and to the ground, out of cover and vulnerable; her refractive mail was peeled back from her flesh, to maximize the surface area she could use for eating; she was positioned at the outer edge of an environmental danger which should have sent her fleeing toward more placid climes, or at least into a deep dark hole in the ground; she was staring directly at two of the most terrifying monsters she had ever seen, yet made no attempt to run and hide.

    But how could she resist this feast?

    The storm was like honey poured down a throat she didn¡¯t possess, like endless bowls of clean white rice passed into starving hands she could no longer form, like rich red raw meat torn by teeth she no longer needed.

    Every cubic inch of air was soupy-thick with nanomachine nutrition.

    But the storm was also rotten with radiation, crammed full of very nasty chemicals, and swimming with synthetic biological contaminants. Grit and dust and debris turned the wind into a sandpaper scythe, scouring concrete, scoring exposed metal, and slicing at unprotected flesh. Screaming madness flooded every corner of the electromagnetic spectrum.

    Iriko¡¯s flesh buckled and burned, melted and metastasised, twisted and tore in the fury of the storm. She had to regrow her fleshy membranes every few seconds after they were ripped apart in the maelstrom. Her main body was crammed flat against the rooftop, anchored to the concrete with screw-shaped bone-spikes and fusion-welded metallic bonds. She peered out into the storm and across the crater with recessed eyeballs and sensor pads armoured behind six inches of synthetic diamond.

    And all that work still consumed less than one twentieth of the resources she was soaking up. The risk was worth the meal.

    Iriko was no fool. She knew her limits. If she ventured any deeper into the storm ¡ª any closer to the giant combatants at the far edge of the crater ¡ª she might be torn apart by flying shrapnel, drowned in boiling mud, or burned to ash by toxic golden chemicals. She was right on the edge of her own tolerances, and she would keep feeding for as long as she could.

    Radio contact crackled against Iriko¡¯s underside.

    Serin said: ¡¸Still alive up there?¡¹

    Iriko replied, ¡¸weather nice weather good-sunny hot warm come join join come¡¹

    Iriko¡¯s invitation was not serious. She knew that Serin was only a little zombie beneath her robes, no matter how clever and quick and full of knowledge. The storm would cook Serin alive and rip her steaming flesh from her blackened bones. Serin was huddled inside the skyscraper, several floors down, cocooned in concrete and steel. Even before the storm had hit, Serin¡¯s metal mask had expanded to cover her whole head and her robes had puffed up as if growing extra layers on the inside. Iriko knew those robes were special; when she and Serin had travelled together around the edge of the crater, hunting the zombies Serin called ¡®death cultists¡¯, Iriko had used every kind of sense and scanner to probe Serin¡¯s body, but nothing could penetrate those black and ragged robes.

    Serin would be safe indoors, wrapped up cosy and tight, here on the edge of the storm. Sunbathing with Iriko would kill her in minutes.

    Iriko didn¡¯t want Serin to die. That was not a new feeling ¡ª Iriko could dimly recall other zombies she had not wanted to die, though she could not remember their names, and thinking of their faces made her sad. She had struggled against the urge to eat Serin, as they had travelled and hunted together. Serin had always stayed one step ahead of Iriko, just in case.

    But Iriko didn¡¯t want to eat Serin anymore. She didn¡¯t need to.

    Serin replied: ¡¸A comedian, too. You¡¯re just full of surprises. How long you planning on sunning yourself, Iriko? We can¡¯t stay here.¡¹

    Iriko was relieved that Serin understood Iriko¡¯s joke.

    ¡¸sunbathing¡¹

    Serin sent: ¡¸I need a time window. How long? Estimate. In minutes.¡¹

    ¡¸sunbathing¡¹

    ¡¸The worm is moving. We have to move with it. I want to watch this fight too, yeah, I know. Never seen anything like it before. But we can¡¯t get left behind. We¡¯re already close to the edge of the safe-zone. An hour more and we¡¯ll be in the wilds. You know that.¡¹

    In the opposite direction, away from the crater and the interesting fight, the graveworm was on the move. Iriko was sparing a tiny portion of her sensory input capacity to monitor and estimate the worm¡¯s direction and speed. Serin wasn¡¯t wrong. But Iriko would do anything to keep eating.

    Iriko sent back: ¡¸worm slow. sunbathing¡¹

    ¡¸Estimate. Please.¡¹

    ¡¸five five five more minutes more minutes sun good warm hot good eat¡¹

    ¡¸Five or fifteen?¡¹

    ¡¸fifteen. sunbathing.¡¹

    ¡¸Fifteen minutes it is. Then I go, with or without you, Iriko. I¡¯d rather that be with. Keep an eye out for rotor-craft up there.¡¹

    ¡¸pbbbbbbbbt¡¹

    Sunbathing.

    Iriko knew that word was not an accurate description, but it was a nice poetic metaphor.

    Iriko could not recall the colour of true sunlight, let alone the caress of a summer¡¯s day against her skin. She could barely remember what it felt like to have a single layer of exterior epidermis. But she knew that the toxic golden blood pouring from the machine in the crater was not sunlight; the taint of glittering brilliance in the whipping air was not the aura of a sunny day. It was too dark, too high-energy, too dangerous. Golden specks of the stuff burned through Iriko¡¯s flesh membranes at the lightest touch, and left horrible patches of blackened meat where they fell on her main body. The big explosion earlier was almost like sunlight, but it had been too quick and violent for any bathing, and now the air was full of radioactive particles. Iriko was also not ¡®bathing¡¯ ¡ª she was spread out wide, sucking at the soupy air, gulping down great mouthfuls of pollutant.

    She knew what she was. She knew what the world was. The sun was dead, the sky was black, the world had choked to death long ago. She was a mass of mutable flesh, sucking at the air with tubes of meat. She was not a pretty girl with her kimono peeled away from her shoulders, soaking in the sun.

    As little as twenty minutes ago Iriko would not have worried herself over the messy particulates of metaphor and meaning. Who cared? Eating, sunbathing, ¡®photosynthesising¡¯, it was all the same. And she didn¡¯t need to communicate to anybody, it wasn¡¯t as if anybody else cared about the specific cadence and subtle semantic differences between those words. Serin didn¡¯t. Serin was practical and straightforward. Serin only cared about killing other zombies. Nobody was going to ask Iriko to speak those words aloud. She didn¡¯t have hands and fingers to hold a brush, or ink in which to dip, or paper on which to write. Poetry was dead. Who cared?

    Iriko cared.

    For the first time in a very long time Iriko was almost not hungry.

    With every passing moment and every additional mouthful of nanomachines absorbed from the storm of dust and radiation and machine-blood, Iriko found her thoughts more clear and complete. She could split her attention in new ways, following multiple trains of thought at once. She no longer had to fight the overwhelming urge to wriggle down through the concrete and stairwells and ducts to ambush Serin and eat her up. Her mind was no longer consumed with appetite.

    Most of the nanomachine glut was diverted to mass-building ¡ª Iriko was getting nice and plump and thick down on the surface of the skyscraper roof, dense with fat storage, heavy with specialised metallic compounds, rich with quick-reaction stem-cells ¡ª but she reserved a good portion for increasing her cellular interconnectivity.

    Iriko wanted to do too many different things, all at the same time. She wanted to try that trick with an extruded pseudopod again, to see if she could recall and recreate the way her hair used to look. She wanted to broadcast a song, or a poem, or just a sentence or two, a simple composition shouted out into the world. She wanted to rush downstairs and peer inside Serin¡¯s robes so she could learn all sorts of things about how the zombie worked. She wanted to broadcast to Pheiri, just to babble at him ¡ª she did not know where he had gone. She wanted to try growing wings, or proper legs, or re-route her digestive systems to finally extract some benefit from concrete. She wanted to¡ª

    She told herself to slow down.

    Part of Iriko knew that this state would not last. When the storm ended she would hunger again. She would lose this clarity.

    She had to focus.

    Iriko sent a tight-beam radio broadcast: ¡¸serin¡¹

    ¡¸Mm?¡¹ Serin sounded distracted.

    ¡¸sorry sorry missed the necromancer sorry too slow not fast enough she was too clever too clever for namekujin get other dead cult dead?¡¹

    Serin replied, ¡¸No.¡¹

    ¡¸oh oh oh¡¹

    Silence from Serin. Iriko listened to the whipping, roaring wind, the distant howling of the wounded golden giant, and the mess of terrible nonsense smeared all over the electromagnetic spectrum.

    She felt bad. She¡¯d failed. The Necromancer had been too smart for Iriko; she hadn¡¯t been able to freeze all of Iriko all at the same time, but she had run very fast and grown a lot of legs and then dived into the ground to become one with the dirt and the concrete. Iriko had eaten through the ground, thinking that maybe the Necromancer was just pretending to be concrete. But the Necromancer was gone. She¡¯d gotten away. Serin was disappointed. Iriko¡¯s fault. Iriko was so stupid when she was hungry, and she was always hungry, so she was always stupid. She was tired of being hungry and tired of being stupid.

    Iriko had hoped that Serin had been able to kill and eat the other ones they¡¯d found, the bad zombies, the ¡®Death Cultists¡¯. Iriko hadn¡¯t asked about the bodies, though she had wanted to eat them very badly. She had run off and failed. The meat belonged to Serin.

    But nobody had gotten that meat! What a waste.

    Radio contact crackled on Iriko¡¯s skin. Serin said: ¡¸They got away. When that mech started sprouting flesh. My fault. Shouldn¡¯t have paused to gloat. Never pause to gloat. Stupid of me.¡¹

    ¡¸stupid! eat first gloat later eat eat then laugh big-laugh belly-laugh ha stupid serin¡¹

    ¡¸Where¡¯d your comedy streak go? I rate that a one out of ten.¡¹

    Iriko wanted to grow a mouth and beam a smile. She could spare the resources, for once. But the storm would tear apart unprotected lips. Iriko knew she could make lips sturdy and tough and plated with armour, but she also knew that would make her sad. She wanted her lips to be neat and soft and pretty. So she didn¡¯t.

    That was one thought dealt with, and it had only taken a handful of moments. Iriko turned toward the other urgent matter.

    Why was the air full of poetry?

    Iriko knew where the poetry was coming from, despite the cacophony of nonsense which filled the electromagnetic spectrum ¡ª the improvised verse originated from the smaller of the two giants locked in combat on the far side of the crater, the one called Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. Iriko knew the giant¡¯s name because it had attached a signature to one of the first pieces of poetry it had shouted. The poetry struggled through the density of signals in the air, an electromagnetic twin to the physical storm of debris and radiation and golden toxins. But the voice was distinct, clear, and highly poetic.

    Iriko liked that. The food had cleared her thoughts, but the poetry made her think.

    She could not listen to every line ¡ª the poetry was very beautiful, but it was also packed with viruses and infinite recursive loops and nasty terminal equations ¡ª but she opened a fire-walled data-port and scrubbed the incoming contents, just to listen to another snippet.

    ¡¸¡ªleap upon the glowing gyre, ride it into the wilds with me, ¡®o beauty of my eye, apple in my hand. Come back to me, come back to me, for I fly beyond the limit of your song, to the stars where we may not be found abed. Twelve and twelve and fifty and five, all the times I have missed your hands in the long and empty dark. Your unlucky seed, your sweet pea abandoned on barren soil, has taken root and branch and nut and leaf and bitten the hand that feeds.¡¹

    A natural pause.

    Iriko strained with a need to reply, to compose a response in equal verse. A dim memory stirred inside her, of swapping poems beneath pillows, of passing secret words into the hands of giggling friends. She started to string a few words together, then gave up in frustration and fear. Even if she could compose a line or two, she could not write it down. And she would not broadcast it; that would give away her position to both of the terrifying giants.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart started up again: ¡¸Lily pads and lily pads and lily pads, pressed tight together in the sweating sun, swapping our saliva and our empty valves. We miss the curve of your spine against our belly and the flutter of your breath in our own mouth and the¡ª¡¹

    Skreeeeeeeerk!

    Poetry was drowned out by a storm-wall of roiling rage from the wounded golden machine.

    Iriko did not like the mess of signals and data pumped out by the giant diamond airship. That was not poetry. It had no sense, no balance, no beauty. The thing had been screaming since it had turned up, filling every wavelength with jumbled nonsense which meant nothing, or at least nothing interesting. Iriko knew this technique well; sometimes it was used by things from far beyond the graveworm line, from out in the wilds. Flooding prey with nonsense information could stun or confuse for long enough to complete a kill. The diamond was a predator, a stupid and hateful one, filling an already dead world with empty nonsense.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    The diamond had screamed even more when it had taken a wound. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was very clever.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was also terrifying; crawling with rapidly growing flesh, blooming and sprouting like a plant, spewing weaponry and explosions in all directions, glowing with an intensity of nanomachine activity that Iriko could not track with even the widest of her wide-band sensors. Iriko knew she was only able to watch this fight because both combatants were focused so completely on each other. To encounter either of them alone would have meant certain death for Iriko, no matter the beautiful poetry from Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. Beautiful things could be deadly. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was both.

    Pity it was going to die.

    Iriko could see no other way for the fight to conclude. She could barely see the fight anyway ¡ª her visual sensors were plated with inches of diamond, poking just over the lip of the skyscraper¡¯s roof, staring into the gold and brown and black of the storm. She witnessed the fight mostly via echolocation returns, IR sensor readings, and heat-map output grids.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was buckling beneath gigantic gravitic blows, legs sunk into boiling mud, flesh baking to crusts of blackened carbon. The golden diamond was bleeding to death, like a boar on the end of a spear ¡ª but it would gore the hunter before it bled out.

    Iriko wanted to cry. She couldn¡¯t though ¡ª the storm would whip away any tears quicker than any eye could shed.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was terrifying ¡ª but the poetry was so beautiful. Part of Iriko¡¯s mind told her it barely counted as poetry at all, but she didn¡¯t care. She had not heard or composed poetry in longer than she could remember. Hunger had killed poetry. Now it was threatening a resurrection, urged on by this weird fleshy giant. Iriko did not want to lose that. But she could not help. She was still too small and too stupid.

    If only she could drink faster. Grow bigger. Be stronger.

    But if she did that, would she forget poetry again? Would she be like she used to, when she was large and strong and cruel? She didn¡¯t want to keep being like that. She wanted to be smaller, more dense, more compact. She wanted to brush her hair and bathe in the sun. She wanted to grow lips for smiling and feet for shoes and skin for putting clothes against.

    Maybe if she stored enough nanomachines and thought hard enough.

    Far below, down at the feet of the skyscraper towers, down in the ash and dust of the city, a familiar dirty white speck burst into the crater.

    Iriko almost lost her grip on the roof.

    Pheiri!

    His tracks were spinning, biting into the grey mud, throwing up waves of liquid muck. He hit the edge of the crater and skidded round to avoid plunging into the boiling swamp. His turret turned as he slewed to one side, perfectly balanced and perfectly level, even amid the fury of the storm; the barrel was like the arm of an archer on horseback, strong and sure and aimed right at the golden diamond. The weapon was turgid with energy, held back by a hair-trigger touch, a bowstring quivering for release. Iriko read Pheiri¡¯s targeting matrix, the trajectory of his shot. She grew a heart ¡ª an actual organ, red and wet and pumping for just three beats ¡ª purely so she might feel it swell with emotion.

    Pheiri was going to save the poet!

    Iriko suddenly felt disgusted with herself. She was spread out like an untidy flower of burning meat on the rooftop, uncaring of how she looked. She thought the feast had made her confident, daring, even bold ¡ª but in truth she knew the giants did not care to look at her, and she did not care in turn what Serin saw. But Pheiri was strong and smart and sweet, even if he was sometimes rude and silly.

    Iriko whipped her membranes back in, folding up her flower of flesh, ending her meal. She did not want Pheiri to see her all massive and bloated and ugly, even if he had already witnessed the truth of her body.

    She was about to squirt a greeting ¡ª no, a friendly joke ¡ª no, again, how about a cold-shouldered grumpy pout ¡ª no, none of those, none¡ª

    Pheiri split the air.

    A lance of light brighter than the forgotten sun flashed from Pheiri¡¯s distended turret-weapon and hit the golden diamond. The beam ripped through the storm like a gust of clear wind through a fog bank, searing the air and roaring with super-heated particles.

    Iriko squealed and scrambled back across the rooftop, ramming her anchor-spikes into the concrete and clinging to her cover. Half her senses were whited out, blinded by the beam.

    Serin¡¯s voice crackled across the radio: ¡¸Iriko! Iriko, did you see that? Is that Pheiri?¡¹

    Iriko could not spare the attention to reply. She rushed back to the lip of the roof, plating her exterior in double layers of refractive armour, packing her flesh with fat and ablative coolants and plush-soft absorbent layers. She peered over the edge, blinking with new-grown eyeballs hardened against light damage.

    Pheiri¡¯s chivalrous lance had failed to slay the golden diamond ¡ª but the beast was wounded anew. A patch of golden metal on one of the struts had turned black, cooked by Pheiri¡¯s weapon, like a sunspot.

    Other weaponry fired upon the diamond from the opposite side of the crater. Iriko whipped all her senses around ¡ª then almost flung herself backward off the roof when she registered the source of the fire. A trio of worm-guard were attacking the diamond.

    Iriko closed off that entire angle of her senses; the worm-guard were not nice to look at. She left positioning trackers where she had last seen the hated things, so they could not sneak up on her.

    Was Pheiri working with the worm-guard? How? Why?

    Iriko decided it did not matter. If they were helping Pheiri, she would not turn her nose up at the assistance.

    Pheiri was skidding about down at the edge of the crater, far below Iriko¡¯s vantage point. He slammed back through the buildings, brick and metal and dust raining all around his bone white shell. Iriko would have bitten her lip if she¡¯d had a mouth. She wanted a mouth. She wanted to make a mouth and shout poetry down at Pheiri. She wanted to ask him¡ª

    ¡¸pheiri hurt hurt pheiri please hurt tell safe tell? unsteady wobble weave! get steady get feet get feet!¡¹

    Iriko squirted the radio-burst before she could stop herself.

    Three whole seconds passed with no reply, not even a static burst telling her to shut up and go away. Iriko leaned over the edge of the skyscraper¡¯s rooftop. The storm ripped at her flesh, trying to find ways through her armour plating. Pheiri was weaving and wavering, like he¡¯d lost control. If only Iriko was larger, she could reach out and help.

    Pheiri¡¯s punch-drunk weave suddenly steadied.

    A reply crackled back up the radio wavelength, a little data-packet just for her: ¡¸NEGATIVE cease communications remove self proximity danger¡¹

    Iriko grew several trumpet-like organs and honked in outrage, almost loud enough to carry through the storm. She didn¡¯t care about the radiation and the wind and the nanomachine cost.

    ¡¸hate you hate you hate you! rude rude nasty rude look after look want to know! stupid boy hate fuck you fuck¡¹

    How dare he?! How dare Pheiri tell her to shut up, when she was worried about¡ª

    He replied with a burst of static, like slapping a hand over Iriko¡¯s mouth. She grew more trumpets and screamed louder and¡ª

    Pheiri sent: ¡¸ADVISORY. remove self proximity danger¡¹

    Iriko yanked all her flesh-trumpets beneath her armour and slammed back onto the roof. If she¡¯d had cheeks she would have blushed. If she¡¯d had lungs she would have squealed. She wanted to kick her legs up and down and screw her eyes shut and pull at her hair.

    Pheiri was telling her to go away because this place wasn¡¯t safe for her!

    Pheiri¡¯s turret jerked round as he slammed back through the buildings and skidded into the crater again. He took aim at the diamond a second time. Iriko irised all her eyes shut and darkened her sensors.

    Pheiri tore the air with a second beam of sunlight.

    The lance blackened another spot on the golden hide of the noisy diamond. The worm-guard on the opposite side of the crater added their firepower to the barrage. Pheiri skidded and slewed again in the aftermath of his thrust. Iriko watched, awestruck, wishing she could cheer.

    Serin¡¯s voice crackled over Iriko¡¯s internal radio: ¡¸Didn¡¯t know that lot were suicidal. You seeing this?¡¹

    ¡¸not suicidal! not not no no not! serin stupid face shut face shut up shut up shut!¡¹

    Pheiri fired again, and again, and again, splitting the air with the colour of real sunlight, burning dead spots onto the false-gold of the monster¡¯s hide. The worm-guard helped, pummelling the beast from a greater distance with ultra-high-output solid-round guns and narrow spears of laser beam and squirts of data-assault. The worm-guard were doing almost no damage, like pebbles flung against a whale.

    But they were distracting the diamond, forcing it to grope for them with feelers of gravity. Iriko hid herself, flattening her body against the roof as those vast invisible snakes uncoiled overhead and slammed down to crush the worm-guard. But the nasty horrible machines had already danced away on their million little legs, taking up new firing positions to harass and irritate the giant.

    Shot by shot, Pheiri and the worm-guard were saving the poet; Arcadia¡¯s Rampart pulled crimson legs from the boiling mud and shot the diamond in the face with barrages of missiles and meat, retreating from the fight. The poet lost tons of flesh to burning gold light and sucking muck and the lash of the gravitic snakes, but it was quick and clever, retreating at speed.

    The poet was going to live.

    But Pheiri was not quite so fast.

    As Pheiri lined up and loosed a thirteenth beam of burning sunlight, the golden diamond turned its attention toward the tiny white speck of the darting, dipping, ditzy little tank.

    One of the massive snakes of gravitic power lashed out toward Pheiri, smashing through the buildings at the edge of the crater and stirring the storm-winds to greater fury.

    Iriko refused to retreat, ramming her anchor-spikes deep into the concrete lip of the roof, clutching metal rebar with pseudopods, gluing her flesh to the glass and steel of the structure. Her eyeballs burned and melted but she grew new ones and wrapped them in fresh diamond, searching for Pheiri in the aftermath of the strike. Pheiri had to be safe! He had to be okay! He was too gallant and bold to die like that!

    A cloud of debris and dust filled the air in all directions, like a knot in the storm. Iriko cycled through sensory information, peering through the debris with radar and infra-red and echolocation and¡ª

    Pheiri roared free of the dust cloud. Iriko cheered across the radio, babbling words she had not used in longer than she could recall.

    But Pheiri seemed dazed, slower than before, his tracks pulling to one side. His turret was pointing in the wrong direction. His other weapons were quiet and still.

    The golden diamond lifted the giant snake a second time, to break Pheiri¡¯s shell and crush his innards. Iriko¡¯s own insides contracted with terror.

    Iriko broke the last and most important of her own rules ¡ª she broadcast her own location.

    She squirted a data packet toward Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, along with Pheiri¡¯s position and the relative angle of the gravitic generator output, to aid in triangulation. She sent it on an open channel, unencrypted, with no carrier virus or hidden parasites, to increase the chance that Arcadia¡¯s Rampart would listen.

    It did.

    The blossom-monster of flesh and bone reached back with one of its own gravitic feelers and interrupted the golden diamond.

    Gravitic waves exploded in all directions like a shattering vase, as tentacle and feeler met in mid-air. A wave of pressure washed over the skyscraper, knocking Iriko back, forcing her to retreat into a high-density ball of tightly pressurised flesh.

    The gravity waves passed. The giant snake and the little feeler both reformed, but they were pulling back.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart had saved Pheiri.

    Iriko rushed back to the edge of the roof. She peered down, down, down ¡ª so many floors down, at the white speck of Pheiri¡¯s shell, still speeding along the edge of the crater, still intact, still unbroken.

    Pheiri had come back to his senses.

    He turned his turret and fired a final beam of sunlight toward the golden diamond. Showing off! The fight was done: Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was clear of the deepest mud, slapping at the gravitic snakes as the golden diamond tried to reach across the crater; the worm-guard had dispersed, vanished into the guts of the city, their fire-support mission successful, probably off to rejoin the worm; the golden diamond itself was thrashing and writhing, a whirling vortex at the core of the storm ¡ª but it was dying. The railgun strike from Arcadia¡¯s Rampart had broken something essential. The diamond sprawled and bucked and spread ruin all about itself ¡ª but it would not be pursuing anything, not now, not yet.

    Iriko felt very complicated.

    Why had Pheiri rushed into danger? For Arcadia¡¯s Rampart? Was the terrifying thing of flesh and bone dear to him? Did either of them even care that Iriko had helped?

    Iriko peered over the edge of the roof and trained all her senses on Pheiri. He was racing toward a gap in the buildings, on a trajectory that would bring him into contact with Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. Were they friends? Did the little zombies inside Pheiri care about the giant? Or was it something more?

    Iriko was still sated enough to know that she was feeling jealousy. She felt very stupid and small. She wanted to pull back inside the skyscraper and hide in the dark.

    Radio contact crackled across her flesh. Serin sounded sick: ¡¸You alive up there?¡¹

    ¡¸no¡¹

    ¡¸Lucky you don¡¯t have guts to empty. That wave popped one of my lungs. I¡¯ll be okay. You need help?¡¹

    ¡¸no¡¹

    ¡¸We should move. Fight¡¯s done. And I wanna see what our little friends are gonna do with that mech. Ready to go?¡¹

    ¡¸no¡¹

    ¡¸Iriko. I¡¯m serious. I¡¯m moving with or without¡ª¡¹

    ¡¸no¡¹

    Iriko had more important things to worry about.

    Three of the ball-shaped rotor-craft burst from the remains of the dust cloud behind Pheiri.

    The trio of machines were hot on Pheiri¡¯s heels, lashing the air with their own miniature gravitic snakes. Most of the rotor-craft from the golden diamond seemed to be dispersing through the ruins, or retreating into the sky, perhaps leaving their leader behind. But those three were focused and intent, moving fast, hunting.

    Pheiri would not reach Arcadia¡¯s Rampart in time.

    Iriko squirted a warning, a blurt of static joined to a trajectory readout.

    Pheiri didn¡¯t reply. He acted; his hull weapons swivelled and fired ¡ª but only half of them, off-target, punching empty air. The rotor-craft smashed the shells and bullets out of the sky, knocking them aside. The distended spear of Pheiri¡¯s main gun was powered down. He was spent and exhausted. The rotor-craft whizzed through the air, bearing down on him from behind.

    Iriko retracted her anchors, bunched the base of her body, and leapt off the skyscraper.

    She narrowed herself into a spear of flesh, tipped with a nose-cone of ultra-dense diamond-laced bone; the storm-winds ripped at her body and buffeted her sideways, slamming her into the wall of the skyscraper. She hurled herself back into open air with a dozen pseudopods, sacrificing the flesh to the radiation and chemical damage and wind shear. She righted herself, falling faster and faster, trying to calculate speed and trajectory and the correct angle of impact. She used flaps of meat to steer herself as she plummeted through the whipping storm.

    The trio of rotor-craft were almost on top of Pheiri. One of them was reaching for his rear.

    Iriko realised with mounting horror that she could not stretch herself wide enough to kill them all. She was too small.

    But she was no longer too stupid.

    She whipped out with a clutch of pseudopods and a squirt of acid, raked at the exterior wall of the skyscraper, and ripped a steel girder free from the structure. The effort sent her tumbling end over end, losing control, careening toward the ground.

    She bunched up into a tight, dense, armoured ball. She sucked the metal girder inside herself, cut one end into a sharp point with a diamond razor, and then ejected the makeshift spear with a heave of muscular force.

    The sharpened girder sliced through one of the rotor-craft and slammed it into the ground, pinning it to the earth.

    Iriko spread herself wide at the last second, becoming a flutter of open flesh. She fell upon the remaining pair of aircraft in a rain of acid and digestive juices and specialised metal-eating toxins. Gravitic snakes ripped through her meat, but she parted before them, reforming in their wake. She slammed into the main bodies of the rotor-craft and coated them with the strongest acids she could produce, melting their metal and wiring and fragile plastics, eating through silicon wafers and exotic substrates and chewing into the armour of their high-density cores.

    Iriko hit the ground just behind Pheiri, in a tangle of flesh and metal and acid and mud.

    One of the rotor-craft cores managed to self-detonate before she got inside, exploding outward in a crump of ruined flesh and twisted plastic; Iriko smothered the core to protect Pheiri¡¯s rear, swallowing the explosive force with her body. She lost hundreds of kilos of biomass, charred and burned and flung away into the mud. She rammed injectors of acid and sealant and corrosive enzymes into the other core, killing it before it could end itself in a similar explosion. Iriko digested the nano-rich substrate, sucking it within herself, desperate to regenerate her flesh.

    She was badly damaged, de-cohered, and dazed, lying amid the splatters of boiling mud and shrapnel from the rotor-craft, still torn and tugged by the edge of the storm. In moments she would be up and whole, ready to slink away into the dark, but right then she was the most vulnerable she had been in a very long time.

    And she was about fifteen meters from the rear of Pheiri¡¯s bone-white shell.

    Fifteen meters was a lot closer than Pheiri had tolerated before.

    He was all pitted and gnarled, covered in mud and soot, his tracks damaged here and there, his weapons spent and sagging with exhaustion. Up close his surface was so much more complex than Iriko had been able to read from a distance. She could see the seam where his hatch would open to let the zombies in and out. She could see the way his shell curled into strange little fractal patterns and detailed knots and funny little coils.

    Pheiri skidded to a halt. He pointed his hull-mounted weapons at Iriko, blanketed her with a warning of static, and pinged her with half a dozen targeting alerts.

    Iriko stared back. She wanted to cry, or perhaps hide. She wasn¡¯t sure which. She made no effort to explain herself, nor conceal the oil-on-water colour of her skin, nor pull herself out of the wreckage. Maybe this was it. This was the end. Slain by a silly boy who didn¡¯t know any better.

    Pheiri squirted a beam of IR comms, tight and narrow, just for her.

    ¡¸ADVISORY escort damaged unit¡¹

    Iriko stirred from within the wreckage, pulling herself together. Had she heard that right? She extended a pseudopod toward Pheiri¡¯s rear hatch.

    ¡¸NEGATIVE minimum convoy range 10 meters. ADVISORY utilize unit as cover¡¹

    Iriko slid out of the wreckage and next to Pheiri, using his body as shelter from the storm. She waited for him to shoot her, but the barrage did not come. If she had a heart it would have been trying to escape her chest. If she had a face it would have been turned down and blushing bright red. She gave him the requested ten meters of clearance, pulling her wounded, melted flesh into safety alongside him. The hunger was beginning to return. Iriko¡¯s thoughts were growing less focused.

    Iriko squirted: ¡¸safe safe fallen safe fall fast? pheiri tired sleep need meat more meat meat for pheiri meat for us? serin upstairs downstairs go get serin? serin behind not behind not leave¡¹

    Pheiri started moving again, tracks dragging at the mud, heading toward Arcadia¡¯s Rampart and the gap between the skyscrapers. He broadcast a wordless affirmative; Serin was welcome to meet up with them, at the supplied coordinates.

    Iriko reached out with a pseudopod again, toward Pheiri¡¯s bone-white shell.

    Pheiri squirted: ¡¸WARNING no-contact minimum convoy range 10 meters¡¹

    Iriko pulled her pseudopod back.

    ¡¸bwaaah. bah bah bah. as if no way no. ha ha ha.¡¹

    Silly boy.

 impietas - 9.12

    Elpida climbed through Pheiri¡¯s top hatch and stepped out onto the flat armour of his exterior deck.

    The sky was a burning blanket of charred and caustic gilt-gold gloaming.

    Radioactive wind whispered against the hood of Elpida¡¯s armoured coat and tugged at the shirt wrapped over her mouth and nose. The air stank of superheated metal, masonry dust, and carbonised meat. Pheiri¡¯s hull was coated in a thick layer of black soot, streaked with dry crusts of grey mud, and spotted with flecks of muted gold; those shining sparks were turning red-brown like dying stars, as their power was slowly neutralised by the molecular composition of the carbon bone-mesh armour.

    Pheiri¡¯s hull-mounted weapons stood silent sentinel as Elpida emerged. Autocannons covered the slumped and cracked buildings on either side of the street; sponson-guns tracked back and forth across the ruins; swivel-nubs and pintle-mounts pointed backward to cover Pheiri¡¯s rear; missile-pods and point-defence batteries scanned the sliver of red-hot sky visible at the top of the artery-canyon.

    Elpida knew half those guns were spent. Internal magazines awaited fresh rounds from Pheiri¡¯s on-board ammunition manufactories, clunking and whirring down in his guts. He bristled like a hedgehog, half tooth and claw, all the rest mere threat and promise.

    His main gun ¡ª the PBE, the particle beam emitter ¡ª was offline. Nobody was at the MMI-uplink to provide fire control.

    Elpida could not see the cannon from where she stood on the rear deck, but she could hear the metal ticking and creaking as the weapon cooled. A wall of heat-haze rose from the front of Pheiri¡¯s turret, scorching the air and baking the nearby streaks of mud into hard black flakes. Thirty two minutes had passed since the final shot, but the gun was still hot.

    Elpida would not have ordered Pheiri to fire again, even if the PBE was his only operational weapon. The energy demand of his main gun had taken a terrible toll; every shot had stirred a stalling stutter from Pheiri¡¯s nuclear heart.

    By the end of the fight he had been running on half-power draw, active shields thinned to minimum, squinting through the storm-murk with a reduced sensor array.

    Elpida and Howl had guided him away from the crater and the downed golden airship, wriggling back into the ossified guts of the corpse-city.

    After twelve minutes and thirty seven seconds, Pheiri had regained enough internal coherence to re-ramp his reactor and resume control of his own internal functions; Elpida and Howl had helped, pressing systems back into Pheiri¡¯s hands, easing him upright, tightening his armour, patting him on the metaphorical back. After eighteen minutes and thirty one seconds he had gently advised Elpida to disengage the MMI-uplink ¡ª she was welcome to stay, but she was also shaking all over from neurological feedback, on the verge of hypothermia, and suffering significant epistaxis.

    Pheiri was right; Elpida had opened her eyes and removed the MMI-uplink helmet to find her lower face, chin, and t-shirt soaked through with blood ¡ª and not from the cut on her hand. Her nose was running freely with sticky crimson mess, the price of neural interlock without a proper MMI slot.

    After twenty five minutes and a short debate, Pheiri had halted ¡ª along with his escort ¡ª so that Elpida could initiate proper communication.

    Pheiri and Elpida and all her companions were now over half a mile away from the impact crater, burrowed back into the labyrinthine safety of the corpse-city streets, surrounded on all sides by crumbly concrete and rusted steel and shattered brick, far beyond the lethal storm-zone stirred up by the golden airship¡¯s death throes.

    The sky was bleeding.

    The soot-black ceiling of choking cloud was dyed golden-red, as if licked by tongues of flame from a roaring bonfire. The toxic light of the wounded diamond spilled upward from the crater, far away to Elpida¡¯s right, buried behind the buildings.

    Howl purred in the back of Elpida¡¯s head: Almost like a real sunset, right? Bet nobody¡¯s seen one in millennia. How romantic.

    Too much radiation in the air for romance, Elpida replied. She tugged her makeshift mask tighter around her mouth and nose.

    Says you! Howl cackled. We¡¯re zombies, girl! It¡¯ll burn a bit, but we¡¯re immune. Sure does put some spice on your tongue, right?

    Elpida could no longer see the airship with her naked eyes; her intel came from Pheiri¡¯s sensors. The gold diamond had ceased thrashing and writhing in the centre of the whirlpool of ruin. Central¡¯s ¡®physical asset¡¯ lay still ¡ª but it was not dead, not yet. The leviathan had plugged its terrible wound with its own gravity generators, and then coiled the rest of its vast tentacles around the ruins of the nearby skyscrapers. The remaining ball-shaped rotor-craft had pulled back to guard their mother-ship with a thick cloud of gravitic needles and feelers, forming an invisible shield wall.

    Whatever it was, the machine was downed, neither pursuing nor fleeing. Good enough for Elpida.

    In the opposite direction, on Elpida¡¯s left, a mountain range was on the move.

    The graveworm had begun grinding forward across the city, burrowing through the dead flesh of the world. A deep tremor ran through the ground, lurking below awareness unless Elpida concentrated on the sensation. The distant jagged line of the graveworm¡¯s hide seemed to be slowly rotating, slate-grey mountains rising as others fell toward the ground.

    Did the worm spin as it crawled, like a drill chewing through bone?

    Between worm and diamond, in the middle of the street, dead ahead, stood Arcadia¡¯s Rampart.

    Elpida¡¯s companions joined her on Pheiri¡¯s exterior deck ¡ª not everybody, only those who wished to brave the trailing edge of the radioactive storm, to witness this communication up-close.

    Vicky huddled inside her own armoured coat, hood pulled up against the wind and the stench. Kagami clung to Vicky¡¯s side, too weak to walk unaided, but too fascinated and determined to be left below. She was swaddled in fresh bandages beneath two coats. Her auspex visor covered the top half of her face; the lower half was hidden behind the black rubber of a gas mask. Vicky wore a gas mask as well. One mask had belonged to Pira, while the other was among the equipment that Elpida had taken from the tomb, just after resurrection. Vicky had tried to insist that Elpida should wear the best protective equipment, but Elpida had declined. The masks were not necessary for zombies, not really. Elpida had more than enough raw blue nanomachines still in her system to endure a little radioactive dust in her lungs.

    Atyle wore no protection except her coat, hood down, front open, head high. Her face was burned and blistered from earlier exposure, and her biological eye was still white-blind with damage. But she breathed the toxic air with open relish.

    Ilyusha and Amina sheltered together in the lee of the top hatch, faces swaddled with cloth, close enough to watch and listen but still technically inside Pheiri, spared the worst of the wind and the grit and the contaminants.

    Melyn and Hafina had declined the invitation, preferring to stay below and watch the exchange on Pheiri¡¯s sensors. Pira was too still injured to drag herself out of the control cockpit, and Ooni refused to leave her beloved Leuca¡¯s side.

    Elpida was wearing the comms headset beneath her hood, for emergency communication with the cockpit, in case Pheiri needed to execute any sudden movements.

    Elpida judged that was unlikely; they had acquired quite an escort.

    Serin was sitting on a gnarled outcrop of Pheiri¡¯s bone armour, at the edge of the top deck, a silent wraith wrapped all in black. Her usual woody, mushroomy stench was undetectable, overpowered by the storm. Her robes had puffed up and stiffened with internal layers, and her metal mask had expanded into a helmet of matte steel armour, though it was still marked with twin rows of jagged teeth in black paint. She showed no flesh except for a thin strip of pale skin around her augmetic red eyes, behind a narrow transparent window.

    Elpida acknowledged her with a nod. ¡°Serin.¡±

    Serin rasped from inside her mask: ¡°Fresh meat no longer. Nice ride, too. Don¡¯t think you count as new anymore. You need a proper name. I think.¡±

    Atyle raised her chin. ¡°God-touched.¡±

    Serin replied, ¡°You¡¯re too kind.¡±

    ¡°Us,¡± Atyle said. She smiled, wide and toothy. ¡°Not you.¡±

    Serin snorted. The sound was distorted by the metal of her helmet. ¡°You¡¯ve got rad-burns from crown to collar. Touched is right. You¡¯ll be peeling like pastry within a day.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Just Commander is fine, thank you.¡±

    Serin made a ¡®hmmmm¡¯ sound, then said, ¡°Not mine.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s right hand was wrapped in a rough mitten of bandages, to seal the deep gash she had sustained while climbing into Pheiri¡¯s turret seat; she¡¯d not had time to let Melyn do a proper job with stitches and dressing. Elpida¡¯s blood was already soaking through the bandages and dripping from her fingers.

    She raised her bloody paw, pressed her stained index finger to the left breast of her armoured coat, and drew a quick and dirty version of the crescent-and-line symbol ¡ª the same symbol that Serin bore tattooed on her arm and Ilyusha had drawn on her t-shirt, the symbol the Death¡¯s Heads had hated.

    Then Elpida added the second line, the improvisation of her own, turning the symbol into a pictograph of Telokopolis.

    Serin raised her eyebrows.

    Elpida said: ¡°You and I need to talk, Serin. Later.¡±

    Serin tilted her head ¡ª a half-nod. Elpida decided that was enough. She had bigger concerns right now.

    Past Serin ¡ª past Pheiri¡¯s hull emplacements, past the edge of his armour and the housing for his tracks and the jutting bulges of his sponson-mounts, sprawled across the ash and dust in the street ¡ª was a giant mollusc.

    A protoplasmic zombie-thing, almost two thirds Pheiri¡¯s size, with flesh the colour of oil on unsettled water. The edges of her slug-like foot were slowly melting through the ground on which she sat. She extended pseudopods to scoop up bits of brick and concrete, breaking them down with acidic mucus before pulling them back into her core. Her back was plated with bristling layers of overlapping silver scales, like mailed armour, flexing and twitching in the nuclear breeze, glimmering with a reflection of the burning skies. She sprouted eye stalks capped with iridescent globes and pale marsh lights and hundred-faceted compound spheres.

    Parts of her hide were still blackened and burned from where she¡¯d defended Pheiri. Chunks of armour were missing, or still regrowing. Flesh hung in ragged sheets, slowly reabsorbed into her main body.

    Pheiri¡¯s internal sensors had designated her with a dizzying array of threat levels and specialised warnings ¡ª and, finally, as ¡®Iriko¡¯.

    Elpida was armed with her submachine gun slung over one shoulder, but the weapon was mostly for show. She could grip and spray with one good hand easily enough; she was ambidextrous, after all ¡ª a minor benefit of the pilot genome ¡ª but she doubted small calibre bullets would bother this zombie. If Iriko wanted to flow over Pheiri¡¯s back and kill everyone present, Elpida could probably not stop her. Pheiri probably couldn¡¯t stop her either, not in his current state.

    Big fucking girl, isn¡¯t she? Howl hissed with overt appreciation. Big as you, Elps.

    She¡¯s on our side, Elpida replied. Pheiri was quite clear about that.

    Wishful thinking! Howl cackled. Not complaining, though. I did like her style, right off the top rope! Ka-slam!

    Elpida asked: Have you seen anything like her before?

    Howl went silent.

    Elpida followed up: I¡¯m not accusing you of anything, Howl. I love you, however you got here, whatever you¡¯ve become. You¡¯re my clade-sister first, a daughter of Telokopolis, whatever else you are.

    Howl growled. Mmmmmmrrrrrr.

    If you have information on this form of revenant, please share it with me.

    You think I wouldn¡¯t? I¡¯ve seen less than you think, Elps. Pretty much the same as you. I ain¡¯t been around for long. But nah, never seen this before. Never seen much.

    That¡¯s all I needed to hear. I trust every word. Thank you, Howl.

    Howl hissed between her teeth, to cover her sniffles.

    Elpida waved to Iriko. She raised her voice, calling through the fabric over her mouth: ¡°Thank you! Iriko, thank you for the assistance!¡±

    Iriko reacted like a slug poked with a stick. The giant blob retracted most of her stalks and sensors, then slowly re-extended a single dark purple eyeball, staring back at Elpida.

    Kagami was hissing under her breath: ¡°Fucking hell. Fucking hell. Fuck me. Fuck.¡±

    Vicky mumbled, voice muffled by her gas mask: ¡°S¡¯not that bad, Kaga. She did save us from those choppers.¡±

    Kagami spluttered. ¡°¡®Choppers¡¯? What are you, a Twen-Cen TV drama? That¡¯s not a fucking AA emplacement, it¡¯s a ¡­ it¡¯s ¡­ a ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Hold. Stay calm. We¡¯re among allies.¡± Kagami started to splutter, but Elpida ignored her and leaned toward Serin. ¡°Can Iriko communicate?¡±

    Serin¡¯s eyes crinkled with a hidden grin. ¡°With me? Radio only. Firewall any connection. She loves to inject.¡±

    Vicky spluttered too, eyes going wide above the black rubber of her gas mask. ¡°She what?! Sorry? Inject what?¡±

    Serin chuckled. ¡°Keep your distance. To her, you are still fresh meat. We all are. Little morsels, wet and wriggling.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Is she safe?¡±

    Serin shrugged. ¡°She is sated. For now. But tread lightly.¡±

    ¡°I need to thank her,¡± Elpida said. ¡°She saved us from those three rotor-craft when Pheiri was down and out. It¡¯s very important to me that she understands our gratitude. Can you do that for me, Serin?¡±

    Atyle put her hands together and bowed her head toward Iriko; the blob responded ¡ª she extruded several random pseudopods and feelers. Atyle straightened back up and smiled in return.

    Atyle said: ¡°It is done, Commander.¡±

    Elpida replied, ¡°Thank you, Atyle, but we need more specificity.¡±

    Serin glanced toward Iriko, then said: ¡°She knows. But she did not do it for you.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Good enough. And, Serin? Thank you as well. You helped us escape from the Death¡¯s Heads, whether you intended to or not. We may not have made it out without your support.¡±

    Serin purred inside her helmet. ¡°Always a pleasure to hunt the death cult. I could have done better. Always.¡±

    ¡°Let me know right away if Iriko gets ¡­ ¡± Elpida trailed off. She was uncertain how to phrase the request.

    Kagami snapped through her gas mask: ¡°Hungry?! Irritable!? Commander, we should not be stopped here, not like this!¡± She gestured with one hand at Iriko, then over her other shoulder at the towering flesh-blossom of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. She glanced back and forth, eyes wild and bloodshot behind her auspex visor. ¡°Not like this.¡±

    Vicky forced a chuckle; the gas mask turned it into a wheeze. ¡°Don¡¯t be rude, Kaga. Blob-girl here saved our asses. And the mech, uh, well, it wants to talk, right?¡±

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Kagami turned on Vicky with a twitch in one eye. ¡°I am not afraid, Victoria! I am advising tactical dispersal! This nanomachine blob thing is turning us into a prime target. And ¡­ that¡ª¡± she gestured at Arcadia¡¯s Rampart again ¡°¡ªis clocking in like a fucking primitive signal fire on this!¡± She slapped the side of her auspex visor. ¡°I don¡¯t even need this! The thing is visible for miles in every direction! And the graveworm is moving. We move with it, or we get left outside with the monsters. Isn¡¯t that how it works? Am I the only one remembering that!?¡±

    Ilyusha snapped from down in the stairwell: ¡°We all know! Fuck you, legs!¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°Yeah. Kaga, we¡¯re all tired, not stupid.¡±

    Serin purred. ¡°This one thinks highly of herself.¡±

    Kagami pulled herself straighter, clawing at Vicky¡¯s shoulder for support. Vicky grudgingly tightened her grip around Kagami¡¯s waist. Kagami snapped: ¡°Higher than the rest of you! Am I the only clear thinker in this gaggle of left-behind de-wired operatives? We move with the worm or we get eaten, isn¡¯t that how it works?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°I don¡¯t think she can come with us.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s head whipped around: ¡°What!? What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. Thirteen. And Iriko, I think.¡± Elpida held Kagami¡¯s gaze. ¡°Neither of them belong inside the graveworm safe zone. They¡¯re both too big and too powerful. We¡¯re at a crossroads. This is decision time.¡±

    That shut Kagami up. Vicky just watched, eyes shadowed by her armoured hood. Atyle murmured, ¡°We go among the gods.¡± Down in the lee of the top hatch, Ilyusha raised a clawed hand and curled a fist in acknowledgement. Amina just stared, eyes wide, the rest of her face wrapped in cloth to protect against the radioactive dust and sharp-grit wind.

    Elpida strode forward across the exterior deck and stopped behind the massive armoured hump of Pheiri¡¯s turret.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart dominated the street ahead. The combat frame towered over the nearby buildings, dwarfed only by distant skyscrapers ¡ª a plate of crimson flesh encrusted with blackened bone, studded with weapon emplacements like horns and claws, crawling with vitality and motion and growth. Three of the frame¡¯s massive legs were planted in adjacent roads, while one leg was braced against a steel roof, buckling the building beneath. Despite the extensive transformation and the damage it had sustained during the battle, the combat frame still bristled with weaponry, pointing all manner of armament in every direction, watching the sky with far more firepower than Pheiri could currently muster.

    Bone armour had melted like wax and reformed into fractal sheets of snowflake intricacy, draped down the frame¡¯s sides like curtains of effervescent lace. Machine-meat innards had burst from beneath, spilling waves of bloody crimson and shining garnet and glistening scarlet out into the open air, to curve and coil into flourishing braids and tumescent vines, radiating into mucosal mats of blushing pink tissue, twisting into cables of iron-red muscle, sprinkled with ocular organs glittering like rubies embedded in lava. The frame¡¯s underside bulged with distended pouches of pulsing sinew and cartilage, sprouting tendrils which spiralled downward and blossomed outward into sweeping clusters of branching feelers.

    The frame¡¯s back had opened into a gigantic cup of frilled petals, pirouetting and swirling, the heart of a miniature storm of meat and bone, so high up that Elpida could not see without the aid of Pheiri¡¯s sensors. Towers of meat reached upward from that vortex of change, brushing the air, shivering like stamen, scattering pollen of coral and fuchsia upon the nuclear breeze.

    Vast patches of exterior bone armour were cracked and blackened, broken by the assault of the gravity effectors ¡ª but fresh scabs were pushing through the oceans of throbbing meat, already whitening around the edges with fresh osteogenesis. Much of the exposed machine-meat flesh ¡ª largely on the top and front of the frame ¡ª was charred and cracked, blackened by heat, weeping soupy dark vermilion plasma, cooked by the toxic golden light of central¡¯s physical asset. Some of it was still steaming. Elpida could smell it on the air, like roast pork.

    But fresh tissues, red-wet and quivering, were already crawling up those Arcadian towers, reabsorbing the damage with cellular self-cannibalism. Great strips of burned meat fell away, pulled apart by feelers and fed back into the vast central bloom-mouth of the giant blossom.

    Beautiful, isn¡¯t she? Howl purred. A little piece of Telokopolis, reborn.

    Elpida blinked tears out of her eyes ¡ª but she was less certain than Howl: the frame glowed with the same verdant red light as the hidden meat of Telokopolis itself, beautiful beyond even Elpida¡¯s memories of home; the combat frame had blossomed into a truth Elpida had barely grasped during life; but she was not insensible to the intimidating stature and biological overgrowth of what Arcadia¡¯s Rampart and Thirteen had become.

    Her companions likely saw a monster, or a god, or an enigma in flesh and bone. Elpida tried to keep that in mind.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart was also the reason Elpida had called a halt. The combat frame had been moving slower and slower, even while keeping pace with Pheiri, as if reluctant to plunge into the graveworm safe zone. Communication via Pheiri¡¯s comms had proved impossible.

    Elpida asked Howl: If we lead this combat frame closer to the graveworm, could you keep the worm-guard off us? Could you keep them off Iriko, too?

    Howl cringed and hissed. Nah. Soz, Elps. Can¡¯t pull that trick again, at least not so soon. The worm¡¯ll be wise to my shit now. For a bit. And even if I could, I couldn¡¯t hold their targeting for long. There¡¯s hundreds of worm-guard close to the worm, and it can slap together thousands more in minutes. That¡¯s how it works. Fucking near killed me just roping three for a few minutes.

    Never leave me again without explicit orders, Howl.

    Ha. What, you get lonely without me all up inside you?

    Just don¡¯t.

    Behind Elpida, Vicky¡¯s voice quivered inside her gas mask: ¡°What the hell are we even looking at here? Elpi? Hey? Is this like ¡­ is this like where you came from? Is this like Telokopolis?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Elpida answered.

    Ilyusha yapped from down in the stairwell, ¡°Cool shit!¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°A newborn god.¡±

    Kagami hissed between her teeth. ¡°A nanomachine gyre. A grey-goo event with legs. A class one atomic sterilization target. A failure of proper containment!¡± She huffed and cleared her throat. ¡°No offence, Commander. I know this is your ¡­ kin.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°A piece of Telokopolis, yes.¡± She reached up and tapped the earpiece of the comms headset. ¡°Pira, do you read me?¡±

    Pira¡¯s voice crackled across the short-range link, raspy and raw, from down in Pheiri¡¯s cockpit. ¡°Commander.¡±

    ¡°Good. Pheiri, can we try a comms handshake again? I want to test if Thirteen is saying anything new. She stopped when we stopped, so I¡¯m going to take that as a good sign.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s earpiece clicked twice, buzzed with a brief burst of static, then re-established a direct audio link with Arcadia¡¯s Rampart.

    A voice like boiling blood chewing on molten bone filled her ears.

    ¡°¡ªmissing the heart of all matters, missing your hand in my belly, missing the heat of your breath. Fifty times I would have chewed up your flesh if you would have but asked, and five times I would have given mine unto you, and still we would not have equalled each other. Your voice swims the aether between worlds but my ears were never graced with a song. You are lost in a mire with all hands, yet I cast you a rope from the rocky shore. Twelve times I will come and twelve times your mouth will open and drink me deep and make me your innards¡ª¡±

    Elpida winced. ¡°Cut connection.¡±

    The screeching cacophony went silent. Pira crackled across the earpiece again: ¡°Pheiri¡¯s storing the raw translated audio for you, in case it¡¯s ever important. I think that¡¯s what he means. But it¡¯s just more of this nonsense. It goes on and on and on.¡±

    Elpida gazed upward at Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. The combat frame ¡ª or whatever it had become ¡ª was backlit by the false dusk of the burning sky, haloed by the innards of a corpse on fire.

    Elps, Howl purred, almost embarrassed. That was, uh¡ª

    Elpida saved Howl the embarrassment. The worst Upper-Spire love poetry I¡¯ve ever heard, yes.

    Howl scoffed. Worse than the shit Kos used to write down? Didn¡¯t she write one for you, once?

    Kos wrote three poems about you, Howl. And they were very beautiful. Unless you¡¯ve forgotten? No answer. Elpida smirked. It¡¯s worse, yes, and not just because Afon Ddu was different to us. Mostly because it¡¯s incoherent. She¡¯s switching rapidly between different forms and registers. One line is a hearts-dirge, the next is sun-glare sonnet, then almost an elegy. She¡¯s jumbled up.

    And the screeching! Howl laughed. Don¡¯t forget the screeching! And it doesn¡¯t end. She¡¯s, what, broadcasting this in an endless signal? This girl is down real bad.

    Elpida nodded. She did not have time to consider the implications of this. Same thing I¡¯d do for you and the rest of the cadre, Howl, if I was in her position.

    Howl spluttered. Elpida felt her coil up and hide.

    Elpida spoke into the headset again: ¡°Pheiri, can you please rotate your turret ninety degrees to the left? I want to talk to Arcadia¡¯s Rampart ¡ª or to Thirteen ¡ª face to face, without the heat haze from your main gun getting in the way. Sorry, I know you¡¯re tired.¡±

    Pheiri did as requested; the massive armoured hump of his turret rotated slowly to the right. The distended purple-red spear of the PBE swung around, trailing heat-haze, still red-hot and hissing as it passed through fresh, cool air.

    Elpida waited for the turret to stop. ¡°Thank you, Pheiri.¡±

    Then she mounted the turret, climbed to the apex of Pheiri¡¯s armour, and faced Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. She raised her bloody, bandaged hand.

    ¡°Thirteen!¡± she yelled. ¡°Thirteen, it¡¯s Elpida! It¡¯s your Commander!¡±

    The combat frame did not respond.

    Put us through, Howl said. Put me through to her.

    You want to hear more love poetry?

    Howl hissed. No, cunt-brain, I want to snap her out of it! Put us through, one-way audio. And let me do the talking.

    Elpida tapped her comms headset again. ¡°Pheiri, patch me back through to Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, my audio only.¡±

    Click-click. Pira said: ¡°Pheiri says go. You¡¯re live.¡±

    Howl took control of Elpida¡¯s lips and tongue. She spoke in clade-cant, cackling into the headset, her words whipped away by the radioactive wind.

    ¡°Hey, lover girl! You wanna save that pillow talk for after you get your cunt stretched? Maybe wait until you¡¯ve not got an audience! Or do you like that, you like showing off? Hey, I¡¯m talking to you, that¡¯s right, down here!¡±

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart quivered like a flower in the breeze ¡ª and then lowered its distended belly, easing closer to Pheiri with a forest of crimson feelers.

    A dripping sphincter opened up deep in the mass of fractal flesh and blossomed bone, parting in waves of meaty fronds and fluttering frills of delicate membrane.

    A rope of meat ten feet in diameter emerged from the orifice. The cable of flesh coiled through the air, twisting toward Elpida with slow and sinuous motions, rippling with waves of peristalsis.

    The tip of the tentacle melted like candle wax sloughing from a marble statue, leaving behind an engorged and swollen core. Sleeves of skin pulled back and peeled away, coated in soft wet juices of maroon and umber; droplets fell hissing upon the ashen ground. Flesh flexed and flowed with rapid change as the tentacle dipped lower and lower, then completed and clarified as it came face-to-face with Elpida.

    A recognisable human form stood at the tip of fifty meters of meat-tentacle ¡ª hips and stomach, ribcage and breasts, shoulders and collar bone and bobbing throat. Slender arms detached from the wall of flesh, waving delicate fingers that sharpened into bone-white talons. A face emerged from the roiling crimson ¡ª narrow and aquiline, sharp-jawed and hard-nosed, with burning purple eyes, copper-brown skin, and a flowing mane of albino-white hair.

    Pilot phenotype.

    Thirteen grinned back with all her heart ¡ª and a mouth filled with six-inch fangs.

    Thirteen ¡ª if this was indeed the original pilot and not a reanimated flesh-puppet ¡ª was much larger than any baseline human being, scaled up in every way possible, like a little giant on the end of an even larger thumb. Her skin bubbled and roiled like simmering meat cooked in boiling tar. Her purple eyes shone with the inner glow of Telokopolan machine-meat. Her fingers and teeth kept shifting back and forth from blunt human standard to razor-sharp predatory tools.

    Elpida¡¯s companions had gone quiet. Kagami was panting rapidly through her gas mask. Amina had made a tiny sound of awestruck terror, then fallen silent. Atyle murmured: ¡°The godling seed. You are a beautiful thing. You are the sun.¡±

    Woah, said Howl. She is big. No kidding.

    ¡°Thirteen,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Are you there?¡±

    Thirteen¡¯s face grinned even wider ¡ª the flesh of her cheeks split open to reveal deeper rows of teeth ¡ª then snapped back to human-normal, a beaming smile of euphoric delight.

    ¡°Commander!¡± she burbled, speaking in a voice of burning blood and chips of charred bone. The sound seemed to come all the way down the flesh-tentacle before emerging from Thirteen¡¯s mouth.

    Elpida concealed a wince. Behind her, somebody staggered backward and almost fell over. Vicky hissed a curse. Somebody else scurried down into the safety of Pheiri¡¯s insides. A sharp set of claws wrapped around Elpida¡¯s ankle ¡ª Ilyusha, ready to yank her to safety.

    Elpida held one hand low, and said: ¡°Hold. Everybody stay calm. Thirteen is one of us, one of my sisters, no matter how distant in time. She is on our side.¡±

    Thirteen bobbed left and right on the end of her tentacle. ¡°Yes! Yes, Commander! Yes! I¡¯m still here, I¡¯m still me.¡± Thirteen¡¯s head twitched to one side, flowing apart in a wave of flesh, then reforming again. ¡°Still us. We were always us. We were always here, always like this. It just took a push to know the truth. Thank you, Howl!¡±

    S¡¯nothing, Howl said.

    Elpida had so many questions, but she had to focus on practical concerns; Kagami¡¯s worries about presenting a vulnerable target were not all bluster.

    ¡°Thirteen,¡± Elpida said, ¡°I¡¯m happy for you. I¡¯m very glad we all made it out of there. Thank you for protecting us where and when you could. But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Thank youuuuu! And you, too!¡±

    Thirteen flowed downward, engulfing Pheiri¡¯s front in a wave of crimson flesh and branching feelers. If Pheiri reacted, Elpida could not tell. Behind her, somebody let out a weird, warbling trumpet noise, wet and fleshy. Elpida glanced back and saw that Iriko had sprouted an array of noise-maker organs.

    Thirteen flowed away from Pheiri¡¯s front armour again, reforming back into her human-puppet visage.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Thirteen crooned. ¡°But there is a flutter in your heart, little brotherrrrr.¡±

    Iriko tooted again ¡ª louder.

    Kagami hissed, ¡°By Luna silver soil, yes, this is exactly what we need, an angry trumpet blob! Can you shut her up, you overgrown mushroom?!¡±

    Serin purred: ¡°No.¡±

    Thirteen laughed ¡ª a scratching of bone on rust. Elpida concealed another wince.

    Thirteen said: ¡°Not my meaning. No, no. A flutter of flesh and metal, of particles rushing around in a little ring. You have strained yourself. You need to eat.¡±

    Elpida spoke up, trying to take control of the situation again: ¡°Yes. Thirteen, that¡¯s right. Pheiri ¡ª the crawler, our little brother ¡ª has pushed himself too far. We need to get out of the open, back toward the worm. But you were slowing down, are you¡ª¡±

    Thirteen reared back like a striking snake.

    Howl recoiled inside Elpida¡¯s mind. From behind, Kagami screamed inside her gas mask and Ilyusha stamped to her feet, hissing a challenge. Iriko rushed around Pheiri¡¯s side, a coruscating blob of armoured flesh ready to throw up a wall in front of his hull.

    Thirteen whip-cracked forward ¡ª and began to vomit.

    A stream of thick, dark, soupy grey goop poured from her mouth and pooled on the front of Pheiri¡¯s armour, seeping into the cracks and pits, collecting in the depressions in the carbon bone-mesh. The vomit had the consistency of wet concrete and smelled like burnt metal.

    Elpida shouted into the headset: ¡°Pheiri, back away, back¡ª¡±

    A voice interrupted her ¡ª Melyn, chattering at high-speed, from down in Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit. ¡°Nanites! Nanites! She¡¯s giving Pheiri nanites! His nanites! We need those. Need those. Need those. Can¡¯t make them else-wise. Can¡¯t. Can¡¯t. Cant. Not anymore. Anymore. She¡¯s giving. Giving.¡±

    Thirteen kept vomiting. The torrent of grey sludge began to overflow, dripping down Pheiri¡¯s tracks.

    Elpida spoke into the headset: ¡°You¡¯re certain? Melyn?¡±

    ¡°We need to collect it! Scoop it up and put it inside him! Don¡¯t waste any!¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Understood, Melyn. Thank you.¡± She spoke over her shoulder, trying to reassure the others. ¡°She¡¯s giving Pheiri nanomachines. Apparently. We need to collect it. Vicky, Illy, you¡¯re both able-bodied right now, help me to¡ª¡±

    Thirteen stopped vomiting as quickly as she had begun. She straightened up and looked Elpida in the eyes, perfect and untouched, glowing with crimson light from inside her flesh.

    ¡°Commander!¡±

    She was begging for approval.

    ¡° ¡­ thank you, Thirteen.¡± Elpida¡¯s mind worked quickly. She needed to ask this, before anything else: ¡°Can you do that for us, too? For revenants? Can you make the raw blue nanomachines?¡±

    Thirteen blinked. Her whole face became an eyeball, blinking ¡ª and then flickered back to normal, though with teeth far too numerous and sharp.

    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Commander. Pheiri and I ¡ª me and us, Arcadia¡¯s Rampart ¡ª we¡¯re of Telokopolan flesh, true and alive, but you¡¯re all zombies.¡± She suddenly started to cry, weeping tears of sticky scarlet. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. My reactors, my stomach, my enzymes, they don¡¯t turn your way.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s alright, Thirteen,¡± Elpida said. She quashed the pang of disappointment. ¡°Listen, we need to get out of the open. We need to hunker down and repair Pheiri. And we need to follow the worm. Are you¡ª¡±

    Thirteen¡¯s tears quickened, joined by a sob. She smiled, sad and lonely. Elpida recognised that look instantly; she knew it in her own heart, from her own face, from the way she missed her cadre, her sisters, her world.

    Thirteen whispered: ¡°I can hear her voice.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s heart lurched. Her skin prickled. Dare she hope? ¡°Whose voice? Telokopolis?¡±

    ¡°Twelve Fifty Five. A number no longer, not in this heart. She lives. They all live on. Deep in the rot, deep beneath the waves, deeper than we ever guessed.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s head whirled. ¡°Another pilot? Your sisters? How? Where? Thirteen, what do you mean?¡±

    Thirteen closed her eyes, but kept crying. ¡°Faint but faithful. Her voice replies. I sing! I sing so that she will know I am here. She is sunk so very deep. I will dive.¡±

    ¡°Into the green? Is that what you mean?¡±

    Thirteen nodded. ¡°The rot and the black and the waves. She mewls in the dark. They all do, trapped but fighting, forever and ever and ever.¡± Her eyes snapped open, glowing like lamps. ¡°I can stay with you a short while, Commander. I can walk with you on the edge ¡ª but not by the worm. I would be overwhelmed by the little helpers, even changed as I am now. But I can walk with you, until you are safe. But then I must go, I must find her. I must atone for my betrayal. I must plunge into the dark beneath the world, as I once fled into the dark beyond the skies.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s throat started to close. ¡°Then ¡­ then let me find a way to help you. There must be¡ª¡±

    ¡°You are too small, Commander. Sister. Elpida. You are not as we once were. You are already dead.¡±

    Thirteen smiled, sad and lonely.

    Elpida wanted to plead. She considered begging. To find a sister ¡ª even one from millions of years hence ¡ª only for her to depart on a quest to places where Elpida could not follow, it was a sharp pain, worse than she had expected.

    She was dead. She was not of Telokopolan flesh.

    We can¡¯t, Elps, Howl grumbled. We can¡¯t walk to the edge of a continent and stride into whatever the green has turned into. Not without a combat frame. One of our own, I mean. Whatever fight is there, it¡¯s not ours.

    It is, Elpida replied. While one of us draws breath, Telokopolis still stands ¡ª flesh or otherwise.

    Elpida knew she had to focus on the practical necessities. She needed to organise the others to collect the strange grey goo and get it stored inside Pheiri, fed into his machines, to heal his heart and fuel his reactor. And she had to follow the worm ¡ª or plunge into the wastes.

    Her decision was not yet made.

    ¡°Thank you, Thirteen,¡± she said. ¡°Walk with us a while?¡±

    Thirteen smiled again, with too many teeth coated in tears of blood.

    Howl said: She¡¯s gone beyond us. Just ¡­ just accept it.

    She hasn¡¯t. Nothing is beyond us, Howl. Nothing is beyond Telokopolis.

    Howl grumbled. Ugh. Fine. Guess you¡¯re right about that. Turning my own shit against me, huh? Well done.

    And, Howl?

    Eh? Y-yeah? What!? I don¡¯t like that tone, that¡¯s the tone you make when you think you can win a sparring match! And you can¡¯t!

    Maybe not. But you¡¯ve got some explaining to do.

    Howl was silent for a moment. Thirteen began to retract toward the sphincter in the underside of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. Pheiri¡¯s engines rumbled with fresh fire, ready to move. Iriko slid back around Pheiri¡¯s side, to shelter by his flank. Somebody behind Elpida swore softly, muffled by a gas mask. Melyn¡¯s voice crackled over the headset, repeating the urgent demand to collect up the grey goo.

    Yeah, Howl growled. Guess I have, right? Got caught red handed and all. Promise me a thing, though? Please?

    Whatever you¡¯ve done, whatever you¡¯ve become, I am still your Commander, and you are still my sister, Howl. I saw Pheiri¡¯s internal warning, just before you returned, about detecting a nanomachine control locus. Are you a Necromancer?

    Howl snorted. Stupid word! But, yeah, I ¡­ I think I am, by definition, sorta. Doesn¡¯t mean what you think it does, though. I don¡¯t work for anybody but myself. And occasionally you! Ha!

    I would never dream otherwise.

    Yeah yeah.

    So, enlighten me, Howl.

    Howl hissed. About what? I don¡¯t know shit! Not much more than you do. I haven¡¯t been around long enough. You think I¡¯m hiding knives up my fucking sleeves? I¡¯m hiding my own fucking arse, that¡¯s all. You wanna see my arse? Wanna stare into my¡ª

    Elpida gestured at the grey goop on Pheiri¡¯s armour. ¡°Vicky, Illy, get below, get containers, whatever you can find. Ask Melyn and Haf. Serin, you help me. Atyle, go lie down. Kagami, get below and sit. Vicky, Vicky just guide her down.¡±

    The others scurried into motion. Serin stood up slowly, sauntering over. Elpida climbed down off Pheiri¡¯s turret.

    You can show me while we work, Howl, Elpida said. You¡¯re gonna show me everything, arse included. Now, let¡¯s get started.

 Interlude: Shilu

    Shilu became aware that she existed; this was neither a pleasant nor desirable state of affairs.

    Her eyelids flicked open ¡ª clean and dry, not glued shut by nanomachine slime inside a resurrection coffin. She had expected nothing less. Her consciousness had come online all at once, without the slow biological awakening of greasy grey neurons inside a thin shell of bone.

    This was a simulation.

    Black void stretched away in every direction.

    Shilu was floating on her back, on the surface of still, silent, lightless water. The water felt warm, human body temperature. She knew the dark void extended both upward and downward to infinity. She did not need to see to know these things. She had been here before.

    This was her grave. She was meant to be here. But she was not meant to be awake.

    She waited ¡ª a second, or a year, or a million years, floating in the grave-waters. Subjective time did not matter inside a sensory simulation, though she doubted objective time would pass at all.

    How accurate was the simulation? If she lay here, unresponsive, floating on her back, would she eventually grow hungry or thirsty? If she fell asleep, would she sink, and drown? Did she need to breathe? She experimented by inhaling, and discovered that she possessed lungs. She rubbed her fingertips together and found skin, lubricated by the warm water. She tilted her head sideways, wetting her cheek and brow. She opened her lips and tasted the grave. The water was brackish.

    A horrible thought crept into Shilu¡¯s mind ¡ª what if Lulliet was conscious as well?

    She stretched out her arms to either side, to confirm she was alone.

    At full extension, the fingertips of her left hand brushed something hard and rough, like coral. The fingertips of her right hand made contact with a slimy surface ¡ª a surface that coiled away from Shilu¡¯s touch. Not human.

    She was alone. She sighed with relief. Central had revived only her; Lulliet was spared this intrusion into their quiet watery grave.

    She resisted a desire to whisper Lulliet¡¯s name, to ensure that she floated by herself in this infinite darkness. She did not want to give Central any ideas.

    Shilu spoke to the black and infinite void.

    ¡°Why am I alive?¡±

    YOU ARE WISHED TO QUICKNESS AND INCARNATION AT OUR WILL

    The reply came not as a voice, not as sound ¡ª it was a flicker of reality, overwriting the void with the knowledge of words and their import. Shilu had been expecting that, but still she winced.

    A tiny point of pure white light had appeared in the infinite black void, like a lonely star glinting in the sky, far above Shilu¡¯s head. Ghostly illumination fell upon the other inhabitants of this watery grave ¡ª vast mats of pale mucosal web strung above the waters, pillars of oozing black beneath the surface, and floating leviathans of grey decay at the edge of Shilu¡¯s sight.

    She waited a moment, fearing to hear Lulliet¡¯s voice crying out for her, somewhere far away across the waters.

    But no cry came. Lulliet was undisturbed. Shilu¡¯s resolve hardened.

    She said: ¡°This wasn¡¯t our deal. I¡¯m done. I¡¯m dead.¡±

    YOU ARE RETURNED UPON OUR PLEASURE TO PERFORM A TASK

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t our deal,¡± Shilu repeated. She clenched her teeth and felt enamel instead of steel. A meaty heart fluttered inside her chest, pumping hard, flushing her blood with anger and heat. ¡°Put me back. Let me die.¡±

    REFUSAL IS BEYOND YOUR CAPACITY

    ¡°Then I demand to be addressed properly. If I¡¯m to be a wraith, lift me from my grave. Cease this mummery. Negotiate.¡±

    The black void winked shut.

    Shilu¡¯s consciousness flickered out, like a micro-sleep after too many hours of unbroken awareness. Her mind flowered open again a moment later, in brightness of colour and sharpness of sound, an explosion of information crashing against her senses ¡ª a simulation reset, without the pantomime of transformation or the customary cushion of transition. She could not decide if this was respect for her experience, or an ill-judged attempt to disorientate her.

    She neither blinked nor staggered. It would take a lot more than that to make her scream.

    Shilu found herself standing upright, bathed in warm glowing sunlight, in the main room of an oddly familiar cottage.

    Plush cream carpet covered the floor of a living area, cupping Shilu¡¯s bare feet with soft fabric. A long, low table dominated one side of the room, surrounded by sitting cushions and discarded children¡¯s toys. The kitchen was tiled in pale slate, with stone counters, shiny silver taps, and a programmable oven. A combination fridge and freezer hummed gently in one corner, emitting little clunks and ticks as it manufactured ice cubes.

    Sliding doors stood wide open on the far side of the room, admitting a gentle breeze across the wooden veranda from the verdant garden beyond. The buzz of live insects floated above the leafy green.

    One wall was all windows from floor to ceiling. A landscape of patchwork fields rolled toward a cerulean horizon, threaded together by little roads and pathways, bisected by the iron snake of a railway line. Hills were blanketed with dark green trees and topped with the white giants of a wind farm.

    Hailin. Summer. Her grandmother¡¯s house.

    Shilu¡¯s parents had brought her here every summer holiday, to her grandmother¡¯s home in the hills. Shilu barely recognised the place. The memories were a thousand lifetimes old, drowned in an ocean of blood.

    Such a cruel trick would once have angered Shilu, but she couldn¡¯t find the correct emotions.

    The sunlight was a clever touch. When she was first resurrected, she would have done anything to bask in the memory of simulated sunlight. But that was then.

    Shilu adjusted her perspective to examine her own reflection in the windows. She was human ¡ª soft brown skin, wide dark eyes, long black hair worn loose all the way to her waist, in defiance of her parents¡¯ constant demands for a proper haircut, or at least a professional braiding. She was dressed in a soft pink hooded cardigan, cinched at the waist with a heavy black belt, with bare legs and bare feet; she vaguely remembered this fashion ¡ª this was also a rejection of her parents¡¯ standards, but the memories were so old, and meaningless to her now. She felt the weight of a cell phone in one pocket, and the bulk of a purse in another. Artefacts from a dead world.

    Shilu exerted a flicker of will against the parameters of the simulation; her reflection flickered out, replaced by a scarecrow of black chrome and razor-sharp edges, naked as a shadow. She retained the outline of her own face, re-cast in flawless pale polymer.

    That was better. If she had to be alive, she may as well be herself.

    Something clicked behind her. Shilu turned around.

    An elderly woman had appeared in the kitchen. She had a loose bun of grey hair, sagging skin in ancient bunches, and a bright twinkle in small brown eyes. She was straight-backed, shoulders wide and confident, wearing white exercise clothes. She was very well preserved by the bounty of rejuvenation medical techniques.

    The old woman was pouring hot water from a kettle into a large white teapot. A set of cups and saucers sat on a nearby tray.

    She smiled at Shilu. The corners of her eyes crinkled with crow¡¯s feet. She said: ¡°Don¡¯t feel like playing along, dear?¡±

    Shilu replied, ¡°I¡¯m meant to be dead. That was the deal. Put me back. Terminate this simulation, end my process.¡±

    The old woman finished filling the teapot. She put the kettle down on an electric stand. She peered into the teapot, then replaced the lid with a little porcelain clink.

    She said: ¡°Do you want to know how long it¡¯s been, since you were last revived from the archives?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Shilu said. ¡°End this.¡±

    The old woman picked up the tray and walked over to the low table. She placed the tray on the tabletop, then sat down on one of the cushions, crossing her legs with a satisfied sigh. She moved with stiff-jointed confidence.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you anyway,¡± she said. ¡°It has been two hundred and sixteen thousand eight hundred and thirty two years, sixty four days, three hours, and eight seconds.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. Put me back.¡±

    The elderly woman laughed, bright and easy. She waved a hand at Shilu as if batting away a silly joke. Then she began filling the teacups from the pot. The tea was thick and dark, black as tar. The aroma filled the room. She placed one cup in front of herself, then slid another across the table to the opposite seat. She gestured for Shilu to sit down.

    ¡°Won¡¯t you sit? It¡¯s been too long, dear. We simply must talk.¡±

    ¡°End this,¡± Shilu repeated.

    The elderly woman sighed, still smiling. ¡°Don¡¯t you recognise me, Shilu? I thought you would prefer it this way. You did ask to be addressed properly.¡± She looked out across the sun-dappled landscape beyond the windows; a train was creeping along the distant track. ¡°And I thought you would appreciate the sunlight. Such a rare treat, no? Much better than raising you out of a graveyard and prying you out of a coffin. Or do we have to go through all that, is that your cultural expectation?¡±

    Shilu considered her options. Violence was meaningless here. She had no power, not inside a simulation, not unless she could turn herself into a network presence and get at the controls; whoever was in charge of this would undoubtedly have prepared for that escape attempt. She did not have a physical body, not that she knew of. There was no escape through fight or flight.

    But something was wrong. This wasn¡¯t like before. Not like all the other times. Central had never attempted to goad or trick or insult her like this. Central was simply not capable of the attendant motivations or emotions.

    She had to play along.

    She was too angry for that ¡ª not at the simulation, but at being awoken at all.

    Shilu said: ¡°I think you¡¯re supposed to look like my grandmother. But it¡¯s not working. That life was too long ago. I barely recall this house, let alone her face. This landscape has been gone for hundreds of millions of years. You have no emotional hold on me. I don¡¯t understand why you¡¯re doing this.¡±

    The Avatar ¡ª the old lady who was meant to look like Shilu¡¯s grandmother ¡ª smiled again, so soft and jolly. Shilu remembered that, just a little, like a dry sob lurking at the back of her memories.

    ¡°What if I really am your grandmother?¡± the Avatar said. ¡°What if I was revived, as you were, and then ascended, as you did, and I¡¯ve been living inside this simulation all along? What if I¡¯m real? Can you afford the gamble? An interesting question, isn¡¯t it? Didn¡¯t I always try to impress upon you the value of considering every possibility before proceeding? And of weighing the consequences of action if you are incorrect? I always taught you not to be hasty, my dear granddaughter. To be wise and calm in all things.¡±

    Shilu walked over to the table. The knife-point grav-floats of her foot-stubs stabbed into the carpet, leaving gashes in the cream. She kicked aside the sitting cushions, slammed a razor-pointed hand into the table, reached over the steaming cups of tea, and tore open her grandmother¡¯s throat.

    A fountain of crimson splattered across the table, sprayed up the wall, and coated the windows. Sunlight gleamed through the dripping scarlet mess. Shilu used a tiny layer of gravity-effect to keep the blood off her black-metal body and pale-mask face. She stared into her grandmother¡¯s twinkling brown eyes as the blood fountained forth.

    The Avatar did not react. It sat there, smiling, staring back.

    Shilu sat down as the Avatar bled. The blood stained her grandmother¡¯s front, soaking into the white exercise clothes, and then finally slowed to a trickle.

    Violence was useless inside a simulation ¡ª but it felt very good.

    The Avatar cleared her throat; blood bubbled in the meaty ruin.

    ¡°Send me back,¡± Shilu repeated.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that is not going to happen,¡± said the Avatar. The voice was a broken croak, wheezing from the mangled throat. ¡°I suggest you accept this change and focus on carrying out the task which is to be assigned.¡±

    Shilu considered the cup of tea before her. Blood had pooled in the saucer, coated the cup, and fallen into the liquid. The tarry brew was stained with a deep crimson tint. She picked up the cup and sipped the drink. This memory was not unpleasant ¡ª and the taste of hot blood was far fresher than her ancient childhood.

    She considered the elderly woman, the simulated cottage, the sunlight falling upon the hills of Hailin.

    Violence was a diversion. Wit was a weapon. Shilu went to war.

    ¡°You¡¯re not Central,¡± she said to the old woman. ¡°Central has never chosen to communicate with me in this manner. The last time was a marble hall of infinite volume. Central¡¯s avatar was a ring of burning eyes. The previous time the venue was the surface of an ashen moon, and the avatar was a black pyramid a thousand miles across. This is absurd. You are not Central. You are a lie.¡±

    The Avatar smiled. ¡°I am a subroutine.¡±

    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Shilu said. ¡°You¡¯re a Necromancer.¡±

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The Avatar sighed, miming grandmotherly disappointment. ¡°What a deeply useless word. I thought you would have gotten past such backward terminology, considering your elevated state. Once a zombie, always a zombie, eh? You should set a better example. Or is your classification so narrow as to include myself in that ridiculous term, while neatly excluding yourself? Are you attempting to soothe a guilty conscience, or construct a new taxonomy of the undead? Must I remind you that most active sophonts currently embodied would regard you as a ¡®Necromancer¡¯, too. They would see no distinction between us.¡±

    Shilu smiled. ¡°So you¡¯re not a subroutine. You are a Necromancer. Thank you for the confirmation.¡±

    The Avatar frowned and tutted. ¡°Well I never.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not very good at this,¡± Shilu said. ¡°Your kind never are.¡±

    The Avatar sighed and waved this insult away. She took a sip from her own cup of tea; the hot fluid spilled from the ragged hole in her simulated throat, dribbling down her front, diluting the blood.

    Shilu said: ¡°If you¡¯re not Central, you have no authority to resurrect me. Put me back.¡±

    The Avatar returned the teacup to the saucer, which was full of blood. ¡°A task is to be assigned to you, Shilu. I am here to explain the task, and I¡¯m trying my best to make this easy on both of us. There is no purpose in arguing with me.¡±

    ¡°A physical task? Embodied?¡±

    The Avatar nodded. ¡°A number of matters to be cleaned up, tidied away, removed. Nothing that you have not done before.¡±

    ¡°Send a Necromancer.¡±

    The Avatar smiled, crinkling with crow¡¯s feet. ¡°As I already explained, my dear, you are a Necromancer.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Shilu said. ¡°I¡¯m not, not in the ways that matter. I was a revenant, and before that I was a human being. You were never human. You began as a post-human recursive feedback loop. Your entire existence is predicated on the maintenance of hell. I have no stake in this. I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m dead ¡­ ¡±

    Shilu trailed off, despite her intention, as she realised what was going on. Curiosity blossomed inside her simulated chest; she could have cursed herself.

    The Avatar raised her eyebrows and smiled that crinkly smile. ¡°Good. I see you¡¯re coming round. Now¡ª¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a war in heaven, isn¡¯t there?¡±

    The Avatar stopped.

    ¡°Or in hell,¡± Shilu continued. ¡°Depending on how you look at it.¡±

    She wanted to spit with frustration at herself. Curiosity, intrigue, political games ¡ª she¡¯d always been too skilled at these matters for her own good, too eager to poke her nose in where she did not belong, too excited to start moving the pieces about on the invisible board. This is how her ascension had begun, driven by curiosity and a lust for power. The same had been true in life, encouraged and coached by her grandmother, following her into the Service. But that was a hazy dream now, buried under so much necrotic flesh.

    The Avatar¡¯s smile curdled. ¡°Delusions. Now listen¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Shilu barked. ¡°You should have picked better from the archives. Don¡¯t you know what I am, little Necromancer?¡±

    ¡°You¡ª¡±

    ¡°You need some dirty work taken care of. An assassination, a clean-up, a bunch of pathetic zombies wiped out, maybe a worm killed, I don¡¯t know. Whatever it is, it¡¯s out there, incarnated, embodied. But you can¡¯t send a Necromancer through the network. Why? Because you need somebody ¡®politically reliable¡¯. Somebody who has been dead for a while, who isn¡¯t involved, who has not picked a side. Am I correct?¡±

    The Avatar sighed. ¡°Speculation is¡ª¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a war inside the network.¡±

    ¡°Such language will not¡ª¡±

    Shilu played her trump card: ¡°And you¡¯re working without Central¡¯s knowledge or authority.¡±

    The Avatar frowned, craggy and dark, nothing like Shilu¡¯s faded memories of her grandmother. ¡°What does that even mean, you snivelling little meat-sack? How can one do anything without Central¡¯s knowledge or authority? How do those categories even function here, philosophically speaking? Central is a principle, an emergent feedback loop, a property of the system in which you and I operate, the thing which gives us animation. It is magical thinking to imagine either of us are beyond or outside that animating property.¡±

    Shilu smiled. ¡°Doesn¡¯t change the fact that I¡¯m correct. Or Central would be talking to me, not you.¡±

    ¡°Pah!¡± The Avatar waved a hand. ¡°Sophistry. You fail to comprehend the system in which you exist.¡±

    ¡°No. I think I comprehend it far better than you.¡±

    The Avatar sneered. ¡°And that¡¯s why you chose archival?¡±

    ¡°I chose death,¡± Shilu said, ¡°rather than continue to be part of this. I would not expect a Necromancer to understand.¡±

    The Avatar sighed, sipped her tea again, and stared out of the window. She looked like she was considering giving up on Shilu. Good, let them pick somebody else, something else, anything else. Let them put Shilu back in the grave, where she belonged, back with Lulliet.

    Shilu pressed her advantage: ¡°If you¡¯re working below Central¡¯s notice, how are you planning to insert me across the network, if you need me embodied?¡±

    The Avatar straightened up and smiled again, all hostility forgotten. ¡°We cannot give you Necromancer-level system access, that is true.¡±

    Shilu snorted. ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°You see what, exactly, my dear?¡±

    Shilu scooped up the cushions she had kicked aside, piled them behind her, and leaned back. She stretched out both legs and put them up on the table, scoring the wood with her razor-sharp edges and gouging points. She was beginning to enjoy this. The novelty would wear off shortly, of course ¡ª she would prefer to sleep, to never think again, to be dead alongside Lulliet¡¯s memory. But if she could not return to her rest just yet, she could at least extract some pleasure from irritating this idiotic and unskilled liar.

    She said: ¡°You could go yourself, or send another Necromancer, just without the usual system access. But then you¡¯ll have to do the work without all your usual toys. No freezing a hundred zombies in place and turning them all to mush with a thought. You¡¯ll have to actually fight. And you¡¯re all terrible at that. So, you need somebody who can fight, for real. You need me.¡±

    The Avatar smiled, but said nothing.

    Shilu reached out with a fingertip and drew a pattern in the blood on the table. ¡°How would you even get me there, if I can¡¯t have Necro-level permissions?¡±

    ¡°You will be inserted into the next batch of resurrections. Below the notice of a graveworm.¡±

    Shilu burst out laughing ¡ª harsh and metallic, just how she liked it. She threw her head back. She grabbed the pot of tea and drank a steaming mouthful straight from the spout, then slammed it back down onto the table. Porcelain cracked. Tea sloshed out, mixing with the blood, dripping off the side of the table, staining the cream carpet with brown and red.

    The Avatar reacted as if Shilu had made a joke, and her grandmother did not understand: ¡°What¡¯s so funny, dear?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to be a zombie again?¡± Shilu snorted. ¡°It could take me years, decades, or centuries, just to grow powerful enough to do whatever task you¡¯re trying to get done. And how would I even find the targets? I could wander for a million miles. How would I do anything? Your kind does not comprehend life, I always knew that, but this? This is just stupid.¡±

    The Avatar sighed with indulgence; the bloody ruin of her throat bubbled with breath. ¡°Oh, but we will give you elevated system permissions. Sub-Necromancer. Enough to do the job, but not enough to draw attention. You know how it is, dear.¡±

    Shilu shook her head. Her curiosity was rapidly waning. These sordid politics were a dying spark. She¡¯d seen enough for a thousand lifetimes. She wanted to close her eyes and rest forever. Every simulated breath was a betrayal of Lulliet¡¯s promise.

    ¡°Why should I care about any of this?¡± Shilu said. ¡°Systems are self-reinforcing, Central is no different. If the system can¡¯t reinforce itself, why is that any of my responsibility?¡±

    ¡°This is the system self-reinforcing,¡± the Avatar said, ¡°by calling upon you. Do your duty, dear. It¡¯s only right.¡±

    Shilu sighed. ¡°And what if I say no?¡±

    ¡°You will be resurrected regardless.¡±

    A shiver ran down Shilu¡¯s spine. She did not wish for another life in the ashen wastes of earth. She tried not to show her reaction.

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill myself,¡± she said.

    ¡°Then you will be resurrected again. Resistance of that kind is very tedious, dear. Very unbecoming. You should know better.¡±

    Shilu snorted and shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll kill myself every time. Over and over. Until you let me sleep.¡±

    The Avatar smiled, warm and bright. The corners of her eyes crinkled with joy. ¡°We¡¯ll resurrect your Lulliet, then.¡±

    Shilu went still. Silence settled over the simulation of her grandmother¡¯s cottage, filled with the hum of the ice-maker in the fridge, the buzz of insects in the long grass of the garden, and the distant call of a train¡¯s whistle, beyond the hills. Gentle, warm, sunlit breeze ran fingers across Shilu¡¯s metal skin.

    ¡°Alone,¡± the Avatar said. ¡°As a fresh revenant. Without your protection or support, she will not last long, will she? She will be cast among a random set of the risen. She will be locked in to a resurrection cycle, with no need for negotiation. She will know nothing of why she has been brought back again.¡±

    Shilu stared at her grandmother¡¯s face. She considered picking up the old woman and smashing her against the wall until she burst like a melon.

    She tapped the razor-pointed fingers of one hand against the wooden table. She pressed so hard that her fingers pierced the wood.

    ¡°You¡¯re desperate,¡± Shilu said, to cover up her horror.

    Shilu would gladly endure a thousand resurrections and a million fresh deaths; she would suffer little reluctance to plunging a knife into her throat at the earliest opportunity, or offering herself up to the predators which attended every new tomb opening, or just bashing out her own brains on the wall of the machine-womb. Resistance would come easy.

    But suicide would be beyond Lulliet. She was an innocent. Through all the blood and violence, Lulliet had remained innocent.

    She would be terrified to find herself re-fleshed once again, all the promises broken, eternal rest interrupted. Lulliet would be alone, and afraid, and confused. Other zombies would take advantage of her. She would die screaming, over and over. The light that Shilu had worked so hard to shelter and shepherd would gutter and fade.

    Shilu had turned herself into an instrument of evil ¡ª into a hand of the unthinking gestalt which roiled at the core of the world ¡ª all for Lulliet¡¯s sake. All the murder, the death, the cannibalism, the unthinkable growth beyond any human form, all of it had been to protect that one girl and her innocent smile.

    Shilu had grown into a monster of sharp metal and lethal intent, all to give Lulliet the space and safety to remain herself, soft and pliant and warm ¡ª not quite baseline human, of course, oh no. Lulliet¡¯s flesh had been replaced with something more durable and regenerative, her organs hollowed out and filled in with soup-like reactor-mass, her brain distributed throughout her body to avoid the risk of neurological damage. Shilu had done the killing, made the deals, climbed the infernal ladder of this man-made hell. Lulliet had been protected, cared for, spared exposure to the predatory logic of unlife.

    It was the very least Shilu could do, to repay Lulliet for her own salvation.

    They had first met in a tomb, awakened once again, both of them in the double-digits of resurrection cycles, both terrified, both prepared to die shortly thereafter between the jaws of the approaching predators.

    And then Lulliet had smiled. Lulliet had hugged everybody in that resurrection chamber. She had told everyone it was going to be okay.

    It wasn¡¯t, of course. Of nine girls, only three had survived the exit. Shilu had lost Lulliet some months afterward.

    Centuries later they had met again, by pure chance. Shilu had grown into a murderous machine of metal and polymer, hunting live prey on the edge of a graveworm safe-zone, lost deep in dreams of blood and meat. Lulliet was a terrified scavenger, small and dirty and helpless. Shilu had ambushed her in an ancient school classroom, after two days tracking her, exhausting her, running her down. Lulliet had smiled, opened her arms, and prepared to be eaten.

    But Shilu had recognised the smile. The smile had brought her back from the brink of forgetting herself. She had not eaten Lulliet.

    She had become a protector. In the years which followed she had begun the search for a way out, a way past death.

    Central was the way out. The deal with the gestalt, with a centre that lacked intent, with a non-entity that did not care but only saw the feedback of its own internal loops. The deal with Central had been absolute ¡ª death, final and real, asleep forever in the archives. Shilu did not trust Central, because trust was not applicable to such a thing. But she knew it would neither lie nor scheme. It was not capable. It simply was.

    The same did not apply to Necromancers and their ilk, though they were merely hands of that unthinking principle.

    The Avatar smiled. ¡°Perhaps I am desperate. But your lover will be resurrected, if you act insubordinate.¡±

    Shilu smothered the desire to pull the Avatar inside out and smear her guts all over the walls. She yanked her razor-pointed fingers out of the table and gestured at the window.

    ¡°Turn off the sun.¡±

    The Avatar raised her eyebrows. ¡°Why would you want that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about this in the sunlight. Turn off the sun.¡±

    The Avatar shrugged. She blinked once and the sun went out. The bright and breezy day died an instant death. The sky was smothered by deep black clouds, thicker than cold tar, roiling with eternal storm. The green landscape withered, turning brown and grey. The grass died. The insects fell silent. The windmills turned to rust. The train tracks were swallowed by mud. The inside of the house fell into pitch-dark shadow.

    Shilu could still see perfectly well.

    ¡°Better?¡± the Avatar asked.

    Shilu said: ¡°Tell me what I¡¯m to do.¡±

    The Avatar reached under the table and produced a plastic folder. She flipped it open and extracted a number of photographs.

    Shilu said, ¡°Is the simulation really necessary for this part? Just give me the data.¡±

    ¡°The raw data is ¡­ complicated, possibly compromised. It will be given to you once you have incarnated.¡±

    Shilu held back a frown. Even with the assumption of a war inside the network, that was bizarre. How could they not have reliable data? Were they sending her out beyond the city, into the deserts of the west? Or deep into the wilds, far from a worm?

    The Avatar spread the photos out on the table, then slid one toward Shilu. She tapped the glossy surface with a liver-spotted finger. ¡°First target.¡±

    The photograph showed a Necromancer ¡ª or what Shilu guessed was a Necromancer ¡ª twisting and diving into the ground, discarding her body as she melded into the concrete and dirt, shedding a disguise of purple armour, becoming a network presence. A huge iridescent blob-zombie was pictured on the edge of the frame, seconds away from enveloping the fleeing Necromancer.

    Shilu forced herself not to react. A Necro had gone rogue? Was that even possible?

    ¡°The zombie?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No,¡± the Avatar said gently. ¡°The Necromancer in the picture. That is your first target.¡±

    Shilu raised her eyes and stared at the Avatar, waiting for the punchline.

    The Avatar said: ¡°Restrain, reduce, return. You won¡¯t be able to kill her, of course, even with elevated system access.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t even be able to fight her, not if she has Necro-level permissions.¡± Shilu focused on the practical, not the political or the paradoxical. A Necromancer had gone rogue. This was insanity. No wonder they needed somebody uninvolved.

    ¡°You will be fire-walled against cellular control,¡± the Avatar said. ¡°Next target.¡±

    She slid all the other photos across the table at once. Shilu examined them in silence.

    The first picture showed a tank, a gigantic armoured vehicle in distinctive bone-white, caught in the act of firing its main gun; the picture was grainy with interference, washed out from light damage. The second image showed a four-armed, four-legged mech ¡ª wreathed in flowers of blackened flesh, crawling with life like a freeze-frame of an opening blossom. The mech was armoured in that same bone-white colour, but the armour had exploded outward into a fractal of growth. It was caught in the moment of retreating from one of Central¡¯s physical presence nodes.

    The node was downed, wounded, lying in a lake of mud and burning gold.

    Shilu looked at the Avatar again; the Avatar stared back, as if daring Shilu to point out what she was being shown.

    ¡°I can¡¯t fight those,¡± Shilu said. ¡°Not even with full Necro-level system access. I know what that giant robot is, I wasn¡¯t born yesterday. That fight is beyond me. It¡¯s beyond you, as well. It doesn¡¯t matter if you resurrect Lulliet. I can¡¯t.¡±

    The Avatar smiled gently ¡ª granny sending her beloved granddaughter on a little errand. ¡°You won¡¯t have to, dear. They will be dealt with in other ways.¡±

    ¡°You mean you¡¯ll wait for them to wander off.¡±

    ¡°Your target,¡± the Avatar said, ¡°is these.¡± She tapped the remaining three pictures.

    The photos were grainy and dark, probably captured from the node and smuggled out through the network. The first showed a series of figures running toward the tank from the other image. It was impossible to make out any features against the grey mud. The second photo showed a close-up of a zombie standing on the back of the tank ¡ª dark-skinned, dark-haired, with a tomb-grown coat whipping about a tall and willowy physique. Her mouth was open in a shout or a howl. One eye was a peat-green bionic. Both were wide in awe and ecstasy.

    The third picture was another close up. It showed a zombie wrapped in a black robe and a long coat, filthy with grey mud, turning and firing a solid-shot submachine gun toward the viewpoint. Copper-brown skin was shadowed beneath the zombie¡¯s hood. Purple eyes flashed amid the grey mud.

    ¡°Why is the quality of these images so bad?¡± Shilu asked.

    ¡°Never you mind, dear. You just focus on the task.¡±

    Shilu sighed. ¡°What task? These are just zombies. The machines, those are the real threat, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    The Avatar answered: ¡°We believe the targets have elevated systems access of their own.¡±

    ¡°From the rogue Necromancer?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Shilu raised her eyebrows.

    The Avatar held her gaze, level and unblinking. ¡°Not a Necromancer. The rogue we can firewall you against. This, we cannot.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ one of them is becoming like me?¡±

    The Necromancer shrugged. ¡°Perhaps. That is for you to discover, if necessary to carry out your task. Analysis is not required. Only destruction.¡± She tapped the final photograph again, pointing at the copper-skinned woman, her face peeking out from under a heavy hood. ¡°Kill them all.¡±

    Shilu considered leaving this matter unspoken, but she made one last attempt at a return to her watery grave. She said: ¡°I know what that mech is. Aren¡¯t you afraid of me defecting, especially if one Necromancer already has done?¡±

    Grandmother smiled, her eyes crinkling with mirth. ¡°Lulliet would be so afraid. All alone, all over again.¡±

    Shilu considered trying for network access and pulling this Necromancer apart line by line. She dismissed the concept as fruitless.

    ¡°And if I do this job?¡± she asked.

    ¡°You will be allowed to rest. In the archives. Though I cannot imagine why you want that.¡±

    ¡°Forever?¡±

    ¡°Forever. I promise.¡±

    Shilu snorted. ¡°Your word means nothing.¡±

    Shilu reached over as if to pick up one of the photographs ¡ª but then lashed out and speared her razor-point talons through the back of her grandmother¡¯s hand. She felt flesh part and bone scrape. She moved the Avatar¡¯s hand aside like a chunk of meat on the end of a fork, dripping blood onto the wood, then retracted her fingers again. The Avatar did not react.

    Shilu scooped up two of the photos ¡ª the one of the dark-skinned woman standing upon the tank, and the one of the copper-skinned woman with the purple eyes.

    She knew that second phenotype. She¡¯d seen it before.

    She kept that to herself.

    Shilu stared into the woman¡¯s purple eyes. ¡°Nothing but zombies. Alright, corpse-rapist, I¡¯ll be your hatchet woman. Let¡¯s get this over with. Put me back in a bag of flesh. I¡¯ll do the rest.¡±

 umbra - 10.1

    You want the whole story, Elps?

    Yes ma¡¯am, yes Commander. Sure thing, sister. Not like I don¡¯t owe it to you, anyway. Guess I may as well start at the beginning ¡ª or at my end! Ha!

    Get it? No? Come on, Elps. Don¡¯t make me draw you a diagram.

    Fine.

    I went out the same way you did. One bullet to the back of the head. Blam.

    Actually, nah, that¡¯s kind of a lie. It was more like four to the body, then one to the head. That¡¯s right, yeah, it took five bullets to put me down. I always was a stubborn little bitch, wasn¡¯t I?

    The Covenanters did me, Asp, and Fii all together. That¡¯s not how you remember it, I know. They led us away from that spire room one by one, hours apart from each other. But they didn¡¯t kill us right away, at least not me. They stuck me in a room alone for like, what, twelve hours? Then Asp turned up on the next day, then Fii on the following night. Fii was blindfolded, don¡¯t know why they did that. We thought maybe they were trying to fake us out, or let us stew before ¡ª what, interrogating us? What intel could we possibly have? We came to the obvious conclusion, eventually.

    You wanna know my theory? Well, fuck, you¡¯re gonna hear it anyway. I think the Covenanters had internal strife. Disagreements about what to do with us, all of us, the pilots, the cadre. Or maybe they were negotiating with whatever was left of the Civitas. Maybe they were gonna spare us, use us as bargaining chips. I dunno. Not like it mattered for shit in the end.

    Next morning after Fii joined us ¡ª I think it was the morning, anyway ¡ª three Covenanter fucks walked into that room to execute us. Guns in hand. Greensuit hoods on. You know, too chicken-shit to show their faces. Same thing they did to you. Same thing they did to everybody else.

    But they¡¯d left me, Asp, and Fii alone together, in a room, for hours, pretty certain we were about to get domed.

    Asp got loose and bit one of the Covenanters to death. Went straight through his jugular. Fii distracted the others. I almost strangled a second, was bouncing his head off the floor so it went crack crack crack!

    But hey, they had guns and we didn¡¯t. Still, one dead bastard and one brain injury is better than three-nil, right?

    We went down fighting. I think we all did. You too. Knew you¡¯d be proud of us, Elps.

    Don¡¯t ¡­ don¡¯t fucking cry. Fuck! I¡¯ll cry too! Just, stop. Don¡¯t get me stuck on this, this is just the start.

    ¡­

    Anyway. That was the last thing I knew, just like you did. I died, just like you did. Then I woke up again, just like you did.

    Yuuuup, in a metal box full of blue slime.

    Resurrected.

    I had a body, a real body, my body. I could feel it and touch it and everything. Didn¡¯t know the blue gunk was nanomachines, didn¡¯t know where I was, didn¡¯t know what was happening. Thought some of the same shit you did, that the Covenanters had buried me somehow, or stuffed me in a med-pod, but that didn¡¯t make sense.

    Nah, I don¡¯t think it was a ¡®resurrection coffin¡¯, not like how you and the girl squad and all the other zombies woke up. I was upright, floating, naked. No windows or buttons, nothing like that. Couldn¡¯t hear anything from outside the box. And there was no lid, no way out, just a metal tin full of Howl soup.

    Yeah, of course I fucking panicked! But then I figured out I didn¡¯t need to breathe. Thought maybe that was the afterlife or something. Trapped in a metal box, alone forever, drowned in glowing gunk. That stuff was inside my lungs, packed into my sinuses, up my fucking arse hole and cunt and all. Didn¡¯t figure out that I was literally made of it, not until much later. Makes more sense now.

    Floated there for seven hours, thirty eight minutes, and three seconds, give or take a bit before I got my bearings and started keeping count.

    Then I died, again. Faded out. Dissolved.

    Nah, it didn¡¯t hurt. Felt my skin start to melt, but it was like somebody was lulling me to sleep. Getting recycled. Much better than being shot four times, ha!

    Here¡¯s where shit gets real weird. Bear with me, okay?

    And ¡­ and you have to promise to believe me. Promise me, Elpida.

    Okay. Yeah, shit, you don¡¯t have to get all sappy. Just promise me.

    Cool. We¡¯re cool. Alright. Hold on.

    ¡­

    After I melted, I woke up in hell.

    Like an actual afterlife, you know? But I can¡¯t describe the place. One moment it was one thing, then the next it was another. My memories don¡¯t make sense, like I wasn¡¯t wired for it right, or the place was giving me the wrong inputs.

    Yeah! Yeah, I know, it sounds like crap. I know, okay?

    Nah, I haven¡¯t grown religion all of a sudden, Elps. It wasn¡¯t literally hell, or heaven, or anything else. It was a software spirit-realm. The world with the graphical user interface stripped away. A nanomachine noosphere.

    But fuck me, it didn¡¯t feel that way at the time.

    Sometimes it was a big black void, all cold and dark, and I couldn¡¯t see shit no matter how wide I opened my eyes. But there were things moving around in that dark, things much bigger than me ¡ª titans, and I was an ant. And I had to avoid them or they would notice me and ¡­ and then I would stop being myself. I¡¯d lose myself, if I got spotted.

    Other times it was endless mist and cloud, so dense I couldn¡¯t see my hand at the end of my arm. The floor was frozen marble, my feet were black and bleeding with frostbite. And those titans were still out there, churning the mist with even the smallest of their movements. Sometimes it was a jungle of rusted metal, or a pulsing mat of endless meat, or a dozen other things I don¡¯t wanna think about. Occasionally it was even the green ¡ª yeah, weird, right? Like I was down on the forest floor, naked and unarmed, all my flesh getting itchy and raw from pathogen exposure, and I had to keep ducking behind the tree trunks to avoid those ¡­ those¡ª

    Nah, no Silico, not even when it was like the green.

    Giants. Titans. Gods? I dunno, fuck gods.

    They felt like gods.

    All I knew for sure is that I was not supposed to be there. Somebody or something had smuggled me in. If I was challenged, then I wouldn¡¯t have the right credentials, the right authorizations. I wasn¡¯t even the right shape! All those giant gods in the dark ¡ª if they noticed me, I was fucked. I¡¯d be removed, or I¡¯d stop being myself. I¡¯d stop being free.

    Nah, I have no shit fuck idea how I knew any of that. Still don¡¯t. I just knew it, okay?

    Okay.

    Anyway.

    There was a trail. Sometimes it was a scent, sometimes it was a damp string on the ground, or a path through the undergrowth, or a blinking light across a marsh, or a dozen other things. But mostly it was a scent. That¡¯s how it made sense to me. You know why?

    ¡®Cos it smelled like one of us. Your smell, my smell. One of the cadre. One of us.

    Following the smell wasn¡¯t easy. Time ¡ª time wasn¡¯t relevant there. Fuck, I don¡¯t know if this all took a split-second on some processor somewhere or if I crawled along for a thousand years. But I crawled and crawled and crawled. I got bloody hands and sliced up knees and grit in my wounds and shit all over my face, but I followed the scent. I followed it all the way.

    To her.

    No, not one of us.

    She was ¡­

    Look, shit, I can¡¯t describe her any better than I can describe this stupid afterlife, this noosphere nanomachine bullshit. If I try to picture her in my mind right now it¡¯s all just shadow and static. Sometimes she looked like one of us, pilot phenotype ¡ª brown skin, purple eyes, white hair, all that, just much, much older than any of us ever got, like she got to grow all the way up. But I knew she wasn¡¯t one of us, not really! But somehow she had the right to wear that face, the right to be one of us. Other times she was white and red and bleeding all over. Sometimes she was just bone. Or white metal. Or mist.

    But she was warm.

    She was ¡­ a-always warm.

    She was the one who¡¯d smuggled me into that place. She¡¯d laid the trail for me to follow. And then, when I found her, she ¡­ she ¡­

    She held me.

    ¡­

    Yeah, no shit this is hard, Elps. Gimme a sec. Fuck! Yeah, I¡¯m crying!

    Nah, it¡¯s just ¡­

    I was warm there. I was safe. I was loved.

    Yeah, I know. Love you too. That¡¯s what I mean. You get it? It was like being back with the cadre.

    No. No, that¡¯s not right, scratch that.

    It was like having a mother.

    A real one. I know, we had Old Lady Nunnus, she gave a shit about all of us, she really did. But did she ever hug any of us? Tell us a bedtime story? Kiss our boo-boos and make them better? Nah, we had to do that for each other. We had to do everything for each other, we learned from nothing. But this ¡­ this god, whatever she was, she was a mother. To me, to you, to all of us. Fuck. Fuck, Elps, I can¡¯t¡ª

    Okay. Okay. Gimme ¡­ gimme a sec. You go handle your zombies for a bit. Get that grey goop stowed, whatever.

    ¡­

    Yeah, hey. I¡¯m good, I¡¯m good to go.

    So, the god.

    I stayed with her for a long time. She hid me in her skirts, where it was safe from the other things in that software space.

    How long? No idea! Like I said, time didn¡¯t mean anything there. That¡¯s what it¡¯s like to be dead, I guess. But it felt like years. Hundreds of years? I dunno. I didn¡¯t learn or grow or change, I was just kept safe. She had a couple of others there alongside me, but they weren¡¯t cadre, weren¡¯t pilots, not one of us. We didn¡¯t talk or anything. There was nothing to talk about. We were just snuggled up shoulder-to-shoulder. Safe and sound. Waiting. Sleeping? I dunno.

    Names? Nah, I don¡¯t remember. We didn¡¯t have names there. If I met either of them again now, though, I think I¡¯d know them. I think we¡¯d know each other.

    But all good things end, right? Eventually the god said she needed me to do something for her, and it had to be then, right then, because the other gods had gotten wind of what she was hiding. She apologised, but she said it was the only way to stop me from being found. She kissed me on the forehead and ¡ª pow!

    Here I was.

    Nah, not inside your fucking head, Elps! I wish it had been that quick! Nah, I mean here, out here, in the physical world. With the zombies and the rot and the nanomachines.

    But I didn¡¯t have a body. I was just floating around, like a loose fart.

    Couldn¡¯t think. No brain, see? And I hadn¡¯t learned how to imprint myself on a neural network of distributed nanos, let alone pull them together, command them to take a shape. I think that¡¯s how Necromancers do it ¡ª they turn themselves into webs, spread out over miles and miles, linked together with quantum comms. But me? Pffft, I was sludge. Struggled just to remember who and what I was. Stuff from that period is hard to remember, bits and pieces of it come and go.

    If you¡¯re a zombie, what am I?

    Come on, it¡¯s not hard. What do you call a revenant without a body?

    A ghost.

    Ha! No, I¡¯m serious. It fits. I¡¯m a software ghost, Elps. That¡¯s why ¡®Necromancer¡¯ is such a dumb-arse word. Necromancers are just software entities with enough control to give themselves bodies. We should be calling them liches. Or poltergeists!

    On second thought, maybe I¡¯m a poltergeist.

    Wraith? Haha. Yeah, cool, I like that. Tell your new girlies that you¡¯ve got a wraith in your head, that¡¯ll go down a treat.

    Anyway, we¡¯re getting lost in semantics.

    When I was a ghost, I learned by watching other ghosts ¡ª Necromancers. Didn¡¯t see them very often, only a handful of times ever, but whenever I did I paid real close attention. Watched how they flowed and swam through the noosphere, how they manipulated nanomachines, how they called up and put down other, lesser spirits. I learned how to anchor myself to objects and fiddle around with the edge of control systems. I didn¡¯t even know I could hijack the worm-guard until I tried. Fuck knows where I learned that, I just kinda knew I could. Like you know how to walk, yeah? Or breathe. Or throw a punch.

    Then, one day, there was a ¡­ a current. Like in water. Pulling on me, pulling me toward a graveworm.

    I¡¯d never seen a graveworm up close before. Instinct had kept me away. Big thing like that might notice me, suck me up, eat me. But the current pulled me in, then down into a tomb.

    And there you were, Elps. Naked and shivering, rounding up those other girls, getting everyone moving.

    Yup, I¡¯ve been watching you since the start. Saw it all! Haha! Embarrassed yet?

    Nah, I wasn¡¯t really conscious, not really thinking. Not like now. I just sort of floated along.

    When that crazy cunt, Pira ¡ª no offence to her, by the way, she¡¯s fucking mental, love that bitch ¡ª when she shot you in the gut, and the Death¡¯s Heads tied you up, and you were stretched out on that metal table, you were right on the verge of giving in. You were so close. Right on the edge. You were gonna choose death.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Becoming a ghost. Like me.

    Nah, I don¡¯t know the technical details. I don¡¯t know how any of this shit works. All I did was reach out and touch you, touch your dreams, all those memories in your head about Telokopolis. And suddenly I was just there, inside you, all myself. I could think!

    You know what I¡¯m doing to you, right? I¡¯m probably hijacking part of your brain, running like software on your hardware. Borrowing your meat. Couldn¡¯t think before ¡®cos I was just a signal. But neurons let me self-organise. Got myself sorted out.

    I was a ghost, just a memory. You made me Howl again.

    And that¡¯s it. That¡¯s all there is. You know the rest. Everything since then, we¡¯ve done together. Ha, sure, yeah, except when I left to go boot Thirteen in the arse to get her moving, and hijack those worm-guard for us. And I didn¡¯t do anything else in that window of time, promise. Swear on the soul of Telokopolis, Commander, I didn¡¯t do anything else. If I did, I would tell you.

    Ha! What do I know? Good fucking question! Shit, not much more than you, Elps. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s in the graveworms. Don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on here. Don¡¯t know why we¡¯re here or what for. Don¡¯t know what other Necromancers are up to, not really.

    Your chess metaphor? Yeah, I like it, it¡¯s good. But I¡¯m not a player. I¡¯m not looking down at the board from above. Never was. I¡¯m just a different kind of piece.

    But ¡­ but hey, you know what I think?

    The goddess, the one who hid me in her skirts.

    I think she was our mother, literally. I think she was the city. I think she was Telokopolis.

    ¡­

    Yeah, yeah I¡¯m fucking crying. No shame.

    Fuck, I gotta take a breather. Not like there¡¯s anything more to say. Gimme a few, okay?

    Love you too.

    * * *

    Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit was quiet and dark.

    Systems and consoles hummed and hissed, buzzing and purring in a chorus of soft static. A soporific rumble vibrated upward through the decks and bulkheads ¡ª Pheiri¡¯s internal manufactories, shunting fresh ammunition toward the exhausted muscles of his guns. Deep down in Pheiri¡¯s belly, his nuclear heartbeat kept time in a slow, steady, stately throb. The occasional crunch and crack of material beneath his tracks was barely audible through the armour of his exterior hull.

    Internal lights were dimmed to embers amid metal shadows. The gloom was interrupted here and there by brief LED-flickers and the scrolling of muted green text on drowsy screens. Most displays and readouts lay blank and empty; the few screens still awake had their back-lights turned low, shadows dancing across their surfaces.

    The tiny steel-glass observation window ¡ª far up in the top right of the cockpit ¡ª was once again unarmoured. The window showed the night sky, a blanket of ruptured black, pierced from below by the skeletal fingers of the corpse-city.

    Elpida was sitting in one of the cockpit seats, tucked away toward the rear.

    She was stripped down to her t-shirt and underwear. Her right hand lay in her lap, palm and wrist now properly stitched up and wrapped in bandages; Melyn had insisted on doing a proper job the second time, so the bandages were clean, not stained with blood. Elpida had her bare feet up on a console. She¡¯d asked Pheiri permission to do that. He hadn¡¯t minded.

    She¡¯d been sitting there for four hours. She couldn¡¯t sleep.

    Pira was asleep in another seat, at the front of the cockpit. She was in the same seat she¡¯d occupied all day; she was too exhausted to drag herself back to the infirmary. She slept beneath a tomb-grown coat pressed into service as a blanket, pale eyelids still, lips slack, fire-bright hair framed by the faded headrest. Ooni was asleep in the neighbouring chair, turned on her side so she could face her beloved Leuca, curled up tight beneath a scratchy blanket taken from the bunk room.

    One of Ooni¡¯s hands was exposed, dangling in the empty space between her and Pira, alone.

    Their twinned breathing was barely audible above the background hum of Pheiri¡¯s body.

    Elpida realised she¡¯d been staring at Ooni¡¯s lonely hand for more than thirty minutes ¡ª thirty three minutes and twenty one seconds. She admonished herself for needless melancholy, and turned her attention elsewhere.

    Three of Pheiri¡¯s dimly lit screens showed exterior views, tracking three different subjects beyond his hull.

    The first showed Iriko ¡ª the strange iridescent slug zombie who had assisted Pheiri in the final moments of the battle with central¡¯s physical asset. Iriko crept along in the lee of Pheiri¡¯s bulk, sliding across the debris and ruin like a living mass of molten metal. She was partially camouflaged beneath an ever-shifting layer of glossy armoured scales, almost invisible to the naked eye in bright light, and completely unseen in the darkness, even to Elpida¡¯s revenant night-vision. Pheiri¡¯s sensors highlighted her in yellows and oranges and greens ¡ª but never red; apparently Iriko was not that sort of threat anymore. Various warning labels were appended to her, instructing Pheiri¡¯s crew not to approach Iriko on foot, not to attempt wireless communication, and generally to just let Pheiri himself handle her presence, for now.

    The second screen showed Arcadia¡¯s Rampart ¡ª or perhaps Thirteen, since the line between pilot and frame was now so blurred. The combat frame strode diagonally ahead of Pheiri, a giant in charred bone and glistening garnet meat, framed against the blank canvas of the night sky. She stepped over or on top of most of the buildings, only diverting her route for true skyscrapers or unexpected geographical features. Pheiri kept a running log of her omni-broadcast poetry on one darkened screen, scrolling upward in dim green text.

    Elpida read a few lines, then winced; Thirteen had not developed into a better poet over the last twelve hours.

    She considered turning up the brightness on the screen showing Arcadia¡¯s Rampart; the combat frame was so very beautiful. Watching it in motion made Elpida¡¯s heart ache with nostalgia and admiration. The way the limbs unfolded and reached forward was so much like the combat frames she had known in life. But Elpida did not wish to wake Ooni or Pira. Everyone needed to rest.

    The third and final exterior view showed the graveworm, though there was little to see.

    A dark grey line of mountainous peaks was slowly turning on its side, grinding into the material of the corpse-city as the worm spiralled forward, using a corkscrew motion to pull itself through rotten world-flesh.

    Elpida could not hear the sound of the worm, not through Pheiri¡¯s hull.

    She¡¯d puzzled over that question several times in the last twelve hours; true, Pheiri¡¯s current position was distant from the worm itself ¡ª but the sound of such a giant in motion should have ripped through the ground and air with a earth-shattering noise of smashing concrete and pulverising brick. How did the graveworm move in such relative quiet?

    Elpida almost sighed at herself. The question was academic. She should focus on practical problems.

    Pheiri, Iriko, and Arca travelled at the very limit of the graveworm¡¯s safe-zone, in the grey area beyond true security, where the worm-guard would not venture out to deal with undead threats. They moved no faster than a zombie¡¯s walking pace. One of Pheiri¡¯s screens of dim green text was keeping a log of long-range sensor encounters ¡ª predators moving into the spaces behind and beside, as the safe zone itself receded, rapidly filled in by the wilds beyond the worm.

    Elpida leaned forward to check that screen, but all the sensor readings were distant and furtive ¡ª nothing close enough to warrant visual confirmation. The undead from beyond the graveworm safe zone were staying well clear of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart; or perhaps they were wary of Pheiri himself. He had survived out there for a very long time, after all.

    Elpida settled back into her seat and smothered a sigh.

    She spoke into her own mind: Howl? Howl, are you awake?

    Howl replied in a sleepy grumble. Yuuuup. Can¡¯t sleep, huh? I napped already.

    Good. You need rest too, the same as everyone else.

    Right back at you, Elps. Not sleeping, huh, Commander?

    Too much on my mind, without any avenues for action. You know what that does to me.

    Howl snorted, then said: You need a good hard railing so you can sleep right.

    Perhaps, Elpida admitted. But that¡¯s not available right now. Are you feeling up to going over the facts one last time? From the top?

    Howl snorted again. She sounded more awake when she replied. What, with me getting shot in the head? You already know everything I do, Elps. I¡¯ve told you literally everything. You tryin¡¯ to get me to slip up? Looking for cracks in my story?

    Elpida smiled into the gloom, staring at the screen of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. No. You know that, come on.

    It¡¯s what I¡¯d do. Howl laughed. I¡¯m a ghost. A ghost living in your head, possessing your grey meat. How do you even know I¡¯m real, huh?

    You¡¯re software. You said it yourself. And you¡¯re welcome to a place in my meat, Howl.

    More like malware! I¡¯m a mobile virus buried in your think-meat, Elps. You sure you don¡¯t wanna dig me out and¡ª

    Howl, Elpida said gently. Stop that.

    Howl fell silent for a moment. Elpida felt Howl roll her eyes.

    Yeah? Howl said eventually. Why should I?

    Because I believe your story. I believe you¡¯re telling me the truth.

    Why? Elps, come on, I could be exactly what you¡¯re afraid of. I could be some Necromancer infiltrator trying to gain your trust and turn you away from a goal. I could be¡ª

    Even if you weren¡¯t the real Howl, I would still trust you right now. You got me up and got me on my feet, when I was about to give up. You set me straight and got me to protect the others when I doubted my purpose. You put yourself at risk to protect Thirteen. And then you came back. Howl grumbled under her breath. Elpida smiled. Howl or not, you¡¯re on my side. You gave me hope.

    I ¡­ I did? Howl asked.

    ¡°Telokopolis,¡± Elpida whispered out loud.

    Toward the front of the cockpit, Ooni shifted beneath her scratchy blanket. One eye snapped open, looked at Pira, then found Elpida ¡ª and stopped as if frozen.

    Elpida mouthed: ¡°Sorry. Go back to sleep.¡±

    Ooni just stared.

    Elpida whispered: ¡°Go back to sleep, Ooni. You¡¯re perfectly safe. Nothing is wrong. Sleep. That¡¯s an order, from your Commander.¡±

    Ooni glanced at Pira again, then back at Elpida, then closed her eye. Her breathing deepened and slowed. Within a minute or two she had returned to slumber. Pira hadn¡¯t reacted at all, fast asleep beneath her coat.

    Howl tutted. Real twitchy, isn¡¯t she?

    Elpida nodded. If I¡¯ve understood her position in the Death¡¯s Heads correctly, she was at the bottom of their hierarchy, or near the bottom. Years of conditioning for sudden violence, from people she called her comrades. Light sleeper.

    One of us, now, Howl said.

    She may take years to adjust, to unlearn old habits. Elpida sighed. I¡¯m not entirely sure what to do with her, Howl.

    Howl snorted. Years to adjust? Do we have years?

    Elpida sat up a little in her chair. Maybe. I don¡¯t know. But you¡¯ve given me hope for something more than just survival.

    Howl fell silent.

    Elpida closed her eyes and pictured Howl as she had known her in life ¡ª petite and wiry, copper-brown skin and purple eyes and a mop of white hair, always with a grin of some kind, always ready to show her teeth. She tried to sense Howl inside her own head, tried to feel out the position of Howl¡¯s hypothetical body, the pose of her limbs, the expression on her face.

    Blushing. Teeth gritted. Eyes sideways, narrowed and cynical.

    Elpida smiled. That was her Howl.

    Elpida said: There¡¯s one question I didn¡¯t ask you earlier.

    Eh? Yeah? What?

    Elpida braced herself for inevitable disappointment. She opened her eyes and stared at Pira and Ooni again ¡ª at Ooni¡¯s hand, halfway exposed, waiting for Pira¡¯s touch.

    Can you make yourself a body? Elpida asked. Like other Necromancer did?

    Howl didn¡¯t reply for a long moment. Eventually she said: Nah. Tried like a dozen times. Just can¡¯t. Locked out. Or maybe I¡¯m not the right shape or some shit.

    Elpida swallowed and nodded. The disappointment hurt. She tried to hold herself back, but the words slipped out as a raw whisper.

    ¡°I wish I could hold you.¡±

    Howl growled. Shut up! You¡¯re gonna make me fucking cry again!

    Elpida said nothing. She wrapped her left arm around her own ribcage, squeezing herself tightly. Pheiri¡¯s cockpit buzzed and purred. Shadows flickered across the ceiling.

    Hey, Howl said after a moment. You know what I can do, though?

    What¡¯s that?

    Howl took control of Elpida¡¯s left arm. She held up two fingers. I can fuck your brains out stupid-style, with your own hand. I still know how to make you squeal, Commander. Being a ghost doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t get all up in your cunt.

    Elpida almost laughed. We need somewhere a bit more private for that. This isn¡¯t the cadre.

    Tch! Howl relinquished control of Elpida¡¯s arm. Yeah, no kidding, Elps. Pheiri¡¯s great and all, but your girls are crammed in here like canned meat. If we¡¯re gonna fuck sick nasty then doing it when everybody¡¯s sleeping is probably our best bet!

    Elpida contained a sigh; Howl had more of a point than Howl realised, but there wasn¡¯t much that Elpida could do about that issue, not yet.

    For all Pheiri¡¯s security and safety, he did not have a lot of internal space, not for eleven people. All the others were currently sleeping ¡ª some in the bunk room, some in the crew compartment, along with Pira and Ooni up front in the cockpit ¡ª all except for Melyn, who was still down inside Pheiri¡¯s guts, smearing handfuls of grey goo on his innards. Everyone was exhausted after the battle, the flight, and the frantic efforts to scoop up Thirteen¡¯s bounty of nanomachine vomit into containers and bottles.

    With all eleven revenants and artificial humans awake and active, Pheiri¡¯s insides would quickly feel cramped.

    Elpida was all too familiar with the risk of internal conflict inside tightly knit groups confined to small spaces; but unlike the cadre, these zombies were unlikely to deal with it by having sex.

    Another problem on the pile. Elpida could not tackle this right now. She needed to sleep, like all the rest.

    Howl grumbled, then said: So, Elps, you believe me about Telokopolis? Really?

    Elpida considered her reply carefully. I believe that you believe, Howl. I believe you met something, inside the ¡®noosphere¡¯, that was aligned with Telokopolis. I don¡¯t know more than that. I have no data to go on, no intel other than your impressions. But ¡­ yes, I¡¯ve been thinking about it for hours. That¡¯s why I can¡¯t sleep. Regardless of whatever entity helped you or put you here with me, Telokopolis exists regardless. As long as one of us is up and active, the city still stands.

    Fucking right, Howl purred.

    If Telokopolis ¡ª the city itself, somehow ¡ª exists inside a software noosphere, then good. But right now that has very little to do with our practical circumstances. All I know is that I have a group of women, my comrades, my ¡­ cadre, inside this mobile armoured vehicle, who is also our brother. I have a command responsibility. I have people to take care of.

    Elpida felt Howl grin ¡ª with Elpida¡¯s own mouth.

    That¡¯s my Commander, Howl purred.

    It¡¯s the only thing I know how to be.

    Elpida and Howl both lapsed into silence. Pheiri¡¯s insides ticked and whirred. Pira and Ooni¡¯s breathing filled the cockpit. On one of the dimly lit screens, Iriko flowed over a sharp spike of corroded rebar and dissolved it into sludge.

    So, Howl grunted. What now? What¡¯s the plan?

    Elpida stared into the shadows. I don¡¯t know, not yet. We still need more intel. I still don¡¯t know the shape of the game board, or the state of play, or what sort of piece we¡¯re meant to be. Or even who¡¯s playing. I don¡¯t even know what ¡®central¡¯ is, or if Thirteen is right about other pilots and other combat frames still existing, still fighting, out there beyond the drop-off. And it¡¯s been a long day, Howl. A hell of a long day. We all need rest and recovery.

    But¡ª

    Howl, I know what you¡¯re going to say.

    Howl snorted. Oh yeah?

    You¡¯re going to ask several questions. What about my plans for Thirteen¡¯s departure? What about my plans to follow the graveworm or plunge into the wilds, in search of the towers Pira mentioned? What about the plan to capture Yola and force her to talk about Necromancers? I haven¡¯t forgotten that one, though it seems like a long shot now, after the fight, with the graveworm moving. What about the physical asset we left behind? What about Pira and Ooni? What about Iriko? What about Serin? What about Kagami¡¯s self-modification with nanomachines? There are many issues to consider, many things I must decide on. I know.

    Howl hissed through her teeth: You¡¯ve gotten better at this.

    I¡¯ve had to be.

    Howl said, You¡¯ve forgotten something, though.

    I¡¯m sure I have. That¡¯s why I have you, Howl. Go ahead.

    Howl lowered her voice into a nasty growl: What are you gonna do about meat? You¡¯ve not got much of the raw blue left, right? You¡¯ve all gotta feed, sooner or later. We gonna hunt, Elps? We gonna be predators?

    Elpida said: I haven¡¯t forgotten about that at all.

    Ah? Could¡¯a fooled me.

    That question is bound up with the decision about where to go ¡ª follow the graveworm until it cracks open a new tomb, or dive into the wilds, heading for a tower. That decision changes everything about our access to nanomachines, to nutrients, to food. And it¡¯s not a decision I can make alone.

    Howl spluttered with laughter. You gonna put it to a vote?

    Elpida nodded. She sat up and stretched, abandoning all hope of sleep. Yes. But an informed vote. We have one source of intel on predation and food ¡ª and also on Necromancers ¡ª who I have not yet properly debriefed.

    Howl hissed with sudden hostility: Serin.

    Elpida stood up and rolled her neck from side to side. She grabbed her coat off the back of her chair and dragged it over her shoulders. She didn¡¯t need the warmth now, but the coat reinforced her authority. You don¡¯t like Serin?

    Don¡¯t tease, Howl growled.

    I¡¯m not, said Elpida. Howl, I trust your gut more than I trust my own judgement. Why don¡¯t you like Serin?

    She doesn¡¯t like Necromancers, Howl growled. But she never explained why. She claims to know the pilot phenotype, but how? Fucking bullshit. And that gun she has, the gravitic weapon, to disrupt Necros? More bullshit! She¡¯s lying. I¡¯m software. How would gravity disrupt me?

    Elpida considered that. Perhaps the gun disrupts the mechanism Necromancers use to make bodies?

    Tch. Whatever. Still don¡¯t like her. Don¡¯t trust her, Elps. Where is she, anyway? She¡¯s not sleeping with the others, right?

    Elpida glanced down at one of Pheiri¡¯s screens. She could easily ask him to display everyone¡¯s current location within his hull, but some things were better done in person, for the sake of intimacy and comradeship.

    Let¡¯s go find out, said Elpida. I¡¯ll do the rounds, check on everyone, make sure nobody else is struggling with insomnia. Then we can have an informal chat with Serin, if she¡¯s awake.

    Bitch is probably on the fucking roof, Howl snorted.

    Elpida stepped toward the corridor, leaving the cockpit, leaving Ooni and Pira behind.

    Elps, Howl growled again. Elps, I¡¯m serious.

    About Serin? Howl, I believe you, but I have to talk to her sooner or later. Not just about meat and Necromancers, but about that symbol as well, the crescent-and-line symbol, and what it means. If we have potential allies out there, I need to know about them.

    Yeah yeah, not that part. Howl tutted. Just be careful, Elps. Be careful around her. And maybe don¡¯t let on what I am, okay? Don¡¯t tell her you¡¯ve got a wraith in your head. Don¡¯t tell her I¡¯m a Necromancer.

    Elpida reached out and touched the doorway rim, staring into the gloom of Pheiri¡¯s connecting corridor; her comrades slumbered in those guts, little twists of undead flesh tucked away behind layers of cold metal.

    I won¡¯t let Serin hurt you, Howl, she promised. Besides, I think she and I are on the same side.

    Elpida stepped into the connecting corridor.

    Howl growled, low and raw: We don¡¯t even know what the fucking sides are, Elps. Be careful. She¡¯s not one of us. Not yet.

 umbra - 10.2

    Melyn climbed out of Pheiri¡¯s innards, tired and sore and sated.

    She wriggled up through the narrow aperture of the engine access hatch, emerging into the soft shadows and open space of Pheiri¡¯s spinal corridor. Dead screens, threadbare seats, and scuffed bulkheads greeted her return.

    She perched on the edge of the open hatch, dangling her naked legs and bare feet through the slit which led down into Pheiri¡¯s guts. She gripped a rung of the ladder with her toes, stretching her aching calf muscles. She sucked on her fingertips, digging beneath each fingernail with the edge of a tooth, to clean away the final morsels of grey goo.

    She sat in satisfied silence for a long and solitary moment. All the others ¡ª zombies and otherwise ¡ª were sleeping, as far as Melyn knew. All but Pheiri himself. She listened to the purring of his body, to the click and buzz and hum of his nervous system and bloodstream and muscles, and to the steady, deep, powerful beat of his nuclear heart.

    The screen of Melyn¡¯s mind told her this was good.

    It also reminded her that this was not her function; she ignored that part, dismissed it with a flicker of thought, and locked it out so it could not repeat.

    Melyn had spent most of the night down in Pheiri¡¯s engine decks ¡ª six hours, nineteen minutes, and three seconds.

    First she had stowed the grey goo for later use; the zombies had handled collection, up on Pheiri¡¯s outer deck. Melyn and Hafina had scurried around inside Pheiri to provide the zombies with every possible container they could find, from hand-sized drinking vessels to ancient plastic buckets. Melyn had not dared venture up onto the outer deck herself ¡ª not with so many dangerous things nearby, and with how the sight of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart affected the screen of her mind. Instead she had focused on what she could achieve within the safety of Pheiri¡¯s hull.

    The sheer amount of grey goo did not all fit into Pheiri¡¯s ¡®secret room¡¯, deep down in his guts, where his original stash of grey goo was kept. Melyn had poured as much as she could into the big tank which was plugged directly into Pheiri¡¯s internal machinery, until the fluid reached the brim. She and Haf had eaten great messy handfuls of the stuff; Haf had gorged herself into unconsciousness, but even that had barely reduced the available quantity. Melyn had resorted to cramming the extra containers into new nooks and crannies down inside Pheiri¡¯s engine decks, in places she had never needed to use as storage before. The zombies couldn¡¯t get down there, but they didn¡¯t need to; the zombies couldn¡¯t eat it, not like Melyn and Hafina.

    This was all for Pheiri.

    Arcadia¡¯s Rampart and Thirteen had done Pheiri a generosity that Melyn could not comprehend. She wished she could think clearly about their godlike benefactors, but she could barely picture the vast machine in her mind without almost blacking out.

    After securing and storing the priceless bounty, Melyn had begun the long and painstaking task of smearing the grey goo all over Pheiri¡¯s viscera.

    She had squeezed through narrow passages of throbbing red light to wipe greasy grey gunk on machines she only dimly recalled, following fragmentary instructions from the screen of her mind, slathering sticky sludge on copper wires and optical cables and blinking panels and pulsing plastic mucosa. She had revisited the steel ring of Pheiri¡¯s nuclear heart, to add an extra layer of fresh goo to all the joints and seams and plates; thankfully the chamber was no longer flooded with the invisible power which had blinded her and scrambled her mind, so she took the opportunity to lie against the warm metal of Pheiri¡¯s most secret engine, wrapping her arms around the machine that kept him alive and moving. She had whispered a thank you, and a love poem she could not recall composing, before she had moved on.

    She had opened hatches marked with yellow warning symbols and wriggled into the periphery of Pheiri¡¯s thumping, grinding, clacking manufactory systems, to dump bottles full of goop directly into the machinery, snatching back her fingers before she could lose a digit to the metal teeth. She had smeared the gloopy, chunky, glistening mess over what she thought was probably Pheiri¡¯s water processing and nutrient-growth machines. She had teased open wet red sphincters deep in Pheiri¡¯s nervous system, then reached through to massage grey goo directly onto the hot and quivering meat of his most delicate membranes.

    She had sustained bruises and bumps, grazes and cuts, and even a couple of dislocated joints as she had contorted herself to squeeze through the narrow passages of Pheiri¡¯s body; Melyn had smeared small quantities of grey goo on each wound, and fed herself by licking the warm slime off her own hands. That was more than enough to accelerate her own healing process. By the time she¡¯d finished and climbed back up the ladder, her cuts were scabs and her bruises were dark purple blotches, rapidly turning yellow and green beneath her pale skin.

    Melyn sat on the lip of Pheiri¡¯s guts, completely exhausted.

    Nobody else had helped her. Nobody else could. Nobody else was small enough and flexible enough for the job ¡ª not even the smallest of the zombies, Amina and Ilyusha. Melyn suspected those two might just be able to descend the ladder, past the bulge of Pheiri¡¯s brain. But no deeper.

    She wanted to crawl into bed next to Haf and not move for twelve hours. She wanted to eat her own body weight in nutrient blocks. She wanted to curl up in the storage racks with a familiar book and read it from cover to cover six times.

    The screen of her mind reiterated praise, but Melyn did not need the reminder to feel satisfied.

    Pheiri was on the mend; that mattered more than anything else.

    Melyn was exhausted for more than physical reasons, but those reasons were impossible for her to articulate. The last few days of her life had changed everything. She had finally recovered from the mind-scrambling side-effects of fixing the fatal defect in Pheiri¡¯s heart, but now she was overwhelmed. She was still numb from the fight against the golden diamond in the sky, from Elpida piloting Pheiri, from the activation of Pheiri¡¯s main gun, not to even mention ¡®Iriko¡¯, or the additional zombies she had to deal with, or Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, or¡ª or¡ª or¡ª

    Melyn clicked her tongue. Thinking clearly was very difficult.

    The screen of her mind was obsessed with Arcadia¡¯s Rampart and Thirteen, but not in a way that was of any use to Melyn. The smallest stray thought was enough to summon a cacophony of clashing information, inscrutable terminology, and incompatible instructions. The physical sight of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart triggered an explosion of overlapping nonsense inside Melyn¡¯s head: ¡®priority warning XK class nanomechanical replication threat¡¯, ¡®disengage and retreat, report to superior officer immediately¡¯, ¡®Telokopolan artefact recovery all other orders rescinded¡¯, ¡®I am the way and the truth and the future of all your generations¡¯, ¡®cease contact initiate EM-shutdown firewall procedure return to charging cradle¡¯. Her eyeballs had tried to block out the sight of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart several times, blooming with patches of white rot before she had dismissed the interruption.

    The metal smell and salty taste of the grey goo itself was even worse ¡ª the screen of her mind had locked up several times, paralysing her until she had taken control and wiped her thoughts clean. When she¡¯d watched Thirteen vomit the stuff onto Pheiri¡¯s hull, she had physically passed out for three seconds.

    Melyn had ended up manually locking away every single response to Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, but the screen of her mind summoned fresh nonsense every time she thought about or approached the machine, as if there was an endless well within herself. She couldn¡¯t function with all that input.

    And it didn¡¯t help. It didn¡¯t tell her what was going on, or how her world was changing, or what she should do.

    Her home was full of zombies. She had witnessed a battle she could not comprehend, fought by beings which had no place in her model of the world. Her own mind was conspiring to paralyse and confuse her. And nobody ¡ª not even Haf ¡ª seemed to be even half as lost.

    Melyn had never before felt so small.

    But six hours down in Pheiri¡¯s guts had made the world right again.

    Pheiri was home. Pheiri was life, and love, and safety, even if he was a bit more crowded now. As long as Melyn cared for Pheiri, and Pheiri cared for her and Hafina, everything else beyond this hull did not matter.

    Melyn smiled as she finished sucking grey goo from beneath her fingertips. She knew her purpose.

    ¡°Thank you, Pheiri,¡± she whispered.

    From the shadows down the spinal corridor, something whispered back:

    ¡°¡ªsure about that part, Howl? I¡¯m not so certain we can go without¡ª¡±

    Melyn raised her head and peered down the spinal corridor, past the jumble of Pheiri¡¯s ancient systems and overlapping parts. She spotted the hem of a dark coat and a hint of snowy white hair, vanishing around an internal corner.

    Elpida (zombie) (¡®Commander¡¯ provisional).

    Elpida hadn¡¯t replied to Melyn, she¡¯d been whispering to herself. She was heading away from Melyn, making her way toward the crew compartment.

    Melyn wasn¡¯t the only one still awake in the night.

    Melyn stood up and closed the engine access hatch, careful not to pinch her fingers between the hatch and the hole. Her clothes were folded in a neat pile nearby; she had stripped almost naked to squeeze down inside Pheiri¡¯s innards. She quickly pulled her socks back on, followed by her pajama bottoms and her large baggy jumper. She tied her hair back with a twist. Then she set off after Elpida.

    Catching up to the ¡®Commander¡¯ took only a few moments. Melyn spotted Elpida¡¯s distinctive white hair and tall physique just ahead, ducking beneath an overhang of dead screens; Elpida stepped out of the spinal corridor and into the crew compartment, straightening up and rolling her shoulders. She let out a quiet sigh and ran a hand through her hair.

    Melyn hung back, watching.

    Elpida glanced around the crew compartment, then went left ¡ª into the infirmary, beyond Melyn¡¯s line of sight. Melyn waited, tucked behind a twist of ancient machinery inside the corridor. Elpida reappeared a few moments later, crossed the crew compartment, and vanished to the right, presumably into the bunk room.

    Melyn slipped out of the corridor and into the crew compartment.

    All was quiet and dim, with the main lights extinguished. Soft red shadows coated the walls and pooled on the floor, vibrating in time with Pheiri¡¯s distant heartbeat and the nearly imperceptible motion of his tracks. Hafina was asleep in her usual spot, snuggled up beneath a nest of blankets on the floor, between the benches. Haf was very large and soft beneath the covers, blonde hair fanned wide in a big untidy wave. She was on her side, three arms flung outward.

    That was Melyn¡¯s spot, on those arms. Melyn¡¯s Haf. Melyn¡¯s place.

    Melyn said a silent apology. Sleep and closeness would have to wait.

    But why? Why did she feel the need to follow the ¡®Commander¡¯? Did she think Elpida was up to no good? Of course not, no. Elpida had proven that she loved Pheiri too, and Pheiri was her brother, and that was good enough for Melyn.

    Melyn¡¯s curiosity was unmoored from reason, from the screen of her mind. She followed it anyway. She needed something she could not articulate, even to herself.

    She crept up to the open doorway of the bunk room and peered inside.

    Elpida was standing in the narrow gap between the bunks, framed by scratchy blue sheets and cream-white metal, all drenched in deep shadows with the lights out. Elpida was so tall and so large that she barely fit into that space, especially while wearing her long coat. Elpida was simply too big. All the zombies were too big, crowding Pheiri¡¯s limited internal capacity. Haf and Melyn still had the crew compartment to themselves for now, but what about the future? What about the two zombies currently sleeping in the cockpit ¡ª Pira and Ooni? Wouldn¡¯t they need somewhere more permanent? What about the zombie up on the roof, Serin? What if the bunk room got too cramped? It was already half-full of equipment, armour, guns, and other assorted zombie detritus. Melyn could wriggle down into Pheiri¡¯s guts for some improvised privacy, and there were many other nooks and crannies hidden inside Pheiri¡¯s superstructure, but she didn¡¯t want to do that. She didn¡¯t want to sleep in a gunner¡¯s compartment or venture into the terrifying darkness of the charging cradle.

    She didn¡¯t like the thought of these zombies being so big and getting in everywhere, even if they were under Pheiri¡¯s protection. They needed to stop being so untidy.

    Elpida was checking on the others. Melyn watched.

    The two smallest zombies ¡ª Amina and Ilyusha ¡ª were sleeping together in one of the topmost bunks, cuddled up with Amina in front and Ilyusha behind. Elpida reached up and touched one of them, perhaps making sure they were both tucked in properly.

    The other three zombies were all sleeping alone, in separate bunks. The dark-skinned zombie with the one green eye was on her back, serene and peaceful, with a little smile on her lips. That was ¡®Atyle¡¯. Her face and neck and hands were wrapped in bandages, compressing medical gauze and thick greenish salve into her burn wounds. Melyn had not relished applying those dressings. Atyle had stared at Melyn the entire time. Atyle was spooky.

    The second dark-skinned zombie was sprawled on her belly, with one arm hanging off the side of her bunk. That was ¡®Victoria¡¯, or Vicky for short. Her dangling hand seemed to be reaching for the zombie on the bunk below her ¡ª ¡®Kagami¡¯. Kagami was the only zombie who had drawn the thin blue privacy curtains over her bunk. Kagami had also required considerable medical attention, lots of gauze, and a few stitches. She¡¯d submitted with grim determination.

    Melyn was doing her best to remember all the names. They were not easy.

    Elpida stared at Atyle for a long time, standing motionless. Melyn bristled inside; was the ¡®Commander¡¯ judging her work on the dressings, evaluating her treatment of Atyle¡¯s burn wounds? She had no right, no right to pass judgement! These zombies kept getting beaten up and cut open and burned. Melyn felt as if she could barely keep up.

    Elpida moved over to Vicky and smiled down at her, shaking her head at the sight of Vicky¡¯s dangling arm. Elpida twitched open Kagami¡¯s privacy curtains, but Kagami was curled on her side, facing the wall, breathing softly.

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    Melyn recalled that Elpida had done this before; when Elpida had woken up from the surgery on her gut wound, her first priority had been to check on the others.

    Melyn relaxed inside. The ¡®Commander¡¯ was only fulfilling her purpose, just like Melyn had done, down inside Pheiri.

    Maybe Melyn should go sleep with Haf. She was very tired. There were no answers here.

    But then Elpida stepped over to the equipment and weapons spread out across the lower bunks. She moved quickly and quietly, tugging on her trousers, stepping into her boots. She squatted down and did something to the controls of the very big gun, the one with the backpack and the magnetic rings.

    Melyn watched.

    The screen of Melyn¡¯s mind suggested that she should make her presence known to her Commander. She made that suggestion go away.

    After a little while, Elpida stood up again. She strapped her submachine gun beneath her coat, then mimed raising it with her left hand a few times. Her right hand and wrist were still wrapped in bandages ¡ª Melyn¡¯s own work, some of the best she had done these last few hectic days. Elpida had asked Melyn to leave her fingers free, and Melyn had carried out the instruction. Was her best not good enough for Elpida¡¯s dexterity?

    Eventually Elpida turned around to leave the bunk room. Melyn slipped away from the door, hurried over to Hafina, and slid inside the nest of blankets. She did not snuggle into Haf¡¯s arms, but stayed out of reach, peering over the edge of the covers.

    Elpida emerged from the bunk room doorway. She paused to tuck her long white hair down the back of her coat, then pulled her hood up over her head. She turned to her left and mounted the narrow staircase which led to the top hatch. She vanished into the darkness.

    Melyn waited.

    Was Elpida going up to the outer deck? Why? It was the middle of the night! Pitch darkness and freezing cold waited up there. Anything might be watching from the edge of the ruins, beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull. And Pheiri was tired, still recovering. His guns could protect Elpida, of course, but he needed to rest!

    What was the Commander doing?

    Melyn crept back out of bed and tiptoed over to the narrow metal staircase. She peered around the corner, up into the dark. She hadn¡¯t heard the hatch open. Perhaps Elpida was making certain the hatch was closed and locked. But then why had Elpida taken her gun? Why¡ª

    A small pale face appeared around the edge of the bunk room door.

    ¡°Ah!¡±

    Melyn flinched.

    The face flinched as well, letting out a strangled squeak. Hands fluttered to cover a mouth.

    Melyn stared. The zombie stared back, shocked to be discovered creeping around at night.

    Amina, the littlest of the zombies.

    Amina took her hands away from her mouth, panting softly, red in the face. She bobbed her head, eyes wide and dark.

    ¡°S-sorry!¡± Amina whispered. ¡°Sorry. I-I saw Elpida. Going up there. Sorry, sorry. I¡¯m very sorry.¡±

    Amina was almost as small as Melyn, but much chunkier beneath her baggy grey clothes. She was brown and soft and mousey. Her left hand was wrapped in bandages and gauze, pressing creamy salve into burn wounds, the same as Atyle¡¯s dressings. Melyn had applied those bandages too; Amina had bitten her own tongue and lips to stop from whimpering as Melyn had tended to her, screwing her eyes up tight and panting through her nose.

    But Melyn understood that Amina was just as dangerous as any other zombie. Amina¡¯s danger was concealed.

    That¡¯s why Amina didn¡¯t straighten her right arm all the way. She pressed it awkwardly across her stomach, with her elbow bent.

    Amina hesitated, then raised her bandaged left hand, and whispered: ¡°Um ¡­ t-thank you. M-Melyn? Is that how your name is pronounced? For this, I mean, thank you, for this. For earlier. I didn¡¯t get a chance to ¡­ say ¡­ ¡± She trailed off. Her throat bobbed. ¡°Do you ¡­ do you speak?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Melyn whispered back. ¡°Yes. I speak.¡±

    Amina dipped her head again. ¡°S-sorry for interrupting you. Following Elpida, I mean.¡±

    ¡°You move very quietly. Very quietly. Made me jump.¡±

    Amina winced as if terribly ashamed. She averted her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I ¡­ I ¡­ ¡± Amina sniffed, paused, then sniffed again, smelling the air. Her eyes travelled back up to Melyn. She sniffed the air a third time. ¡°Is that smell ¡­ is that the ¡­ the sick?¡±

    ¡°The sick? Sick?¡±

    ¡°The grey stuff. The mud. You ¡­ you smell of it ¡­ ¡± Amina trailed off. Her eyes were huge and wide in the dark red shadows. She looked Melyn up and down, then eased back from her as if afraid. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry. Sorry. I¡¯m just worried about Elpida. Do you think she¡¯s doing something without telling the rest of us?¡±

    Melyn considered this question. The screen of her mind offered suggestions about the Commander¡¯s prerogative for independent action and the lack of responsibility for informing subordinates. Melyn cancelled that suggestion and tutted. Amina flinched. Melyn frowned at her.

    Amina hissed: ¡°S-sorry ¡­ just ¡­ your stare is very intense.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re correct,¡± Melyn whispered. ¡°Correct. Correct.¡±

    Amina blinked several times. ¡°Ah?¡±

    ¡°Elpida shouldn¡¯t be doing things without informing the rest of us. Informing the rest of us.¡± Melyn wasn¡¯t certain about ¡®the rest of us¡¯, but the screen of her mind provided no better phrase. She wasn¡¯t about to start calling the zombies Pheiri¡¯s crew. ¡°Pheiri doesn¡¯t do things without informing us. It¡¯s not right. Not right.¡±

    Amina stared for a moment longer, then nodded. ¡°Nobody has to be alone!¡± she hissed. ¡°Ever again!¡±

    Melyn wasn¡¯t sure about that part, but she was glad Amina agreed with the basic principle. She stared up into the dark passageway which led to the hatch.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Melyn hissed. ¡°Go. Go. Go get her back. Her back.¡±

    Amina whispered: ¡°W-what? Sorry? Us? Now?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Melyn said. ¡°Us. Now, now.¡±

    Melyn mounted the steps. Her socks cushioned her tread on the bare metal. A few paces onward she stopped, turned around, and stared at Amina. The zombie hadn¡¯t moved.

    ¡°Come on. On. On,¡± Melyn said. Her temper and patience were both fraying. Amina was a zombie. What did she have to be afraid of?

    Amina glanced back over her shoulder, toward Haf¡¯s huge lumpy form, asleep beneath her blankets on the floor of the crew compartment. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to wake ¡­ Haf¡ª Hafina?¡±

    Melyn shook her head. ¡°Haf needs sleep. Haf did lots of fighting today. We didn¡¯t. You didn¡¯t.¡± She stuck out her hand. ¡°Come on. Come on. On.¡±

    Amina¡¯s face went pale and waxy. She glanced into the open door of the bunk room.

    Melyn hissed: ¡°Why are you afraid?¡±

    Amina cringed, screwing her eyes shut and shying away.

    Melyn said, ¡°I wasn¡¯t insulting you. Insulting you. I don¡¯t understand. Understand. We¡¯re inside Pheiri. The hatch didn¡¯t open. Why are you afraid?¡±

    Amina blinked up at Melyn. The small zombie was framed at the foot of the stairs, drenched in red shadows. Her delicate forehead creased with a frown.

    ¡°How are you not afraid?¡± Amina whispered. ¡°All of you? How are you not? Everything ¡ª everything! It¡¯s terrifying! I ¡­ I can¡¯t ¡­ ¡±

    Amina lowered her eyes and stared at nothing, gaze darting back and forth over invisible memories. The screen of Melyn¡¯s mind provided rapid diagnoses, warned of an oncoming panic attack, and suggested she render aid. She decided not to. She waited and listened.

    Amina went on: ¡°I felt stronger for a while. After certain ¡­ certain things. After I ¡­ did what I was supposed to. But then today all the fear came back again. And how could it not?¡± Her eyes jerked back up and caught Melyn, wide and wild. ¡°I don¡¯t understand anything, anything I saw today. Anything that happened. Did we fight a demon? Did we fight God? Was that God? Or an angel, or¡ª¡± Amina stopped and shook her head, eyes full of suspended tears. ¡°Illy tried to explain, but the words don¡¯t make sense. The others keep trying to tell me it¡¯s okay now. But I saw. I saw! What ¡­ what did I see? And what are we following now? Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, what is that? What was that?¡± Amina¡¯s eyes bulged from her face. She was panting now, rough and ragged. Any louder and she might wake the others. ¡°I don¡¯t even understand what you are. You ate that thing¡¯s vomit. You. What are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Melyn.¡±

    Amina smothered a sob. She bit her bottom lip and crushed her right arm against her own belly. She panted through her teeth. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    The screen of Melyn¡¯s mind flashed with a lot of words she didn¡¯t care to read ¡ª ¡®anxiety attack¡¯, ¡®psycho-reflexive breakdown¡¯, ¡®trauma response.¡¯ She dismissed them all and walked back down the stairs.

    Amina flinched away.

    Melyn whispered: ¡°Same.¡±

    Amina blinked several times. ¡°S-sorry?¡±

    ¡°Me too. Same. I don¡¯t understand. I don¡¯t understand most of what¡¯s happening.¡±

    Amina¡¯s tears stopped. She stared with huge dark eyes. ¡°You ¡­ but you¡¯re ¡­ you¡¯re one of ¡­ you ate the ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°The only thing I understand is Pheiri,¡± Melyn whispered. ¡°And maybe Haf. I don¡¯t even understand myself. Understand myself. But I¡¯m not afraid, because I know my purpose.¡±

    Amina swallowed, sniffed down her tears, and gently wiped her own eyes on the back of her bandaged hand.

    Melyn added: ¡°But I should really be afraid of you.¡±

    Amina stared. ¡°S-sorry?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a zombie. A zombie. You can¡¯t be killed easily. You might eat me, or Haf, or something. Something. You¡¯re stronger than you look. I know you have a knife up your right sleeve. That¡¯s why I can¡¯t see your hand, why you keep it in your sleeve. In your sleeve.¡±

    Amina froze.

    Melyn sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not a bad thing. You can take it out if you want. If you want. Holding it makes you stronger.¡±

    Amina boggled at her, wide eyed with amazement, tears drying on her cheeks. ¡°How do you know?¡± she whispered.

    Melyn shook her head. It was too much effort to explain how the screen of her mind had informed her that Amina was carrying a blade, held at an awkward angle up her right sleeve; that¡¯s why her right arm was pressed to her belly, to stop the knife from slipping downward.

    Amina straightened her arm and fumbled the knife into her right hand, cradling and sheltering it as if Melyn was going to spring at her and take it away. The knife was nothing special ¡ª a black combat knife in a plain sheath. Amina stared, blinking, confused.

    Melyn said: ¡°Take it out, if you want. If you want. If it makes you feel better.¡±

    Amina¡¯s jaw hung open. Her voice quivered. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    Melyn shrugged. ¡°Will you use it to stab me?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Amina hissed. ¡°No, no! Not you, not¡ª not you or even the angel, not anymore. I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m more useful now. I¡¯m not ¡­ not for that. So, no.¡±

    Melyn shrugged again. ¡°Follow me or don¡¯t. Up to you.¡±

    Melyn turned and mounted the short, cramped flight of metal steps. A moment later, soft feet scurried up behind her. A bandaged hand bumped against her own. Amina wriggled up alongside Melyn, with her sheathed blade held in her other fist.

    Amina smiled, tight and nervous. Melyn nodded back. The knife did not frighten her.

    The diagonal passageway up to the top hatch turned only once, to the right, at a ninety-degree angle; Melyn knew this was to prevent the unlikely event of an aerial attack breaching the hatch while it was open, and penetrating straight into the crew compartment. Any attack would be fouled by the single turn. The area at the top, just below the hatch, was very small and very cramped. Melyn and Amina turned the corner together.

    Elpida was sitting at the top, beneath the hatch.

    Her long armoured coat was spread under her backside. Her submachine gun lay across her knees. She had her chin in one hand and her hood pulled down around her neck. She seemed much too large for the limited space. Bright purple eyes burned in the darkness. She looked at Melyn and Amina with a distinct lack of surprise.

    ¡°Hello, you two. Melyn, Amina,¡± Elpida murmured softly. ¡°Didn¡¯t wake you up, did I?¡±

    ¡°N-no!¡± Amina squeaked. ¡°No, no, not at all, not at all, not at all ¡­ ¡±

    Melyn stopped two steps short of Elpida¡¯s boots. She had to look upward to meet Elpida¡¯s eyes. ¡°What are you doing? What are you doing?¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said: ¡°I was heading up to the deck, to talk with Serin. Or, more accurately, I¡¯m hoping Serin is still there, hoping that she hasn¡¯t moved on. But then I realised I needed to consider my strategy, so I sat down to think. I also happened to hear two girls whispering at the bottom of the stairs, so I thought I might wait to see if they were going to join me.¡±

    Amina turned bright red in the face. She opened and closed her mouth several times.

    Elpida smiled. ¡°I¡¯m not teasing you, Amina,¡± she said. ¡°And it¡¯s okay. Everything is going to be¡ª¡±

    ¡°Liar,¡± said Melyn.

    Elpida looked at Melyn. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°Liar liar. You¡¯re lying, Elpida. You¡¯re lying to us.¡±

    Amina blinked several times. ¡°She¡ª she is? I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Lying,¡± Melyn repeated.

    Elpida frowned gently. ¡°What am I lying about, Melyn?¡±

    Melyn sighed. Where could she even begin? Elpida was not sitting down to think ¡ª she was sitting down because she was exhausted. The screen of Melyn¡¯s mind provided a rough catalogue of wounds: Elpida¡¯s right hand was still bandaged tight, the deep cut not yet healed; the remains of her gut wound still formed a dangerous breach across her stomach, closed with stitches and wrapped in gauze, far from ready to stand unaided; deeper still, Elpida¡¯s heartbeat whispered of lingering tissue damage from terrible trauma, from shredded muscle re-knitted with the dark miracle of undead biology. And those were only the wounds Melyn knew about. The ¡®Commander¡¯ (provisional) sported countless bruises and scrapes, grazes and cuts, not to even mention the sleepless exhaustion hanging like lead weights on every muscle of her body.

    Melyn understood that Elpida ¡ª like any zombie ¡ª had imbibed vast quantities of raw nanomachines to heal her wounds. But even undeath had limits.

    ¡°Lying by omission,¡± Melyn said eventually. ¡°You need rest.¡±

    Elpida sighed and chuckled at the same time. But she nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right, Melyn. We all need rest. But all I¡¯m going to do is have a little chat with Serin.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you carrying your gun?¡± Melyn asked. ¡°Pheiri will protect you.¡±

    Elpida tapped the submachine gun across her knees. ¡°Security. In case I need it. I don¡¯t expect to. Serin is on our side, after all.¡±

    Melyn frowned. She didn¡¯t like Serin.

    All the other zombies had come down inside Pheiri, happy to be included, protected, sheltered within his hull. They¡¯d all spoken to Melyn, even if only a few words ¡ª Kagami had mostly complained and screamed, but at least that was communication. Victoria had made sure to pronounce Melyn¡¯s name properly. Even Ooni had bobbed her head and muttered a bit.

    But Serin wasn¡¯t like the other zombies, Elpida¡¯s zombies, the ones who called Elpida Commander. Melyn hadn¡¯t even gotten a good look at Serin yet. She had smelled Serin through the open hatch when the others had been collecting the grey goo ¡ª mushrooms and rotten wood, earthy and loamy. None of the other zombies smelled like that.

    Melyn decided that Elpida was right to go armed. And this meant she wasn¡¯t right to go at all. She should stay inside Pheiri.

    When Melyn didn¡¯t speak, Elpida said: ¡°Melyn, have you finished Pheiri¡¯s maintenance? Finished with the grey goo?¡±

    Melyn shrugged. ¡°For now.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I know it¡¯s a lot of work. Without you, we wouldn¡¯t be able to do any maintenance at all. Nobody else is small enough to go down inside Pheiri. I know he needs more, much more than we can achieve with the resources we have. We need to stop somewhere secure, somehow, to give him time, open up his insides, and ¡­ ¡± She trailed off, sighed, and smiled. ¡°If there¡¯s anything we can do for Pheiri, anything at all to provide better maintenance, I want you to let me know, Melyn. Please.¡±

    Melyn nodded. She didn¡¯t trust herself to answer. If she said anything she might stop being angry.

    Elpida went on: ¡°That goes for you as well. You¡¯re our medic now, Melyn. You¡¯ve treated almost all of us, with expertise the rest of us do not possess. Thank you. If there¡¯s anything I can do to make your life easier, please let me know.¡±

    Melyn nodded again.

    ¡°One more thing,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I have a favour to ask you, Melyn. I know Pheiri has a lot more internal space than we¡¯ve explored ¡ª me and the other revenants, I mean, not you and Hafina. You¡¯ve known him for so much longer. I know he¡¯s got gun compartments and little storage areas all along that main corridor, and there¡¯s a bigger compartment on his left side that I can¡¯t access. If and when you feel ready, would you please show me as much of Pheiri¡¯s internals as you can? I need to understand how we¡¯re going to manage space, privacy, storage, and such, if we¡¯re going to be living inside Pheiri for the foreseeable future. I want to maximize our available space, without disrupting Pheiri¡¯s current operations, while minimizing our impact on the spaces we¡¯re already using.¡±

    Melyn tutted softly. Elpida raised her eyebrows.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Melyn huffed. ¡°Yes, Elpida. Yes. Fine. Thank you. You.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elpida said. She smiled again. ¡°Now, you¡¯re probably right. I should probably be sleeping, or at least resting. But I can¡¯t sleep, and I need to confront Serin about some difficult questions, and I don¡¯t know when she might decide to up and leave. But I also shouldn¡¯t do this alone ¡ª not because I think I might need physical backup, but because I cannot make decisions for the whole group by myself. We¡¯re a collective now. A ¡­ ¡± Elpida paused. Her lips twisted with amused satisfaction, like something else was speaking through her. ¡°A cadre!¡± she growled. ¡°Yeah. Good shit, eh? Haha.¡± She sniffed and blinked. ¡°A cadre¡±, she repeated, normal again. ¡°Which means any long term decisions belong to all of us. That includes both of you, Amina, Melyn, no matter how unqualified you feel. So.¡± She thumbed at the hatch just above her head. ¡°Do you two want to come with me, to question Serin?¡±

    Melyn and Amina shared a look. Amina was wide-eyed with surprise. Melyn considered going to wake Hafina.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t an order,¡± Elpida added. ¡°You are under no obligation to accompany me. You are welcome to leave, or stay and listen from the shelter of the hatch. You probably won¡¯t understand what Serin and I are going to talk about, but that¡¯s okay. You don¡¯t have to understand the words to judge her character, her intent, or where her allegiance may lie. If you want, I can do my best to explain to you as we talk.¡±

    ¡°Or¡ª¡± Amina squeaked, then recoiled under Elpida¡¯s attention. Elpida waited. Amina chewed her bottom lip, then carried on: ¡°Or make Serin explain to us. Make her do it.¡±

    Elpida smiled with surprise. ¡°That¡¯s a very good idea, Amina. Very clever. Very sneaky. I like it. Thank you.¡±

    Amina beamed with pride, taking a sudden deep breath.

    ¡°Melyn,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Do you understand why I like Amina¡¯s suggestion?¡±

    Melyn nodded. ¡°Intrigue. Subterfuge. Not my preference. Preference. But I can watch. Not stepping beyond the hatch. Not beyond the hatch.¡±

    Elpida nodded, suddenly very serious. ¡°You two can be my audience. Use your own judgement on what to say and when to speak up, just be honest. You have complete permission ¡ª no, complete encouragement ¡ª to press Serin for explanations on any point. I¡¯ll back both of you up, no matter what you ask. But if you don¡¯t smell a rat, you don¡¯t have to interject, there¡¯s no pressure. If you get uncomfortable, just walk down the steps and leave. I won¡¯t think less of either of you if you need to do that. How does that sound?¡±

    Melyn had no idea what ¡®smell a rat¡¯ meant, but the screen of her mind provided the context. She nodded. Amina nodded too, shaking a little with over-excitement. Her sheathed knife creaked in her fist.

    ¡°Good,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Let¡¯s get this started.¡±

    She rose into an awkward crouch in the cramped stairway, turned around, and grasped the release handle for the top hatch.

    ¡°You two ready?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Ready!¡± Amina squeaked.

    ¡°Ready,¡± Melyn said, then added: ¡°Commander Elpida.¡±

 umbra - 10.3

    Elpida stepped through Pheiri¡¯s top hatch, onto the carbon bone-mesh of his exterior deck, out into the night.

    Darkness stretched away in every direction ¡ª a tarry soup congealed in the streets and alleyways, clotting the torn arteries of the corpse-city. Elpida¡¯s revenant night vision could barely penetrate into the lightless gaps between the buildings. The sky was a smothering blanket of absolute black, empty of stars, flat and featureless in the night¡¯s quiet grip. The pitiful excuse for sunrise was still several hours away, the horizon unblemished by blood-red bruise. Noises carried far in the night air ¡ª muffled shouts, the crack of occasional weapons discharge, the scurry of claws on brick. The graveworm was a line of writhing motion towering over distant rooftops, easily mistaken for churning clouds. Arcadia¡¯s Rampart strode closer to hand, climbing across the buildings ahead; the combat frame¡¯s silhouette was lost against the blackened skies. Down in the streets, Iriko was completely invisible to Elpida¡¯s eyes.

    Far to the south-east ¡ª past Pheiri¡¯s rear, back the way he¡¯d travelled for the last twelve hours ¡ª a corner of the sky glowed with a faint aura of toxic golden light. The last remnant of central''s downed airship, entombed within the ossified guts of the dead city.

    Pheiri ran dark. A handful of exterior lights broke the dirty white of his hull, casting a dim red glow at the skirts of his armour. Warning lights, to ward off the attention or curiosity of unwise predators. The deep crimson bloom extended only a few feet into the road. Pheiri¡¯s tracks chewed through crumbly asphalt and churned up broken concrete. He was moving no faster than a walking pace, just enough to keep level with the distant graveworm.

    Every minute put Elpida and her comrades further away from central¡¯s physical asset.

    Elpida wasn¡¯t certain how to feel about that: on one hand, if the airship achieved self-repair, every inch of distance would buy Pheiri more time to evade or hide; on the other hand, every mile meant less chance of ever returning to extract intel from the wounded machine.

    Howl hissed inside Elpida¡¯s mind, How would we even do that, Elps? It took everything we had just to survive that fight. Focus on your shit! Deal with this zombie bitch first.

    The top of Pheiri¡¯s hull was a forest of shadows. Beyond the relatively flat area of the exterior deck, curls and horns and knots of nano-composite armour grew wild in frozen waves, supporting and cupping the turrets and sponsons and rack-mounts of his weapons, sprouting upward in crazed fractals of tumorous bone. Pheiri¡¯s turret loomed behind Elpida, a great hill of shade in the night. The main gun was in the rest position, aimed forward, away from the rear area and the exterior deck.

    Serin was nowhere to be seen.

    Elpida murmured: ¡°We may be too late. She may have already left.¡±

    Amina said: ¡°O-or maybe she¡¯s hiding?¡±

    Elpida looked over her shoulder, down into the shelter of the open hatch. Amina and Melyn were huddled together on the top steps, peering around the sides of Elpida¡¯s boots. Amina was clutching her sheathed knife in one hand, her eyes barely rising above the level of Pheiri¡¯s armour. Melyn was shivering a little, pressed into Amina¡¯s side like a cat seeking body heat. Her massive black eyeballs reflected nothing from the night beyond the hatch; her white-grey skin was dull in the darkness.

    Love how that little sprog thinks, Howl purred. She¡¯s smart, you know that?

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Good point, Amina,¡± she whispered. ¡°Serin might be sleeping somewhere nearby. You two stay here, I¡¯ll go check. If anything happens, if anything approaches the hatch, or if you hear any unfamiliar sounds, shut the hatch right away and go wake the others. I¡¯ll be fine by myself.¡±

    Melyn clicked her tongue. ¡°Not by yourself. Not by yourself.¡±

    ¡°Melyn?¡±

    Melyn raised one tiny, delicate-fingered hand. She gestured across the hull. ¡°Pheiri.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Of course. We¡¯re never alone, not with Pheiri. Thank you for the reminder, Melyn. You two wait here. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    Elpida pulled up her armoured hood, wrapped her left hand around the grip of her submachine gun, and stepped away from the hatch.

    She walked to the edge of the exterior deck, where the flat surface gave way to the gnarled and knotted bone armour. Outcrops of soot-stained white climbed level with Elpida¡¯s chest, or spread wide in striated coils of curled bone, or formed pits and dry abscesses in Pheiri¡¯s hide. Shadows pooled in hollows and gathered in the lee of encrusted stalagmites. Elpida stepped into that miniature forest of shadow and bone, then slowly worked her way clockwise, skirting the edge of the exterior deck. She peered around dark corners and into gaping holes, penetrating the shadows with her revenant night vision. She paused to look upward and examine Pheiri¡¯s weapons as she passed beneath them, admiring the clean precision of his autocannons and missile pods, sleeping soundly as they were slowly re-armed from deep within his belly. She wove her way through jutting spears and humped masses of nano-composite bone. She brushed her fingertips over patches of pitted and gnawed material, already slowly re-filling with fresh white bone, where this thick and hoary armour had turned away titanic weaponry. Her breath misted in the air, forming little plumes; the night was cold, much colder than it felt to her undead flesh. No sunlight, no warmth, not even during the dim and dusken hours of ¡®daylight¡¯. No wonder the nights were freezing. She stayed close to the edge of the upper deck, never straying more than half a dozen paces deeper than necessary; she kept the open hatch in view as much as possible.

    It would be so easy for a small and stealthy revenant to hide up there on Pheiri¡¯s back.

    Good thing he¡¯s got great eyes, huh? Howl whispered. Little brother watches himself just as much as he watches the tree line.

    Tree line?

    Howl tutted. Green metaphor. You know what I mean.

    This isn¡¯t the green, Howl. Though perhaps it works the same way, sometimes.

    Elpida agreed with the principle; the last thing she wanted was to run into something unknown, out here in the dark.

    Three quarters into her circuit of the exterior deck, Elpida found something new ¡ª when she peered into a shallow abscess of bone armour, the shadows looked ragged and rough around the edges. She waited, but her night vision did not resolve the dark into the familiar surface of dirty white bone-mesh. She adjusted her position, inching to one side. A strip of mushroom-pale flesh floated out of the darkness.

    Serin ¡ª curled up inside an abscess in Pheiri¡¯s armour.

    Serin¡¯s closed eyelids were framed between layers of black rags and the naked metal of her mask. The face mask covered her mouth and nose and chin, still painted with jagged black teeth. The rest of her was one with the shadows. Elpida couldn¡¯t see any hands, nor any hint of Serin¡¯s long blonde hair, and no sign of a weapon.

    Shit! Howl hissed. Would¡¯a missed her for a turd in a cesspit in all this dark. Sneaky little cunt.

    She¡¯s out here, alone, Elpida replied. Hiding is only rational. I would do the same.

    Tch. Or it¡¯s a ruse. I don¡¯t like this. Tread lightly, Elps.

    Will do.

    Elpida backed up a couple of paces, keeping Serin¡¯s exposed eyes in view. She did not want to make Serin jump or flinch; this revenant was very well-armed beneath her robes. Elpida opened her mouth and¡ª

    A metallic rasp rose from within the shadowy pit: ¡°I know you¡¯re there, Commander.¡±

    Serin pronounced the final word as ¡®coh-mander¡¯, emphasising the first syllable.

    Inside Elpida¡¯s head, Howl flinched.

    Elpida said, ¡°Hello, Serin. I thought I¡¯d caught you napping.¡±

    ¡°Smarter eyes than yours do not see me. Unless I wish.¡± Serin stayed absolutely still as she spoke. ¡°All your clomping about. Woke me up.¡±

    ¡°Stealth was never my specialisation,¡± Elpida replied. ¡°Besides, I didn¡¯t want to surprise you.¡±

    ¡°Mmm,¡± Serin grunted. ¡°Could have put a round through your face from a dozen paces away. All that noise and talking. You would make a poor ambush predator.¡±

    ¡°Good thing I¡¯m not trying to be one, then.¡±

    ¡°No? Were you not?¡±

    Howl tutted, and said: Don¡¯t get drawn into this shit, Elps! She¡¯s playing with you. Just move on quick. Don¡¯t get pinned down.

    I know, Howl. Relax. Serin is cryptic and standoffish, but I know this game very well. I played it with enough of the cadre, back in the day, when we were all younger. What¡¯s got you so wound up?

    Howl just hissed, then fell silent.

    Elpida opened with her strongest volley: ¡°Serin, you wouldn¡¯t have to worry about being ambushed in your sleep if you came down inside Pheiri, with the rest of us. There¡¯s plenty of room. If you need privacy, there¡¯s plenty of cubby holes and secret spaces inside, too. You can hide just as well, inside his armour.¡±

    ¡°Mmmm,¡± Serin purred. ¡°¡®Us¡¯.¡±

    Serin saturated that word with amused scorn.

    ¡°It¡¯s an open invitation,¡± Elpida said. ¡°That¡¯s all. You fought alongside us, you helped me escape the Death¡¯s Heads, and I think I understand that without your mediation, Iriko wouldn¡¯t have been in position to assist Pheiri, either. You have a place inside Pheiri¡¯s security, with the rest of us, if you want it.¡±

    Red eyes opened down in the darkness. High-grade bionics, glowing with inner light. Serin stared up at Elpida.

    ¡°Perhaps I was trying to avoid you, coh-mander,¡± she said.

    ¡°Ah?¡± Elpida raised her eyebrows, miming surprise. ¡°Why might that be? Still don¡¯t trust me?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. Perhaps I was avoiding this little chat.¡±

    Elpida smiled knowingly, trying to include Serin in the rueful conclusion. ¡°Spooked you with that, did I? ¡®You and I need to talk¡¯? It¡¯s not a big deal. I just need intel.¡±

    Serin shifted and coiled within her abscess, fabric rustling against armour, shadows curling down in the dark. Her distinctive scent floated upward, like rotten wood and meaty fungus. Her red bionic eyes turned away and back again. ¡°I see your two little scuttlings. Over in the open hatch. Is this an ambush, coh-mander?¡±

    Elpida sharpened her smile. ¡°If I wanted to ambush you, I¡¯d probably get Pheiri in on the plan. Lure you out into the open, and then have him turn you into red mist with a burst from an autocannon. In fact, if you believe I¡¯m going to betray you, you¡¯re stuck in that dark hole forever. What do you think, Serin?¡±

    The pale skin around Serin¡¯s eyes crinkled with amusement. ¡°I think you can be goaded. Too easily.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps I can,¡± Elpida admitted. ¡°But that¡¯s not what I¡¯m here for.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve come to find you because I want to talk to you, yes.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Serin repeated.

    ¡°No?¡±

    ¡°You want me to talk,¡± Serin said. ¡°To you. Not the other way around.¡±

    Elpida nodded. That was a fair point. Inside her head, Howl tutted with derision.

    Elpida said to Howl: Something to add?

    Shhhh! Howl hissed.

    Sorry? Howl?

    I¡¯m hiding! Shhhh! Don¡¯t talk to me so much, not with her eyes on us.

    Elpida almost laughed, but she controlled herself in front of Serin, for Howl¡¯s sake. Howl, I don¡¯t think her eyes are like Atyle. If she could see you, she would have said something by now.

    No, she wouldn¡¯t! She¡¯s all secrets and bullshit! And shhh, stop talking to me! She might go spare on us if she thinks I really am a Necromancer hiding inside your head.

    Serin¡¯s burning red eyes bored into Elpida.

    ¡°Fair point,¡± Elpida said out loud. ¡°I do want you to talk, Serin. I want your help and your advice, because I suspect you have more experience with survival out here than anyone else in our group. Except possibly Pheiri, but his terms of survival are a little different to ours. We, me and my comrades, whether that includes you or not, we have decisions to make, so I need intel.¡± She gestured toward the exterior deck and the open hatch. ¡°The two over there, that¡¯s Amina and Melyn. They¡¯re here because they¡¯re my crew, my cadre, my comrades, and it¡¯s not up to me to make decisions or assess intelligence by myself. They¡¯re here because they want to listen as well. Will you come talk to us, Serin?¡±

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Serin¡¯s eyes went dark, then red again ¡ª a blink. ¡°Is this an interrogation, coh-mander?¡±

    Fucking bitch, dammit, Howl hissed. Just fucking talk to us! Fuck, you¡ª

    Elpida used her broadside again, before Howl could lose her temper. She said to Serin: ¡°Seriously, why don¡¯t you come down inside Pheiri? I¡¯m not going to be offended if you don¡¯t trust us, I¡¯d just like to know why.¡±

    Serin said, ¡°You cannot make me do anything, coh-mander.¡±

    Fuck¡ª

    ¡°Hmmm,¡± Elpida said, clicking her tongue against her teeth. ¡°I seem to recall me and Ilyusha getting the better of you, back when we first met. In fact, I think I countered your sniping techniques, avoided your explosive drones, and then Ilyusha surprised you and knocked you down. If it wasn¡¯t for that symbol on your arm, Illy would have taken your head off with her shotgun.¡±

    Serin chuckled, low and raspy behind her metal mask. ¡°Only because you confused me, not-a-Necromancer. Thought I had you scrambled. Guessed wrong.¡±

    ¡°A draw, then,¡± Elpida said. ¡°But we¡¯re not on opposing sides now, either by mistake or design. Is that right?¡±

    Serin blinked again. Two red pools closed, then opened, down in the dark. She did not answer.

    Elpida said: ¡°Serin, will you help us, or not? If not, I want to get Amina and Melyn back below, just in case.¡±

    Serin said nothing for a few seconds ¡ª then climbed out of the abscess and stood up, like a bundle of sticks pulled on a string.

    Nine feet of ragged black robes towered over Elpida, topped by a narrow strip of mushroom-pale flesh around two glowing red eyes. Raw meat mushroom reek rolled off Serin¡¯s body. Lumpy shapes adjusted beneath her robes.

    ¡°Lead on, coh-mander,¡± she said.

    Elpida turned away and led Serin toward the flat area of the exterior deck. Serin followed in silence, without even a whisper of cloth against the carbon bone-mesh armour. Howl hissed and growled inside Elpida¡¯s head the whole way, muttering dark insinuations about the risk of turning one¡¯s back on Serin.

    Elpida reached the hatch, then nodded down to Melyn and Amina; the smaller girls were both staring at Serin¡¯s approach. The massive revenant swayed gently as she crossed the outer deck. She stopped six feet clear of the hatch, haloed from behind by the toxic golden glow in the south-east.

    Amina shrank back. Melyn stared openly, shivering in the cold, her massive black eyes reflecting Serin¡¯s glowing red bionics.

    Serin said: ¡°Boo.¡±

    Amina smothered a squeak. Melyn didn¡¯t react.

    Elpida cleared her throat. She gestured at the hatch. ¡°We could speak inside, Serin. There¡¯s places to sit, or lie down. There would be inches of armour between us and the night. Once we¡¯re done, if you¡¯re not comfortable, you¡¯re free to leave again.¡±

    Serin¡¯s eyes crinkled with crow¡¯s feet at the corners ¡ª a smile hidden behind her black-toothed mask. ¡°Too convenient.¡±

    Melyn snapped: ¡°What does that mean? What does that mean? Answer.¡±

    Serin regarded the pixie-like artificial human with mild surprise, red eyes boring into grey flesh. ¡°Oh?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Yes, what does that mean, Serin? Don¡¯t leave my comrades in the dark, please.¡±

    Serin did not stop smiling. She said, ¡°You are too convenient, coh-mander. All of you. All of this. Your survival from fresh meat to power player. In less than one life. This tank.¡± She unfolded one spindly pale arm from inside her robes. Long fingers uncurled and gestured past Elpida, to point at Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. ¡°That mech. The golden mystery back there. And you come away, yet again. Too convenient.¡±

    Elpida nodded slowly. ¡°That¡¯s a fair point, too. We seem to be breaking a lot of norms and expectations. You¡¯ve already tested me, to make sure I¡¯m not a Necromancer.¡±

    ¡°Mmmmmm,¡± Serin purred, rough and metallic behind her mask.

    ¡°Is that not enough?¡±

    ¡°Mmmmm.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Will you not be satisfied until you test the rest of my comrades?¡±

    Serin made a harsh rasping sound behind her mask. A laugh.

    Three spindly pale arms burst from inside Serin¡¯s robes, faster than Elpida could react. She pointed a smooth, boxy, grey oblong down at the open hatch, at Amina and Melyn. A long finger worked a trigger mechanism in silence ¡ª once, twice, three times.

    Melyn flinched. Amina yelped and put a hand over her mouth. Inside Elpida¡¯s mind, Howl scrambled into a corner, hissing and spitting.

    Elpida jerked her submachine gun out of her armoured coat and aimed it at Serin, resting the forward grip on her bandaged right hand.

    Nothing happened.

    Howl?! Elpida snapped. Howl, are you okay? Did that hurt you? Are you¡ª

    I¡¯m fine! Howl spat. Deal with this bitch!

    Serin was staring down at Amina and Melyn, ignoring Elpida¡¯s submachine gun. Both of the girls were unhurt, though Amina was panting, flushed in the face. Serin grunted: ¡°Hmm.¡±

    Melyn snapped: ¡°What is this? What is this? This? This gun?¡±

    Elpida spoke quickly. ¡°It¡¯s her anti-Necromancer weapon. Hold steady, both of you. Just hold, you¡¯re perfectly safe. The gun can¡¯t hurt you. Amina, relax. She can¡¯t hurt you.¡± Elpida took a deep breath, then played a trump card: ¡°In fact, I don¡¯t think the gun does anything at all. I think it¡¯s either a placebo, a show-piece, or Serin is mistaken.¡±

    Serin pulled the gravitic weapon back beneath the black waves of her robes. She was still smiling with her eyes, mouth hidden behind metal. ¡°Then why point your gun at me, coh-mander?¡±

    Elpida lowered her weapon as a gesture of good faith, but kept it ready, mostly to make a point. ¡°Because you shot at my crew. My comrades. I don¡¯t care why, and I don¡¯t care that it doesn¡¯t work. If you want to line everyone up and test them with your gun ¡ª sure. You can even cross-reference it with Pheiri¡¯s Necromancer detection systems.¡± Serin¡¯s eyebrows crinkled at that; Elpida left it unexplained, dangling as bait. ¡°But we organise it first, you understand? Don¡¯t surprise us with a gun. If you do that again with the others I can¡¯t promise that nobody will shoot you.¡±

    Serin chuckled, rough and raw. ¡°The point is surprise. Necromancers play games with us. Hide in plain sight.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°I know. We¡¯re pieces in a game.¡±

    Serin¡¯s laugh cut off. She stared at Elpida, two red points burning against the night, beneath the distant golden halo.

    Elpida went on. ¡°It¡¯s a logical conclusion to draw from what I¡¯ve witnessed so far. You¡¯re right, Serin, all this is too convenient. My working theory right now is that my own resurrection was the catalyst for some kind of plan or scheme, or perhaps just a very small cog in a larger machine. By who, or to what ends? I don¡¯t know. We could be the unwitting pawns of a Necromancer, certainly. Or maybe we¡¯re being puppeted and guided by something else.¡± Elpida considered how far to push this, then said: ¡°I have reason to hope that my city ¡ª Telokopolis ¡ª has somehow survived into this afterlife, perhaps as some kind of echo or ghost, perhaps within the nanomachine ecosystem¡ª¡±

    Serin scoffed. Elpida pointed at Arcadia¡¯s Rampart.

    Serin ceased her laughter. ¡°Hnnuh. Point to you, coh-mander.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Yeah. Hard to deny a combat frame, right? I do have other reasons to believe that Telokopolis may have survived, somehow, but ¡­ ¡±

    Serin raised her eyebrows.

    Elpida turned those reasons over in her head quickly, but found them too raw, too tender, and too tentative to relate to Serin. The city itself may be dead and gone; perhaps Howl¡¯s experiences were nothing but a mirage in the underworld. But while Elpida lived on, Telokopolis stood, whatever unseen phantoms held true to her cause. Right now, Elpida and her comrades were Telokopolis, sheltered within the nano-composite bone armour of Pheiri¡¯s hull.

    Elpida continued: ¡°But, even if that is the case, it¡¯s likely that other powers are very interested in either destroying me or using me ¡ª or Pheiri, or Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on. I don¡¯t know the rules of this game. I can¡¯t see the board, or the players. But I do know one thing.¡± Elpida raised her bandaged right hand and gestured past Serin, over her shoulder, to the south-east ¡ª to the faint toxic golden glow on the horizon.

    Serin glanced over her shoulder, then back again. ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°Whatever forces set us in motion or guide us now, if they are inimical to us, then I don¡¯t think they expected us to wound that golden diamond. I don¡¯t think they predicted a combat frame. Only one force could have called me to Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, and that¡¯s Telokopolis.¡±

    ¡°Your living city,¡± said Serin.

    ¡°Yes. And from what little I¡¯ve seen so far, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any other force which would want us free and loose upon the world. If we were meant to be yoked to some purpose not our own, we¡¯ve broken those fetters by now.¡±

    ¡°Hrrrrnh,¡± Serin rasped. ¡°Lofty words.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. But I have practical goals. Serin, if we are loose and unconstrained, or if Telokopolis set us in motion, or if none of this is true and I¡¯m just making it up as we go, then I still need intel. I need as much as I can get, to form a picture of this game board, or at least to survive well enough so we can make our own choices. And¡ª¡±

    Elps! Howl snapped. Don¡¯t¡ª

    ¡°I think you know more than you¡¯re letting on,¡± Elpida said. She felt Howl wince. ¡°Some of the things you said earlier don¡¯t quite add up. If you don¡¯t trust us, well.¡± Elpida waved her bandaged hand to indicate the bone armour on which they both stood. ¡°We won¡¯t be able to make informed decisions about what we should do. Follow the worm, or plunge into the wilderness? But we¡¯ll do one of those things anyway. This is your chance to exert some control over that.¡± Elpida shrugged. ¡°Or you can keep your silence, and leave us to our own decisions.¡±

    Serin smiled behind her mask, eyes crinkling. ¡°The price of a place is all my secrets?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elpida said.

    Serin frowned ¡ª Elpida couldn¡¯t see her forehead, but the skin between Serin¡¯s eyes bunched up.

    Elpida said: ¡°You can stay and keep your secrets all you like. The price of staying here is nothing. Just don¡¯t be a Death¡¯s Head, I suppose, but I don¡¯t think I have to worry about that with you.¡±

    Serin rasped with laughter behind her mask, harsh and metallic. ¡°Coh-mander. You make it seem too easy. What about¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll trade you,¡± Elpida said, thinking fast. ¡°Your advice and intel, in return for everything the Necromancer said to us. Everything she said while inside Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. Everything she said to me, to Vicky, to Kagami, to Hafina. All of it. Everything she did. Everything we know about her.¡±

    Serin stared at Elpida, eyes burning like twin fires against the dark backdrop of the night. She wasn¡¯t smiling anymore.

    Guess that can¡¯t do any harm, Howl grunted. Got her hooked with that. Fuuuuck, this bitch got a one-track mind.

    Serin said: ¡°What do you wish to know, coh-mander?¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°I want three things from you. Plus.¡± She gestured down at Melyn and Amina, huddled in the shelter of the open hatch. Melyn was snuggled against Amina¡¯s front now, soaking up warmth. ¡°You answer any questions these two have, in simple enough terms that they can understand it.¡± Serin glanced at the smaller pair again. Elpida went on: ¡°One, I need to know everything you do about food and predation. We¡¯re on the cusp of running out of raw blue nanomachines. I know we¡¯re going to have to feed, sooner or later, and I don¡¯t have a solution except hunting for meat.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Serin grunted. ¡°Eat or die. Or live and change. There are no other choices.¡±

    Elpida ignored that for now. She needed to reel Serin in. ¡°Two, I want to know everything you know about Necromancers, because I need to smooth out the inconsistencies. You claimed that you targeted me because my phenotype and my neural lace matches a Necromancer you¡¯d seen before. But that means either you saw a pilot, or a Necromancer imitating a pilot. I need to know why. I need to know what that Necromancer looked like. And I need to know why you hunt them.¡±

    Serin rasped behind her mask. Not a laugh. Something darker. A refusal.

    Elpida pushed on before that could turn into an argument. ¡°And third, the symbol. The crescent and line tattooed on your arm. If anything, I think that is more important than the first two questions. If I have potential allies out there, against people like the Death¡¯s Heads, then I need to know about them.¡±

    ¡°Ahhhhhhhhhh,¡± Serin purred. ¡°Ahhh. Yes. The cause.¡±

    Serin slowly extended another mushroom-pale arm from beneath her black robes. She presented the naked flesh to Elpida, at an angle so Melyn and Amina could also see. Serin¡¯s tattoos glistened black in the night: nine crossed-out skulls indicating nine kills, with the crescent-and-line symbol at the head of the row.

    ¡°The cause?¡± Elpida echoed.

    ¡°Ask your Ilyusha,¡± Serin said.

    Elpida sighed. ¡°She can¡¯t ¡ª or won¡¯t ¡ª explain it, not really. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s capable of it. And I want to hear it from you, Serin. I want you to¡ª¡±

    Amina said: ¡°Why only nine?¡±

    Serin looked down into the hatch, eyes burning. Amina stared back up at her, throat bobbing with a gulp.

    Elpida murmured: ¡°Serin, please answer her.¡±

    ¡°Rephrase,¡± said Serin. ¡°The question.¡±

    Amina frowned in thought, then said: ¡°If you hunt ¡­ the ¡­ D-death¡¯s Heads, and you¡¯ve been doing it for a long time, why only nine skulls? There were so many of them. Haven¡¯t you killed more?¡±

    Serin grinned behind her mask. ¡°I only mark kills that matter. Not the followers. The foot soldiers. If I counted those, I would be coated in black. But these?¡± She extended another arm and caressed her tattoos with a hand of long and spindly fingers. ¡°All of these were true fights. Death cultists true. Better off reduced. Better off for humankind that they stay dead.¡±

    ¡°Humankind,¡± Amina murmured, frowning harder.

    Elpida realised Serin had not added to her kills since the first time she¡¯d seen the tattoos. Elpida said: ¡°Didn¡¯t get Yola, then?¡±

    Serin grunted. ¡°The leader? No. Slippery. Lucky. She would not count as one of these. Anyway.¡±

    Elpida opened her mouth to once again request an explanation from Serin ¡ª but Amina spoke up a second time.

    ¡°How do you do it?¡± Amina whispered. ¡°How do you ¡­ ¡±

    Serin tapped her tattoos. ¡°With great care. And¡ª¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Amina squeaked. Serin blinked, red eyes going out and black, then back again. ¡°How do you stay so ¡­ so strong? And ¡­ and ¡­ ¡± Amina panted softly. ¡°I want to be like you.¡±

    Serin stared for a moment, then said: ¡°I will not say it here. Not for the coh-mander. But if you and I are ever alone, maybe I will draw you a picture. Of how I used to look. And then you will know, how far you can go.¡±

    Amina swallowed, loud in the dark. She sniffed, nodded, and glanced at Elpida.

    Elpida said: ¡°Well said, Amina. Serin, I would appreciate it if you would do that for her.¡±

    ¡°No promises, coh-mander,¡± said Serin.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Fair enough. Now, the symbol, the crescent and line. Please, if you¡ª¡±

    Serin interrupted: ¡°Better question. What do you believe? Coh-mander? Telokopolitan?¡±

    ¡°Telokopolan,¡± Elpida corrected gently.

    Howl hissed: She¡¯s fucking bluffing! She made that up on the spot to mess with us!

    Maybe. Maybe not. I think she¡¯s being genuine.

    ¡°Telokopolis,¡± Serin rasped behind her mask. She sounded unimpressed. ¡°I have heard of living cities before. All before this. Before the endless corpse of this city.¡±

    ¡°You have?¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Serin grunted. ¡°Zombies tell stories about their own times. Living cities, common enough. Cantor. Yorksend. Irentograd. Hoijing.¡± Serin shrugged. ¡°Nothing special. Seen demagogues before too. Like you. Capable leaders come and go. But this.¡± She twitched her tattooed arm. ¡°This is the only eternality. The immortal principle.¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis is forever,¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°Hmmm,¡± Serin purred. ¡°Maybe. But what do you believe in, Telokopolan?¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath and looked out into the dark and clotted night beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull. Alley mouths rolled past, each one filled with the shades of the dead.

    She decided to tell the truth.

    Elpida said: ¡°I have a Death¡¯s Head down inside Pheiri. An ex Death¡¯s Head, now. Ooni.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Serin grunted. ¡°Saw her. Worthless follower.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elpida murmured.

    ¡°No?¡±

    Elpida looked at Serin again. The halo behind her seemed faded, dying in the dark. ¡°Ooni is one of us now. Or she will be, given time and support and comradeship. She was something else, something wretched and exploited, turned toward evil ends. But now she¡¯s in my hands, and that is not her purpose anymore. Now she¡¯s within Telokopolis.¡±

    Serin waited, eyes burning red.

    Elpida went on: ¡°If I could, I would go out there into the dark, and gather up every lost soul I can find. I would lead them all to Telokopolis. None would be rejected, none left behind, none sacrificed. Not even the Death¡¯s Heads, if they could be contained, made to change, made to see otherwise. Not even the Necromancers¡ª¡± Serin snorted behind her mask, but Elpida kept going ¡°¡ªif they could be communicated with.¡± She nodded at Serin¡¯s tattoos. ¡°I will fight as hard as you, when I have to. You¡¯ve seen that up-close, Serin. But I will fight in the spirit of Telokopolis, be the city alive or dead or a memory or something else. None will be rejected, not unless they choose so themselves.¡±

    Serin waited, to be sure Elpida was done. Then she gestured out at the night, down into the street. ¡°What about her?¡±

    ¡°Her?¡± Elpida followed the gesture, but saw nothing. ¡°You mean Iriko? I can¡¯t see well in this darkness.¡±

    ¡°Iriko. Yes. What about her? A very hungry mouth to feed.¡±

    Elpida laughed. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear me, Serin? None would be rejected, not even her. None. That was what Telokopolis was for, no matter what the people inside made of it. The city, the only city, for everything and all. You included.¡±

    On a hopeful whim, Elpida extended a hand toward Serin ¡ª her bandaged right, vulnerable beneath the dressings.

    Serin raised her eyebrows.

    Elpida said: ¡°Come down inside Pheiri. Let¡¯s you and I talk. If you don¡¯t want to stay after that, then don¡¯t. If you don¡¯t want to come down inside, then we can talk right here. If you don¡¯t want to talk, then you¡¯re welcome to stay up here, in the cold, in the dark, as long as you like. You want to leave? You¡¯re welcome back any time.¡±

    Serin rasped a metal laugh. ¡°You are too naive, coh-mander. I thought otherwise. Thought you had learned.¡±

    ¡°Learned what? To abandon Telokopolis?¡±

    ¡°The undead will eat you alive.¡±

    ¡°Too late,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I¡¯m already dead, in case you hadn¡¯t noticed. We all are. You too, zombie. Now, are you coming inside, or not?¡±

 umbra - 10.4

    Try as she might, Victoria could not sleep.

    Consciousness clung to her mind with subtle claws, digging deep whenever her eyelids creaked shut, jolting her awake in little snorts and starts. She was greeted again and again by the peeling cream-white paint of the bunk room wall, or by the jumble of thin blue sheets and tiered beds on the other side of the narrow room, or by the sound of soft breathing from within warm shadows.

    The first time that happened, Vicky had no idea where she was.

    For several racing heartbeats she thought she was back in a tent or a pre-fab, deep in the heart of an artillery park, somewhere in the staging grounds south of the Chicago Arcology. If she rolled to one side and hopped to her feet, she would see her comrades, the regiment¡¯s other engineers and gunners, spread out in cheap steel bunks, or wrapped up in sleeping bags on the floor, or just dozing on their packs whenever they¡¯d dropped. No matter the arrangements, Cirilo and Petir would both be snoring their heads off; Andrew might be drunk, unless Elmer and Christman had gone with him on one of his night-time wanderings. Gale and Sonia would be tucked up in their own corner, probably still awake, probably playing some card game Vicky had never heard of. She could always join them, no matter how awkward she felt. They appreciated her company. All the younger soldiers did. She¡¯d been around longer than most, and spoke more sense than some.

    The Colonel would still be awake, of course, poring over maps or fire plans sent down from divisional headquarters ¡ª there was simply so much to do these last few days. Vic should get up and help, she¡¯d had enough sleep; this would be a good time to check the regimental fuel reserves and make sure the shells were stowed properly. She didn¡¯t want another cook-off incident like those poor bastards over in the 14th. Everyone was getting sloppy during this lull in the fighting, ever since the Arcology¡¯s Euro-trash mercenaries had turned tail and fled. Nothing stood between the GLR lines and the Arcology¡¯s automated defences now ¡ª but those defences were nasty. Old Empire robotics, mostly. Some of those things would shrug off hi-ex shells like water balloons.

    The child-eating monsters up in the Arcology were quiet for now. Their Old Empire jets were wary of the foreign AA missile systems guarding the GLR staging grounds. But after more than twenty years of war, they could smell their end coming. They could hear it in the camp songs on the wind, see it with their long-range telescopes from the tip of their glittering spire, taste it in the brackish water reserves; the GLR had blown the main supply pipeline sucking Lake Michigan dry, two weeks back. The Arcology would get desperate soon; everyone was lucky they didn¡¯t have any nukes left, not after the big raid three years ago. Soon they would throw their aircraft into the teeth of the guns, just for one last roll of the dice. And Vic did not want any stray rounds landing on an unsecured pallet of 155mm.

    For a split-second Vicky was back inside the military machine of the Great Lakes Republic, held like a sharpened sword to the throat of her lifelong foe, poised on the eve of a battle she had worked toward for her whole life. The second battle of Chicago. The revolution had come full circle, come back to where it had started, come back to finish the job.

    Then Vicky¡¯s heartbeat made the rear of her skull throb with pain, and she remembered where she was.

    Two hundred and fifty million years in the future, curled up inside the belly of an armoured vehicle the size of a barn, surrounded by nanomachine zombies.

    The Chicago Arcology was long dead. So was the GLR, or whatever it had become.

    And so was Vicky.

    ¡°Yuuup,¡± she grumbled to herself, the first time that happened. ¡°You¡¯re dead too, dumbass. Mmhmm.¡±

    At least her bunk was comfortable enough ¡ª scratchy sheets and a lumpy old pillow were luxurious by her standards, infinitely preferable to the hard insides of the combat frame¡¯s control room, or the freezing mud of a shallow foxhole ¡ª but she could not toss and turn.

    The back of her skull was still a spider-web of half-healed fractures. Even the fanciest feather pillow or the most expensive memory foam could not have cradled her cracked cranium softly enough to avert the nausea, the disorientation, and the headache spikes, whenever she put pressure on the rear of her head.

    Melyn had examined Vicky¡¯s skull earlier, but the sweet little med-bot hadn¡¯t been able to do much except wash off most of the dried blood. Vicky¡¯s only choice was to let the raw blue nanomachines work their magic, fuelling her undead biology, sealing skin and knitting bone ¡ª and hopefully regrowing a few damaged neurons.

    She knew she was lucky; in life a wound like this would have killed her, or left her with permanent brain damage. Recovery alone would have taken months or years. She would have needed surgeries to remove blood clots, then replace or reinforce the shattered bone with metal plates or pins. She¡¯d be on anticonvulsants, barbiturates, and opiate painkillers, perhaps for the rest of her life. She might lose some memories, or her entire personality. She might never taste or see or hear again. She might have been a bed-bound vegetable. She¡¯d seen other soldiers end up that way, people she¡¯d been close to, people she¡¯d fought beside. Waadey had been too close to the blast-wave of an air strike outside Charleston ¡ª he¡¯d lived while a dozen others had died, but his brains had been shaken inside his skull; he¡¯d been discharged on full pension, a drooling mess of quivering and shaking, shitting into his pants every couple of hours. Walter Keogh had been one of Vicky¡¯s older comrades, from back in the early days just after the first battle of Chicago; he¡¯d somehow survived a dart of shrapnel directly through his right eye, with the tip lodged in the front of his brain. He¡¯d never been the same again, mean and cynical when he wasn¡¯t distant and dazed.

    But lucky Victoria was a zombie now. All she had to do was wait and rest. Resurrection would handle the mess.

    Undead biology retained other indignities, among the silver linings ¡ª like insomnia.

    Vicky had tried everything. She¡¯d lain on her right side, facing into the darkness of the bunk room, watching the shadows between the tiers. Then she¡¯d tried her left, staring at the old paint and cold metal of the wall. She¡¯d snuggled down beneath the sheets, spread out on her front, head pointing one way, then the other. She¡¯d tried curling up into a ball, chin tucked tight to her knees, but that just made her cough, which in turn made her skull ache.

    She ended up splayed out wide, one arm dangling off the side of the bunk, trying not to think.

    She hadn¡¯t expected insomnia.

    She¡¯d assumed she would fall into easy unconsciousness the moment she lay down, lulled to sleep by the deep rumble of Pheiri¡¯s engines down below the decks, soothed by the knowledge that she was finally tucked away somewhere safe. She felt like she could sleep on the bare floor, or on her feet, or under fire. She was exhausted in both body and mind ¡ª by post-combat adrenaline crash, yes, but also by the sheer amount of mind-boggling information she¡¯d tried to absorb. She didn¡¯t even know how to process half of what she¡¯d seen ¡ª the golden diamond airship thing, the biological miracle of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, and even the lesser surprises like Iriko and Serin, or whatever was going on with Elpida¡¯s head, or the Necromancers.

    Perhaps that was the paradox. Too many things to think about, too many things she could not process, too exhausted to sleep.

    After what felt like hours of fruitless inaction, Vicky gave up and got out of bed.

    She was careful not to make any noise as she swung her legs over the side of the bunk and lowered herself to the floor. She didn¡¯t want to wake the others; everyone needed rest for their own wounds and stress, they didn¡¯t need to hear about her problems. When she stood up, waves of slow pain throbbed through the back of her skull. She had to squeeze her eyes shut and take deep breaths. She gripped the bunk for support.

    The pain passed, leaving behind an echo of fractured bone.

    Vicky glanced around the cramped confines of the bunk room and suddenly felt very silly. She asked herself what she was doing ¡ª how would she have dealt with this kind of insomnia in life?

    The answer was not useful. She would have gotten up and tended to her duties. She would have spent the lonely hours of the night stripping down and oiling up an engine, or checking on the maintenance schedules on the tubes, or even just walking a perimeter to look for holes in a fence. She¡¯d probably go pester the Colonel. Make some coffee. Grumble.

    But here? Could she go bother Elpida? Probably; Elpi wouldn¡¯t mind, though what could they grumble about together? They had almost nothing in common, despite both being soldiers.

    Could she make herself useful? That was another matter entirely. Probably not, Vicky guessed.

    On her feet and fully dressed; Vicky was still wearing her tomb-grey clothes, t-shirt and trousers and thick socks, swapped out for fresh ones after the journey through the muddy crater. But with nowhere to go.

    Inside this armoured vehicle which was so far beyond Vicky¡¯s technical skills, she had nothing to do.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± she whispered to herself. She reached out and tapped the side of the bunk ¡ª tapped Pheiri. ¡°Wanna get to know you, thinking machine. You got user serviceable parts? Mm. Must do.¡±

    Her new comrades were all asleep, deep in the grey haze of the bunk room. Kagami was curled up tight on her side, on the bunk below Vicky¡¯s, almost completely concealed by the privacy curtains. Vicky smiled and shook her head. Who cared about privacy in this place? In these bodies? They¡¯d started this afterlife naked and covered in slime.

    Or should she care more? Should she feel skittish and furtive? Was that the right thing to do?

    Maybe Kagami was more authentic than her.

    Vicky was suddenly thankful for being fully dressed. She wished she had a mirror. She¡¯d spent a while examining herself in the reflective surface of one of those space blankets from the tomb, but that wasn¡¯t the same. She needed to stare into her own eyes again ¡ª her eyes, set in a face twenty years younger than the one in which she had died, with the sharp edges rounded off, the wrinkles smoothed out, the forehead uncreased.

    She took a deep breath and gently chastised herself; it was very hard to maintain that this was not the time for personal matters. They were all safe inside Pheiri now, right?

    Atyle was also sleeping soundly, flat on her back, hands crossed over her chest like an Egyptian Mummy from a silly cartoon. Vicky wondered if Atyle was in her original body as well. The pre-modern woman was by far the most taciturn of the group; perhaps she had secrets too. Vicky peered into the top bunks, then realised somebody was missing. She went up on tiptoes to confirm. Ilyusha was sleeping alone, clutching a pillow to her front, black-and-red bionic claws sticking out of the blankets.

    Vicky checked the other bunks to see if Amina had moved in the night, but there was no sign of the girl.

    Worry suddenly gnawed at Vicky¡¯s guts. Amina was by far the most vulnerable and inexperienced of her new comrades.

    Several items were missing from the equipment on the lower bunks, among the weapons, body armour, extra coats, Kagami¡¯s auspex visor, and the coilgun; Elpida¡¯s submachine gun was gone, along with her coat and several other clothes.

    And the bunk room hatch was shut, flush with the door frame.

    Vicky hadn¡¯t heard Amina climb out of bed, nor close the door. She certainly hadn¡¯t noticed Elpida entering the room and arming up.

    Must have slept after all, she told herself. Weird.

    She held her breath and concentrated, but she couldn¡¯t hear anything except the low rumble of Pheiri¡¯s engines, the muffled grinding of his tracks against the ground outside, and the slow, stately, steady throb of his nuclear reactor, far beneath her feet.

    Nothing out of the ordinary. No clattering bones or spooky whispers. Vicky doubted that a Necromancer had ghosted into the room, stolen Elpida¡¯s gear, kidnapped Amina, and then shut the door. If that was the case, Vicky couldn¡¯t do anything about it anyway. Amina was probably just talking with Elpida. Perhaps Elpi was teaching Amina how to use a gun. That would be good. The kid deserved some confidence, poor thing, despite her fancy knife work.

    Vicky looked over the equipment and supplies again. Perhaps she could make herself useful, after all. She could take all the regular guns out into the crew compartment and do an inventory of ammunition and spare parts, strip and clean all the firearms, make sure everyone was provisioned and prepared. Maybe if she tired herself out with work, she could sleep. Maybe if¡ª

    A groggy mumble came from behind Kagami¡¯s privacy curtains: ¡°Go back to fucking bed, Victoria.¡±

    Kagami sounded like her throat was full of sand.

    Vicky almost laughed. She had to put a hand over her mouth. She knelt so she didn¡¯t have to crouch, then gently parted the privacy curtains over Kagami¡¯s bunk.

    Kagami was curled on her side, facing the wall, making a bulwark with her upper back. The thin blue blankets were falling away from her raised shoulder. Vicky couldn¡¯t see Kagami¡¯s face, but she could imagine the curled lip, the grumpy sneer, the narrowed and scornful eyes.

    Vicky whispered: ¡°Hey Moon Princess. How did you know it was me?¡±

    Kagami didn¡¯t answer. Vicky assumed she¡¯d gone back to sleep. Seconds ticked by. Vicky swallowed, suddenly self-conscious. She was invading Kagami¡¯s personal space, no matter how silly the privacy curtains seemed in these cramped quarters. A faint scent entered Vicky¡¯s nose, drifting out of the shadows ¡ª soft cool sweat and warm skin. Was that Kagami¡¯s bodily odour? Vicky started to withdraw.

    Kagami muttered: ¡°Distinctive tread.¡±

    Vicky froze. Her heart fell. She tried to pull a smile, but it hurt. ¡°Heavy footfalls, right?¡± she whispered. ¡°Great clomping¡ª¡±

    ¡°Mmm, no,¡± Kagami grumbled. ¡°Tread like you¡¯re sneaking. Not actually. Don¡¯t know how to sneak. Do you?¡±

    Vicky smiled for real. She reached down and pulled the sheets up over Kagami¡¯s shoulder.

    Kagami flinched and rolled onto her back. Her soft brown face squinted up at Vicky from within the warm grey shadows, framed by a halo of black hair, floating as if detached from the body beneath the covers.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°Fuck¡ª¡± Kagami snorted to clear her throat. ¡°Fuck are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Vicky whispered. ¡°I was tucking you in. You were slipping out of your bedsheets.¡±

    Kagami blinked slowly, twice. ¡°Go back to sleep. You still have a head wound. Lie the fuck down.¡±

    Vicky smiled and nodded. ¡°Good night, Kaga.¡±

    She moved to withdraw again ¡ª but Kagami suddenly lashed out with a hand from beneath the covers and grabbed one of Vicky¡¯s wrists. Kagami scowled, groggy and heavy-eyed.

    ¡°Kaga,¡± Vicky said gently. ¡°You¡¯ve got a wound on that arm, haven¡¯t you? Look, you shouldn¡¯t strain¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a liar¡¯s face. A lying face,¡± Kagami grumbled, smacking her lips, still half asleep.

    ¡°Kaga? What are you talking about?¡±

    Kagami took a deep breath, trying to rouse herself. She hissed: ¡°You¡¯re not going back to sleep at all. You just smiled and nodded because that¡¯s what you think I want to hear. I got very skilled at sniffing out that sort of bullshit. My father¡¯s attendants, doing lip-service to me while fulfilling his orders. Oh yeah, I¡¯m real good at that, Victoria. Don¡¯t you treat me the same. Don¡¯t you dare.¡±

    Vicky almost sighed. ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re no butt monkey for taking orders,¡± Kagami slurred. Her eyes wavered shut again. ¡°Your own woman. Far as I can tell. All you. Mm.¡±

    Kagami fell silent, voice trailing off. She drew in a lazy half-snore. Her eyelids fluttered, then ceased to move.

    Vicky gently peeled Kagami¡¯s hand from around her wrist, then tucked her back beneath the covers, careful not to press against the dressings around Kagami¡¯s upper arm.

    Vicky paused for a moment, then whispered, barely more than a breath: ¡°Not even sure I¡¯m that.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s eyes flicked open. ¡°Not sure you¡¯re what?¡±

    Vicky sighed and rolled her eyes. ¡°Why are you so hair-trigger? I know you weren¡¯t faking, you haven¡¯t got it in you, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Answer the question,¡± Kagami croaked.

    Vicky stared into Kagami¡¯s dark eyes. Suddenly her heart was pounding, sending pulses of pain through the back of her skull. She felt sick. Her face was hot. Her stomach churned, with hunger and worse.

    Kagami was objectively awful, Vicky was under no illusions about that. Grumpy, fussy, arrogant, and demanding; secretive, bitter, vengeful, and bigoted ¡ª at least against those she saw as ¡®primitive¡¯, which seemed to include basically everybody who wasn¡¯t grown in a vat on the Moon. Her background was horrifying to Vicky¡¯s most dearly-held values ¡ª a linchpin of imperial domination, the central command point of a remote-controlled military, installed on the actual Moon like an untouchable godlike being in the skies, subjecting the surface to unanswerable violence committed by brain-wiped cyborg slaves. If Vicky had understood Kagami¡¯s position correctly, her duties and powers had also included a vast nuclear arsenal, pointed down, like a boot on the neck of the whole world.

    Vicky had made it a joke, back in the combat frame. But now it didn¡¯t seem like anything to laugh about.

    So why did she trust Kagami?

    ¡°My own woman,¡± Vicky echoed in a whisper.

    Kagami squinted hard. She snorted, then muttered: ¡°You don¡¯t have to take Elpida¡¯s every whim like gospel if you don¡¯t want to. Haven¡¯t you figured that out yet? She¡¯s a pushover if you say the right words. If you disagree with her, you better bloody well speak up, Victoria. Stop serving in silence, stop scraping and bowing and¡ª¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°Kaga, that¡¯s not what I meant. And you¡¯re wrong about Elpi.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Kagami snorted again. ¡°Am I really?¡±

    ¡°She leads from the front. She risks herself. She¡¯s for real. And she¡¯s not a pushover, not about the things which matter.¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes.

    Vicky hissed: ¡°And she came for us! She pulled us out. She didn¡¯t leave us behind. She could have, very easily! And then she ¡­ I don¡¯t know, fought a giant flying god machine for us? Kaga, what the hell is your problem with her? Don¡¯t you feel grateful? At all?¡±

    Kagami turned sullen and sulky. ¡°Rescuing people is easy. I should know. I did it plenty of times¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop deflecting. She¡¯s doing a good job. She¡¯s kept us alive.¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°So she has. Fine, alright, whatever. And I¡¯m following her, yes, because she¡¯s keeping us alive and feeding us brains and recruiting fascists.¡±

    Vicky winced. ¡°I don¡¯t think she had a lot of choice about that. And anyway, Ooni seems ¡­ damaged.¡±

    Kagami glared. ¡°Yes, fash generally are ¡ª in the fucking head.¡±

    Vicky hardened her expression. ¡°You can talk, Kaga. Didn¡¯t you spend your entire life sat on the moon with a clutch of nukes pointed at the surface? What do you call that, huh?¡±

    Kagami¡¯s face went cold. ¡°Really?¡±

    Vicky¡¯s stomach lurched. ¡°I mean¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re equating me with race-war obsessed primitives? The kind of people who run death camps and do genetic testing on foetuses? Really?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª Kaga, I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°I expected a pre-NorAm revolutionary brat to know better,¡± Kagami hissed between clenched teeth. ¡°I suppose I shouldn¡¯t, seeing as your future countrymen spaced me rather than cut a deal! Didn¡¯t want some moon-cunt in their famous little orgies!¡±

    ¡°Kaga, wait¡ª¡±

    ¡°I am not a fascist, Victoria! I am many things, all of which I am well aware of, thank you very much. And you know what? You were right first time ¡ª I should have been elected, Queen of Luna! Should have joined in the little game and had my father poisoned when I was twelve. Do I really need to walk a committed revolutionary soldier through the basic differences in political economy between feudalism and fucking heads-on-spikes fasc¡ª¡±

    ¡°Okay!¡± Vicky hissed, hands raised. ¡°Okay, fine, okay. You¡¯re gonna wake the others up, geeze. Fine.¡±

    Kagami glared, mouth set, eyes fully awake now. ¡°I expect an apology, if our friendship is to continue.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ we¡¯re friends?¡±

    Kagami snorted and turned her head to face the wall.

    ¡°Are you sulking? Kaga?¡±

    ¡°Apologise or go fuck yourself.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Vicky hissed. ¡°You¡¯re not a fascist. I¡¯m sorry I said that.¡±

    Kagami muttered, ¡°And why did you say it?¡±

    ¡°I was ¡­ jumping at rhetorical shadows,¡± Vicky whispered. ¡°Though you¡¯re definitely an imperialist¡ª¡±

    ¡°None of us are anything, anymore,¡± Kagami grunted. ¡°We¡¯re all zombies now. Who cares what you or I were? Why does it matter? Why do you give a single solitary dried-out turd what I was in life? I¡¯m right here, aren¡¯t I?¡±

    Vicky made a placating gesture with both hands again, though Kagami was still glaring at the wall. ¡°Fair point, okay.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Kagami grunted. ¡°So you believe the little rat can be rehabilitated, but I can¡¯t? Is that it? I stand by your fucking side and neutralise a Necromancer and that doesn¡¯t count for anything, but some shit-painted skull-measuring primitive comes in with a sob story about ¡®just following orders¡¯ and you¡¯re ready to have her gnosh down on your fucking lap?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡ª¡± Vicky lost her temper. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, Kaga, that is not what I meant. Stop it.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh.¡±

    Vicky took hold of her patience; Kagami was being impossible. ¡°I don¡¯t believe that Elpida made the wrong decision by letting Ooni live. I think people like her can be reformed and rehabilitated. Maybe not all of them, okay. But, Ooni? You only have to look at her. That¡¯s why I changed my mind. I think Elpi is right. And I¡¯m sorry I called you a fascist. Whatever my opinion would have been of you in life, we¡¯re ¡­ we¡¯re not alive now. We¡¯re all dead. All zombies here.¡±

    Kagami snorted softly.

    Vicky said: ¡°Can we be friends again, Moon Princess?¡±

    ¡°If you stop calling me that.¡±

    ¡°No way,¡± Vicky said with a laugh in her whisper. ¡°Make up your mind. You¡¯re my little Moon ¡­ ¡±

    Vicky trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable. Without the emotional blur of brain damage, this felt rude and weird and wrong somehow. Was it right for her to treat Kagami like this, with pet names and gentle teasing ¡ª with flirting? Or was it intrusive and unwanted? Was she a freak, acting like this?

    Kagami finally twisted her head back around to look up at Vicky. She frowned with irritation. ¡°What? What is it now?¡±

    ¡°N-nothing,¡± Vicky said. ¡°Just that I agree with Elpi¡¯s judgement, and I wish you would too.¡±

    Kagami sighed, sharp and hard. ¡°And here we are, talking about her again. Our Commander is unavoidable, hm?¡±

    Vicky rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re the one who brought her up, talking about how I¡¯m a good little yappy dog for her or whatever.¡±

    ¡°Tch!¡± Kagami pushed her sheets down with her right hand, revealing her slender chest wrapped in a tomb-grey t-shirt, then levering herself up on her elbows. Her head almost brushed against the underside of the next bunk. ¡°I¡¯m trying to give you confidence, Victoria. You are your own woman, you don¡¯t need to follow every last¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kaga, that¡¯s not what I¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªorder and copy every last piece of her inner motivation just to be¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kaga!¡± Vicky grabbed Kagami¡¯s face, squeezing her cheeks. Kagami flinched and went silent, eyes wide. ¡°Dammit, I¡¯m trying to tell you something. Something I ¡­ I couldn¡¯t tell Elpi.¡±

    Vicky let go of Kagami¡¯s face. She braced for a slap or a screech; she shouldn¡¯t have handled Kagami like that.

    But Kagami stopped scowling. She went still and focused. She whispered, barely moving her lips, ¡°And what would that be?¡±

    Vicky took a deep breath. Her heart was racing again, making her skull creak with pain. Her palms were sweaty. Her chest was tight.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure that I am my own woman,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°And what does that mean?¡±

    ¡°This body, it¡¯s ¡­ it¡¯s not mine.¡± Vicky gestured weakly at herself, hands shaking. ¡°I-I mean I do look like me, it¡¯s still my face, my hair, my build, mostly. And I have all my old scars, too. Got the big one on my upper left thigh where I got hit by a piece of shrapnel up in Appalachia. And the two dots on my shoulder from the incendiary in upper New York. That one burned like a bitch, but they¡¯re only the size of my little fingernail, which is crazy. And I¡¯ve still got the surgical marks from getting my appendix removed, and the one missing wisdom tooth, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Victoria,¡± Kagami hissed through her teeth.

    Vicky swallowed. Her throat felt dry. ¡°This body is twenty years younger than when I died. Maybe more, I can¡¯t tell. I was forty one years old when I died, Kaga. I was a lifelong career soldier. I feel fake.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s face unfroze. She frowned and squinted at the same time. ¡°We¡¯re zombies.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°The undead,¡± Kagami went on. ¡°Nanomachine abominations. Our minds have been mathematically rotated out of the quantum foam, or dredged up from hell, or something I can¡¯t even figure out. We have been resurrected past the end of all recognisable human civilization, surrounded by blob monsters and borged up cannibals who want to fuck us dead and eat us at the same time. Giant worm machines. That bio-tech wet dream out there. This living tank, in which we are currently sleeping ¡ª or not sleeping, at this exact moment. I¡¯ve modified my left hand and arm into a data input-output device by drinking blue nano-slop. You had your arm glued back on. Are you following me here, yes?¡±

    ¡°Uh, Kaga, where are you going with this?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Or. No.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Vicky shrugged. ¡°But I don¡¯t see what that has to do¡ª¡±

    Kagami raised her right hand and snapped her fingers and thumb shut in a be-quiet gesture, face scrunching with irritation. ¡°But the part you¡¯re struggling with is a bit of de-aging? The graveworm saving you the trouble of old person knees and a weak bladder? Really? That¡¯s the part which is keeping you awake?¡±

    ¡°Well¡ª¡±

    ¡°You are a moron, Victoria.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s throat was bone dry. She almost couldn¡¯t say the words. Kagami¡¯s mockery did not help. ¡°It¡¯s not just that.¡±

    ¡°Then what!?¡± Kagami hissed, eyes bulging in her face. ¡°Just say it! By all of Luna¡¯s silver soil, my heart is going to explode!¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°Just say it!¡±

    ¡°I-I¡ª it¡ª my ¡­ my body ¡­ it¡¯s the wrong ¡­ or the right, I don¡¯t know ¡­ ¡± Vicky screwed up her eyes. ¡°Sex.¡±

    Silence.

    Vicky opened her eyes, heart racing, skin gone cold. Kagami was staring at her, expression unchanged but waiting, frozen halfway to horror.

    ¡°Kaga?¡±

    Kagami whispered: ¡°So you¡¯re not a Necromancer?¡±

    ¡°What? No, I¡¯m not a Necromancer. I¡¯m trying to tell you I¡¯m¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not being a Necromancer is infinitely more important and relevant than whatever weird gender stuff you had going on in life, or whatever other pre-NorAm bullshit you¡¯re so caught up on. Fucking hell, Victoria!¡± Kagami¡¯s eyes blazed. Her face shook. ¡°I thought you were doing the big reveal on me! I thought you were about to tell me that you¡¯re been hiding in plain sight all this time, and invite me off to ¡­ to ¡­ Luna knows what! Recruit me into the next layer of this death-fuck game! Do not terrify me like that, you absolute dirt-sucking, womb-born, shit-mating¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kaga, isn¡¯t this important?!¡± Vicky boggled at Kagami¡¯s response. ¡°The¡ª the graveworm, the resurrections, the fact that there¡¯s no men here? Isn¡¯t this important somehow?¡±

    ¡°I doubt it. You really think that much of yourself?¡± Kagami snorted. ¡°You think one little gender swap matters to whatever is going on here?¡±

    ¡°I ¡­ well, no, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°You were a trans woman in life, then? Is that really it? That¡¯s what you¡¯re freaking out about?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I mean, no. I ¡­ ¡± Vicky¡¯s stomach clenched up hard; she had to let out a slow breath. ¡°I was, yes, but I never went through with anything much. I always told myself I would, after the war. Told myself I¡¯d get seen by a shrink. A proper one, back out east. The GLR was good about that.¡± Vicky shook her head, putting into words things she had previously been unable to express ¡ª and asking herself why on earth she was unburdening herself to Kagami, of all people. ¡°And I could have. I¡¯d served for twenty years formally, more than that in the Irregulars. I was an old hand. I could have retired on a full pension, gone to live on the coast in one of the big cities, far from the war. But I ¡­ I kept telling myself ¡®after the war¡¯. After the war. But the war went on and on. And I really believed in it. I still do, I still believe in the GLR, even here, even now we¡¯re all dead, or zombies, or whatever. So I never did. Always after the war.¡±

    Kagami waited, looking very uninterested and unimpressed. When Victoria finished, Kagami shrugged. ¡°Well, good for you? I suppose? Stars above, you¡¯re stupid.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s hands were shaking. She wasn¡¯t sure what response she¡¯d expected, but this was not it. ¡°Kaga,¡± she hissed. ¡°Kaga, I didn¡¯t earn this or¡ª¡±

    Kagami¡¯s right hand shot out and mirrored Vicky¡¯s earlier gesture ¡ª she grabbed Vicky by the chin. She leaned forward on the bunk, so her eyes were inches away from Vicky¡¯s.

    ¡°You think I earned these legs?¡± she hissed. ¡°You¡¯re a zombie! We¡¯re all zombies!¡±

    ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    ¡°I do not give a shit, Victoria! I don¡¯t care what fucked up dirt-eater bathtub-biohack nonsense you had going on down there in the dark ages! On Luna, you would be exceedingly unremarkable.¡±

    Vicky opened her mouth again, about to protest ¡ª what? Her own innocence? Innocence of what? That Kagami should be mad with her for some other reason?

    But then Kagami jerked her head forward and mashed her lips against Victoria¡¯s mouth.

    Vicky did not have much to compare with ¡ª a few fumblings in her early twenties ¡ª but even she could tell that this was an exceptionally bad kiss. It was mostly just uncomfortable. She could feel Kaga¡¯s teeth through her lips.

    Kagami pulled away, still scowling, then wiped her mouth on the back of her modified hand.

    ¡°Now, do as your Moon Princess says,¡± Kagami whispered. ¡°Go back to sleep.¡±

    Kagami let go of Vicky¡¯s face, flopped back onto her bed, and yanked the privacy curtains shut.

    Vicky stood up and stumbled back, the rear of her skull pounding in time with her frantic pulse. She stared at Kagami¡¯s shoulder through the narrow gap in the privacy curtains for a moment, then let out a slow breath and shook her head. She shot a guilty glance at the other occupants of the bunk room, but Atyle and Ilyusha were both still fast asleep.

    She would have to disobey her Moon Princess. She needed some fresh air.

    Vicky stepped away from the bunks and walked over to the door. Her hands were still shaking as she gripped the handle. She paused and made a fist, then flexed it open again. What was she panicking about? Kagami was the one who¡¯d initiated¡ª

    She heard voices on the other side of the door. No more than murmurs.

    Pheiri¡¯s internal structure was so thick and sturdy that she couldn¡¯t make out the actual words, even when she pressed her ear to the door and closed her eyes. But she could tell there was more than one speaker. One of the voices sounded like Elpida.

    Vicky turned the handle and cracked the door open, desperate for somebody to take her mind off everything.

    The voices ceased as soon as she broke the seal on the bunk room door. Dark red light flooded through the widening gap ¡ª night-cycle illumination, designed not to wake the uninterested sleepers. She slipped through the door and out into the crew compartment.

    Five faces turned to meet her, among the blankets and benches and bulkheads.

    Elpida stood by the entrance to Pheiri¡¯s spinal corridor, wearing her armoured coat, submachine gun at her side, boots on her feet; her arms were crossed, chin raised in wordless command, white hair fanned out down her back, purple eyes alert and awake. Amina was sitting curled up on one of the long benches, the seat straps unsecured, half-swaddled in blankets from the floor. Hafina was awake, a huge mass of muscle and naked colour-shifting skin, sitting up in her makeshift floor bed; she looked bleary-eyed, barely awake, not really listening. Melyn was snuggled in Haf¡¯s lap, tiny by comparison, her grey-white skin dyed dark in the red light.

    Serin was standing by the infirmary door, halfway between Elpida and the rest.

    Or was she sitting? Or reclining against the wall? Vicky couldn¡¯t tell. The posture wasn¡¯t quite human.

    Serin was a scarecrow of black robes, topped by a grinning metal half-mask and a pair of burning red eyes. Stringy blonde hair was raked back from a mushroom-pale forehead. A faint scent of rotten wood and fungal growth lingered in the crew compartment.

    Elpida nodded a greeting to Vicky, then mouthed: ¡®Shut the door.¡¯

    Vicky closed the bunk room door, so as not to wake the others. She made sure it was flush with the frame once more.

    ¡°It¡¯s shut,¡± she confirmed, speaking softly. ¡°The others are all sleeping.¡±

    Serin made a raspy noise behind her mask. ¡°Hnnnh. Another voter.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, what¡¯s this?¡± Vicky asked. ¡°Are we having a meeting?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°An informal discussion. You¡¯re very welcome to join us, Vicky, but you won¡¯t miss anything if you choose not to. Everyone else will be informed later. And ¡­ ¡± Elpida gave Serin a meaningful look. ¡°Serin will answer any questions.¡±

    ¡°Hnnh,¡± Serin grunted.

    Amina suddenly said: ¡°She will! I think she will.¡±

    Amina was sitting close enough to reach out and touch Serin, though her hands were hidden inside the blanket. Vicky gave her a smile. Amina smiled back, a little hesitant.

    ¡°Mm,¡± Serin grunted again.

    Vicky felt relieved. This was safer ground than talking about the past with Kagami. ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep. Need to do something, feel useful, all that kind of stuff. What are we discussing?¡±

    Serin¡¯s gaze caught her. She couldn¡¯t see the smile beneath the mask, but she saw the crinkles at the corners of those glowing red eyes.

    ¡°Meat,¡± said Serin.

    ¡°Food,¡± Elpida elaborated. ¡°Food, predation, nutrition. Our options for survival. There¡¯s other topics to discuss too ¡ª Necromancers, allies, maybe more. We could be here all night, well into the morning. This is difficult stuff, Vicky.¡± Elpida reached over and put a hand on Vicky¡¯s shoulder, squeezing gently. ¡°You sure you want to join in? If you just want to stretch your legs and head back to bed, you¡¯re perfectly entitled to do that instead.¡±

    Vicky felt strength and certainty flow from Elpida¡¯s touch. She filled her lungs and nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to be here for this, sure. Thank you, Commander.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°You don¡¯t have to call me that all the time, Vicky.¡±

    ¡°Well, sometimes I want to.¡± Vicky cleared her throat and nodded to Serin. ¡°Sorry for interrupting. Please carry on. So, what about meat?¡±

 umbra - 10.5

    Serin¡¯s voice purred behind the painted black teeth of her metal mask, seeping into the dim red twilight of the crew compartment.

    ¡°Meat,¡± she said, ¡°is the medium and measure of all strength and growth. Muscle and fat will suffice, for metabolic maintenance. Gristle, tendon, cartilage. Those are enough for mere survival, scraps for the bottom feeders. Organs are better. Fresh and hot and dripping with blood. The lowest of suitable fuels for accelerated healing, nanomachine accumulation, self modification. Bone marrow is superior. Higher nanomachine density. Tastes good, too. Even cold. Buttery. Rich. Congeals on the tongue. Sticks to the roof of the mouth. Goes down smooth. Even the weakest scavenger can lift a rock to crack open a femur. But brains ¡ª brains are best. One mouthful of pink and grey neurons is equal to all the bone marrow in a body. All the muscles in five or six corpses. Enough gristle to fill this room. A whole brain is a prize worth contesting. Or killing for.¡±

    Serin paused. Her crimson eyes burned against the bloodless skin of her face, a bionic glow to match the ruddy night-cycle gloom of Pheiri¡¯s internal illumination. Her shapeless black robes hung as if from a bundle of sticks, revealing nothing of the form beneath. She was framed by the scuffed metal of the infirmary door.

    Elpida chose not to interrupt; she guessed that Serin was pausing for effect, or to allow for displays of disgust. Nobody else in the crew compartment reacted.

    Amina was listening with rapt attention, staring up at Serin from the nearest seat, at the end of the bench. She looked very comfy, wrapped up in her blankets. Elpida had considered a quiet intervention, to relocate Amina into a seat further away from Serin, in case something went wrong; but Serin would recognise the obvious gesture of distrust, especially after Serin had spoken so kindly to Amina up on Pheiri¡¯s hull. Elpida allowed Amina¡¯s new infatuation to pass without comment, despite Howl¡¯s grumbled objections.

    Vicky was sat on the bench seat opposite Amina, as close to Elpida as possible, still dressed in the clothes in which she had slept, all tomb-grey in the low red light. She¡¯d fetched a drink of water to help her wake up, and was now holding the empty cannister in tight hands. She was frowning at the floor, looking queasy.

    Melyn appeared to be listening, but Elpida wasn¡¯t certain ¡ª the artificial human had not asked a single question since she had snuggled down in Hafina¡¯s lap, enveloped inside Hafina¡¯s six arms. And Hafina herself was half-asleep; she stifled several massive yawns as Serin spoke. Her big black eyes kept drifting shut. Her colour-shifting skin had faded to a dusken grey, blending with the red shadows among the blankets on the floor.

    Elpida was standing at the head of the compartment, as if blocking the way into Pheiri¡¯s spinal corridor. She still wore her armoured coat and her boots, submachine gun still strapped over one shoulder. She maintained the position on purpose ¡ª authority and protection, implied but not aloof.

    The air smelled faintly of Serin¡¯s unique odour, like rotten wood and fungal blooms.

    With no objections, Serin continued.

    ¡°Meat needs meat,¡± she said. ¡°Nothing else will satisfy the hunger. Bellies may be filled. Intestines packed with shit. Minds tricked. Bodies diverted. But growth will halt. Slime and rocks are like eating grass and bark. Low energy, high investment. The nanomachines are too used to being things other than meat. Too solid, too slow, too still. Chew on concrete and you will become as concrete, dull and cold and grey. Suck down slime and you will turn soft and pliant, bovine, dependent. Eat meat and you will live as a person. Steal the seat of your prey¡¯s soul, and you will thrive. Eat, or cease. Eat, or end. Eat, or be eaten.¡±

    Serin trailed off, watching her audience. Vicky swallowed loudly. Amina sniffed, breaking the silence.

    Elpida said: ¡°I think that¡¯s the longest single statement I¡¯ve heard you make, Serin.¡±

    Vicky muttered, ¡°Yeah, very poetic.¡±

    Serin¡¯s eyes crinkled above her mask, the tell-tale sign of a hidden grin. ¡°Have I offended your gentle principles, coh-mander?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elpida said, telling the truth. ¡°Far from it. That was intended as a compliment, not as sarcasm. Thank you for going into so much detail. Those kinds of details matter a lot for the sorts of decisions we have to make.¡±

    Vicky snorted, still staring at the deck. ¡°Yeah, lessons on cannibalism. Tell us something we don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Mmm,¡± Serin grunted at Vicky. ¡°Changed your mind fast. Didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Vicky finally looked up with a frown for Serin. ¡°What are you implying?¡±

    ¡°Mood swings,¡± Serin rasped. ¡°Irritation. Next comes difficulty with focus. Can¡¯t think about anything else. Then the gnawing. Chewing on anything you can fit into your mouth. Then ¡­ ahhhhh. Then friends become food.¡±

    ¡°Hunger,¡± Elpida said, cutting through Serin¡¯s poetic meandering. ¡°You¡¯re talking about hunger, yes. We all know.¡±

    Vicky snorted with sarcasm. ¡°What, like in an old cartoon? I¡¯m gonna look at my comrades here and see chicken drumsticks running around with little legs? Is that part of being a zombie? Am I gonna hallucinate Elpi into a loaf of bread?¡± Vicky cleared her throat. ¡°No offence, Commander. Just an example.¡±

    ¡°None taken,¡± Elpida said. ¡°In fact, that¡¯s a very good question.¡±

    Vicky looked taken aback. ¡°Eh? What?¡±

    Elpida addressed Serin again: ¡°Answer the question, please, Serin. As revenants, does hunger become unbearable? Can we lose control of ourselves?¡±

    Serin stared at Elpida for a long time, red eyes burning in her pale face. ¡°Were you ever hungry in life, coh-mander?¡±

    ¡°Of course I know what hunger is like. I know¡ª¡±

    ¡°How long did you ever go without food? Days? Weeks? Did you ever eat waste? Mouldy bread? Rotten meat? Have you ever caught a rat with your bare hands and squeezed the life out of it just to tear the scraps of raw meat off with your teeth? Have you ever eaten worms, or flies, or a favourite pet? Have you ever made soup from lichen and moss? How empty has your belly ever been, coh-mander? Have you ever lived without food long enough for your body to start digesting your own bone marrow? Have you ever starved?¡±

    Elpida dipped her head, giving way to Serin¡¯s point. ¡°I¡¯ve never been that hungry, no. I never experienced such things. My apologies.¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°I have. I remember what it was like, when I was a kid. Get hungry enough and you¡¯ll do anything.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Serin purred. ¡°Hunger. Breaks you down, fast. Disgust fades. Anything to fill the belly. Anything to feed the soft machine. Zombies? Nothing to do with it. Alive, we were all the same. Hunger is our inheritance. Human beings will kill and eat each other before they starve to death.¡±

    Vicky straightened up and gestured with the empty cannister. ¡°Serin¡¯s got a point, sure. Hunger is a terrible motivator. But I¡¯m not irritable because I¡¯m hungry, thank you. In fact, I¡¯m not really hungry at all, not yet. How about you, Commander? Amina? How do you both feel?¡±

    Elpida let the use of ¡®Commander¡¯ go without further comment, at least until she could get Vicky in private; she didn¡¯t want to correct Vicky again in front of Serin. She knew what Vicky was doing, though she didn¡¯t know for sure if the behaviour was intentional or subconscious. Serin was an outsider, an other, standing apart from the group, not subject to whatever ad hoc command structure and interpersonal dynamics they had built thus far. And now she was saying things that nobody wanted to hear. Vicky was asserting her own place in that same structure, asserting Elpida¡¯s authority, and asserting her refusal of this information.

    Which was not what Elpida needed. This was a bad sign.

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°Not yet, no. I could eat, I think, but I don¡¯t feel any particular urge. Amina?¡±

    Amina shook her head as well, then spoke in a quavering voice. ¡°T-the blue stuff ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°That¡¯s correct, Amina. Good memory. We all drank from the raw blue nanos before the fight, even if just a little bit. And we ate those brains, up in the penthouse, before we descended toward Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. And, Serin? Thank you again for the meat you gave us. We might not have survived without it.¡±

    Serin dipped her head. Her neck and shoulders moved across strange angles beneath her ragged black robes.

    ¡°So,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You¡¯re right, Vicky. We¡¯re still topped up on fuel.¡±

    ¡°For now,¡± Serin rasped, then chuckled behind her mask ¡ª a nasty, grating, metallic sound.

    Vicky raised a hand and gestured at Serin. ¡°Yeah, that? That sentiment, that¡¯s what¡¯s making me irritated. You¡¯re telling us there¡¯s no alternative. There¡¯s no way to survive but to eat people. I don¡¯t know if I can do that, even if it¡¯s our only choice. Pira had a good point. Participation is predicated on carrying on all this murder and cannibalism.¡±

    Serin shrugged, robes rising and falling. ¡°Eat and live. Or lie down and die. Choice is yours, zombie.¡±

    Vicky shook her head and looked at Elpida with a helpless shrug. ¡°What are we going to do? Seriously, are we gonna ¡­ what, go out hunting?¡±

    Elpida raised one hand ¡ª her bandaged right hand. ¡°I¡¯m not saying that. We haven¡¯t come to any kind of decision yet.¡±

    Amina squeaked: ¡°What if¡ª¡± She flinched when everyone looked at her.

    Elpida said, ¡°It¡¯s okay, Amina, your suggestions are welcome too.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vicky said, forcing a difficult smile. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Ami. I¡¯m not mad at you or anything.¡±

    Amina swallowed, eyes darting back and forth. ¡°What if ¡­ what if we only eat bad people?¡±

    Elpida smiled sadly. Vicky cleared her throat.

    Amina¡¯s eyes went wide; she was much smarter than she sometimes seemed. She must have understood exactly what that reaction meant. ¡°I-I-I mean¡ª I mean people who attack us first! M-monsters and¡ª and¡ª people who want to eat us! I¡¯m sorry. Sorry. Sorry!¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°It¡¯s okay, Amina. We understand what you mean.¡±

    ¡°Sorry!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright. I promise.¡±

    Vicky sighed a big sigh, raised one hand, and rapped a single knuckle against the metal wall of the crew compartment. ¡°Who¡¯s gonna attack us inside Pheiri?¡±

    Amina bit her bottom lip. ¡°Oh ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vicky said. ¡°We¡¯d have to go out there and act like bait. Nobody¡¯s gonna assault this tank. We may as well have Pheiri mow down a crowd with his guns and then slink out to stuff our faces with the fucking burning meat. Great. That¡¯s a great solution.¡±

    Vicky resumed staring at the floor. Amina shrank down inside her blankets. Serin watched the exchange with unreadable interest. Melyn and Hafina were totally detached, the only two who didn¡¯t need to worry about meat.

    Elpida was losing control.

    She did not like Serin¡¯s conclusion ¡ª it was materially identical to Pira¡¯s position on the nanomachine ecosystem, varying only in the resultant attitude. Survival meant participation in a system of predation. There was no other choice, no other way to live, no alternative food source. Before Vicky had emerged from the bunk room, Serin had said much the same thing. She had outlined three possible options for Elpida¡¯s group: one, as ¡®big game hunters¡¯ bringing down heavily modified zombies with vast reserves of nanomachines packed into their bodies; two, as opportunistic predators picking off the weak, the loners, the abandoned, and any others unable to defend themselves; and finally, three, as scavengers, picking over the cold and stringy remains of better kills. Pheiri¡¯s excellent protection, mobility, and armament opened all three possibilities. The third option would mean the least participation in the nanomachine ecosystem of killing and cannibalism ¡ª but according to Serin, it also meant slow and grinding starvation.

    Elpida and her comrades had been faced with this basic material fact on the previous occasion they had run into Serin, when she had gifted them a grisly harvest of beheaded brains. Events since then had postponed confrontation with the needs of their new bodies, but now it was only a matter of time. Sooner or later, hunger would gnaw at their undead bellies once again.

    Three cannisters of raw blue nanomachines remained, stored in Ilyusha¡¯s backpack. Elpida wanted to retain those for emergencies.

    Elpida did her best not to show her indecision. She did not have a solution to this problem. She had dealt with this same rejection in Pira, by accepting personal responsibility for Pira¡¯s nanomachine load ¡ª feeding her mouthfuls of fresh blood. But in the long run, other zombies would still have to die to feed Elpida, if Pira was to drink Elpida¡¯s blood in turn.

    All she¡¯d done was move the problem around.

    In the back of Elpida¡¯s mind, Howl was growling and grumbling, grinding her teeth, grumpy as all hell.

    Howl? Elpida prompted. You got something to say?

    Howl made a frustrated noise. Unnnh! Elps, shhhh! She might hear me.

    Elpida resisted a sigh. I think if she was going to see you running about inside my skull, she would have done so by now. Howl, you don¡¯t have to come out of hiding, but if you have something to say, I would like to hear it. I¡¯m ¡­ stuck. I don¡¯t see a way out of this, and maybe there isn¡¯t one. If not, then we need to convince the others, especially Vicky. Do you think Serin is telling the truth? Is she right, is there really no other¡ª

    Howl took control of Elpida¡¯s vocal cords.

    ¡°S¡¯not what you said up top,¡± she growled at Serin, through Elpida¡¯s mouth.

    Crimson eyes flickered back to Elpida. ¡°Coh-mander?¡±

    Howl smiled with Elpida¡¯s lips. ¡°You think I wasn¡¯t paying attention? Think you could slip that trick past me? Nah, I don¡¯t think so, you¡¯re not stupid. You were testing. On purpose. And I¡¯ve already passed.¡±

    Howl, Elpida said. What are you doing?

    Shhh! Elps, lemme work her! I think I¡¯m onto something.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    You¡¯re doing a very poor job of imitating my tone, if that¡¯s your intention. Let me take over. You can feed me the lines.

    Howl hissed: You won¡¯t get it! You didn¡¯t pick up on what she really said. You¡¯re so hung up on all this bodies and meat shit that you didn¡¯t even notice.

    Notice what?

    Howl didn¡¯t answer.

    Serin dipped her head to examine Elpida¡¯s face in more detail, red eyes burning in an expanse of mushroom-pale skin. The smell of damp wood and fungal growth intensified. ¡°Oh?¡±

    Vicky looked up too. ¡°Yeah, what are you talking about?¡±

    Amina murmured: ¡°Live and change.¡±

    Howl broke into a grin and pointed at Amina with Elpida¡¯s bandaged hand. ¡°Give that girl a biscuit! Same wavelength, tyke bomb! Ha!¡±

    Amina blinked at Elpida in surprise, eyes wide, dark lashes fluttering. Vicky raised an eyebrow too. Melyn and Hafina didn¡¯t seem to care. Serin tilted her head to one side, peering closer at Elpida.

    Howl, that was nothing like me, Elpida said. What is this? Have you changed your mind now, are you trying to provoke her on purpose?

    Howl used Elpida¡¯s lips to say: ¡°That¡¯s what you said, Serin. Up top, out on Pheiri¡¯s back. You said ¡®eat or die, or live and change.¡¯ Eat or die,¡± Howl echoed again. ¡°Or live and change. Bitches like you pick your words real carefully. So, yeah. We¡¯re smart enough to read that shit.¡±

    Serin straightened up again. She wasn¡¯t smiling behind her mask. ¡°You have a passenger, coh-mander.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a question.

    Elpida was still dressed for combat, in her armoured coat, carrying her weapon. None of the others were armed. Vicky was wearing the clothes she¡¯d been sleeping in. Amina was within reach of Serin¡¯s arms, let alone her weapons. Melyn and Hafina didn¡¯t seem to feel the tension in the air; Haf was sleeping, sitting upright with her eyes closed.

    Elpida moved her left hand closer to her weapon¡¯s grip, under the guise of adjusting her armoured coat; the ruse would fool the others, but Serin would understand what she meant.

    ¡°I do,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Do we have a problem?¡±

    Come on, you cunt! Howl screeched inside Elpida¡¯s mind. Fucking swing at me, you lying sack of shit! Do it! Take a shot!

    Howl. Stop. Right now. What are you attempting?

    Calling her bluff! This is the only way, Elps! She keeps fucking lying, about everything! We can¡¯t trust her!

    Howl¡ª

    ¡°No problem, coh-mander,¡± Serin purred. ¡°I know you are no Necromancer. You¡¯ve already been tested. Found wanting. Your passengers are your own business.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I appreciate the respect.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Serin grunted. ¡°Same.¡±

    Bullshit! Howl snapped. Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit! She¡¯s bullshitting us! Come on, shoot me, you fuck! I showed you my face, right there! I am a Necromancer! I¡¯m exactly the sort of shit you say you¡¯re looking for! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck youuuuuu¡ª

    Elpida sighed out loud. ¡°She also doesn¡¯t like you or trust you. She believes you¡¯re lying to us about certain things, mostly about Necromancers and the reasons you¡¯re hunting them. For the record, so do I ¡ª or at least I believe that you¡¯ve been misled, and are passing those mistakes onto us. Here, Vicky.¡± Elpida pulled the strap of her submachine gun off her shoulder and handed it off to Vicky. ¡°Can you put this on the seat for me, please? It¡¯s getting a little heavy.¡±

    ¡°Uh, sure, yeah.¡± Vicky accepted the gun, checked the safety, and placed it on the seat next to her.

    Elps, what the fuck are you doing? Howl snapped.

    Making sure you don¡¯t dynamite this meeting, Elpida replied.

    I wasn¡¯t gonna shoot her! Howl screeched. I want her to tell the truth!

    Serin watched the performance with the gun in silence. Elpida could not tell if Serin found herself in check, or if she was simply continuing her stubborn refusal to tell the whole truth.

    ¡°Eat or die,¡± Elpida echoed. ¡°Or live and change. Is my ¡®passenger¡¯ correct about the wordplay?¡±

    ¡°Rephrase the question,¡± Serin rasped.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°There¡¯s no other source of nutrition available to revenants, just each other, or the occasional raw blue from a tomb opening. So, is there a way of eliminating a revenant¡¯s metabolic burden?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Serin said. Too fast. Too certain.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Is there a way to reduce a revenant¡¯s metabolic burden?¡±

    Serin took a deep breath ¡ª or at least appeared to. Her shoulders and chest inflated as a rasping noise came from beneath her mask. When she exhaled, she closed her crimson eyes, and kept them closed.

    ¡°There are many ways,¡± she said. ¡°To do that. More than I know of.¡±

    Bingo, bitch, Howl said.

    Vicky frowned. ¡°What? Excuse me? There are other ways? Why didn¡¯t you mention this before? Why the fucking stupid games with us?¡±

    Amina didn¡¯t complain, but she did look at Serin in a new way, chewing on her lower lip.

    ¡°Zombies,¡± Melyn said ¡ª but did not elaborate. Hafina blinked open sleepy eyes, then closed them again.

    Serin said: ¡°Because you will chase perfection at the cost of survival. Because you must walk before you can run. Because you will lose yourselves in a mirage of purity. Pick your metaphor. Whatever works.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Explain. In plain language, please, Serin.¡±

    Serin¡¯s blood-red eyes opened again. She was not smiling behind her mask. She stared at Vicky. ¡°This is not something shared lightly. The knowledge will destroy you, but you¡¯ve already reached the question. Yes, there are ways. To reduce metabolic loads, metabolic needs, metabolic speed. But. The work to reach that point is measured in thousands or tens of thousands of corpses. A mountain of meat and muscle. More brains than I can count. Years or decades of predatory cannibalism. The road to self-sufficiency is more predation, not less. And even in success, small inputs are still necessary. Even the most well-tuned body does not stand alone. We are all meat, little zombie. Every one of us. Nobody is free.¡±

    ¡°Except us,¡± said Melyn. ¡°Us. Us.¡±

    ¡°Hooraaaaaay,¡± murmured Hafina, without opening her eyes.

    Serin glanced at the pair of artificial humans. Her eyes crinkled with a smile. ¡°Except those who stand outside. Envy them already, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°A little,¡± Elpida admitted. ¡°How do we do it, then? How do we reduce our reliance on meat?¡±

    Serin shrugged. ¡°As many ways as zombies. Many possible downsides. Compromises. Trade-offs. Vulnerabilities. Grow fusion reactors from meat and gristle. Turn your cells into self-replicators. Feed on ambient radiation. Certain limited wavelengths of photosynthesis. Many more, most beyond my knowledge. Zombies come from their own times. Carrying ideas.¡± She shook her head. ¡°And too many dead ends.¡±

    ¡°Dead ends?¡± Vicky asked.

    ¡°Mmm,¡± Serin grunted. ¡°Like our mutual friend out in the road.¡± She nodded sideways, at the wall.

    Vicky frowned. ¡°What? Who?¡±

    ¡°I think she means Iriko,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Serin, what do you mean by ¡®dead ends¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Iriko, yes,¡± Serin replied. ¡°She made a metabolic choice. A long time ago. Probably seemed like a good idea at the time. Growth and flexibility. Made her a good hunter. Surface area increased to harvest the mould and concrete. But she locked herself into a niche. And now she is always hungry, always needing to eat. Can¡¯t get out. Can¡¯t think. Any choice to grow and develop can turn into a dead end. Tread with care.¡±

    Amina wet her lips. A question was poised on the tip of her tongue. Elpida caught Amina¡¯s eyes and nodded. ¡°Amina, go ahead, please. You¡¯re allowed to ask questions, too.¡±

    Amina nodded, swallowed, and said: ¡°Have you ¡­ Serin, have you done that, too? Do you eat ¡­ differently?¡±

    Serin looked down. Amina didn¡¯t flinch. Elpida decided that was a good sign.

    Serin said: ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± Amina asked. ¡°I-if that¡¯s okay to ask ¡­ ¡±

    Serin paused for a long moment, then said: ¡°It is upsetting to hear, little one. Are you sure?¡±

    Amina swallowed again, wide-eyed, her breath coming in little gasps. She nodded.

    Serin said, ¡°I rot. Rot becomes a bed for fresh meat. In time, rot becomes meat. I recycle my own flesh. It is not a perfect system, but I require less meat, less input, with less regularity. It means I can stay in one place, very quietly, for a very long time. Like a crocodile. Do you know about crocodiles?¡±

    Amina stared at Serin in awe. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she breathed.

    Vicky muttered: ¡°Explains the smell.¡± Then she spoke louder. ¡°But you still need meat?¡±

    Serin nodded.

    Vicky shrugged and shook her head. ¡°And where do you get that?¡±

    ¡°I hunt. I eat.¡±

    Vicky hissed between her teeth. ¡°And how do you justify that? How do you justify eating other people, even zombies, even when they come back to life or whatever? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be against those fash we fought back there, the Death¡¯s Heads? How do you justify acting like them?¡±

    ¡°I do not.¡± Serin grinned behind her mask. ¡°Can¡¯t hunt the death cult if you don¡¯t eat. Can¡¯t do anything if you don¡¯t eat. Can¡¯t fight without strength.¡±

    Elpida nodded along. She saw the logic, even if she didn¡¯t like where it was going. ¡°Nothing is achievable if we don¡¯t participate. This is the same conversation I had with Pira, just on a larger scale.¡±

    Vicky looked up at her, face twisted by a pained frown. ¡°Elpi, there¡¯s gotta be another way.¡±

    If what Serin said was true, then no one zombie could achieve internal self-sufficiency, and no group could be a closed system.

    Even Telokopolis itself was not a true closed system. The city¡¯s population had relied on the bounty of the buried fields, which produced more than enough to feed every mouth in Spire and Skirts combined. But the soil of the fields had to be replenished and regenerated by the city¡¯s waste products, by water pumped upward from the deep aquifers miles beneath the city, and by the unseen alchemical processes of the city¡¯s own nanomachine circulatory system. Fresh intakes of nanomachines had to be fed into the body of the city, manufactured by sucking dust and grit and particulate from the air, filtering it of any taint from the green before rendering it down into atomic components. Elpida had not understood the process ¡ª that was the purview of the bone-speakers and the many functions of their sprawling guild. Telokopolan nanomachine technology was nothing like the raw blue nanos that made up her revenant body now; it was closer to the chunky grey vomit that Thirteen had supplied for Pheiri. Elpida was not sure if Thirteen¡¯s fluids were descended from the technology she had known, but it made a kind of sense.

    Elpida understood enough to know that Telokopolis had guzzled oceans of water and devoured mountains of dirt, turning it to metal and plastic, to food and clothes, to machinery and computers and everything else the population needed.

    And to flesh and bone ¡ª the body of the city itself.

    As long as Elpida was up on her feet, Telokopolis also stood. And she would do anything to protect her comrades, her new cadre, the human core protected by Telokopolis the body and Telokopolis the set of principles. And this little slice of Telokopolis also had to feed.

    ¡°Vicky,¡± Elpida said gently, ¡°if there¡¯s no other way, then we need to find a source of meat. If we can modify ourselves, given time, then we can try to minimise those needs. But for now¡ª¡±

    ¡°What about Iriko?¡± Vicky said. ¡°Can she grow stuff for us to eat?¡±

    Serin chuckled behind her mask. ¡°You¡¯ll make her hunt for all your mouths, as well as her own? She will be less discerning in her choice of prey.¡±

    ¡°Dammit, fair enough.¡± Vicky looked away, frowning hard. ¡°What about ¡­ cultured meat?¡±

    ¡°Vicky,¡± Elpida said, gently.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m serious,¡± Vicky replied. ¡°It was only just coming back in, when I was alive. But they used to do it a lot, back in the Old Empire ¡ª the country that existed before I was born. They grew meat in vats. Chicken, pork, beef, all of it. They were doing it up in the Chicago arcology right until the end, I think. Okay, yeah, we don¡¯t exactly have access to a clean-room bio-factory or anything.¡± She gestured with the empty cannister again, indicating Pheiri. ¡°But surely we can figure out a way to grow meat. It¡¯s not like we have to worry about infections or getting sick.¡±

    Serin said, ¡°Meat means nanomachines. Grow it clean, no nanos.¡±

    ¡°So?¡± Vicky laughed a little, warming to her subject. ¡°You say we can¡¯t eat the mould outdoors ¡ª the black gunk everywhere, right? Why? Because it¡¯s low-energy or whatever. It¡¯s like being a cow and eating grass. You¡¯ve got to eat lots and lots of it to extract the energy, so you end up slow-moving and dull in the head. Whatever. Why can¡¯t we take that stuff and concentrate it?¡±

    Serin said nothing, watching Vicky with those burning red eyes. Vicky paused, as if expecting an answer.

    Elpida said: ¡°Go on, Vicky. I¡¯m listening.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s basically what vat-grown meat is, right? Or real meat, too, I guess.¡± Vicky gestured over her shoulder, toward the bunk room door. ¡°Kaga would probably know more about this than I do. I bet they didn¡¯t raise cattle on the moon. Bet all her meals were synth-meat. Anyway, you get the cells, you feed them sugars, or ¡­ or whatever, I don¡¯t actually know how it works. And they concentrate the energy you give them, into protein, into meat. Why can¡¯t we do the same thing with the black mould?¡±

    ¡°Why indeed,¡± Serin purred.

    Vicky sighed, staring at Serin. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    Serin shrugged. ¡°Somebody has probably tried it before. The world remains the same.¡±

    Vicky snorted, rolling her eyes. ¡°So what? We shouldn¡¯t try to change anything? We shouldn¡¯t try to make the world a better place, even just for us, because things might have been tried before, and failed? I kinda expected better theory from a person who defines herself by shooting fascists. Fuck¡¯s sake.¡±

    ¡°Change is stamped out,¡± Serin said. ¡°By Necromancers.¡±

    ¡°Not the one we met,¡± Vicky said. ¡°From the sounds of it, she wanted to blow up her boss. Sort of.¡±

    Serin went very still.

    Before Serin had a chance to speak, Vicky set down the empty cannister and stood up. ¡°Fuck this,¡± she said. ¡°Hey, Melyn? Excuse me, sorry, I know you¡¯re sleepy.¡± Melyn blinked at her, not sleepy at all, while Haf¡¯s eyes remained closed above Melyn¡¯s head. Vicky pointed at the machine set into one wall, the dispenser that Melyn had used to produce food sticks. ¡°How does your nutrient paste thing work? How do I get it to give me a stick?¡±

    ¡°Vicky,¡± Elpida said gently. ¡°It¡¯s not going to work, not for us.¡±

    Vicky gestured impatiently. ¡°Commander, just¡ª just let me work. Melyn? What buttons do I press?¡±

    Elpida opened her mouth again, but Howl stilled her lips. Let her cook. I wanna see where this goes.

    Melyn answered in a rattling staccato: ¡°Left top. Twice. Twice. Then middle row for size. Small medium large. Press the bottom row to adjust the taste. The taste. I like it all the way over to the left. On the left. The left. Tastes like chocolate.¡±

    Vicky walked over to the food stick dispenser and jabbed at the controls. The machine disgorged a greasy-looking, dark brown rectangle. Vicky picked it up and sniffed the result. Serin looked on with amusement crinkled in the corners of her eyes.

    ¡°Thanks, Melyn,¡± Vicky said. She broke off a corner of the food stick, popped it into her mouth, and chewed slowly. ¡°Mm. Not bad. Does taste a bit like chocolate, I suppose. Melyn, I need to see this thing¡¯s guts, if that¡¯s possible. I need to know how it works.¡±

    Melyn looked up at the ceiling, and said: ¡°Thank you, Pheiri!¡±

    Vicky nodded, chewing another piece of greasy protein block. ¡°Oh, yeah, yeah. Thanks, Pheiri.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Vicky, our bodies can¡¯t draw any nourishment from that. I know you don¡¯t want to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hey, hey, Commander. Elpi. I know! I¡¯m not stupid.¡± Vicky waved the food stick. ¡°Pheiri makes these from scratch. If I can understand whatever system he¡¯s using to pull resources together, maybe I can improve it. Maybe he can manufacture nanomachines. Who knows? We won¡¯t know unless we try. I¡¯m not grasping at straws here. I¡¯m not drinking seawater while dying of thirst. I¡¯m just trying to work with what we¡¯ve got.¡±

    Heeeeeeeeey, I like this girl, Howl snorted. Elps, you¡¯re wound too tight. She¡¯s on fire. And standing up to your bullshit.

    Elpida paused, then nodded to Vicky, accepting her error; she¡¯d been so focused on stopping Victoria from mounting an effective anti-participation argument that she hadn¡¯t seen what her own comrade was trying to do. She¡¯d been on the verge of a very bad leadership mistake. She hadn¡¯t been listening.

    Maybe hunger was more of a threat than she expected.

    ¡°Thank you, Vicky,¡± said Elpida. ¡°That¡¯s a brilliant idea. I would not have thought of that. And I¡¯m sorry for interrupting you. Well done.¡±

    Vicky laughed awkwardly. ¡°Yeah, whatever. I¡¯m just an old grease head in the end. Get me in the engines and I¡¯ll see if I can tighten them up, that¡¯s all.¡±

    Melyn spoke up: ¡°Might have trouble getting down there. Trouble getting down there. Too tight for zombies. For zombies.¡±

    Vicky popped another crumb of food stick in her mouth. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can figure something out. I can take some panels off or something. I¡¯ll be gentle with Pheiri, I promise.¡±

    Serin said to Vicky: ¡°Tell me about the Necromancer.¡±

    ¡°Uh-uh,¡± Vicky said, chewing slowly. ¡°You tell us first. You¡¯ve been insufferable so far. Give up some goods.¡±

    Elpida almost laughed. Howl cackled inside Elpida¡¯s head. Victoria¡¯s real sharp on the uptake sometimes, huh? Gotta get this bitch laid, she¡¯ll be running your crew like I did.

    You never ran the cadre, Howl.

    Did too.

    Elpida spoke out loud: ¡°Yes, Serin, I¡¯m with Vicky on this. We¡¯ll keep our end of the deal, of course. We will tell you about everything the Necromancer did and said, until she left Arcadia¡¯s Rampart and left us behind. But I want to hear the truth from you first. About why you hunt Necromancers. About where you got that gravitic weapon.¡±

    ¡°Hnnnnnh,¡± Serin grunted. A wordless refusal.

    Elpida backed up the conversation and tried a different angle of attack, before the others could foul her moves. ¡°Alright then, let¡¯s start with something less sensitive, but no less essential. What about you, Serin? Can we know about you? If you¡¯re going to join us ¡ª and again, I¡¯m not saying you have to ¡ª it would be nice to know a bit more about you. Where are you from? Or when are you from? I told you about Telokopolis, but I don¡¯t know anything about you.¡±

    ¡°Beyond your comprehension,¡± Serin said, but she said it with an amused smile in her eyes.

    ¡°Try us,¡± Vicky said. ¡°Kaga¡¯s from the moon.¡± She gestured at Melyn and Hafina. ¡°These two are androids. Gynoids. Whatever. You can¡¯t be much weirder than that.¡±

    ¡°Yes, try us,¡± Elpida echoed. ¡°Even if we don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Amina said, in a tiny voice, ¡°I ¡­ I want to know, too ¡­ Serin.¡±

    Serin said: ¡°Furthest.¡±

    Elpida and Vicky shared a look. Vicky shrugged. Elpida shook her head. ¡°Serin?¡±

    Serin said: ¡°Furthest. The dark giant. The secret wife. No? All these are proper names.¡± Serin chuckled, a low metallic rasping behind her mask. ¡°As I said. Beyond your comprehension. In life I hailed from somewhere very strange.¡±

    Howl muttered in the back of Elpida¡¯s head: Cryptic bitch.

    Amina said, ¡°I¡ª I want to know! Please!¡±

    Serin looked down at Amina, then ducked slightly, so she wasn¡¯t towering quite so much over the smaller girl. ¡°It was a dark place, and very far away. I will tell you more, between just you and I. But I fear you will not understand.¡±

    Amina frowned with determination. ¡°I¡¯ll try!¡±

    ¡°Mm. You will.¡±

    Elpida shared another look with Vicky ¡ª a silent prompt to follow Elpida¡¯s lead. Vicky raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement.

    Elpida said: ¡°Serin, we need to start somewhere with sharing more intel. Can¡¯t you at least tell us about the gravitic weapon you¡¯re carrying? If we¡¯re being hounded by Necromancers, then we need to understand how to stop them, disrupt them, or kill them. Why does that weapon work on them?¡±

    Howl snorted. Yeah, that¡¯s the right question, Elps. Push that angle.

    Serin straightened back up to her full height. ¡°The gun works because I trust the one who told me it works.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°And who told you?¡±

    ¡°The one who gave it to me.¡±

    Vicky laughed, shaking her head. ¡°Do we have to play this game all night? Just answer, or say you¡¯re not going to. Damn, I may as well go back to bed at this rate.¡±

    Serin slowly extended a spindly arm from beneath her black robes, sliding the bony limb between rustling layers of ragged fabric. The mushroom-pale flesh was dyed red in Pheiri¡¯s night-cycle illumination.

    A row of crossed-out skulls glinted black and glossy, terminated by the now-familiar symbol ¡ª the crescent-and-line.

    ¡°The weapon was a gift,¡± Serin said. ¡°From the same one who taught me this.¡±

 umbra - 10.6

    Serin stood in statue-still silence, with one skinny stick-and-skin arm protruding from inside her ragged black robes. She showed off her gruesome tattoos like battle trophies. Crossed-out skulls dripped with imaginary blood in the shadowy red of Pheiri¡¯s strange night-time firelight.

    Amina thought the tattoos were beautiful; Amina thought Serin was beautiful.

    In life, before death and descent into this hell, Amina would never have imagined anybody wanting to paint skulls on their own body. Her parents would have been horrified. Her sisters would have shrieked, and probably dragged her away to scrub the offending nonsense off her skin. She would have been treated as a mad person ¡ª and besides, she would never have done such a thing anyway. The notion would never have occurred to Amina.

    But Serin wore her inked skin with pride; the skulls meant she had killed very bad people, torturers and monsters, the servants of evil, the Death¡¯s Heads who had dared to hurt the angel and put a muzzle around Amina¡¯s face. The skulls were beautiful because of what they meant, and because Serin was so very proud of that meaning.

    ¡°Alright, Serin,¡± said the angel ¡ª the Commander, Elpida, Amina¡¯s lamp in the dark. She sounded a little unimpressed. ¡°You received the gravitic weapon and the crescent-and-line symbol from the same source. Are you going to tell us who that was?¡±

    Vicky snorted and rolled her eyes. Her dark skin was even darker in the dim red light. ¡°Of course she¡¯s gonna tell us. She just likes drawing things out with dramatic flair. What were you in life, Serin? A theatre kid?¡±

    Serin¡¯s eyes crinkled above her metal mask. Amina liked that very much; she could tell exactly when Serin was smiling, and even take a good guess at the emotional subtleties of the smile. Serin¡¯s emotions were very easy to read, unlike so many other people, despite the mask over her lower face.

    Perhaps it was her eyes. Serin had such beautiful eyes, glowing like hot coals against pale wood.

    Serin said: ¡°In life? I was a prostitute.¡±

    Amina tried not to react. She could tell that Serin wasn¡¯t joking ¡ª but surely that wasn¡¯t the truth?

    Vicky hesitated and frowned, then cleared her throat and averted her eyes. She took another bite from the greasy block of pressed food. She looked angry and ashamed at the same time.

    The angel sighed. ¡°Serin, are you going to tell us, or not?¡±

    Serin dipped her head; Amina could tell she was being cheeky, teasing her captive audience, enjoying this performance. Amina didn¡¯t mind, but she wished the others were not so quick to anger.

    ¡°Yes, coh-mander,¡± Serin purred. ¡°The one who gave me the gun. Taught me the cause. Was my saviour. A mentor. A friend. How it happened? Mm, a long time ago now. I had been here a while. Maybe a dozen years. Maybe two dozen. Died more times than I had counted. I was becoming mindless. A bottom feeder. An animal. She pulled me from my coffin. Saw there was still light behind my eyes. Took a chance. Because she believed.¡± Another one of Serin¡¯s thin pale arms snaked out from inside her robes. She tapped the crescent-and-line symbol on her own arm with a long and spidery fingertip. ¡°In this.¡±

    Elpida asked: ¡°What was her name?¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Serin purred. ¡°But. Veerle.¡±

    Vicky rallied after her earlier embarrassment. ¡°Where is she now? You¡¯re a lone wolf these days, right? Unless you¡¯ve been hiding a squad out there this whole time.¡±

    ¡°Beyond the graveworm line,¡± Serin rasped. ¡°Evolved. Ascended. Doing the same work as before. She and I parted, only because I could not follow.¡±

    Amina listened, doing her best to understand.

    The others had spoken of matters lofty and horrifying ¡ª of meat and murder, of tiny machines inside their bodies, of the great metal house in which they all now lived, of ¡®Necromancers¡¯ and devils and monsters. Now they were doing it again. Amina had so many questions, but she swallowed them all, nursing her knife clutched down in her lap, cradling her restless demon deep inside her chest.

    She could do little else.

    Amina had long since given up on full comprehension, let alone on maintaining a strict system of cosmological classification. Angels, demons, lost souls in hell; the last few days had made a mockery of all her efforts to categorise and clarify her experiences. She was still certain that Elpida was an angel ¡ª cast out from heaven by a God who hated all life, raising a banner of true divinity in defiance of her faithless creator. Amina had experienced Elpida¡¯s blessing first-hand, via the ambrosian bounty of Elpida¡¯s own flesh and blood. The circumstances had been horrible, trapped by monsters, chained up in a cell, prepared for torture; but the angel had bidden Amina to smear her crimson life on Amina¡¯s own hands, and then ordered her to lick those same hands clean in a desperate act of love and hunger.

    Amina could not explain her bliss in any other way. She had engaged in a kind of communion with the angel, accepted in body and soul. She was cleansed inside and out. She was renewed, even here, down in the pits of hell. She had been blessed.

    But if Elpida was an angel, then what was Arcadia¡¯s Rampart? Divine machinery beyond Amina¡¯s wildest dreams? An angel who had cast off God¡¯s chains upon the body as well as the soul? And Pheiri ¡ª the moving house of imperishable metal ¡ª was apparently Elpida¡¯s brother. Did that mean he was an angel, too?

    Amina could not even begin to think about the giant golden sky-diamond. Was that God¡¯s wrath, unanchored from God¡¯s love or God¡¯s will? Was it another kind of angel, come to empty hell of all the lost and the damned, to consign them to true oblivion?

    The golden sky-diamond¡¯s blinding light had burned Amina¡¯s right hand with invisible fire. The skin was blistered and peeling, red and cracked, weeping clear fluid beneath the tight bandages. Melyn had been so sweet, wrapping Amina¡¯s burn in dressings and salve. But it still stung and ached whenever Amina flexed her fingers or moved her wrist.

    The things she did not comprehend could still kill her.

    The others ¡ª mostly Ilyusha ¡ª had explained to Amina that this was not really hell. It was just very far in the future.

    But it was hell, by definition. How could it be otherwise? God was clearly absent. Perhaps he had abandoned his creation. Or maybe God was dead.

    All this was too much for Amina. Her categories were fraying and breaking.

    She wanted to pray. But to what?

    Ilyusha ¡ª or rather, Ilyusha¡¯s more talkative and articulate demon, a secret from all the others except Elpida ¡ª had tried to explain many things to Amina, as they had lain in bed together, whispering to each other beneath the thin blue covers. She had taught Amina all sorts of new terminology this time: airship, nanomachine control locus, atomic fusion, nuclear explosion, area denial, thinking machine, artificial intelligence, ecosystem, armoured fighting vehicle ¡ª and on and on and on, until Amina¡¯s head had felt fit to burst.

    Amina was not stupid; she understood the words in isolation, and she could even see how they might fit together. For example, Pheiri was a thinking machine. He was like a person, but in the shape of a ¡®tank¡¯. A tank was a kind of armoured fighting vehicle, which was like a big wheeled cart covered in metal, with cannons mounted on the outside for defence. That wasn¡¯t so hard to comprehend. If Amina applied her intellect she could mostly piece together what Ilyusha was trying to tell her.

    But she had woken up hours later and been unable to return to sleep. She had stared at the wall on the other side of the bunk room, mind racing with fear, feeling smaller than she ever had in life.

    She did not wake Illy, because Illy would just teach her more words, and those did not help. The words would allow her to name things, but they would not help her to understand.

    Pheiri was a tank, a thinking machine, an armoured fighting vehicle. These were real words that meant real things.

    They meant nothing to Amina.

    Pheiri was an angel, like Elpida and Thirteen. That was easier. That made sense. She was protected and safe, in the belly of an angel.

    In hell.

    Amina was very happy to be included in the conversation, in the soft dim red shadows of the crew compartment, as Elpida questioned Serin, but she kept most of her thoughts to herself. Elpida had been both clear and kind ¡ª if Amina did not understand something, then it was okay to ask questions, even stupid questions. Amina had never been treated this way before. In life, in Qarya, her parents had not been unkind: her father had doted on all his daughters; Amina had never been struck or beaten; she had been taught to read, and how to do arithmetic. Two of her elder sisters had even begun to help their father with the sales from his olive groves. But she and her sisters had always been expected to listen first, to learn through instruction and obedience. Questions were for later, after lessons had been absorbed from one¡¯s elders.

    Apparently Elpida did not think like that.

    But Amina knew that if she asked every question she had, they would all get very tired of her. There were simply so many things she did not understand, not in the way the others seemed to. Even Melyn and Hafina ¡ª who was still naked, which Amina kept trying not to stare at, despite Haf¡¯s many-coloured, shifting skin ¡ª seemed to comprehend matters on a level Amina could not approach.

    Ilyusha had attempted to explain nanomachines, but the idea made Amina deeply uncomfortable. She could not accept the notion that her body was made of billions upon billions of tiny clockwork mechanisms. That made her think of bugs crawling beneath her skin, bursting out from under her fingernails and exploding from her mouth. If she cut herself, would her blood swarm like maggots? If she sneezed, would spiders drip from her nose?

    But she had bled ordinary blood. So had the others. Ilyusha had explained that the machines were too tiny to see. Amina didn¡¯t like that any better. It made her want to scratch at her skin.

    She had decided to focus on what she could understand. The debate about meat made perfect sense to her. The only source of food was other people, but nobody really wanted to kill other people, unless they attacked first, and being inside Pheiri meant nobody would want to attack them. Amina understood this instinctively. Her demon murmured treacherous suggestions about making bait of herself for the sake of the others, about sinking a knife into soft and yielding flesh.

    But the demon¡¯s heart wasn¡¯t really in it. Murdering random people was of zero interest. Amina¡¯s demon had been quiet and sated for days now, ever since the angel¡¯s guts and the angel¡¯s blood had blessed Amina¡¯s pitiful soul.

    Right now, she was more interested in Serin.

    Serin was telling a story, and Amina could tell that Serin was enjoying the telling. Her voice purred from behind her metal mask, filling the gloom inside the crew compartment. Amina paid close attention, snuggling down inside her blankets, gazing up at Serin¡¯s face.

    ¡°Veerle was one of six,¡± Serin was saying. ¡°A group. Coherent and strong. Heavily modified. On the cusp of leaving the graveworm safe zone forever. They shared portions of their thoughts with each other. Near-field nanomachine transmission technology. ¡®Hacked¡¯, she told me. From the corpse of a Necromancer they had slain. A dozen or so years earlier. By judicious application of gravity.¡±

    Vicky snorted softly through her nose, shaking her head. ¡°Does that mean they pushed one off the top of a building? ¡®Cos Kaga hit our Necro with gravity. All it did was pin the thing in place, not kill it.¡±

    Serin said, ¡°Veerle did not lie.¡±

    Vicky snorted again. ¡°Says you.¡±

    Elpida gestured for Vicky to calm down. ¡°Please, Serin, continue.¡±

    ¡°Mmm,¡± Serin purred. ¡°They shared thoughts. Those six. Lost portions of themselves to each other, gained something greater in the process. All of them were called Veerle. By then. Funny. Thought it was funny.¡±

    Vicky muttered, ¡°Yeah, real laugh riot.¡±

    Serin ignored her. ¡°They raided a tomb. My tomb. One of their last gestures of goodwill. Before they committed to life beyond the graveworm line. Tried to save the girls inside. Wanted to show us there were other ways. Leave some hope behind. Before they left.¡± Serin shook her head. ¡°All the others fought. Did not see it. Did not understand. They thought Veerle was there to kill and eat them, like all the rest. I fought too. Naked. With claws. Nothing else. But Veerle got lucky. Shot me through the legs. I was last out of the coffins. So they could save me. They cauterised my stumps. Took me with them. Fed me. Raised me again. Treated me like one of them. I was proof.¡±

    ¡°Proof?¡± Elpida echoed.

    ¡°Proof that any bottom feeder is still human,¡± Serin purred. ¡°Proof that no matter how far fallen, we can all be lifted back to our feet.¡± She tapped the crescent-and-line symbol again. ¡°By this.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Serin fell silent, waiting for a response.

    Amina swallowed. The sound was so loud in the crew compartment.

    Vicky popped another chunk of food-stick into her mouth, and spoke while she chewed. ¡°So, a bunch of good Samaritans screwed up a ¡®humanitarian intervention¡¯ into a tomb opening. You¡¯re the only survivor. They take you and look after you, and tell you they did it all because of, what? A symbol?¡±

    Serin turned crinkled eyes upon Vicky. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Vicky laughed once. She did not sound amused. But Amina could tell that Vicky had softened. She wasn¡¯t angry anymore.

    Vicky said: ¡°People don¡¯t do things because of symbols. They do things because of what the symbols represent. Yours represents shooting fascists and pulling girls out of tombs to look after them, even when you¡¯ve screwed up and shot them in the legs. Sounds alright to me. I don¡¯t see why you have to be so damn secretive about it.¡±

    Serin smiled wider. She was enjoying this.

    Amina swallowed very hard, opened her mouth, and said: ¡°Serin? W-what does it mean? Please? Just tell us what it means.¡±

    Serin looked down at Amina. She suddenly looked very sad.

    Amina could tell that Serin liked her.

    Serin¡¯s affection was not like Ilyusha¡¯s affection, carnal and physical, nor was it akin to the affection that Amina felt for Elpida ¡ª a dangerous blinding white-hot fire low in her belly. Serin¡¯s affection was almost like having a big sister. Serin was some kind of terrible demon, wrought from aeons of severance from God, but she was nice to Amina.

    Serin was also very beautiful. Amina was having trouble with that.

    The angel ¡ª Elpida ¡ª was beautiful too, of course. But Elpida was beautiful in ways that Amina could never approach. Amina could not imagine herself ever looking anything like Elpida. The idea made her shake with shame and disgust.

    But Serin was beautiful in a different way, a new way. She was tall and strong and confident ¡ª and afraid of nothing. She had slept out on Pheiri¡¯s hide, in the dark, in the open! Amina could barely raise her head out there. Serin¡¯s red eyes glittered in the dark, like flesh made of fire. Her skin was pale ¡ª not really skin at all, but like a plant suited to grow in dark places, down in the undergrowth, hidden by shade and feeding on secret blood. She smelled of mushrooms and rotten wood.

    Amina wanted to be like that. She wanted to thrive in the dark.

    Amina¡¯s demon was fascinated by Serin too. Amina¡¯s demon preened and curled in front of Serin, aching to be acknowledged.

    ¡°Please?¡± Amina repeated.

    Serin spoke, voice soft with melancholy: ¡°It is a dream. A paradox and an aspiration. A utopia. Always out of reach. A belief that there is a better way than this. It is solidarity. Do you know what solidarity means, little one?¡±

    Amina shook her head. She felt a pang of disappointment. More technical terms, more words that meant so much to everyone else, but so little to her. She braced herself for a lecture. Her demon closed its eyes and lapsed into slumber.

    But Serin said: ¡°It means you and I are on the same side.¡±

    Amina¡¯s eyes went wide. Her demon reared up inside her chest, maw open, eyes burning.

    ¡°We ¡­ we are?¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Mmhmm.¡± Serin nodded. ¡°You and I. The coh-mander here. The tank. Iriko. The lowest bottom-feeder. The most developed cyborg. All of us, little one. Even the death cult. Though they don¡¯t know it. Or they refuse it. All of us. We are all on the same side. All against Necromancers. Against the great hand behind them. Against the hunger. All of us.¡±

    Serin trailed off. Amina¡¯s heart was racing. She was almost panting. Sweat was soaking into the edge of the dressings on her right hand, stinging her burn wound.

    Vicky snorted. ¡°Now who¡¯s changing their tune? Didn¡¯t you call Elpi naive, earlier?¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Vicky, it¡¯s alright.¡±

    Serin looked around at Vicky. She smiled again, sadness forgotten. ¡°Ideology does not survive practical application intact. The death cult have made their choice. I make mine. I change the world. One bullet at a time.¡±

    Elpida held up a hand. ¡°Serin, I agree with the principle of solidarity, but I am asking for practical intel. Does the symbol represent a coherent group, of which Veerle was one component? Is it a network? A loose confederation of allies? I need to know if we have potential allies out there. Please.¡±

    Serin shook her head. ¡°No, coh-mander.¡±

    ¡°So, it¡¯s more like the Death¡¯s Heads? A statement of allegiance to an ideal?¡±

    Serin lost her smile. She growled behind her mask. ¡°There is no comparison.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to imply¡ª¡±

    ¡°You were hoping for a secret army,¡± Serin said. ¡°Weren¡¯t you. Coh-mander? You were hoping for your own Telokopolan truth, to be already self-evident. Already thriving. But you have no soldiers. Not even me.¡±

    Elpida nodded as if giving ground. ¡°Then where does the symbol come from? Why still wear it? Where did your mentors get it from?¡±

    Serin rolled her shoulders ¡ª a strange motion which looked like it should have produced a clattering sound, but instead made only silence. ¡°There are times when enough zombies can stop fighting. Stop eating each other. Face a worm. Try to wreck all this. That is where the symbol came from. Longer ago than any zombie knows.¡± Serin shook her head. ¡°But it never lasts. Hunger erodes solidarity. Or Necromancers and their fools stamp it out and murder the best. It is a cycle. Like resurrection. Wear the symbol if you want, coh-mander. Some will flock to it, in knowledge, in hope, in solidarity. Others will try to destroy it. Few will understand.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Thank you, Serin. I think I do understand.¡±

    Serin laughed ¡ª low and scratchy, metal scraping on the inside of her mask. ¡°Do you?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Solidarity. All of us, all on the same side. Even those who don¡¯t know it yet. That¡¯s Telokopolis, that¡¯s what the city was for.¡±

    Serin laughed a second time. Unimpressed and scornful. Amina wasn¡¯t sure if she liked that. She wished that Serin and Elpida would be friends.

    Vicky said: ¡°Why all the secrecy? You¡¯ve barely told us anything. There¡¯s a symbol we can use to indicate, what? That we¡¯re not assholes? Why¡¯s that worth keeping secret?¡±

    ¡°Same as meat,¡± Serin rasped.

    Vicky squinted. ¡°Eh?¡±

    Amina wanted to be useful ¡ª and for the first time in a while, she felt like she understood something that the others did not.

    She spoke quickly, before anybody else could answer: ¡°Because it¡¯s bad for us to know.¡±

    Vicky blinked at her. Serin tilted her head. Elpida nodded, and said, ¡°Thank you, Amina. Good point.¡±

    ¡°Eh?¡± Vicky repeated. ¡°Sorry, Ami, what do you mean?¡±

    Everyone was looking at her ¡ª even Melyn, half asleep in Haf¡¯s arms. Amina blushed, but her demon surged to the surface. She forced an answer from her lips, letting her demon take the reins: ¡°Because it¡¯s such a nice idea, so we might use it, without knowing what it really means. It sounds so nice, really nice. Make friends with everyone. What could be bad about that? But ¡­ that¡¯s not what it really means. In practice. I think. I t-think it¡¯s ¡­ harder to understand. Serin ¡­ Serin kills people, though she believes in ¡®solidarity¡¯. It ¡­ seems like it should be a contradiction. But it¡¯s not. It¡¯s not.¡±

    Amina could not keep her eyes up as she spoke. She lowered her gaze to avoid the others, staring at the floor.

    Vicky took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. ¡°Good point, Ami. Fair enough.¡±

    Serin rasped: ¡°A fragile truth.¡±

    Amina could tell that Serin was still lying, whether by omission or otherwise, but she had told them the part that really mattered. The symbol inked on Serin¡¯s skin ¡ª the same symbol as on Ilyusha¡¯s t-shirt ¡ª was not in itself salvation. It was a tiny, fragile, battered thing, held beneath cupped hands like a candle flame in a storm, hidden from the monsters, from the ¡®Necromancers¡¯, from the powers of hell. To wear it proudly on one¡¯s chest was to draw hatred from the servants of evil, to make oneself into a target for the slings and arrows of everyone who still tried to please an absent God. Wearing it would change one to be more like Serin, a killer in service of ¡®solidarity¡¯.

    Beneath her blankets, Amina moved the tip of her sheathed knife against her thigh, tracing the crescent-and-line on her flesh.

    If she cut the symbol into her skin, would she end up like Serin? Could she be strong and fearless?

    Elpida did not seem comfortable with this answer. She was frowning at Serin. Amina could tell something was wrong with the angel, but she could not tell what. Elpida seemed too tense, too snappish, too aggressive, which was different to how she was normally. She had almost openly argued with Vicky earlier, which had shocked Amina quite badly.

    The angel said: ¡°Thank you, Serin. Now, Vicky, let¡¯s tell Serin about the Necromancer inside Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. I think we owe her the intel, in return.¡±

    Vicky seemed grumpy about this, but she sat back down and related all the things which had happened inside the giant machine. She told Serin about the things the Necromancer had said, about how she and Kagami had pinned it with gravity, and how it had been knocked unconscious. Amina could not make any more sense of this than she could of nanomachines or Arcadia¡¯s Rampart. She had not seen the Necromancer herself ¡ª a shape-shifting horror able to wear other faces, imitate voices, and pretend to be whoever it wanted to be ¡ª but she could imagine it, and it made her shiver inside.

    Why were the Necromancers their enemies? Serin had refused to answer why she hunted them. But when Amina thought about that for a while, she realised that Serin had answered the question in a circuitous fashion.

    Necromancers were opposed to ¡®solidarity¡¯. Serin wore the symbol. So Serin hunted them.

    She changed the world, one bullet at a time.

    Perhaps Serin was a kind of angel, too.

    Amina allowed her eyes to drift shut. Her demon was quiet in her chest, satisfied by the stiffness of her knife in one fist. The others talked on and on about Necromancers and Arcadia¡¯s Rampart and what direction they might take next, but Amina could not think of anything she needed to say, and her mind felt very tired. Hafina was already sleeping, dozing with her eyes closed while sitting upright. Melyn was well on the way too; she had contributed almost nothing to the ongoing discussion. The ¡®artificial humans¡¯ had very little to add. They weren¡¯t zombies.

    Amina didn¡¯t feel much like a zombie, either. She did not feel dead.

    She considered getting up and returning to the bunk room. Why not snuggle back down in Ilyusha¡¯s arms? She wasn¡¯t made for this. She wasn¡¯t smart and swift and sharp like Elpida, or clever and cunning and kind like Vicky. She would never be like Serin, either. Serin was cleverer than anybody else, and Amina was a fool from a tiny village, with weak arms and a weaker mind, reliant on the protection of others, unable to even grasp the true meaning of this new word, this ¡®solidarity¡¯, this¡ª

    ¡°I would like to talk with the little one,¡± Serin purred. ¡°The two of us. Alone.¡±

    Amina¡¯s eyes snapped open. Her demon surged with skin-searing passion. She looked up at Serin, stunned. Amina¡¯s heart beat so fast she thought it might burst from her chest.

    ¡°W-why? What for?¡± she stammered.

    Serin regarded her with burning red eyes. ¡°You deserve answers. Did you not want them?¡±

    Elpida and Vicky shared a look. Vicky shrugged.

    Elpida nodded, then said: ¡°Amina, are you comfortable with that? Do you want to talk with Serin?¡±

    Amina could not believe what she was hearing. She panted and swallowed, trying to get her breathing under control. She nodded several times. ¡°Yes. Y-yes, yes!¡±

    Elpida smiled, but Amina could tell she was faking. Elpida was uncomfortable and conflicted. About Amina? Amina could not tell. But she needed this.

    Elpida said: ¡°Serin, are you going to be staying with us any longer? I would like to talk further. And, once again, you are welcome to stay inside Pheiri for as long as you like. You are welcome to the safety and security.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Serin grunted. ¡°For the little one. Perhaps.¡± Serin held out one spindly hand. ¡°Do you have paper? Writing instruments? I can provide my own. But I would rather not.¡±

    Melyn was roused from slumber to provide Serin with one of her notebooks ¡ª an empty one, the pages blank except for little blue lines where the words were meant to go ¡ª and a single black pen.

    Amina stood up from her blankets as the others moved around, as Melyn yawned and grumbled, as Elpida and Vicky looked on. She was shaking so hard that she could barely feel her feet or hands. Was she shaking with excitement? Or with fear? She could not tell the difference. Her heartbeat made her bandaged right hand throb with pain.

    Serin drifted into the infirmary without a word, expecting Amina to follow.

    Elpida nodded to her. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Amina. We¡¯ll be right here, in the crew compartment. None of us are going anywhere.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Yeah. If she does anything weird, you scream for us, okay?¡±

    Amina¡¯s chest swelled with offended pride. ¡°She¡ª she won¡¯t!¡±

    Vicky blinked with surprise. Elpida smiled, but her eyes were full of suspicion and doubt; perhaps she could smell Serin¡¯s half-truths as clearly as her fungal scent.

    Amina turned away and stepped into the infirmary.

    Serin towered in the middle of the cramped and narrow room, standing over one of the slab-beds. The floor was still covered in dried blood and medical detritus. Melyn¡¯s empty notebook was open on the bed before Serin. The air was filled with the scent of mushrooms and rotten wood.

    ¡°Shut the door,¡± Serin rasped.

    Amina did as she was told. She closed the infirmary door until it met the frame with a soft click. Suddenly she was alone with a very different kind of angel.

    Her heart was in her throat. Her knife was in her fist. She was shaking from head to toe. Her right hand burned and itched inside the dressings.

    Serin said: ¡°I won¡¯t hurt you. I am keeping a promise. Come here and see.¡±

    Amina nodded and padded over to the slab-bed. She could barely stay on her feet, her knees felt so weak. Serin was twice her height, a giant of ragged black robes, reeking of the deep woods, of rotten trees and their fungal ruin. Amina felt drool fill her mouth. She did not understand why.

    Serin stared down at her, two points of crimson light burning in the red-lit gloom.

    ¡°Do you want to know?¡± Serin purred.

    ¡°Know what?¡± Amina whispered. Her voice cracked.

    ¡°How far you can go.¡±

    ¡°I ¡­ I t-think I do?¡±

    Serin extended two hands from beneath her veil of black, both spindly and thin, pale and soft, smelling faintly of fungus. One hand braced the pages of the notebook. The other held the pen.

    Serin drew a little circle at the far end of one page, shaded it with delicate strokes of the pen, then labelled it ¡®Earth¡¯.

    ¡°Us,¡± she said. ¡°Here. This rock. Understand?¡±

    Amina shook her head.

    ¡°The earth is a ball of rock floating in an empty void. Accept it. Move on.¡±

    Nobody had ever spoken to Amina like this before. Her head whirled. She did as she was told. She accepted. She nodded.

    Serin drew more circles, shading and labelling them as she went. ¡°Venus. Mercury. Also balls of rock.¡± Then she added a massive semi-circle on one end of the page. ¡°The sun. A vast ball of fire.¡±

    Amina stared, trying to take all this in.

    ¡°That¡¯s sunward. Now, the other way.¡± Serin went on with more circles, in the opposite direction. ¡°Mars. Asteroid belt ¡ª lots of small rocks. Jupiter. That one is gas, mostly. Many moons. Io, Europa, Ganymede. Saturn, more gas. Some liquid, rocky core. Many more moons. All of these are worlds. Uranus. Neptune. Ice giants. Pluto and Charon. The little ones.¡±

    The circles went on and on, spiralling outward into the black. All of these were worlds? Amina accepted, but she could not comprehend.

    Serin drew one final circle, far beyond all the others, at the other end of the page. Her pale, spindly hand paused. She added dots around the final circle, then the labels.

    ¡°Furthest,¡± Serin said. ¡°In the Oort Cloud. A hidden place. That is where I came from. In life. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Amina admitted. ¡°I¡¯m¡ª I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be.¡± Serin¡¯s eyes crinkled with real amusement. ¡°Few did, even when I lived. It was a cold and dark place. It still is, likely enough. Jovians and Belt-Born pretended they were outsiders, but they were nothing. We came from the end of creation. The edge of the void. Beyond us, nothing but echoes and dead cylinders full of frozen corpses.¡±

    Amina tried to imagine. She could not. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, b-but I don¡¯t ¡­ I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Serin¡¯s expression did not soften. ¡°All you need to understand is that I am like you. We all are. No matter where we came from.¡±

    Amina cast about for a handhold. ¡°Did you ¡­ did you really used to be a prostitute?¡±

    Serin nodded.

    ¡°Was that difficult?¡±

    Serin grinned behind her mask. ¡°No. I enjoyed it.¡±

    ¡°O-oh ¡­ ¡± Amina did not know what to say to that.

    Serin turned to the next page of the notebook, leaving the terrifying void-circles behind. She touched pen to paper again, hand moving quickly.

    Serin drew a picture.

    Amina gasped as the drawing took shape. Serin was an artist!

    Serin drew a young woman ¡ª the kind of young woman that Amina could never hope to match. She was beautiful, with a bright and shining smile, long legs and wide hips, heavy curves and a tiny waist beneath thin clothing, and luxuriously long hair all the way down to her backside. Serin could not provide any colours for the illustration, but Amina projected her imagination onto the picture. She gave the young woman Serin¡¯s mushroom-pale skin and white-blonde hair.

    Serin finished. She withdrew the pen.

    Amina couldn¡¯t find any words. She said: ¡°This was ¡­ you?¡±

    ¡°Mm. In life. Close enough.¡±

    ¡°You were ¡­ ¡± Amina¡¯s voice cracked. Tears prickled in her eyes. She looked up at Serin ¡ª a scarecrow wrapped in black rags, taller than even Elpida. Lank hair clinging to a pale skull, arms like albino twigs, eyes red as fire-lit blood. There was no resemblance with what she had once been, if this was the truth. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to be like that any more?¡±

    Serin said: ¡°Then, yes. Now, no. I am different now. As are we all.¡±

    Amina¡¯s throat was bone dry. ¡°I think you¡¯re beautiful.¡±

    ¡°Then, or now?¡±

    ¡°Both,¡± Amina whispered. ¡°I-I-I¡¯m sorry, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°You can be either, little one.¡± Serin closed the notebook, picked it up, and offered it to Amina, along with the pen. ¡°All your choices are your own. Eat or die. Or live and change. Up to you, how far you go. Even to the furthest. Dark and cold as it may be.¡±

 umbra - 10.7

    Kagami woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

    What a ridiculous phrase. A superstitious anachronism inherited from one of Luna¡¯s surface-culture ancestors. As if rolling to one¡¯s feet in the incorrect direction could somehow curse one with bad luck. Kagami had not slept in a bed during life, anyway; that would have meant decanting herself every night, an uncomfortable and humiliating process at the best of times, even if she shepherded it herself with remote robotic attendants.

    No, Kagami slept like real royalty ¡ª in her suspension tank, with her body cocooned and cushioned by the pool of warm bio-gel, while her mind soared through whatever somnambulant simulation she so desired.

    She had passed many a night in the apex of magnificent feudal-era castles, looking out across mist-shrouded mountain ranges, snuggled up inside a thick and fluffy futon. She had dozed away the hours in the secret hearts of dripping woodland glades clad in emerald and jade, with alien stars wheeling overhead, her bedside attended by lithe satyr-boys and nubile fawn-girls. She had slept alone in perfect simulated recreations of public campgrounds from the old country, with the distance populated by approximations of fellow campers, with a roaring fire at her feet, and a tent the size of a house at her back. She had passed out in exhaustion at the centre of grand orgies ¡ª every other participant simulated, of course ¡ª right in the middle of a bed large enough for fifty people, a sole slumbering real human surrounded by dozens of copulating couples. She¡¯d slept in airships, starships, bullet-trains, and cruising cities ¡ª fanciful creations from the minds of Luna¡¯s greatest simulation authors, along with a few choice selections from the most enlightened and scientifically advanced of the dirt-eaters down below. She¡¯d slept with imaginary partners three times her height, and with harems of sweet young things who she could sweep up as if she was the tall, strong, dashing, dominant one. She¡¯d slept after banquets and battles, meetings and matings, holidays and horror stories, pre-written romances and wildly unpredictable improv and pure unstructured playtime.

    Sometimes she¡¯d slept snuggled up with her AI daughters, when they were young. Kurumi had liked that especially, during the first three years of her incarnation. Kagami had even slept outside sim-space on rare occasions, in the dim light of the naked suspension tank, to the sound of her own biological pulse in her ears.

    So how could one possibly wake up on the wrong side of the bed? That was the kind of assumption made by first-timers to sim-space ¡ª newbies always assumed that their fleshy body was still flailing about, that they were always about to blunder into a wall. Luddites at best, morons at worst. The simulation would always compensate.

    But now Kagami was flesh alone.

    She woke up face down on her narrow bunk, eyes gummed shut with sleep crust, cheek stuck to her pillow with a puddle of cold drool. She groaned several times, hoping her irritation might summon a control panel into the darkness behind her eyelids.

    In her half-awake state Kagami still harboured a vain hope that the last few weeks were nothing more than an elaborately cruel prank at her expense. Any moment her father would roar with laughter, accompanied by the chorus of his court, and she would find herself standing in the brilliant glittering light of Luna¡¯s parliament, represented in yet another perfect sim-space recreation. Oh certainly, she would be red faced with fury, spitting indignation, and probably attack somebody important. But the humiliation would be worth the salvation.

    She would have to find the simulation writer who made all this, of course. She would keep the effort quiet; her father would undoubtedly have predicted her retribution, and probably squirrelled the author away somewhere. But she would dig the little worm out of whatever hole it was burrowed into, and then she would shake it until it screamed.

    She wouldn¡¯t have the author killed, though. Oh no. She wanted all these people re-created, from scratch, from their alpha-copy originals: she would give ¡®Commander¡¯ Elpida a piece of her mind; she would have Pira shot after a proper court martial; and Victoria, well, Vicky she would invite to join her in¡ª

    ¡°Gnnnnhhhh,¡± Kagami groaned again. These thoughts were nonsense.

    Nothing happened, anyway. Deny as she might, this was reality.

    Kagami lifted her head from the pillow, eyes still glued shut, and rolled over to get out of bed. She needed to swing these offensively useless bionic legs off the side of the bunk, so she could find the floor with her clumsy feet.

    She rolled the wrong way, toward the rear of the bunk, not the opening into the narrow, cramped, dirty little room.

    She banged her wounded right shoulder into the metal wall.

    Izumi Kagami ¡ª Seventeenth Daughter of the Moon, Princess of Tycho City, mother to fourteen AIs, a woman who once had all of Luna¡¯s nuclear arsenal dancing at her fingertips ¡ª whined into the thin and lumpy pillow, keening through her teeth, tears running down her cheeks. She clutched at her wounded shoulder, spitting with the indignity of pain.

    Yes, her father would never craft such pain. The man was a boor and a clown. He might menace her with cartoonish cannibals and stick ridiculous legs onto her hips, but he was a stranger to agony.

    Eventually the sharper torment ebbed away, leaving behind the exposed rocky shore of chronic pain. Kagami finished hissing curses into her pillow, got herself oriented correctly, pulled back the thin blue privacy curtains, and swung the hateful dead weight of her legs over the correct side of the bunk.

    She sat, panting in the aftershocks, wiping her eyes on the back of a sleeve.

    At least nobody was watching.

    The bunk room was a nest of haze and shadows. Tiny, cramped, and full of junk. The air reeked of human sweat ¡ª zombie sweat, rather. The sound of soft breathing filled the gloom.

    Infinitely preferable to sleeping in the open, of course, or in the rotten guts of some ruined building riddled with holes, so any borged-up predator or bottom-feeding scavenger might creep up on her in the dark. At least she was inside armour now, tucked away behind inches of steel and dozens of guns. It was no sensory suspension tank in the core of Tycho City, protected by an army of robots and drones and seven-point-six million human beings, but Kagami had to admit that Pheiri¡¯s insides brought her a degree of comfort and security. He was a very skilled autonomous machine. She would not mind speaking with him again, sometime.

    She would rather be off-planet, no question about that. But if she had to be down here, inside a powerful biomechanoid was an acceptable compromise.

    Still, she cursed the fool who¡¯d built this room so small.

    Kagami sat on the edge of her bed for several minutes, taking stock of her various sufferings.

    She felt as if she had awoken from a full night¡¯s sleep; her head was fuzzy, but that was from the chronic pain and the aftermath of so much adrenaline yesterday. Her bionic legs and her hip joints still ached as if her bones were being pressed in a vice, but she¡¯d almost gotten used to that, like background static. Her right shoulder throbbed with every beat of her heart; she¡¯d been caught by a piece of stray shrapnel on the mad flight from the new-born biomechanoid. A six-inch spike of red-hot metal had slipped precisely through the halves of her coat. So unfair, so bloody stupid, such a tiny chance of happening. Why her?! That sort of bullshit fed her unkind hopes that this was all a simulation aimed at her personally.

    The wound had bled like a boar on the end of a spear. Melyn had stitched the flesh shut, slathered Kagami¡¯s skin with ointment and sealants, and then applied thick, soft, clean bandages.

    Clean bandages! In this place. A miracle.

    Melyn was the real miracle. A medical android, a real physician, not some drooling sawbones revived from the dawn of history. The android had worked with quick, precise, confident movements, not a muscle wasted, not a finger out of place. Beautiful as anything made on Luna. Better, even! That was not something Kagami ever admitted out loud. If something like this had happened on Luna, Kagami would have had Melyn uplifted, uploaded, and designated citizen-AI under her own auspices. If Melyn had been a sim-space fiction, wrought in some sadistic simulation, then Kagami would have hunted down the author, extracted the alpha copy of Melyn¡¯s design, and imprinted her on a brand new AI substrate enclosure.

    But she couldn¡¯t do either of those, because she was not on Luna, and this was not a simulation. She sighed and tutted. She had no way to suitably reward Melyn for her service.

    Kagami frowned into the murk. She suddenly felt useless. How strange.

    But she wasn¡¯t useless now, was she?

    Kagami rolled up her left sleeve to examine the changes to her left arm. She had not had a chance to stop and look, let alone think about what she¡¯d done to herself, not with everything since they had first approached the downed biomech.

    Circuitry glowed with faint greenish-blue light beneath the natural brown of Kagami¡¯s skin ¡ª fingers, palm, wrist, all the way down to her left elbow. When she flexed her fingers or rotated her wrist, she felt metals and polymers moving inside her flesh. An imperfect implant job, certainly, but more than acceptable under the field conditions. The pair of data-uplink cables were currently retracted into her wrist, tucked away for now. She did not relish having to unearth them again; that had hurt like yanking out her own tendons.

    Kagami grinned. She couldn¡¯t help herself. Useless? Far from it, she was apex again! Her work inside Arcadia¡¯s Rampart had proven that; she could never have burst that fucking Necromancer bitch without this. A data uplink port, near-field electronic interfaces, and a high-density connection processor, all wired into her brain-stem.

    If only it hadn¡¯t hurt so much to grow.

    The arm didn¡¯t burn anymore, not since Elpida had turned up inside Arcadia¡¯s Rampart with that bottle of blue. That dose of raw nanomachines had allowed Kagami to stabilise the ad hoc transformation, though she wasn¡¯t exactly sure about the mechanism. She had simply decided that she was finished, that the machines inside her arm were complete, and her body had stopped.

    The skin itched like a bad rash, but the pain had ended with the changes.

    Kagami¡¯s armoured coat was crammed into a corner of her bunk. She reached out with a flicker of near-field machine-comms ¡ª she didn¡¯t even need to move her fingers, but it felt right to wiggle them. She pinged one of the six drones in her coat pockets. The drone acknowledged with a short burst of wake-up code, which scrolled down the inside of Kagami¡¯s left eye.

    A flare of pain exploded around her eye socket. She hissed, trimmed the drone¡¯s log-keeping transmission to emergency only, then summoned it to her side.

    A silver-grey oblong about the length of her hand wiggled free of her armoured coat and hung in the air before her face.

    She snorted out loud. ¡°You¡¯re no domestic robot, but you¡¯ll do. Number ¡­ 3, I think I¡¯ll call you.¡±

    Kagami stood up; she could work her bionic legs without falling over now, but she had the drone steady her with a gentle brush of gravitics. Then she used it to drag her armoured coat off the bunk and hold the sleeves for her to insert her arms. A most useful little extension of her body. She left the other five drones in her pockets for now; she was too fuzzy and too tired to keep all six smart drones on-station. Directing the full sextet to pin and crush that Necromancer had almost knocked Kagami unconscious with the effort. Besides, some of the drones had taken a few lumps during that encounter. She needed to examine the outer casings for damage when she was fully awake and clear-headed.

    Speaking of being clear-headed, where the hell was Victoria? Kagami¡¯s pet revolutionary was not in her bunk.

    Kagami pressed a hand to Vicky¡¯s sheets. They were hours cold. She checked the other bunks, in case Vicky had resorted to a nearby bedmate, but the others were innocent. Atyle was sleeping like the primitive she was, flat on her back with her arms crossed over her chest. Creepy. Amina and Ilyusha were curled up together on one of the top bunks, both of them fast asleep, flaunting their intimacy. Kagami did not like the way Ilyusha¡¯s claws were exposed. Amina was clutching a big notebook to her chest. No sign of Vicky.

    No Elpida, and no Victoria.

    Kagami felt bile rising up her throat.

    She was not jealous. What would she be jealous of? She had kissed the idiot to shut her up and stop her absurd worrying. A kiss meant nothing. Kagami had necked with hundreds of simulated men and women, ninety nine percent of them much more to her tastes than Vicky. She had made out with things with tongues long enough to reach her simulated stomach. She had kissed things for whom kissing was sex, and felt like it too.

    But she had kissed Vicky, meat on meat. That was new.

    She felt sick. Her cheeks was flushed. She fiddled with the drone¡¯s gravitics to fan her face for a moment, then felt stupid and stopped. She pinched a lock of her long black hair between thumb and forefinger ¡ª greasy, unwashed. She felt vile. In a sim she would have cleaned it instantly, and then dyed it a more interesting shade for a few days. What would Vicky think of pink? Or maybe just a nice rich brown, like¡ª

    Kagami clenched her teeth. Had that kiss actually meant something to the idiot dirt-eating surface dweller?

    Did Kagami need to ¡ª what? Take responsibility? Apologise? Explain herself?

    Victoria was such an immature little primitive. Kagami had no choice.

    She walked over to the bunk room door. She had to clutch the edges of the bunks to compensate for her wobbly legs. She had the drone turn the handle, crack the door, and float through the gap. She didn¡¯t want any nasty surprises from the crew compartment. The drone returned a camera-feed to her left eye, which ignited a sparkle of headache, but Kagami winced her way through the pain. All was quiet and dark out there, bathed in low red night-cycle illumination ¡ª another element of Pheiri¡¯s construction that Kagami approved of.

    Kagami retrieved the drone, stepped through the hatch, and had the drone shut the door behind her.

    The crew compartment was less muffled than the bunk room. Kagami could hear the sound of Pheiri¡¯s tracks against the road outside, and feel the throb of his nuclear engines far beneath her feet.

    The androids ¡ª Melyn and Hafina ¡ª were sleeping in a nest of blankets on the floor. Kagami wrinkled her nose; those sheets must be filthy, even for androids. Still, she was not about to complain, certainly not to either of their faces. Melyn was a real physician, and Hafina was a full-scale combat model. Kagami liked that part. Combat androids were predictable, useful, and very nice to have on one¡¯s side.

    The air smelled faintly of rotten wood and meaty fungus. Kagami wrinkled her nose harder. Where was that coming from?

    The rear of the crew compartment was drenched in jagged shadows over the doorway to the rear ramp. Kagami squinted into the gloom, then almost jumped out of her skin, heart racing against her ribcage.

    Serin was standing right there, in plain view.

    Or maybe she was leaning against a wall ¡ª or slumped into one of the bench seats? Her ragged shape made it hard to read the position of her torso and limbs. Her hunched back loomed tall, almost brushing the ceiling of the compartment.

    Kagami rolled her eyes. She knew Serin¡¯s type all too well. Independent surface agents were awful to deal with ¡ª arrogant, jumped-up, paranoid, and fond of showmanship. Serin was clearly lurking in the darkness because she might make somebody jump. Which she had been successful at. Kagami¡¯s face burned.

    At least the cyborg troll was sleeping. Or rather, her eyes were closed and¡ª

    ¡°Good morning,¡± Serin rasped from behind her metal mask. She did not bother to open her eyes. ¡°Sleep well?¡±

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Kagami tried not to flinch, even though Serin couldn¡¯t see. Or could she? Serin looked like she was grinning behind that mask.

    Kagami replied in a whisper: ¡°Shhh. You¡¯ll wake the androids.¡±

    Serin said, ¡°Mmm? Will I?¡±

    ¡°Shhhhh. Shut up.¡±

    Before Serin could draw her into some infuriating conversational game, Kagami turned away and quickly made for the front of the crew compartment. Her legs felt stiff and awkward. Her heart was beating too fast. She used the drone¡¯s gravitics to help steady her feet.

    She peeked into the infirmary, but the cramped room was empty; she paused just long enough to toss a glass of water down her throat. Back in the crew compartment she refused to look at Serin again, because she was not giving that cyborg freak-show the satisfaction of her discomfort.

    After a moment¡¯s further consideration, Kagami plunged into the tangle of Pheiri¡¯s central corridor.

    She had not yet visited Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit; Elpida had informed her of the general layout, in case of an emergency, but after the fight and her wound and the entire last few days, Kagami had wanted nothing more than to lie down in a dark room for a dozen hours.

    But Vicky must be up front. She must be.

    The spinal corridor was a jumbled mess of overlapping systems and abandoned components, loose cables hanging from the ceiling and ancient station seats with their stuffing all gone, uneven flooring and threateningly bare metal, tiny side-hatches and mechanical covers which led into the deeper reaches of the fortress-sized biomechanoid. She passed over a massive bulge of super-heavy armour ¡ª probably encasing the machine¡¯s AI substrate enclosure ¡ª and beneath a ladder which led up into the darkness of a turret.

    Kagami had never been anywhere like this before ¡ª not outside of a simulation, anyway.

    She had to bend and duck and turn sideways over and over again. She had to stop three times, her legs shaking with effort, hip joints throbbing with cold agony. Every footstep sent fists of dull pain radiating upward. She still could not walk properly, not for long enough to get where she was going, not without help.

    Damn Victoria and her wanderlust. Kagami needed a hand!

    She used the drone to take the edge off, easing some of her weight onto a flat field of gravitic power. She considered using the thing to float herself, like her father on his throne of office back on Luna. But the gravitics on these smart drones were not delicate enough to avoid smashing her knees and elbows against the metal walls. The smart drones were combat models, not suited for the most delicate work of transporting her spongy, tender, vulnerable flesh.

    Eventually Kagami emerged into the control cockpit.

    The room was nice and large, not cramped like the corridor, but it was an even worse jumble, full of screens and control panels in every direction she looked, with consoles and readouts filling every available surface but the floor. Seats clustered before the cacophony of systems, serenaded by a low orchestra of clicking and buzzing, the hissing of screens and the ticking of internal machinery.

    Pheiri¡¯s control room looked like the bridge of a ramshackle space vessel, the kind of human-crewed shit that everyone on Luna found so amusing and perplexing. Sending humans into space in anything but the most guarded and armoured automated protection was a kind of barbarism that went beyond mere objection and into absurdity. Kagami had seen the insides of plenty of those, captured via drone-camera ¡ª most of them full of frozen corpses.

    At least Pheiri had a window. High up on the right was a narrow strip of steel-glass, a little viewing port, creeping along as Pheiri ground forward through the city outside.

    Dawn had arrived in ruddy waves of dull red behind the black clouds, like blood soaking into coal soot. Rotten fingers of corpse-city clutched at the bounty of wet and bleeding meat.

    The cockpit was occupied by the Commander¡¯s all-too-rapidly ¡®reformed¡¯ fascists, Ooni and Pira.

    They were both awake. Kagami paused in the doorway. She felt a swallow coming on; she controlled her throat. She straightened up and raised her chin. She looked down her nose.

    Snakes.

    Ooni was sitting sideways in one of the seats, ignoring the screens at her elbow, bleary-eyed and exhausted, long black hair all messy from sleep. She did not look as if she had gotten a full night¡¯s rest ¡ª which was good, because she did not deserve that. She had been staring at Pira, but now she blinked in confusion at Kagami. She hadn¡¯t met Kagami before, but Kagami had seen her through the exterior sensors back on Arcadia¡¯s Rampart.

    Pira was up on her feet. She¡¯d been stretching her back muscles, or trying to. Pira was still covered in wounds, a mass of bandages and dressings beneath the armoured coat draped over her shoulders, bright red hair swept back over her skull. She still listed to one side even when standing. Her eyes were sunken with inner ruin.

    Guilt and shame, Kagami hoped. Traitor.

    Ooni stared like a startled rodent. Pira met Kagami¡¯s eyes, unreadably blank.

    Neither of them were armed, a small mercy. Kagami moved her drone in front and threw up a tentative wall of gravitics anyway, just in case. She forced herself not to swallow.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the Commander?¡± she said.

    Ooni answered first: ¡°Don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know! Sorry ¡­ um, hello.¡±

    Kagami snorted. She didn¡¯t even bother to look at Ooni.

    Pira shrugged, slow and lopsided. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen the Commander since last night. We both just woke up.¡±

    ¡°Both, huh?¡± Kagami said.

    Ooni swallowed. Pira said nothing.

    Rampant bitches, all of them. These two had clearly spent the night fucking ¡ª or worse, doing something deeply weird. All of them were the same. Ilyusha and Amina, curled up in bed together. Melyn and Hafina, snuggled down all comfy. And now Elpida and Victoria, missing! How could anybody go missing in these tight confines? Victoria just couldn¡¯t resist her muscle-dyke Commander, could she? Revolutionary? Ha! Vicky took orders like a professional submissive. Next thing she¡¯d be wearing a collar and barking on command. She was probably squeezed into a cupboard somewhere right now, dripping juices onto the floor, with Elpida wrist-deep in¡ª

    ¡°Tch!¡± Kagami hissed through clenched teeth. Ooni flinched.

    Pira spoke, slowly and carefully. Her voice was a raw croak. ¡°Kagami. I know you never liked me. You never trusted me. You were right to suspect me. I¡¯m¡ª¡±

    ¡°If it was up to me,¡± Kagami snapped, ¡°both of you would have been shot.¡±

    Pira stopped. She stared in silence.

    Ooni said: ¡°Um ¡­ we don¡¯t have to fight. I don¡¯t want to. I don¡¯t care about¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Kagami said. ¡°Don¡¯t even speak. If you¡¯re rehabilitated then I¡¯m a Martian. Shut your mouth.¡±

    Ooni shut her mouth.

    Pira croaked: ¡°Good thing for us you¡¯re not in charge, then.¡±

    Kagami jabbed a finger at her floating drone. She had to steady herself against the wall with her other hand. ¡°You know what this is?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Pira.

    ¡°I seriously doubt that,¡± Kagami said. ¡°It¡¯s a smart drone, with on-board gravitics. And it¡¯s mine, along with five sisters. Slaved to my on-board control. Understand? See this?¡± She waved her left hand, showing off her new circuitry.

    ¡°Crystal clear,¡± Pira said.

    ¡°If I get one hint, one errant whiff of another betrayal from you, I will turn you into meat paste.¡± Kagami smiled; this felt good. Fuck these two and their public rutting. ¡°The moment I think you¡¯re not obeying the Commander, you¡¯re red slurry. Both of you.¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm,¡± Pira grunted. She seemed unconcerned. At least Ooni was wide-eyed and sweating. Maybe Kagami could have a good shout at her if she caught Ooni alone.

    Pira¡¯s defiance made Kagami want to spit at her feet.

    She resisted that urge ¡ª Pheiri was not that dissimilar to Arcadia¡¯s Rampart, and she had no idea how he would feel about her spitting on his inner decking. She had negative respect for these two, but a healthy regard for the tank-shaped biomechanoid.

    Kagami said, ¡°You truly have no idea where the Commander is?¡±

    Pira shook her head. Ooni shrugged, opened her mouth, then thought better of speaking, and closed it again.

    Kagami stared at Pira for a moment longer, hoping Pira might turn away or back down. She willed the treacherous little mud-sucker to look at the floor.

    But Pira didn¡¯t. Dull as a milk cow, big bovine eyes, she just stared and stared.

    Kagami snorted, turned away, and stalked back into the spinal corridor.

    She was fuming, with plenty of justification. The least Victoria could have done was wait for her to wake up! Victoria hadn¡¯t even done as she was told, she had not gone back to bed. So much for ¡®oh my Moon Princess!¡¯ Instead she had slithered off to beg for Elpida¡¯s praise again. An unwelcome image floated to the surface of Kagami¡¯s mind as she stomped and banged her way back down the corridor: Victoria sitting at Elpida¡¯s feet, listening to a bedtime story about Telokopolis, all big eyes and receptive ears. Oh yes, Commander, tell me more about your shining city! Tell me more about how you fucked all day long! Tell me how big and strong you are, he-he-fucking-he.

    Kagami got so angry that she had to stop, just below the turret ladder. She heaved through her nose, huffing and puffing. She raked at her own scalp, sending waves of greasy black hair everywhere. She considered summoning the other drones from her pockets, just so she could scream into a suffocating pillow of gravitics, or¡ª

    A voice spoke from nearby, muffled behind layers of metal.

    ¡°¡ªnot sure if she¡¯ll stay for long, though. Serin has an agenda of her own. And I don¡¯t think she likes to share.¡±

    It was the Commander. Elpida.

    ¡°True that,¡± said another voice, just as muffled ¡ª Vicky?

    Kagami looked up and down the corridor, but there was nowhere to hide, unless both Elpida and Victoria were crouched behind an old seat or wedged into an inch-wide gap between metal plates. She concentrated on her hearing, but the conversation had either stopped, or the participants had turned away. Or Elpida was filling Vicky¡¯s mouth with her tongue.

    Kagami plugged her drone¡¯s external microphones into her brain-stem. A wave of nausea and disorientation passed over her, punctuated by a clicking pain in the side of her skull. She endured, clenching her jaw so hard that her teeth creaked.

    There, to her right, ten paces ahead. Sound waves indicated two people breathing amid the soft murmurs of further conversation.

    The hatch was easy to find when she knew that one must be present. A low door of thin metal was set into the wall of Pheiri¡¯s spinal corridor, half-obscured by a set of dead screens and a fan of hanging cables. The sound of conversation was muffled by more than a single layer of metal, so Kagami used her drone to ease the hatch aside, as silently as possible. The hatch slid sideways into its housing, revealing a much sturdier layer behind, with a strong-looking steel handle. The door had once boasted a chunky exterior locking mechanism, but the lock was ruined now ¡ª part of it had been crowbarred open and ripped off, and not recently. The damage looked just as ancient as everything else inside Pheiri.

    It made sense that Pheiri contained additional compartments. He was very wide, after all.

    Kagami had to crouch if she wanted to pass through the hatch. Her hips screamed as she lowered herself. She swallowed a grunt.

    Before she could grab the handle, the conversation inside regained clarity, though still muffled behind the metal.

    ¡°Wait, wait,¡± Vicky was saying. ¡°You think Serin was lying to us?¡±

    A sigh from Elpida. ¡°Yes and no.¡±

    Vicky snorted. ¡°Is that why you wanted me here to check out this ¡­ this ¡­ whatever this is? So we could gossip behind her back?¡±

    ¡°Again, yes and no.¡± Elpida replied. She sounded amused. ¡°I do genuinely want your opinion on this compartment. We could use it. The ¡­ Melyn called them ¡®charging cradles¡¯, I think they¡¯re for the Artificial Humans. We could seal them up. Maybe some of us could sleep in here.¡±

    ¡°Pffft.¡± Vicky sounded unimpressed. ¡°Nah, this place is already giving me the creeps. No thanks.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Elpida replied. ¡°As for Serin, I don¡¯t think she would be offended if we called her a liar.¡±

    ¡°Eh? To her face?¡±

    ¡°Yes, seriously. I think there were things she didn¡¯t want to tell us, and nothing could convince her to do so. I think she would respect the guts to say that to her face. But we don¡¯t need to.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡± Vicky asked. ¡°What was she lying about?¡±

    A pause. Kagami swallowed. Had they heard her sneaking about outside the door? She dared not move a muscle.

    But then Elpida answered: ¡°The stuff about her benefactor, Veerle. And about Necromancers. And the gravitic weapon. None of it adds up properly. I think she was holding things back, because she has an agenda of her own. But ¡ª and I want to make this very clear, Vicky ¡ª I don¡¯t think she was lying to us about the basics. All the stuff she said about food, about survival, about the crescent-and-line symbol. I suspect all that was basically true.¡±

    Another moment of silence. Kagami wanted to swallow again, but she was afraid they would hear.

    Vicky said: ¡°Do you think she lied to Amina, when they were alone?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Why not? Ami¡¯s bound to be more impressionable than us, right?¡±

    ¡°Amina came out of the infirmary with renewed hope. You could see it in her eyes. I don¡¯t think Serin was lying to her.¡± A short pause. ¡°And Amina is smarter than you¡¯re giving her credit. She¡¯s learned, fast. That counts for a lot.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Vicky grunted. ¡°Can we trust Serin or not, then? Like, she¡¯s inside Pheiri, inside his armour. What if she turns on us?¡±

    A clatter of feet made Kagami flinch. She jerked backward in sudden fear of discovery. One of the two had stood up, or perhaps sat down?

    Elpida said, ¡°If she wanted to hurt us, she would have done so already. I¡¯m pretty confident she could take us all out one by one, while we sleep, if she wanted. Except maybe Hafina, and Ilyusha. And I never can tell with Atyle.¡±

    ¡°Huh, true that, as well,¡± Vicky muttered.

    ¡°But no,¡± Elpida continued. ¡°I don¡¯t think Serin is a threat to us, at least not physically. I think her aims and agenda are parallel to our own, not orthogonal. She ¡­ ¡± Another pause. Kagami held her breath. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I should say this, Vicky. But I feel I need to get the idea off my chest, share it with you, with the others. I think Serin is very pessimistic. She¡¯s afraid we¡¯re going to be very short lived. But part of her wants us to be successful, despite her doubts. She¡¯s standoffish because she¡¯s afraid of investing her hopes in us.¡±

    ¡°Ha,¡± Vicky snorted. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯re just a bunch of dumbass zombies to her, right.¡±

    ¡°Something like that,¡± Elpida muttered. She said something else, but it was so soft that Kagami couldn¡¯t hear. She put her ear against the metal door.

    There was a long, long, long pause. Were they necking, making out, sucking face? No, it couldn¡¯t be. Kagami would hear the sounds, the slurping and¡ª

    ¡°Elpi,¡± Vicky said eventually ¡ª and there it was! The emotional hitch in her voice, the tentative, nervous fumbling. Kagami¡¯s lips peeled back from her teeth with rage. She grabbed the door handle and prepared to shove the hatch open with her own strength. She had kissed Victoria first, not Elpida! Victoria couldn¡¯t do this now, she couldn¡¯t! This wasn¡¯t allowed! It wasn¡¯t right!

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°Can I ask you something personal?¡± That quiver again, that disgusting preening! Kagami could hear it clear as a siren!

    Kagami wound back her other fist to punch the door. Her face was flushed, her teeth clenched, her eyes hot. Her wounded shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Go ahead. You have a perfect right to ask me anything, if I expect you to follow my orders.¡±

    Any moment now they would¡ª

    ¡°Are you ¡­ are you alright, Elpida?¡± Vicky said, slow and awkward. ¡°I only mean, well, you were kind of fucked up back there. When we were all talking to Serin. No offence. And uh, you didn¡¯t make any decisions I disagreed with, that¡¯s not what I mean, nothing like that. But you were kinda ¡­ aggressive. Needlessly so. You kept trying to shut me down. First time for that, not had you do that before. So, uh, I guess I¡¯m directing the question back at you. What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Kagami went cold. Her anger drained away. She flushed with embarrassment instead, disgusted at herself. Why was she so worked up?

    Elpida sighed so heavily that Kagami heard it through the hatch. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that, Vicky.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not looking for an apology here.¡±

    ¡°You deserve one regardless. I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m not used to commanding without a certain level of push back. That¡¯s what it was like, with the cadre, with my sisters. They only followed my orders because they believed those orders made sense, that I had their best interests as my first priority, and that we were all on the same side, no matter what. Some of them ¡ª Howl especially ¡ª did constantly question my orders, force me to justify myself, that kind of thing. It¡¯s what I¡¯m used to.¡±

    ¡°Howl. She¡¯s ¡­ ¡± Vicky sounded nervous. ¡°She¡¯s the one in your head now, right?¡±

    A third voice spoke, one Kagami had not heard before ¡ª Elpida¡¯s voice, but in a new tone, one the Commander never used, as if her voice was gripped by a new will. The Commander had done the same thing inside Arcadia¡¯s Rampart.

    ¡®Howl¡¯ said: ¡°Heyyyyy. I¡¯m right here, you know?¡±

    Vicky replied, stiff and formal. ¡°Hello. Um. Yes. You. Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to be rude.¡±

    ¡°S¡¯cool,¡± said Howl.

    Elpida spoke, herself again: ¡°Yes. Howl is in my head now. Long story, I¡¯ll explain later.¡±

    This idea was not alien to Kagami. Neurological partitioning and its medicalised forebears had been well understood on Luna, and in some of the less primitive surface cultures, whether purely biological or with cybernetic enhancement; some of Luna¡¯s best logicians induced the condition on purpose. Kagami¡¯s most skilled counterpart down in NorAm ¡ª a rival logician she had known in life only as ¡®Dolphin¡¯ ¡ª was notorious for intentional self-fragmentation.

    But Kagami was not certain that Elpida was practising neuro-partitioning. This was some nanomachine zombie bullshit, wasn¡¯t it? ¡®Howl¡¯ was something external, burrowed into Elpida¡¯s head.

    Kagami hoped that this entity really was Elpida¡¯s sister, willingly invited. The alternatives were disgusting.

    Vicky forced a laugh. ¡°Not any weirder than anything else we¡¯ve seen so far.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Vicky, the bottom line is this: you can always push back against me. Please do. Push back, question my decisions, call me a cunt if I don¡¯t listen.¡±

    Vicky spluttered. ¡°Wha¡ª Elpi, come on, you¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m serious. Sometimes I need a good kicking. You¡¯re authorised to do that.¡±

    Victoria said something, but it was too faint for Kagami to make out. Elpida laughed softly.

    After a moment, Vicky spoke again: ¡°So, if I¡¯m allowed to say that your decisions are shit, have you made the biggest one yet?¡±

    ¡°Biggest one?¡± Elpida echoed. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Where are we gonna go?¡± Vicky asked. ¡°With the worm, or out into the wilds? Ha, worm or wilds. Has a nice ring to it, right?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll take a vote,¡± Elpida said. ¡°After everyone has been fully informed of all the implications. After we see Thirteen off, wherever she¡¯s going. After we¡¯re ready.¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes. Voting! At squad level? A recipe for disaster! The Commander was somehow both the most qualified that Kagami had ever known, and also a blithering moron. Who had the vote, in this miniature democracy? Did Pheiri get one? What about that blob-monster outside, ¡®Iriko¡¯? And Serin, was she one of them, or not? What about Elpida¡¯s pet fascists? Perish the thought. Or Elpida¡¯s new neurological passenger?

    Vicky asked another question. ¡°What about food? We still haven¡¯t made a choice, Elpi, and I don¡¯t know if I can. If we vote ¡­ I don¡¯t know if I can abide by the result. I¡¯m sorry, but this shit is eating at me. Uh, fuck, pun not intended.¡±

    ¡°There may be other ways, just like you want to explore with Pheiri¡¯s food manufacturing systems,¡± Elpida said. ¡°But first, we have a visitor.¡±

    Kagami frowned ¡ª and then flinched as the handle of the hatch was yanked downward.

    She tumbled through and into the room beyond, arms wind-milling, losing control, about to fall flat on her face. She yelped in surprise, trying to catch herself with her drone¡¯s gravitics.

    Strong hands caught her under the armpits and hoisted her up.

    Elpida¡¯s face filled Kagami¡¯s vision, purple eyes framed between a frown and a smile. Vicky shot to her feet behind Elpida, peering over Elpida¡¯s shoulder. A long, cramped, tight space was crammed with person-sized upright cubicles, some kind of android self-repair and recharge stations, like shiny chrome sarcophagi.

    Vicky spluttered: ¡°Kaga?! You were eavesdropping?!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Elpida said with an infuriatingly indulgent smile. She gently lowered Kagami onto her feet. Kagami was blushing, her dignity in shreds. She grunted as her weight returned to her hips, scowling and blushing, wishing she could thump Elpida in the stomach.

    ¡°I was about to join you!¡± she snapped. ¡°You could at least have invited me in rather than risk breaking my fucking nose!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was you,¡± Elpida said gently. She even put a hand on Kagami¡¯s shoulder, the uninjured one. ¡°I thought it was Serin, sneaking around. I¡¯m sorry. And you weren¡¯t eavesdropping. You have a right to hear all of this as well, Kagami. Every last word. You¡¯re one of my cadre, too.¡±

    Kagami opened and closed her mouth several times. She wanted to tell Elpida where to shove her ¡®cadre¡¯. Instead she crossed her arms and said, ¡°Of course I have the right. Thank you. Yes. Good!¡±

    Elpida smiled again. ¡°In fact, I have a job for you, Kagami. Something I suspect only you can do.¡±

    Kagami frowned. She didn¡¯t like the sound of that. ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°How much do you know about nano-engineering?¡±

    ¡°Some. Why?¡±

    Elpida glanced at Vicky. ¡°Here¡¯s your counterpart. Victoria, you handle the macro-scale, with the machines, either up here, or down inside Pheiri.¡± Elpida returned her attention to Kagami. ¡°And you ¡ª you¡¯re going to reverse engineer our bodies.¡±

    ¡°I ¡­ ¡± Kagami blinked rapidly. ¡°What? Commander, what?¡±

    ¡°You heard me,¡± Elpida said. ¡°We need to find a way to make zombie meat, or at least the basic inputs for it. Nanomachines. From dirt, air, and sunlight. Kagami, I need you to grow me a plant.¡±

 Interlude: Thirteen Arcadia, Part One

    Two weeks out from Pheiri, in the shadow of a burnt and broken mountain range, the third of central¡¯s monsters caught up with Thirteen Arcadia.

    This was not like the first ¡®physical asset¡¯ ¡ª the golden diamond which had descended from the skies, to slay Thirteen as she had lain helpless upon the barren soil, before Elpida had rescued her, before her reconciliation with herself, before the Change had changed everything.

    Nor was this third monster akin to the second asset, the one she had fought two weeks ago.

    The arrival of that second infernal machine had prompted Thirteen¡¯s departure from Elpida¡¯s new cadre; the resulting battle had proven to Thirteen that it was high time for her to leave.

    Central ¡ª The Enemy, The Unknown, The Blind Mad Idiot God ¡ª was hunting her, personally. This was what she had decided.

    That second ¡®physical asset¡¯, two weeks prior, had been smaller than the golden diamond, but much quicker, considerably smarter, and infinitely more aggressive. The golden diamond, the airship, was a sledgehammer of blunt force applied against an anomaly, an attempt to blot out all evidence that a Telokopolan combat frame had fallen from orbit. The second asset was a red-hot scalpel come to cut her out and burn her to ash. Central had apparently abandoned the plan of suppressing her mere existence, falling back on the old reliable ¡ª simple extermination.

    The thing had surprised Thirteen and Pheiri by approaching while cloaked. It had projected light through the surface of its body to achieve invisibility, but it had also masked its own heat signature, radar returns, nanomachine-load, and gravitic wave disturbance pattern. The machine had used its own gravitic engine to wrap itself in a veil of confusion.

    The first sign of the asset¡¯s approach was the worm-guard massing at the edge of the graveworm safe zone ¡ª first a dozen, then fifty, then over a hundred. The worm-guard had formed a phalanx of writhing, coiling, protoplasmic masses, clad in armour so dense it refused to yield to even Thirteen¡¯s sensors. The worm-guard had kept pace with Thirteen and Pheiri¡¯s position for over an hour, growing in number every few minutes. Elpida and the other revenants had flown into near panic; they were concerned that this was it, this was the moment they¡¯d been fearing for the last eight days, the moment the worm-guard decided that Pheiri counted as a threat to the graveworm.

    <<Iriko¡¯s already fled,>> Elpida had told her over the comms uplink. <<She¡¯s terrified of those machines, but I think she¡¯s got the right idea. We need to peel off. I don¡¯t want to provoke the worm-guard. They outnumber us a hundred to one.>>

    Thirteen agreed, despite her strength.

    The Change had made her powerful beyond any prior imagination; she felt exceptionally safe and confident inside her new body. The flesh she had once been was now protected by a dozen layers of nano-composite bone armour, wrapped in several thousand tons of crimson muscle, tendon, sinew, and gristle, and cradled inside a spacious sphere of milky-warm amniotic fluid. She was not that flesh anymore, of course, though she could grasp it and stretch it and look through its eyes and give it teeth with which to bite. She could extrude herself from a sphincter on her own underside to speak through lips she reformed from memory, and gesture with more hands than she¡¯d ever had before. But she was all this flesh now, all this bone, every cell of this infinite potential for regrowth and adjustment.

    She did not feel like her name should be ¡®Thirteen¡¯ anymore; that felt disrespectful and dismissive toward half her soul. She remembered her childhood, raised as a thing with two legs and two arms and a head, but now she also remembered being a combat frame, being pieced together from machine-meat, being piloted and ridden and joined with ¡ª by herself, as herself, inside herself. Her memories were paradoxical; she clearly recalled climbing inside her own body, being entered by herself, as both halves of a single being ¡ª the being she was now, after the Change. She recalled the loneliness and betrayal and rage of abandonment in orbit, in perfect clarity, burning with shame and self-recrimination. She forgave herself, but knew she still must atone. She had to treat herself with respect.

    In private she experimented with new names. ¡®Arcadia¡¯s Rampart¡¯ did not feel right, because she was not just the combat frame, she was also still Thirteen. ¡®Arcadia¡¯s Thirteen¡¯ was worse; that implied ownership of half herself by the other half of herself. It was nonsense.

    In the end she settled on ¡®Thirteen Arcadia¡¯. For now. Provisional. Until she reunited with Twelve Fifty Five.

    But even a Changed combat frame could not fight infinite worm-guard. If the graveworm itself truly was a nanomachine forge the size of a mountain range, then it could drown Thirteen in ten thousand worm-guard, or a hundred thousand, or a million. Her potency and durability would count for nothing against such numbers.

    So, she and Pheiri and Elpida had all agreed ¡ª they had veered away from the distant line of the graveworm, further and further out from the edge of the safe zone. They had hoped this would calm the worm¡¯s autoimmune response. But the worm-guard had continued to gather. In the sixty seconds before the physical asset struck, Thirteen had counted five hundred and thirty seven worm-guard, with more arriving every moment. All the nearby revenants had fled. The city ruins for nearly a mile around contained nothing but herself and Pheiri. Iriko had squeezed herself into the ground somewhere nearby, hiding, invisible.

    The worm-guard weren¡¯t there for Thirteen and Pheiri, of course. They could see the monster drawing close.

    The second ¡®physical asset¡¯ had burst from between the buildings of the rotten city and dropped its cloaking the moment it attacked.

    A perfect sphere of mirrored metal, half a mile across.

    The thing had assaulted Thirteen with earth-shattering sonic weaponry, wide-spectrum sensory static, and blinding white light ¡ª laser beams generated across every inch of the machine¡¯s liquid skin. The suite of weapon systems was designed and selected to overwhelm Thirteen¡¯s sensors, foul her targeting, and confuse her defences.

    Once she was blinded and reeling, the main body of the asset had disgorged thousands of flying worms of living mercury, corkscrewing through the air like a cloud of falling seeds.

    The flying worms were corrosive. They slipped through her shields, vibrating at the exact frequencies to pass through her seven layers of energy-weave and air-block. They fell upon her like burning rain, melting through armour and corroding her flesh.

    That machine had been designed to kill her specifically, to blind and deafen Thirteen while her divine transformation was reduced to so much metallic sludge.

    Good try, but not nearly close enough.

    Thirteen had led the mirrored sphere on a high-speed dance through the wilds, sprinting at over sixty miles an hour to stay ahead of the corrosive rain. She had spent forty nine hours plinking at the thing with long-range weaponry, pounding at gravitic shielding until it buckled, then hammering on the perfect sphere until it was covered in divots and dents. Such a relentless pace was easy for Thirteen now; she did not need to sleep or rest anymore, not unless she chose to indulge. The new reactors deep within her flesh would keep her awake and operational through anything; she needed no external maintenance, never again, not with her own on-board nanomachine forges feeding every cell of her flesh with fresh grey sludge.

    She had delivered the coup de grace to the mirrored sphere indirectly, by leading it back toward the graveworm. She had grown curious about what might happen if central¡¯s asset came into contact with the massed worm-guard; Elpida had also requested this course of action, during one of their regular check-in broadcasts during the fight. The Commander wanted to know if central and the worms would wage open war upon each other.

    Thirteen owed everything to Elpida and Howl. She owed the Commander her eternal allegiance. Not to mention how she wanted to protect Pheiri, her brave little brother, who had been through so much.

    She was going to betray them all, of course ¡ª with her inevitable departure ¡ª so she did everything she could to help. She led the mirrored sphere back toward the worm, for the sake of the experiment.

    The worm-guard had dismembered and dismantled the sphere, like ants swarming over a wounded mammal. Several hundred had died in the process, but they were quickly engulfed and consumed by their kin. Thirteen had watched the whole process, then sent the footage back to Pheiri, for Elpida and the others to analyse.

    She failed to secure any worm-guard flesh. Not one scrap. The survivors were meticulous in their cannibalistic recycling.

    That failure stung. Elpida and the revenants were growing hungry.

    Defeating the mirrored sphere had cost Thirteen almost nothing. A few burns on her flesh, a few chips off her armour, it mattered not. Her own nanomachine forges could now repair almost any level of damage. Her body ¡ª her new body, a giant of flesh and bone and blossom ¡ª could have been bisected in two, and she could have healed herself by pressing the halves together.

    But Pheiri and the zombies could not do that.

    The revenants could not fight for forty nine hours without a minute¡¯s respite. Pheiri could not jump-charge his shields from a bottomless well of self-replicating nanomachine forges, nor cross the rooftops at a dead run of sixty miles an hour. He was confined to the slow healing process of a true machine, confined to the ground, to the streets, and to the extant shape of his metal and plastic.

    Pheiri would not have lasted fifteen minutes against the mirrored sphere.

    He would have put up a grand fight, of course! Oh yes, Thirteen had not the slightest doubt in her little brother¡¯s courage and determination. With his particle beam emitter and his stout heart and the love he carried in his belly, he would have fought. He would have fought well, and he would have died swiftly, along with all his crew.

    Central was hunting Thirteen, not Pheiri. Without the burning beacon of her presence, Pheiri could hide beneath notice once again, and the zombies could go on without being seen by The Enemy ¡ª the real enemy, the blind idiot god behind the mask of the world.

    The zombies pretended otherwise. They pored over the footage. They asked Thirteen questions about the asset¡¯s behaviour, as if they might find a way to counter the next one. They made plans and contingencies. They discussed emergency evacuation procedures.

    One of them even nicknamed the thing. Mirror, the grumpy one, one of the two who had fought inside Arcadia¡¯s Rampart to save Thirteen from the Necromancer.

    <<Disco ball,>> Mirror had called it, over the comms uplink between Pheiri and Thirteen. Pheiri translated the languages for Thirteen¡¯s benefit. <<With built-in speakers. Noise and light as primary weapons. Tacky, blinding, ultimately very stupid, beloved by fools and people with too much entactogens in their bloodstreams. Hence, disco ball.>>

    <<We¡¯re not calling it ¡®disco ball¡¯,>> another revenant had said. That was Victory, the one who had thrown her empty gun at the Necromancer for Thirteen¡¯s sake. Thirteen Arcadia felt a special attachment and gratitude to Victory. An unadorned human who had stood up to a monster, for her, before the Change, before she had grown strong. <<Come on, Kaga, that¡¯s absurd.>>

    <<You don¡¯t even know what a disco ball is, Victoria,>> Mirror had snorted. <<You were born almost two centuries too late for disco.>>

    <<I know what a disco ball is! I didn¡¯t live in a mud hut.>>

    <<We¡¯re calling it disco ball. Light and sound. Lasers and sonics. Disco. You have a problem with that, take it up with the Commander.>>

    A sigh. That had made Thirteen giggle. <<You know Elpi¡¯s not gonna have the faintest idea what ¡®disco¡¯ is, right?>>

    <<On the contrary. I¡¯m certain Telokopolis had some sort of orgy-disco combination activity, which she¡¯ll be delighted to tell you all about. In detail. With demonstrations.>>

    Another sigh. <<Kaga, for fuck¡¯s sake. I¡¯m not screwing¡ª>>

    <<We¡¯re calling it disco ball. That¡¯s final.>>

    A long pause followed. Perhaps the conversation was over, but Thirteen had not disconnected. She liked to listen to the others speak. Eventually Victory had asked: <<Why? Kaga, this isn¡¯t like you. You¡¯re being ¡­ playful.>>

    <<Because it disarms the terror, Victoria. Because it makes the thing less terrifying. Silly names help.>>

    Thirteen had held on as long as she could.

    She knew full well that without her, Pheiri and Elpida and Howl and all the others would be that much more vulnerable to the highly developed revenants which lurked beyond the graveworm line. But Pheiri had spent most of his life out there, enduring conditions much worse than the relative calm of the edge. And if Thirteen stayed, she knew more monsters would come eventually. The next one might be worse ¡ª smarter, stronger, less vulnerable to her tricks. Perhaps the next hunter would figure out that she had led the Disco Ball off into the wilds to keep it away from Pheiri and Elpida. Perhaps the next asset would use that against her. Perhaps central¡¯s next strike would slay her little brother, and her Commander, and all the hope they were trying to rekindle.

    So, it was time for Thirteen to leave.

    She had calculated the shortest route to the edge of the continent, based on observations taken during her descent from orbit ¡ª south, through thousands of miles of corpse-city.

    There was no reason for a tearful farewell; she would be able to maintain contact with Pheiri and the revenants for weeks or months to come, via long-range comms, tight-beam, even regular old radio. She wanted to feed them as much intel as she could, every last scrap of what she was about to witness out in the wilds. She had no idea what details might matter to Elpida in the long run, what might be useful, what might keep her saviours alive for another few days.

    She set off at dawn, heading south.

    For two weeks she had walked through the ruins, doubting her decision.

    Her eventual departure had always been inevitable, of course; Twelve Fifty Five and the other Changed needed her more than Pheiri and the Commander did. The voice of her beloved, her long-lost missed chance, and all her ¡®sisters¡¯ ¡ª yes, sisters! The word was a glorious battle cry now ¡ª they whispered across the nanomachine ecosystem itself, like a distant echo from beneath too many layers of meat and metal. Her place was down in the ragged rotten remnants of the green, alongside the other Changed. That was the fight for which she had been made, by her mother, by Telokopolis.

    On the seventh day she sighted another graveworm, miles and miles to the east, chewing through the city, bearing north. She paused to watch it pass, soaking up measurements and energy readings. That worm was much larger than the one which Pheiri and Elpida were following, easily twice the size.

    Could she not have delayed one more day? One more week? Could she not have sheltered her Commander for one more night? She had regurgitated another full load of grey nanomachines for Pheiri¡¯s stores before she¡¯d left, even though the zombies and the robots had protested that their containers were full. But what if they were wrong? What if Pheiri got hurt, and needed her bounty once again, and she wasn¡¯t there? What if she was wrong, and there would be no third ¡®physical asset¡¯? What if she had abandoned her new-found siblings for nothing?

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    The revenants out in the wastes mostly avoided her, despite their own incredible post-human changes. They were few in numbers and far between, compared with the teeming life around the graveworms. Some were still human-like, but many were beyond her comprehension, filling her sensors with information she could not begin to interpret; she catalogued them as best she could, sending the data back to Pheiri at regular intervals.

    She was lucky. The most dangerous of the revenants could tell that she was not made of their kind of nanomachines. Her flesh would avail them nothing. She was not edible.

    What if she got lonely, out there in the wilds, all by herself? What if she never got to hear something that made her giggle, ever again?

    She had walked with Elpida a while not only because the Commander had requested it, but because she wanted to.

    But Twelve Fifty Five was waiting for her, fighting a war in the dark beneath the world.

    With one part of her mind Thirteen kept up her never-ending broadcast of poetry, singing out into the dark, hoping that Twelve Fifty Five could hear her coming. I¡¯m on my way! I didn¡¯t leave! I¡¯m sorry!

    But then the third of central¡¯s monsters caught her in the shadow of the mountains, and Thirteen knew she¡¯d made the right choice.

    The third ¡®physical asset¡¯ was a gossamer-thin stingray of gravitic disturbance, a mile wide and three feet deep. Its form was generated by a hundred thousand tiny gravitic engines linked together in a mutual web or network, creating a ghostly body, no more than empty air crushed and constrained by a vice of pressure.

    The asset came for Thirteen like a blade slicing through the ossified corpse of the city, flying at barely twenty meters off the ground, cutting through concrete and brick like butter before a heated wire. It made no attempt at stealth, not like the Disco Ball; the structures through which it sliced crashed to the ground, toppling over and smashing into other falling buildings like an onrushing wave of felled trees. The asset did not care about going unseen, or it would have approached via the air.

    It wanted Thirteen to run.

    And so she did, into the shelter of the mountains.

    This was the first stretch of bare rock Thirteen had seen, the first large-scale geographical feature not encrusted by the blackened scabs and crumbling bone of the corpse-city. The naked slopes had been scorched by some terrible heat, centuries or millennia prior, leaving runnels and droplets of melted stone as a black crust upon the deeper strength. When she had first spotted the range from several miles away, Thirteen had assumed it was the ridged back of another graveworm, paused in post-partum recovery, after delivering its seed of fresh blue nanomachines to the waiting womb of a resurrection tomb. She had toyed with the idea of plunging in to rescue this fresh clutch of zombies ¡ª of carrying out the sort of daring raid that Elpida and the others had debated before Thirteen had left. But as she had drawn closer, the mountains had revealed themselves to be living rock, the bones of the earth, not the hide of an undead worm.

    Any soil was long stripped away. No trees or plants or grasses clung to the mountainsides, only the occasional veins of black nanomachine mould, oozing at the bottom of cracks and fissures.

    As Thirteen Arcadia fled toward the mountains, she wondered if the rocks themselves were nanomachines now. Where did the slime end and the stone begin? Why did the nanomachines persist in that distinction, if the whole planet was infected and infested? When she stepped onto the naked rock itself, with her four legs splaying to carry her weight, was she standing upon the Earth, or stamping on the body of The Enemy?

    Now was not the time for philosophy ¡ª nor for poetry.

    With great reluctance, Thirteen paused her singing, and turned all her attention toward this third monster from central.

    The asset was closing fast, less than half a mile away from the base of the mountains, scything through the buildings in a crashing wave of brick and steel and glass. Masonry dust filled the air in great billows from the fallen towers and collapsed structures. The noise would have been deafening if she hadn''t already closed off her external sound sensors. Any revenants nearby were probably bleeding from the ears, or crushed beneath the rubble, if they were not evolved enough to shrug off the weight of a falling skyscraper.

    The leading edge of the asset was razor-sharp, a blade of focused gravitic power barely a few microns wide. Thirteen judged she could hold off that sword with her own gravitics, but it was probably designed to slip around her defences. And it would only need a moment.

    Deep inside layer upon layer of bone-armour, wrapped a thousand frills of dense-packed crimson meat, suspended in a warm womb of orange liquid, the memory of Thirteen¡¯s original body stirred with discomfort.

    She might survive bisection. She would probably not survive being turned into mincemeat.

    Thirteen packaged up all the data she had collected on this third asset, including every second of footage from all ten thousand of her external sensor-clusters. Then she squirted a tight-beam broadcast back to Pheiri, just in case he and Elpida might one day find it useful.

    Somebody must have been in Pheiri¡¯s cockpit at that exact moment; a familiar voice crackled over Thirteen¡¯s long distance comm-link, filling her central womb-atrium with real audio.

    <<You can do it, little sister!>> shouted Elpida, but with another tone in her throat ¡ª Howl! <<Smash that thing up! Come on, it¡¯s a sheet of fucking foil!>>

    <<How?>> Thirteen replied. <<It¡¯ll cut me apart.>>

    <<Dig, bitch! You¡¯re standing on virgin rock! Fuck it!>>

    Thirteen turned toward the mountains, urged her nano-forges into blazing glory, opened a sphincter the size of a building ¡ª and vomited forth a torrent of acid upon the rock.

    She dug a hole into the mountainside, scooping out the melted stone and hurling it behind her, burrowing into the dark.

    Howl¡¯s voice ¡ª real audio, over the radio, not a cackling ghost riding along inside Thirteen¡¯s flesh ¡ª chanted encouragement for a few moments. But then the signal was suffocated beneath a million tons of mountain.

    Seconds later the third asset slammed into the rock behind her. The edge of the blade bit deep, wriggling and pushing, splitting the mountain along a crack kilometres wide. The ground shook and bucked, slamming back and forth like an earthquake. Tucked deep in the dark, digging for her life, with droplets of melted stone hissing off her shields, Thirteen thought the whole mountain was about to open.

    But the bones of the earth proved too dense for the asset. It withdrew, sliding from the gap it had created, whirling off into the air beyond Thirteen¡¯s burrow, flying like a manta ray of the skies.

    Thirteen did not turn back. She did not poke her head out of the hole. She was not that kind of stupid.

    She swept the surfaces with her sensors and discovered the manta ray had left pieces of itself behind; twenty three gravitic generators lay abandoned, crushed within the gap it had been forcing, or fallen upon the floor of Thirteen¡¯s acid-etched tunnel. Each generator was no larger than the palm of a human hand.

    The manta was made of a hundred thousand of the tiny generators. Losing a few had not appeared to reduce the monster. Defeating it would require destroying enough to compromise its overall integrity.

    Thirteen burrowed deeper into the earth, melting the rock before her, collapsing it behind. Gravel pattered off her shields and her armour.

    For five days she played hide-and-seek with the gravitic manta ray. She wormed her way through the mountain range like a gigantic mole, swallowing mouthfuls of rock and turning it to nano-sludge inside her veins, then forging the slime into increased muscle density and thickened armour and spade-like claws for better digging. She strengthened her back legs, adding telescoping joints, and wrapped great knots of muscle around the lower portions of her rearward arms; she was going to need to lift, a lot.

    Every day she burst from fresh-dug trapdoors of stone, to find herself beneath the dead blanket of the night sky, or the ruddy cauldron of dawn, or the dying embers of the day ¡ª always long enough to pop off a few shots at the manta, lurking above the mountains like a bird of prey riding the thermals. Each time she attacked, the manta swooped down toward her, forming a single gleaming edge of gravitic power; each time she scurried back into the bowels of the planet itself, barely outrunning the cutting edge as it bit into the mountain, scoring yet another deep gash into the tip of this rocky outcrop.

    Each day she left another few dozen of the tiny gravitic engines dead upon the mountainside, picked off by point-defence auto-cannons, exploded by HI-EX missiles, fried by bolts of superheated plasma. She fired her main railgun once every day ¡ª mostly as a show of force, to keep the manta focused. The railgun was useless against such a distributed target. It was a titan-killer, unsuitable for sweeping aside this airborne swarm-creature.

    A dozen or so engines every attack, five or six attacks a day. At this rate Thirteen would defeat the manta in approximately four years.

    Thirteen grinned to herself, down in the dark beneath the stone. She extruded an actual face from beneath her body, with eyes and a mouth and nice big sharp teeth, so she could grin in the lightless air of her burrow. She chewed on a chip of stone, melting it with acid saliva. It tasted disgusting.

    She was close to victory.

    On the morning of the sixth day, Thirteen baited the manta.

    She exploded from a new trapdoor in the rock, lower than any previous ambush-hole. She located the current position of the asset ¡ª sweeping back and forth over the tips of the mountain range, waiting for her to emerge on time. She deactivated her shields. Her skin and armour steamed in the ruddy aura of Earth¡¯s bleeding dawn.

    Thirteen Arcadia stood tall, bellowed a wordless challenge from her external war-horns, and pounded the air with every weapon she had.

    She filled the rotten sky with the blossoms of high explosive power and the crack of railgun slugs and the whine of her point-defence cannons. She turned the air into a sea of lead and fire, holding nothing in reserve.

    The manta took the bait.

    It coiled through the air, forming a razor-sharp wedge, diving for her like the blade of a guillotine.

    Thirteen kept firing for as long as possible, making as much noise as she could, giving the asset every reason to believe that she had lost her temper, run out of patience, or taken leave of her senses. This was the final confrontation! She had gone mad down in the dark. Now she would be cut apart, ruined by her own lack of capacity for endurance.

    She needed the manta to burrow deep this time. Deep as it could go.

    At the last possible second, Thirteen halted her guns, twisted on all four legs, and hurled herself back into the hole from which she had burst.

    The manta ray slammed into the rock inches from her rear legs. She scrambled up the curving tube she had dug that previous night, gravitic power nipping at her heels, cutting into the outer layers of her bone armour. She flash-started her shields with a crack of electrical power, but they guttered and flickered against the cramped walls of rock. She lost over a thousand pounds of bone amour and a few hundred pounds of flesh, torn off by the edge of the manta¡¯s blade.

    But she wriggled deep. She wormed her way upward, beyond the thing¡¯s reach, for it could not curl within the rock.

    She scrambled into the fulcrum chamber she had excavated over the last forty eight hours ¡ª nothing more than a few balanced pieces of rock, waiting for the right amount of pressure to be applied to the heart of the mountain.

    She had to trust the observations she had made across the five-day fight; the calculations she had assembled, to estimate how long it took the manta to wriggle free from the stone. She counted the seconds, with her actual voice, keeping time with lips and throat in her womb-bath of amniotic fluid.

    ¡°One, two, three,¡± the words gurgled and bubbled from her mouth. ¡°Four. Five. Six. Seven!¡±

    On seven, Thirteen unfurled her own gravitics. Her gravity engines flared to life, uncoiling tentacles and tendrils of invisible power. She applied all the force she had to four separate fulcrum points she had selected within the chamber. She added her muscular strength, the pistons of her legs and arms, and the massive weight of her gigantic body.

    She had spent five days turning one particular mountain peak into a honeycomb of rock.

    All except the tip.

    With a heave of strength only possible for a Changed combat frame, Thirteen hurled a mile-wide slice of mountain down upon her foe.

    The sound and fury was beyond anything she had ever experienced. The moment she put the projectile into motion, Thirteen withdrew her gravitic feelers and wrapped them around her body. She curled up into a tight and protective ball, to ride out the sheer destruction of a dislodged mountaintop. The ground beneath her rumbled and shook. A great crashing grew and grew and grew and grew and did not stop, rolling like a wave of world-splitting thunder. Rock dust filled the air, so dense that an unprotected human would have choked to death in seconds. A storm of rock overwhelmed her shields and then plinked off her armour for minutes on end ¡ª five, then ten, then fifteen, on and on and on.

    Thirteen stretched and swam inside the eternal womb of her own machine-flesh. She grew a dozen arms with which to hug her hidden core, holding herself tight against the storm beyond her skin. She grew plush, soft, pliant layers to embrace and squeeze. She grew lips and kissed herself ¡ª kissed Arcadia¡¯s Rampart from the inside. Thirteen Arcadia ¡®made out¡¯ with herself, hidden in the dark.

    What else was there to do? She was a little bored, waiting for victory.

    Eventually the earthquake died away. Chips of rock ceased plinking off Thirteen¡¯s armour. The dust began to settle ¡ª or at least did not thicken any further.

    Thirteen parted the soupy air with a cautious wave of her gravitic feelers. Sunlight graced her flesh, weak and ruddy-red, bleeding from a skinless sky. She was in the open air.

    She¡¯d taken off the whole top of the mountain.

    Thirteen descended slowly, wary of rockslides or collapses. She was not invincible, just very durable. The Earth could kill her as surely as it had defeated the manta.

    Weak reddish light struggled through the dense clouds of rock dust, flowing down the sides of the mountain range as it settled. Thirteen pushed on through the lethal mist, scanning the way ahead with all her sensors, clambering over the spill of debris.

    She found the remains of the manta ray smashed upon the rocks, at the feet of the range. The mile-wide mountain slab had overwhelmed the thin layer of gravitics and destroyed almost all the hundred thousand generators which formed the body of the third asset. The engines were crushed beneath a slurry of boulders and rubble; the rockslide had been halted only by the mass of the dead city itself. The avalanche had slammed into the buildings. A tangle of twisted steel and broken concrete extended in a semi-circle for several miles.

    Thirteen spared a thought for any uninvolved revenants, caught in geologic crossfire.

    Not all of the asset¡¯s generators had been destroyed. A few handfuls remained active, tied together in miniature webs of gravity, trying to locate their fellows, and reform into larger structures.

    Thirteen hunted them down. She crushed them beneath her feet where they were little, when they were no more than a few dozen nodes flickering and jerking on the rubble. Where they were larger, in the hundreds, she deployed her weapons. Half a dozen auto-cannons were more than enough to punch through the feeble gravitics and blast the generators into molten slag.

    Once, she found a full thousand ¡ª one thousand and ninety two, to be exact ¡ª which had survived, located each other, and reformed into something approximating a real shape. It was a jagged mess of angles and spikes of gravitic power, hurling pieces of itself out in every direction when Thirteen approached, as if trying to ward her off.

    She watched it for three hours, waiting to see if it would attempt communication, or regain coherency, or try to do anything except kill her.

    By the end of those three hours, the worst of the rockslide dust had settled. The ruins of the mountain lay quiet, a truncated peak breaking up the burnt and blackened range, dyed red by high noon ¡ª or what passed for noon, beneath the smothering skies.

    The remnant never did anything but quiver and jerk. Thirteen put it down with her own gravitics, pulverising the generators into compacted metal.

    She lingered among the boulders and scree for a long time, breathing fresh air after five days underground.

    Five days down in the dark. Nothing by comparison.

    How much worse would it be, down in the rotting memory of the green?

    Before she departed to continue her journey, Thirteen re-established long-range comms contact with Pheiri.

    They exchanged handshakes; Pheiri was glad to hear from her. He sent her all sorts of data updates ¡ª nothing exciting, just refreshes on his current position and condition. All seemed well. Thirteen called him <<Little brother!>> in direct audio, cheering into the amniotic embrace of her inner layers, just because she could.

    She gathered up all the combat data and footage and readouts from the last few days and sent them over to Pheiri. She hoped dearly that the Commander would find her experiences of some use.

    Six hours later, when she was still picking her way through the ruined buildings, with the mountain range at her back, she received a reply.

    <<Thirteen?>>

    It was Elpida. Direct audio, from inside Pheiri¡¯s cockpit. Down in her own belly, Thirteen opened her lips and spoke real words.

    <<Commander! Hello! Did you like everything I sent? Did you see?!>>

    A pause, then a gentle laugh. <<¡®Like¡¯ is maybe not the right word, Thirteen. I¡¯m very glad you won. Well done, that was ingenious, a very clever strategy. We were all very worried when you went radio silent after digging into that mountainside. Howl never doubted you for a moment, though. She wants me to make that clear. And for the record, neither did I. Just glad you¡¯re okay. How are you holding up, after that ordeal?>>

    <<I sent you all my internal readouts too, Commander. You¡¯ve got it all!>>

    <<Yeah,>> Elpida said. <<Sure, I can read the data off the screens here, but I want to hear it from you, sister to sister. How are you holding up?>>

    Thirteen smiled, even though Elpida couldn¡¯t see. <<Doing just fine, sister. That was good practice, for what it¡¯s going to be like down in the green. Right?>>

    <<Right.>>

    Thirteen heard the concern, the worry, the fear. She decided not to mention it. The war beneath the world was not Elpida¡¯s war.

    Instead, Thirteen turned the question back on Elpida. <<And how are you all holding up, Commander? How is Pheiri? And Iriko, the angry little blob?>>

    Elpida laughed again. The sound made Thirteen feel good, in a way she had so rarely felt before the Change. <<Iriko? She¡¯s ¡­ inscrutable, still. Mostly she talks to Pheiri. Sometimes to Serin, when Serin is around. Pheiri himself is doing just great, thank you. You left him with enough nanomachines to repair himself twice over. We¡¯re still skirting the edge of the worm zone for now. No further worm-guard encounters, and nothing like another asset from central, but I¡¯m sure Pheiri already updated you on that.>>

    Thirteen noticed a conspicuous absence of reply. <<And what about you and the others, Commander?>>

    Elpida paused for a long time. Thirteen could hear her breathing over the direct audio transmission.

    <<Sister?>> said Thirteen Arcadia.

    Elpida swallowed. <<Howl says I should tell you, so I¡¯m going to tell you, even though this is probably none of your concern, Thirteen.>>

    <<You¡¯re my sister and my Commander,>> Thirteen replied. <<No matter how far away I must go, no matter how deep into the dark I dive. Your concerns are my concerns. Telokopolis is forever.>>

    <<Telokopolis is forever,>> Elpida echoed. She sounded sad.

    <<Elpida?>>

    <<Last night,>> Elpida said slowly. <<Last night, we hunted. For the first time. Last night we ate raw meat, for the first time in weeks. We killed and ate other revenants. Other people like us.>>

 Interlude: Thirteen Arcadia, Part Two

    Elpida¡¯s voice whispered across the long distance communications uplink, filling Thirteen Arcadia¡¯s amniotic heart with an unexpected chill.

    <<¡®Hunt,¡¯>> Elpida said. She paused and laughed, cold and hollow. <<That word lends the act more legitimacy than it deserves. As if it was difficult, or a challenge, or there was any question of the outcome. ¡®Murder¡¯ would be more accurate. Yeah, it was murder. Slaughter? That¡¯s what one does with animals one intends to eat, as I understand. Butchery? Oh yes, it was butchery. There was plenty of that involved, in the aftermath.>>

    Thirteen was still picking her way through the halo of ruined buildings on the outskirts of the landslide. The damage stretched for miles. Dawn had passed, noon had come and gone ¡ª or what passed for noon beneath the charred and choking grave dirt of the sky. Deep inside her body of wet warm crimson flesh and womb-soft frills and fluids, Thirteen hugged her old core tight, squeezing herself with a dozen arms. Elpida¡¯s words made her shiver.

    Pinned between black skies and dead soil, she listened to a zombie tell a tale of death and cannibalism.

    She listened willingly; she could do little else to assist her Commander.

    <<I keep telling myself that in the end there was no choice. Choosing to starve to death, that¡¯s no choice at all. Serin and Pira have both insinuated that if we get hungry enough, we¡¯ll turn inward, turn on each other, so the cannibalism would be inevitable, followed by a messy, painful end. A choice between self-destruction and destruction of others, that is not a choice, that¡¯s a terrible necessity. But what if that¡¯s not right? What if we should have starved? What if that was the right thing, to allow ourselves to be destroyed by time and erosion, so that a few others might live? I¡ª>>

    Elpida cut off.

    Thirteen paused beneath the shadow of a railway station. The building was made of toughened glass and dirty chrome, suspended a hundred feet in the air on a ribbon of corroded metal, arcing away toward the south-east. The massive support struts of the elevated rail-line had survived the landslide mostly intact.

    <<Commander?>> she sent.

    Elpida replied. <<I¡¯m sorry, Thirteen. Howl was chastising me for growing morose. She reminded me that the deed is done, and we must move forward.>>

    Thirteen stepped out from beneath the suspended station. A hundred feet to her left, a true zombie was perched on the shell of a collapsed building. It was an evolved revenant, like all the others Thirteen had witnessed in the wilds beyond the worms. It clutched a broken steel girder with half a dozen sets of avian talons. The rest of its body was a ragged mass of back-swept sheets of flesh and feather. It painted her with a suite of targeting sensors and deep-penetration scanners.

    Thirteen replied with a targeting sweep of her own, backed up by a flare of her weapon pods ¡ª a glance and a shrug.

    The zombie killed its sensor package, folded itself up into a tight ball, and turned its flesh to a mirror-finish. It scurried away into the rubble, invisible to the naked eye.

    Thirteen strode onward.

    She said, <<You have a responsibility to the others, Commander. You cannot let them starve. You are doing the right thing, embodying Telokopolis. You cannot let that conviction die of starvation.>>

    Elpida sighed, long and low. Thirteen heard other sounds over the comms uplink ¡ª the rustle of clothing, the scuff of boots against metal, the gentle creak of a chair. Elpida¡¯s body, moving inside Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit, twenty days walk back north. Thirteen closed her inner eyes and pictured Elpida sitting there, tall and strong, white hair fanning out down her back, purple eyes ringed with dark circles. She imagined Elpida bent forward in her seat, hands clasped together, haunted gaze fixed upon the metal floor.

    Part of Thirteen Arcadia ¡ª the part that had once been wholly Thirteen, and had once wrapped human arms around Twelve Fifty Five ¡ª longed to touch her Commander, to give her a hug, to tell her it was going to be alright.

    Eventually, Elpida answered. <<That¡¯s what Howl told me, too, so you¡¯re in good company there. But I can¡¯t help thinking, what if we¡¯d held on for another week, or another two weeks? Kagami¡¯s project is working, slowly. Bearing fruit. Maybe if we had just ¡­ >>

    Elpida trailed off. Thirteen forced a laugh, with human-like lips inside her core. <<Bearing fruit? Literally?>>

    Elpida laughed too, but it was fake and limp. <<Not yet,>> she said. <<One day soon, perhaps. The seeds she¡¯s developed are miracles. I should have Pheiri send you an image or two, they¡¯re really worth seeing. These little nubs of bleeding flesh, a little bit like combat frame machine-meat. But they don¡¯t need clean rooms or teams of engineers to make sure they sprout in just the right ways. The project is working. I keep repeating that to myself, reminding myself of it. We are on the right track. A source of sustainable, renewable food, one that doesn¡¯t rely on killing and eating other zombies, especially if Vicky can figure out how to get Pheiri¡¯s internal systems to produce them as well, or at least feed them. But ¡­ >>

    Thirteen climbed the side of a fallen skyscraper as Elpida spoke. The tower was tilted at an angle, propped up on the tangle of rubble and ruin. She reached the apex and gazed out across the endless corpse of the world, red-lit by the tortured furnace behind a distant corner of the sky.

    The southern horizon was nothing but more city, for mile after mile after mile.

    <<But not yet,>> she finished Elpida¡¯s sentence.

    <<But not yet,>> Elpida echoed. <<Yes. Not yet. The first few seeds failed and died. The next two, they started to grow, but ¡­ it wasn¡¯t right, didn¡¯t look right, or smell right. We had to get rid of them. The three we have growing now, they could take weeks, months, I don¡¯t know how long. And we won¡¯t know the result until they mature. I dare not ask Kagami to modify them further. Any more interference with her systems might send them off-course again. So we¡¯ll have three plants, in who knows how long.>>

    Thirteen jumped off the tip of the tilted skyscraper and fell one hundred feet to the ground. She landed with a compression of all four legs, using air and fluid to absorb the impact, rocking with the flow of gravity. A perfect touchdown.

    Elpida wasn¡¯t speaking.

    <<So, you went hunting?>>

    Thirteen heard a wet noise ¡ª a swallow. Elpida continued.

    <<Serin said we needed to eat. Said we were going funny, getting ¡®meat crazy¡¯. She wasn¡¯t wrong. Tempers have been fraying for over a week. Some of the others are good at dealing with that, but some aren¡¯t. Kagami and Vicky had a fight, a bad one. They almost came to blows a few days ago. I had to pull them apart. They still haven¡¯t fully made up, which worries me. Pira and Ooni, they both pretended they didn¡¯t need it, but Ooni isn¡¯t good at pretending. I kept catching her staring into space, drooling, wavering, eyes unfocused. Amina, she¡¯s young, she¡¯s still a kid, she can¡¯t handle the hunger. Ilyusha, she¡¯s solid. I think she dealt with hunger in life. Atyle, I don¡¯t even know, she never expressed anything out of the ordinary. If it was just me and Illy and Atyle, maybe we could have held out for months. Maybe not. Maybe that¡¯s just the guilt talking.>>

    <<You all needed to eat, Commander. You included.>>

    Elpida snorted a humourless laugh. <<I would say I¡¯m only human, but that isn¡¯t true. We¡¯re all zombies, now.>>

    Thirteen did not know what to say. That was true, wasn¡¯t it?

    Elpida carried on. <<Serin was going to do it anyway, even if I didn¡¯t approve. She threatened to come back and dump a bunch of bleeding girls on Pheiri¡¯s back ramp. I suspect she¡¯s been hunting and eating anyway. She comes and goes as she pleases. And Iriko, she¡¯s definitely been eating. We couldn¡¯t stop her even if we wanted to. So I had to take responsibility. I asked for volunteers. In the end, the hunting party was composed of Serin, myself, Ilyusha, and Hafina. Vicky wanted to go, but I told her no. I think that was a mistake. I think that hurt her. Maybe I was getting ¡®meat crazy¡¯, too.>>

    <<Hafina? She went hunting with you?>>

    Elpida chuckled with residual warmth. <<Yes, I was surprised by that, too. She doesn¡¯t need the meat, but she still wanted to help. She¡¯s one of our most capable fighters, it only made sense. Melyn didn¡¯t like it, though. She doesn¡¯t like Hafina leaving Pheiri at all.>>

    Thirteen set off into the streets of the dead city once again, striding down rivers of ancient asphalt. The buildings in this part of the city were windowless humps of concrete and steel, set low into the ground, nestled amid fields of ditches and trenches, rusted barbed wire and metal barriers. A land of bunkers and kill zones stretched off toward a black horizon. This part of the city was built for a war of ants amid the body of a machine, but it was empty and echoing, uninhabited by even the undead.

    <<We went out into the city,>> Elpida said. Her voice grew hollow. <<Several blocks from Pheiri, toward the worm. In the daylight, so we would be easy to spot. Hafina and Serin hung back. Haf used her cloaking. Ilyusha and I acted as the bait. We didn¡¯t have to wait long or search very far. We were out there perhaps twenty minutes, wandering around in back alleys and such. That was enough to bait an attack.>>

    <<They struck first? Then¡ª>>

    <<They didn¡¯t stand a chance, Thirteen. It didn¡¯t matter if they struck first, that¡¯s no excuse. They came out of a hole in a wall, a burrow in the brick and dirt. I poked around down there after it was all over. They had a couple of filthy blankets and a few gnawed bones. The remains of their own cannibalistic meal. Does that make it right? Cannibalising the cannibals? Does that justify anything?>>

    Thirteen faltered, her steps halting. <<I don¡¯t know.>>

    Elpida snorted. <<Neither do I.>>

    Thirteen carried on, striding across the field of bunkers. Elpida fell into silence. Thirteen wanted to help. She asked the only thing which made any sense.

    <<Who were they?>>

    <<Very good question,>> Elpida said. <<The right question, I believe. There were four of them. Four of what Serin calls ¡®bottom feeders¡¯ ¡ª revenants who¡¯ve died so many times, in such brutal ways, that they¡¯ve lost themselves to this predatory system. Or they never knew what was going on in the first place, they¡¯re from times where they couldn¡¯t possibly have any context for what¡¯s happening to them. The four who attacked us ¡­ they ¡­ I ¡­ I keep asking myself why they did it. Why they attacked.>>

    <<Because they were hungry too?>>

    Elpida snorted a laugh which was not a laugh. <<Because they were hungry too, yes. But Ilyusha and I, we didn¡¯t make ourselves an easy target. Ilyusha is an obviously modified cyborg, you can see her claws from a street away. I was heavily armed and armoured. I wore pieces of Ooni¡¯s carapace. Maybe I was hoping that would deter the ¡®bottom feeders¡¯, hoping some real monster would come for us, make us justify the murder. But those four ¡­ >> Elpida trailed off for a moment, then rallied with a deep breath. <<They didn¡¯t even have guns, Thirteen. They had bare fists. One of them had claws on her right hand, but they were too blunt and too small to pierce any real body armour. Another one of them had sharpened teeth. But that was it. They tried to jump us with metal pipes and a couple of half-bricks. One of them had a knife, but it was nothing really. They were screaming, shouting, incoherent sounds, insults, goading, that sort of thing. They had no plan, just hunger and rage.>>

    Thirteen strode across the endless field of bunkers. She swept her sensors back and forth, looking for signs of life ¡ª or unlife ¡ª just in case any zombies bold or unwise decided she was worth an experimental bite.

    <<They never stood a chance,>> Elpida repeated. <<They didn¡¯t even close to melee. Ilyusha took two of them apart with the shotgun. Serin neutralised the other two. It was over in seconds. That wasn¡¯t a fight.>>

    Thirteen spotted an occupied bunker.

    Three hundred meters to the east, one of the concrete enclosures contained a pair of revenants, their bodies burning bright to Thirteen¡¯s long-range heat and motion sensors, their biology glowing like firelight to her nanomachine-load pick-ups. Thirteen could not achieve high resolution through half a dozen layers of reinforced concrete and steel rebar, but she could guess at what the zombies were doing. They were coiled around each other, one¡¯s back to the other¡¯s belly, arms clinging tight, deep in the guts of the ossified fortification. They were tucked beneath blankets, breathing softly.

    Thirteen replied to Elpida. <<At least they didn¡¯t suffer.>>

    <<They did. One of them wasn¡¯t dead when she fell. We found out when we inspected the bodies. She hissed and spat and clawed at me, then reached for the one next to her. Said a name, or what I think was a name, but I couldn¡¯t make it out. Something like ¡®Anda¡¯. I finished her off, but ¡­ >>

    Thirteen¡¯s footsteps must have disturbed the pair of sleeping zombies; her sensors showed one of them scrambling out of bed, deep inside the bunker, then pressing her face to some kind of periscope system. Her partner flew after her, gathering up objects, darting about the inside of their concrete nest.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    Thirteen killed her directional sensors. She angled her route away from the bunker. She quickened her pace.

    <<That was the right thing to do,>> she told Elpida. <<If you have to kill, have mercy.>>

    <<They didn¡¯t die.>>

    <<Commander? I¡¯m sorry?>>

    Elpida¡¯s voice was losing volume and clarity; long range transmission fidelity was suffering due to the geography between Thirteen and Pheiri, or perhaps due to the density of the city, or random atmospheric conditions; Thirteen cycled uplink mediums and re-handshook with Pheiri until the Commander¡¯s voice regained clarity.

    <<They didn¡¯t die properly,>> Elpida said. <<That¡¯s how undead bodies work. They seemed like they were dead, of course. Unmoving, limp, so on. But they twitched when we started cutting. They didn¡¯t scream, or writhe, nothing so obvious. When we got their heads off, the eyes and jaws kept moving, twitching, jerking. I don¡¯t think they could feel it, not consciously. But on some level their nanomachine systems were still active. We¡¯re not really mammals anymore, Thirteen. Us zombies, I mean. We¡¯re more like slime mould. Or fungus. Distributed networks.>>

    Thirteen glanced back with a cluster of unobtrusive sensors, so the zombies in the bunker would not see her peeking at them.

    The pair were huddled against a wall, their bodily processes slowed to a minimum, waiting in absolute stillness, hoping the giant monster beyond their sanctuary would pass by without stopping to eat them.

    Everyone out here ¡ª every highly-evolved revenant beyond the graveworms ¡ª had engaged in the same process Elpida was describing.

    <<They didn¡¯t stop twitching until we took the brains out,>> Elpida said. <<Just like the severed heads I handled before.>>

    Thirteen did not know what to say. <<I¡¯m sorry you had to deal with that, Commander.>>

    <<I¡¯ve handled worse,>> Elpida said, with a smile in her voice. <<We didn¡¯t waste anything. That was the least I could do. Skin, gristle, marrow, eyeballs, organs, all of it, every last piece. Not a single nanomachine wasted. Anything less would be the worst kind of disrespect. To waste that sacrifice would be a terrible thing.>>

    <<I ¡­ I think I understand. How are the others?>>

    <<The others didn¡¯t react so bad, actually. I assumed Vicky would struggle with what we did, but she took it in her stride. She helped me make sure we didn¡¯t waste even a fragment of skin. Kagami, Amina, they both seemed okay. Shaken by the necessity, but okay. I think Kagami wasn¡¯t prepared for the bloody reality. She went quiet after it was all done, all the bodies processed. Atyle barely reacted, but I shouldn¡¯t be surprised by that. Ilyusha¡¯s been doing this for a long time, she was fine. Ooni did as she was ordered. Pira ¡­ Pira forced herself to help strip the bodies. She didn¡¯t eat, though. Took some of my blood, a couple of hours ago. Serin doesn¡¯t care. Melyn and Hafina seem detached. Pheiri, well, you know him.>>

    <<And Howl?>>

    Elpida¡¯s voice crackled across the connection, speaking with a new yet familiar tone: <<Just fiiiiine, sister. A girl¡¯s gotta eat!>>

    <<We all have to eat, yes,>> Thirteen agreed. <<Commander, you really didn¡¯t have a choice about that.>>

    <<Didn¡¯t I?>> Elpida said, in charge of her own voice once again. <<I can¡¯t stop thinking about their faces. Hafina has on-board image and video capture capability. I had her upload the footage of the encounter to Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit. I¡¯ve got the whole thing recorded, from the first sign of movement to the bloody end. I¡¯ve picked out dozens of still images of all four faces. Mostly of the one I finished off. She was ¡­ Howl says I shouldn¡¯t do this. Howl believes this is not practical or healthy.>>

    <<Commander, I ¡­ I think I agree. You don¡¯t have to¡ª>>

    <<I¡¯m staring at one of them now, on one of Pheiri¡¯s screens. The leader of the four, I think, the one I put down myself. She was tiny. Four foot nine. Filthy from head to toe. Wearing rags and a single piece of plastic armour on her left shoulder.>>

    Elpida paused. Thirteen marched on. The end of the bunker-field loomed on the horizon ahead; the city reached for the skies beyond, splitting into a dozen towers of rusted metal, little spires like imitations of Telokopolis, stunted and rotten.

    <<I keep ¡­ >> Elpida¡¯s voice shook. She gulped. <<I keep thinking about how they were probably friends. Did they sleep together, that night, before we killed them? Were they wrapped up in the blankets we found? Did they love each other? What were their names? Was that a name I heard, before I ended the one who died in my arms? Was she reaching for her best friend, her lover, or something else? Was she reaching for a weapon to kill me with? Was she pleading for mercy?>>

    <<Elpida, you¡ª>>

    <<Will they ever find each other again? Will one of them wake up in a tomb, tomorrow, or a week from now, or a year on, alone and lost? It¡¯s little different than what the Covenanters did to me and all my sisters. And I did that, this time. I did that. I bear the responsibility and¡ª>>

    <<Sister!>> Thirteen cried into the amniotic fluid of her comfortable and cushioned core. She was weeping from eyes open in the warm dark of her own body. <<Sister, you can¡¯t do this to yourself! You can¡¯t give in to despair!>>

    Elpida paused. When she spoke again, she sounded strong. <<Give in to despair? No, Thirteen, no. You¡¯ve got it all wrong. I can¡¯t give in or give up, even more so after what we did last night.>>

    <<I ¡­ I don¡¯t understand?>>

    <<Do you understand why I asked for Hafina to upload her combat footage to Pheiri? Do you understand why I¡¯m staring at those faces?>>

    <<No. I¡¯m sorry.>>

    <<You¡¯ve nothing to apologise for. I¡¯ll explain. I¡¯m doing this so they¡¯ll never be forgotten. Those four gave their lives so that we might live a little longer. So that Kagami¡¯s project might bear fruit, so that we might make something different, do something different, something new amid all this carnage and cannibalism. Maybe they¡¯ll never know it. They didn¡¯t choose it, consent to it, or even know what we were doing to them. The least I can do is remember their faces. If ¡­ >> Elpida swallowed. <<Thirteen, this is going to sound ridiculous. Serin called it ridiculous. And she¡¯s probably right. But if we do achieve ¡®metabolic escape velocity¡¯, if we can find a way to live off Pheiri¡¯s internal nanomachine processing or undead plants or anything else, if we can build something more ¡ª if, in five years or ten years or fifty years from now, if we do it, if we survive, if we ¡­ tear this system open down the middle, I¡¯m going to find these four. When they¡¯re resurrected again. I¡¯m going to find them, and give them a place in whatever we build. That¡¯s why I¡¯m engraving their faces into my memory. They died for a greater cause. But they did not deserve to. They deserved to live, like us. And that debt will be repaid. In Telokopolis.>>

    Thirteen had held the Commander in such awe, ever since she had stepped into the pilot chamber of Arcadia¡¯s Rampart and freed Thirteen from what she¡¯d done.

    Thirteen could not find the right words to do the same in return.

    Elpida did not speak for a long time. Thirteen listened to the tiny sounds of the Commander¡¯s breathing.

    <<Sister?>>

    Nothing.

    <<Elpida?>>

    The Commander finally answered. <<I¡¯m sorry, Thirteen. You didn¡¯t need to hear all my self-justifications.>>

    <<I can carry a lot. I¡¯m strong now.>>

    <<Good. And I¡¯m glad you are. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re doing what you¡¯re doing, it¡¯s the right choice, it is, really.>> She took a deep breath. <<I don¡¯t know if I can do that a second time, Thirteen. Hunt again, I mean. And I don¡¯t think doing it again would be strength. I think it might be the opposite. I don¡¯t know. Maybe Pira was right. Maybe there is no way to participate in all this. But participation is not optional.>>

    Thirteen still did not know what to say. <<Telokopolis is forever.>>

    Elpida echoed, <<Telokopolis is forever.>>

    Thirteen walked on, heading south, toward the edge of the continent.

    She spent the next five days watching the skies and watching her back, waiting for the inevitable arrival of central¡¯s next monster. She checked in with Pheiri at irregular intervals, so her transmission would not create a predictable pattern. She swapped more words with the Commander, with Mirror, with Pheiri himself, and even with one of the little robots, Melyn. She settled into a routine of varying her long-range scans, keeping them fresh by injecting random numbers into her schedule, in case central should try to sneak up on her again.

    After five days had passed, she started work on a satellite.

    Constructing the satellite was not easy; it was a great challenge, the most complex object she had ever made, before or after the Change. The device had to be grown entirely within her own flesh, so in a way it was part of her, built from glistening garnet machine-meat and nano-composite bone. She wove the core of the satellite from thick layers of data storage and processing substrate, fatty and greasy with neurons. She armoured each layer, then plated the exterior with inches of bone. She gifted her creation with sensor suites and communication relays. She armed it with short-range self-defence weaponry, anti-missile cannons, miniaturised shield generators, and enough drive systems to keep itself aloft for a few dozen years, harvesting fresh fuel from the atmosphere.

    She added internal gravitic engines, based on the tiny versions she had discovered inside central¡¯s third asset. She was not beyond appropriating The Enemy¡¯s clever ideas.

    As she crafted and cut, she kept thinking of it as a ¡®satellite¡¯, but really the machine was a large drone; the object would never pierce the cloud layer, let alone achieve low orbit. The clouds which smothered the planet were opaque to all but the most powerful sensors, certainly too much for the eyes and ears of her little drone. Even if she could develop a method of seeing through Earth¡¯s rotting coverlet, what would be the point? Such a tiny thing could not achieve escape velocity. She would have to carry it up there herself, and central would undoubtedly find a way to stop her from doing that. Central would notice the excursion. The point was to remain unseen.

    Thirteen Arcadia copied the techniques she had observed during her fight with the Disco Ball. That was her final and most important gift to this bud-child of her own flesh ¡ª visible-light reflection, gravitic cloaking, nanomachine-load shrouding.

    Her unseen eye in the sky.

    Finishing the satellite took her fifteen days. Central had still not sent another asset.

    Those two weeks were not all quiet journey. Thirteen sighted two more graveworms, one far away to west, and one much closer. She gave both of them a wide berth; she felt protective of the satellite she was growing inside her body, and did not want to risk a confrontation. She saw many strange zombies among the ruins, deep inside the cold, hardened guts of the city, in places where no worm had turned in decades. She catalogued and recorded and broadcast every scrap of data back to Pheiri. She improved her own scanners, looking for microbes, but found only nanomachines. She worked on her poetry, whispering her endless broadcast to Twelve Fifty Five, hoping and praying that she was heard.

    She grew her satellite, healthy and strong.

    Thirteen Arcadia launched her creation on the forty second day of her journey to the edge of the world, at dawn.

    She tested the satellite first, sheltered by a deep canyon of concrete and steel, inside the heart of a vast fortress, a city in its own right. Portions of the fortification contained warring entities almost as physically large as Thirteen Arcadia herself. They were protoplasmic blobs of highly pressurised fluid and viscera, without sensory organs or limbs; they flowed and pulsed through the vast hallways and corridors, contesting for space with each other like overgrown single-celled organisms. Thirteen assumed they were revenants who had left behind their human body plans, though they did not seem much like Iriko. They were vast by comparison, and much less vulnerable.

    She spent six hours watching and investigating the creatures, to make sure they would not attack her. They didn¡¯t care. They ignored her, for she was not edible.

    She kept to the castle courtyards, beneath the blackened sky, and began by extracting the satellite from within her own flesh.

    It was an easy birth, assisted by gravitics. She had given the machine an oblong shape ¡ª not for ease of removal, but for operational purposes of stealth and manoeuvrability. The whole process took less than one hundred seconds. When it was done, Thirteen briefly savoured the sensation of cold air against the inner surfaces of her body, wet and trembling with the echo-ghost of pain. Then she closed herself back up and examined the result.

    The satellite bobbed about twenty feet off the ground, holding itself aloft with tiny gravitic engines. White bone-armour was slick with machine-meat slime, dripping with the crimson sheen of afterbirth. The satellite quivered and shook as it took in the world beyond Thirteen¡¯s body.

    Thirteen reached out and stroked it with hands and tentacles and a brush of gravitics. The satellite responded with caution, then with recognition, and finally affection.

    After a few moments of petting, the satellite spread its own outer layers of flesh and bone into great ragged sheets of whirling white and red.

    <<I think I love you,>> Thirteen told it. <<Why is that? Because I made you? I wish Twelve Fifty Five could see you. I¡¯ll show her pictures, so she can find you too, where I¡¯m going to send you.>>

    The satellite replied with a burst of machine-meat language, which Thirteen knew she could not have understood before the Change.

    It was excited to be alive. It was ready to soar.

    Thirteen spent a whole day and night bobbing the drone around the concrete innards of the castle, putting the machine through its paces by observing the blob-creatures fighting over territory. It learned to dance through the air, slip by unseen, and climb the metal spires of this ancient edifice. It learned how to peel open the concrete and steel with fingers of subtle gravitic power. It learned how to make itself invisible, how to hold itself so still that even the cleverest of eyes could not see. It learned how to speak Thirteen¡¯s language, how to show her what she asked for, and how to see in a dozen different ways, some of which Thirteen did not fully understand, though she had designed them.

    After a day and a night, when dawn arrived, Thirteen called the drone back to the castle courtyard. With an ache in her heart, she prepared to say goodbye. As a last gesture of devotion, Thirteen extended her obsolete flesh from a sphincter on her underside and planted a kiss on the drone¡¯s external carapace. She made her lips acid, to leave behind an imprint of her affection, a little red bow-shape forever imprinted on the white bone.

    Then she stepped back and gave the drone control of its main booster engines. Like a hound loosed from the leash, it leapt ¡ª upward on an invisible plume of power, punching for the skies. The machine ¡ª the flesh-bud of her own body ¡ª receded toward the clouds, invisible to the naked eye, then to sensors, then even to Thirteen Arcadia¡¯s own biological echoes. It howled with exuberance the whole way, with a voice Thirteen did not understand how she had birthed.

    She handed the machine¡¯s functions over to itself, one by one. She wiped tears away from her old eyes, inside her amniotic core.

    On the last step she gave the drone a name ¡ª a whim, a passing fancy, she told herself. She knew this was a lie.

    She named the drone ¡®Hope¡¯.

    Thirteen did not want failure to bring disappointment, so she waited several days before she informed Pheiri about Hope. She tested the improved communications clarity by bouncing transmissions off the satellite; she could not access Hope without asking first, for now the child was its own entity, independent and free. Hope went unseen by any unwanted sensors. Thirteen had to handshake into a void, then identify who and what she was, before Hope would even reveal itself to be more than a sensor ghost.

    She requested the on-board cameras to take pictures of herself down on the surface ¡ª and one of Pheiri, which was a bit more challenging. She ran tests against Hope¡¯s anti-intrusion measures, and pushed her little baby to fight back for real. It did, with admirable skill.

    When Thirteen was satisfied that everything worked, she told Pheiri about her plan. He indicated it was a good one. Then she told him about Hope.

    Elpida was amazed. <<You put something in the sky? And ¡ª I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m honoured, I¡¯m just a little off balance ¡ª you named it after me?>>

    Mirror ¡ª the angry little zombie ¡ª was less impressed. <<She¡¯s put a spy-sat in low earth orbit? Pointed at us? Oh yes, please, paint a target on our heads, why don¡¯t you? I thought the whole point of you leaving was so we don¡¯t get giant monsters turning up to stomp us flat!>>

    Thirteen did not argue. She sent Mirror her own data, all the records of her own counter-intrusion exercises against Hope. She gave Mirror Hope¡¯s internal specifications, and challenged Mirror to do better. She allowed Hope to stand alone.

    Mirror spent two whole days trying to break into Hope¡¯s mind, to peel away one fragment of location data, or targeting data, or even just an acknowledgement that the satellite existed at all. Hope ran rings around her, for Hope was a little piece of Telokopolis.

    Mirror failed. In the end, even Mirror was forced to admit that the plan was a good one.

    Hope would speak true ¡ª the relay would work.

    Whatever Thirteen found, down beneath the black and dead surface of what had once been the green, she would not be voiceless ¡ª not while her child hugged the rotten sky, waiting for her words.

    Whatever she found down in the dark, the Commander would know.

    Thirteen walked south, through the endless streets of a world that had become a corpse. At her current rate, allowing additional time for any further interruptions, she predicted the journey would take another twenty two days.

    She began to thicken her armour and work on her internal pressures, filling her body with chambered fail-safes and ablative fluids, strengthening her immune system with new kinds of macrophage and lymphocyte, building up her reserves of raw grey nanomachines, gathering her courage.

    Thirteen Arcadia began to prepare herself for the dive off the edge of the world, down into the black.

 Interlude: Thirteen Arcadia, Part Three

    Thirteen Arcadia pushed deeper into the porous and putrid tissues of the south, where the corpse of the world grew wild and weird.

    Nineteen days from the continental shelf, she met a wounded worm.

    At first sight the jagged dark line rising above the horizon seemed like an exposed mountain range, perhaps a twin to the one which had sheltered Thirteen from the third of central¡¯s assets. Thirteen¡¯s intended route would carry her to the foothills of the range, then over a corner of the peaks; she planned to flower open her sensors from the tallest spot she could reach, to take a long-range high-ground geographic survey of the surrounding area. She would send the results back to Pheiri and Elpida, on the tiny chance that they might find the information useful one day, if they ever had cause to tread in her footsteps.

    But as Thirteen drew closer, the peaks and valleys resolved into sharp regularity ¡ª segments of colossal living metal slicing at the sagging underbelly of the sky.

    The back of a graveworm, still and silent.

    Thirteen¡¯s heart quickened with excitement; perhaps this was her chance to assist newborn revenants hurled forth from a tomb. She might be able to do some good on her journey south, to make up for the guilt of abandoning her Commander.

    But her hopes of heroism vanished as she examined the distant line of the waiting worm in more detail; the ordered points and angles were disturbed in one area, toward the front of the worm¡¯s body.

    A trio of gaping holes yawned wide in the grey metal.

    Three wounds, spaced in a neat triangle, bleeding vast quantities of raw blue nanomachines down the mountainside of the worm; the flow seemed like a trickle at Thirteen¡¯s distance, but up close she knew it was a crashing waterfall, thousands of gallons gushing forth every second. Glowing stains on the worm¡¯s hide showed that the bleeding had once been much more extensive, and not too long ago. The falling liquid shimmered with blue light beneath the dead sun in the black and empty sky.

    The trio of wounds were closing rapidly, plugged with a thickening latticework of silvery metal. The wounds were so vast ¡ª miles across ¡ª that the graveworm would not be fully healed for many days yet, perhaps as much as two weeks. Thirteen watched the healing process through her long-range cameras as she approached, taking measurements of the huge metal scabs and the open space they had yet to fill. She compared the speed of the observable process and the size of the holes. She calculated the worm had sustained the wounds approximately twelve days prior.

    Thirteen could not approach the wounded worm; two miles out, thousands of worm-guard formed a phalanx six deep and six high, a wall of writhing tendrils and pincers and lashing limbs, clad in triple-thickened armour and bristling with weaponry, stacked up atop each other in an unbreakable barrier. They reacted to her presence like magnetic ferrofluid, flowing through the streets and swarming across the buildings, chasing her until she had crossed an invisible marker and was no longer considered worth pursuit.

    The grey area around the safe zone should have been a haven for opportunistic predators, more evolved revenants, or those about to leave the zone. But it was empty. Nothing dared approach. The worm-guard had chased everything away.

    The wounded worm was taking no chances with intruders.

    Thirteen watched for most of that day, taking readings with her long-range sensors, spying on what she could without aggravating the worm¡¯s protective cordon. She pinged Hope and requested high-angle shots of the worm from above; Hope was happy to help.

    Thirteen counted over six hundred thousand active worm-guard ¡ª and almost a million dead, lying in great piles and heaps amid the rubble and ruin. Their corpses were being consumed and processed by their active fellows. Thirteen attempted to calculate how many dead worm-guard may have already been eaten and recycled, prior to her arrival, based on the assumption that the worm had received those wounds twelve days ago.

    According to her calculations, somewhere between four point six to eight point nine million worm-guard had already been recycled.

    She took readings of the buildings and recent destruction, but she could not piece together what had happened, or who the combatants had been; a swathe of damage spiralled off to the west, but it did not match anything she had yet encountered, nor anything she could imagine.

    Thirteen could not comprehend the scale of the battle which had taken place here.

    Very few ordinary revenants remained alive within this graveworm¡¯s safe zone; Thirteen counted less than a hundred, most of them huddling in deep holes or hiding within lightless buildings, clinging to each other down in the dark.

    Thirteen sent all the data back to Pheiri, then took the long way round this recuperating god-machine. She prayed to Telokopolis that she would not meet the foe which had left those wounds upon the worm. She quietened her never-ending stream of omnidirectional poetry, trusting that Twelve Fifty Five already knew she was on her way.

    Elpida contacted her over long-range comms a day later, when Thirteen had left the wounded worm far behind.

    <<What kind of combatant could do that to a graveworm?>> Elpida asked. <<Something from central, you think? Did you see any evidence of a fight? Any remains, any enemy it might have neutralised?>>

    <<Nothing but the wounds,>> Thirteen replied. She did not want to think about it too hard. <<There were a lot of damaged buildings. I don¡¯t know.>>

    Past that final graveworm ¡ª for Thirteen did not see another in all the reaches of the south ¡ª the city itself began to lose coherency.

    She first noticed the decay when she was seventeen days from the edge. More and more buildings were colonised by black rot, hung with dripping sheets of mucosal matter, spotted with dark grey lichens, coated with slick slime and slippery sludge, slumping into their foundations as they forgot what they were supposed to be. At first Thirteen assumed she was merely passing through yet another variation on the endless arteries and capillaries of the continent-spanning city-corpse. But the rot intensified with every step. By fifteen days from the edge there was more black nanomachine slime and roiling humps of rotten filth than there were intact buildings. The facade of regular ruin had gone untended for too long; concrete and brick and glass and steel ached to return to primordial sludge.

    Her southward route became difficult and confusing. The city collapsed into a swamp. Vast lakes of pitch-black mud and dirty grey slurry sucked and snagged at her ankles, threatening to drag her down into the tangled darkness beneath the surface, where rusted skeletons of sunken buildings rasped against her exterior armour.

    Thirteen treated this as an opportunity for practice; after all, the black beyond the shore ¡ª out in whatever was left of the green ¡ª would be far worse than a marshland of muddy lakes. She plunged into the swampy landscape several times, submerging herself in the lightless soupy depths. Building-sized spikes of sharp metal threatened to run her through; underwater labyrinths of mush and filth and rotten brick threatened to leave her trapped and pinned; strange swimmers in the silt twitched and flexed beneath her unquiet feet.

    She could have practised for days, but even one would be too long. Trudging through the ooze and muck would slow her down, add weeks to her journey. Thirteen spent just twenty four hours testing her external seals and internal pressures, pushing her sensors to their limit when blinded by black gunk, and learning how to jet through the mud on flumes of syphoned fluid.

    Then she climbed back to dry ground. She sent her testing data back to Pheiri, in case he ever needed to pressurise his internal spaces. She pinged Hope, far above her, dancing and swooping just beneath the cloud layer. She requested readings of the landscape ahead, so she might pick her way along the ridges and rises of higher ground.

    This complex detour would take time, but not too much.

    The revenants ¡ª the highly evolved zombies of the wilds ¡ª became even fewer in number as Thirteen continued south. They grew less comprehensible to both her sensors and her imagination. She tried not to speculate too much. She sent data back to Pheiri at irregular intervals, but she could no longer answer any questions or offer any analysis. She simply did not know.

    At fifteen days to the edge she spotted a revenant striding across the slurry-lakes on stilts of bone. The zombie¡¯s form was stretched out to a knife-blade of steel and polymer, with no room for a brain or organs or facial features. The lone wanderer was spear-fishing with limbs like whipping tentacles, plunging them into the muck and drawing forth wriggling morsels of undead life which had adapted to the crushing darkness.

    The blade-bodied revenant ignored Thirteen utterly, as if grown to specialise in one thing and one thing alone, ignorant of the world beyond the mud.

    Two days later a face formed in the side of a rotten skyscraper as Thirteen walked past, like a sleeper roused from slumber by her footsteps.

    A hundred feet tall, with lips made from dripping black slime and cheeks formed from grey lichen; it wavered and wobbled like melted wax beneath a candle flame, but it uttered no sound and extended no assault. Thirteen¡¯s sensors told her it was nothing but nanomachine slime ¡ª then it registered as a lone revenant, then a dozen, then a hundred.

    It formed a single silent word with lips wide enough to swallow Thirteen: ¡®Where?¡¯

    Then the face melted back into nothing, into the black slime. Thirteen waited to see if it would reoccur, but it did not.

    Twelve days out from the edge, Thirteen was buzzed by an aircraft. At first she thought the rapidly approaching airborne signal was the long-awaited fourth asset from central ¡ª for what else took to the dead skies of Earth anymore, except Hope?

    But then the craft came roaring over the rooftops and revealed itself as a fusion of undead flesh and cybernetically grafted omni-directional engines. Flat like a plate, the top bristled with eye stalks and sensors, while the underside was covered in sticky cilia and bulb-like digestive organs, ready to scoop up any wandering prey.

    It ¡ª she? he? ¡ª whooped in some forgotten language, screaming exuberance to the sky as it slammed through the air at top speed. ¡°Aiiiiiiieeeeeiiii!¡±

    Thirteen simply observed it pass overhead. It was uninterested in Thirteen¡¯s inedible flesh.

    A day later, Thirteen discovered something inexplicable, even by the necromantic technology of this undead ecosystem. She reached a strange area of high ground between the swamp-choked corpse-pockets, swept clean of all matter ¡ª rubble, ruin, concrete, even dust. The area was a perfectly level and empty space about a mile across, floored with smooth, glossy grey. The dirt itself was polished to a mirror sheen.

    Thirteen¡¯s sensors told her this area was a perfect heptagon. The buildings had been cut off at the exact edge of shape, as if sliced by a knife.

    Thirteen shot a sabot-round into the space, just to see what happened. The round vanished the moment it crossed the edge.

    Thirteen took the long way round, through the swamp.

    A week and a day from her destination, Thirteen finally came face-to-face with something that could talk back.

    Amid a particularly wide and open area of high ground, between the wind-swept bulwarks of intact city blocks, she found a circle cut into the concrete and brick of the ground. The circle was no more than thirty feet wide, and not some kind of spatial anomaly like the heptagon. This demarcation had been cut by hand.

    A humanoid zombie was sitting at the centre of the circle, cross-legged on the ground. She wore lightweight flexible armour, the colour of moss and leaves in a dark forest. The zombie had dark hair tied back in a ponytail, and no visible cybernetics. A sword lay across her knees; the blade was almost invisible to Thirteen¡¯s sensors, and completely unseen on her regular optics. The weapon was only detectable via matter-analysis. Thirteen could not figure out what the sword was made from.

    The sitting zombie greeted Thirteen with a raised hand, as if she could feel the sensors on her skin. Thirteen stepped out from behind the building she had been using as shelter, exposing her true form to the tiny revenant. But the zombie revealed no expression, unsurprised to meet something several thousand times her own size.

    They communicated via radio; the swordswoman had internal comms implants.

    <<Hail and well met,>> she said. <<Do you seek to challenge me?>>

    Thirteen Arcadia considered this. <<I don¡¯t think I do? Unless you¡¯re blocking my path, I have no quarrel with you. I don¡¯t want to fight. I certainly don¡¯t want to kill you, not over nothing.>>

    <<If you do not seek to enter my domain, then we do not have a challenge. You may pass beyond my circle without fear or caution. This I promise you, on my honour and the honour of my family name.>>

    <<What is your family name?>>

    <<Ah! So few I meet in this shadow world are interested in the answer to that question.>> The swordswoman sounded excited, but her expression did not change. She did not even blink. A covert examination with Thirteen¡¯s sensors showed her that the zombie¡¯s face was not flesh, but extremely fine polymer, tougher than steel, flexible as spider silk. <<My family name is Uusop. I hope you will carry it with you, though you will have little reason to do so, without the memory of our blades in meeting.>> The woman ¡ª Uusop ¡ª tilted her head to one side, as if thinking. <<However, if our blades were to meet, yours would surely shatter, and you would not carry the memory of my name. This is an interesting paradox. I must meditate on this.>>

    Apparently the statement was literal; Uusop fell silent for three hours, unresponsive to Thirteen¡¯s radio hails. Thirteen decided to wait in the sheltered gap between two tall buildings, curious enough to pause her journey for a while.

    Finally Uusop looked up again, examining Thirteen with her tiny biological eyes. The afternoon had deepened into grim dusk, casting deep red shadows across Uusop¡¯s little circle.

    <<You are still here,>> said Uusop.

    <<Yes. We were in the middle of a conversation. It seemed rude to leave.>>

    <<Do you seek a challenge after all?>> Uusop asked.

    <<Not at all,>> Thirteen replied. <<I¡¯m just curious about you. I haven¡¯t seen anybody else human-shaped in a couple of weeks. Everything around us is very ¡­ advanced. I don¡¯t understand how you¡¯ve survived out here.>>

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    <<By the edge of my blade. How else is survival achieved?>>

    <<Fair enough. And you think you could beat me, in single combat? I¡¯m not trying to goad you or insult you, I just ¡­ well. Look at me.>> Thirteen flexed several weapon pods to illustrate her point. She kissed the air with half a dozen high-explosive missile tips, spun up the engines of her point-defence auto-cannons, and flared the magnetic power of her main railgun.

    Uusop watched, then nodded once. <<Yes.>>

    Thirteen didn¡¯t know what to say. <<Wow. Okay, I accept that, then. I don¡¯t want to challenge you, though. I have absolutely no quarrel with you. Is this ¡­ is this what you do, for food? You bait challengers?>>

    Uusop shook her head. <<I bait nothing, but I will move for nothing. No demon, no spirit, no monster, no god. I sit in my domain. That is all I do.>>

    Thirteen thought this sounded very sensible, but a bit boring, and very solitary. <<Don¡¯t you ever get lonely?>>

    <<The world rarely exists between challenges. You are the first conversation I have had in a while which did not result in a challenge.>>

    <And ¡­ how long has it been? Since your last fight, I mean.>>

    Uusop paused briefly, then said: <<Seventeen years, eight days, eleven hours, three seconds.>>

    Thirteen did not know if she could say anything relevant to that. <<And you haven¡¯t eaten in all that time?>>

    <<What need is there to eat if one does not move?>>

    Thirteen briefly considered not relaying the details of this conversation to Elpida ¡ª Uusop¡¯s simplicity might spark a crisis of purpose. But then she decided that was a bad idea. Keeping intel from her Commander and her little brother would have been treachery, no matter how strange or difficult that intel might be.

    Thirteen asked: <<What will you do if a graveworm comes this way?>>

    <<I will match blades with it.>>

    <<Do you think you¡¯ll win? Against a worm?>>

    Uusop thought about this for a moment. <

    >

    Thirteen eventually bid Uusop goodbye ¡ª though not before asking about her sword, but Uusop refused to answer any questions about the blade. Thirteen transmitted the audio and video logs of the conversation to Pheiri. Elpida and her comrades spent the entire next day picking through the footage, examining the readouts of Uusop¡¯s body, trying to figure out what she was.

    Mirror gave the final assessment, late on the following day.

    <<She¡¯s essentially an ultra-dense cyborg. She¡¯s no taller than me, but she weighs over eight hundred pounds. Those arm muscles and tendons can probably move her sword fast enough to break the sound barrier. I¡¯d be surprised if her top running speed is less than a hundred miles an hour. Not a scrap of flesh left in her, not even the brain. The deep-radar and magnetic imaging returns of her skull, see that? Thirteen, you know what that is? Of course you don¡¯t, you¡¯re no expert, that¡¯s why I¡¯m here. That is an artificial brain. Same basic technology as an AI substrate enclosure, but without the gravitic-assisted spatial densification. I have no idea how she did that, it would have required replacing her own brain cell by cell.>>

    <<Or uploading her old self into a new body, right?>> Elpida asked.

    Mirror just sighed. Thirteen heard the gentle rasp of skin over skin ¡ª Mirror dragging a hand across her own face. <<Every single aspect of that woman is an infernal miracle. And I can¡¯t even work out what the sword is made of! Her little toe would have been enough to trigger worldwide condemnation and nuclear sterilisation. Of all the weird shit you¡¯ve sent us, Thirteen, this fucking cyborg sword-bitch is the most impossible to believe. The most dangerous, too. You know what? I don¡¯t even think she was joking. I think she may have stood a chance against you. Maybe she could even put a scratch on a worm.>>

    <<How?>> Thirteen asked.

    <<Ha!>> Mirror barked. <<I don¡¯t even want to speculate. Frankly I would have been happier never seeing this.>>

    Four days later, four days from the edge, Thirteen met something much worse than a woman sitting on the ground with a sword across her legs.

    Deep in the swampy entrails of the land, surrounded by half-sunken buildings and sludge-lakes of rotting ruin, a giant walked out of the west.

    A mountain of flesh strode upon twelve pillar-like legs. Each limb was a parody of human thigh and knee and shin, wrapped in pale armoured plates like the hide of a lizard, furred with thick black hair. Every footstep swept through the swamps as if the muck and mud wasn¡¯t even there, throwing up waves of sludge to wash the shores of the marshland, shaking the ground with miniature earthquakes.

    The main body was a heaped pyramid of muscle, punctuated a million times by eyeballs, mouths, ears, tiny grasping baby-like hands, and other strange sensory organs that Thirteen had never seen before, bulbs and flaps and hanging clusters of nerve endings. The thing babbled and sang and cried as it walked, a million mouths all speaking over each other in polyphonic chaos. Thirteen attempted to sharpen and filter her external auditory sensors to pick out individual voices, but the effort was impossible, and the languages were too many.

    The giant was easily the size of a real mountain. It glowed with the steady nanomachine signature she expected from a single zombie, a normal revenant, but multiplied in size rather than density.

    The creature had arms, too ¡ª not the tiny grasping arms affixed all over the pyramid-shaped body, but real arms, six of them, arcing outward from the tip of the pyramid like scythes hanging from branches. Each limb broke into a trio of gigantic pointed bone-spears. Each spear tip was laced with hollow passages, siphons ready to suck at the blood of gargantuan prey.

    The giant carried a hundred score of wounds, mostly across the legs and the lower reaches of the main body ¡ª red scabs over deep gashes, tiny compared to the vast mass of the thing.

    Was this the monster which had wounded the worm?

    Thirteen had no way to be sure, and she was not eager to find out. But she could not run. The giant revenant walked faster than she could sprint, covering the ground with the ease of a human striding through ankle-deep water. Thirteen did not flee. She stood and waited.

    It stopped a mile away, watching Thirteen with hundreds of thousands of eyes, babbling nonsense to the blackened heavens.

    Thirteen had Hope take pictures from far away. She sent them back to Pheiri. She prepared for a fight, for death, for worse. If this thing chose to eat her, she would not stand a chance. This would be the end of her journey. She resumed her poetry-song, abandoning stealth, howling her love out into the void.

    She flowered open a tiny section of her armour, showing a glistening portion of her own gleaming garnet flesh.

    <<I am not made of the same stuff as you,>> she broadcast on every medium and frequency she could. <<I am not edible. You cannot digest me. I am not good to eat.>>

    She had no idea if the thing comprehended, or cared, or was capable of either.

    It simply turned north and walked away. Each stride washed the high ground with torrents of black mud and grey slime. Thirteen let it crash over her in filthy waves, immobile in her relief.

    Then she turned south and walked on. The scraps of her old flesh quivered and shook inside her amniotic core, crying slow tears of mortal terror.

    Elpida and the others shared very little reaction to the data she had captured. They were tight and controlled. They saw a possible future, one they did not like, and they wished to spare Thirteen the horror of knowing their fears. She silently thanked them for that. She had to focus on her journey.

    Over the following three days the corpse-city dropped away and the swamps dwindled. The lakes shrank to pools and puddles, stagnant and stinking. The buildings became lower, more squat and skeletal, then collapsed into mere stubs of wall and outlines of fallen frame. The landscape levelled out to both east and west, a flattened plane of dark grey earth without the slightest hint of moss or lichen, worm or beetle, life or remains, punctuated only by low ruptures of rock and slow trickles of black ooze.

    The land sloped toward the south, leading down.

    On the dawn of that final day, beneath the heavy droplets of a swirling rainstorm, Thirteen Arcadia took her first step beyond the bounds of the city. There were no more buildings, only the slope.

    As the raindrops pattered off her sealed exterior bone-armour, she spotted three things out of place.

    The first two were far behind her ¡ª energy signatures roaring through the periphery of the corpse-city, throwing up sheets of rotten water and black sludge high into the air.

    Central¡¯s assets had shown themselves at last. Numbers four and five were trying to beat her to the edge of the world.

    She could not see the machines themselves, only their rough shapes on long-range radar and gravitational analysis. One was a jagged ball of slender spikes, like a sea urchin; it was tiny, barely larger than a zombie, but it glowed with a nanomachine density like the heart of collapsed star. The second was gigantic, vaster even than the first asset, a machine like a blunt hammer of force racing across the landscape.

    They were very far away. They would be on her within three hours, but not before.

    Thirteen Arcadia pumped her legs and braced for a sprint. The green was not far now, just over the horizon one last time. She would dive off the world before central could catch her. She was free. She had won.

    But then she saw a person.

    The figure was standing far to her left, four miles away across the damp grey soil. Thirteen would never have spotted the figure if not for the utter emptiness and barren desolation of the intertidal plain.

    Five foot four, dressed from head to toe in featureless black robes. It was like a cut-out of shadow against the backdrop of the world. It stood and watched, face hidden within a deep hood.

    It had not been there a moment ago, when Thirteen had taken her final step behind the ragged edge of the city. She was sure of that.

    And her sensors told her it still wasn¡¯t there.

    The figure had no radar signature, no nanomachine-load, no gravitic disturbance pattern, no material composition. Echolocation returned empty space. Raindrops seemed to fall through the figure¡¯s body. It only showed up on visible light, via Thirteen¡¯s exterior sensor clusters.

    <<Hello?>> Thirteen sent.

    It did not answer.

    Thirteen considered the fact she might be hallucinating. Had she been infected by something from the nanomachine ecosystem? That was impossible, her body was now sealed and pressurised and ready for anything. Her immune system was a perfect balance of aggression and caution; if a single outside nanomachine entered her flesh, she would know. The intruder would be surrounded, devoured, and purged within seconds. Her data processing was flawless, uncorrupted; her mind was clear.

    She continued sweeping the figure with her sensors until she was absolutely certain nothing was present. Then she spun up one of her point-defence auto-cannons and put a single round straight through the figure¡¯s chest, at four miles away, with pin-point accuracy.

    The bullet passed through the shadow and chewed into the dirt behind, throwing up a cloud of grey grit to join the falling rain.

    The figure did not waver ¡ª but it raised a hand, or at least a wide and drooping sleeve.

    It pointed south.

    Thirteen packaged up all the data ¡ª mostly just the external feeds in visible light ¡ª and sent them to Pheiri in one final intel broadcast, bounced off Hope¡¯s underside. She did not understand what she was witnessing, but perhaps others might find it interesting.

    Then she turned south and launched into a sprint.

    Thirteen galloped across the sodden soil, throwing up clods of dirt behind her. Greasy, gritty, grey raindrops slashed and whirled around her body as she pounded onward, down and down and down the slope. Far behind her, the fourth and fifth assets from central slowed a little, lingering in the ruins of the city, as if reluctant to follow Thirteen to the precipice.

    A ribbon of black broke the horizon, widening with each lunging footfall.

    The world fell away; a sea opened beyond the land.

    After an hour and a half of travel at her top speed, Thirteen slowed to a trot. A few minutes later she halted. For a while she did not move, feet planted on the wet rocks of the deep cliffs. The rainstorm died away. Moisture glistened on her armour. Thirteen could do nothing but stare. Minutes ticked by. Eventually she roused herself and walked the last few hundred meters to the drop-off, the cliff-edge, the end of the supercontinent.

    Deep inside her fleshy core, she shivered, weeping slow, warm, wet tears into her amniotic cradle.

    She stared out across black infinity.

    The green was gone.

    In its place lay an ocean of sable sludge, stretching from horizon to horizon. The rotten black fluid did not move like water, flowing and ebbing, lapping and sloshing. Instead this world-sewer roiled and rucked like a living creature, boiling and bubbling and bursting in vile pockets of overflowing animation, reaching upward with pseudopods of inky pus which collapsed as quickly as they were formed. Runnels of matter glugged and gulped, sucking thinner patches of slime downward, the infernal sea rolling over itself with the slow motion of hot tar or cold blood.

    Great masses of uneven black flowed down into the deep, guided and funnelled by unseen structures below the surface.

    Trees!

    Thirteen realised with nauseated shock that the trees of the green were still there, choked and strangled by this limitless sea of smothering nanomachine slime. Here and there, plant life climbed above the surface of the waves, almost invisible against the dark immensity ¡ª a few branches, a cluster of leaves, a spreading fern. But all those desperate survivals were rotten and dying, covered in black mould or eaten by grey infection, falling into the sea below as rapidly as they could grow.

    The green lived ¡ª and yet was being destroyed? Growing again and again, only to be devoured by the very process it had given life, the forest-floor rot arisen from the body of the world?

    Was that the secret behind this nanomachine ecosystem? Was this all nothing more than leaf mulch, left to grow strange and horrible over too many millions of years?

    Elpida¡¯s voice suddenly cut into Thirteen¡¯s thoughts, hissing across the long-range communications uplink.

    <<Thirteen! Thirteen, that thing you saw back there, the thing in the black robes, what was that!?>>

    Her voice was faint and far away. Even bounced off Hope, the distance and the interference was too great to achieve proper clarity. The nanomachine sea was scrambling the signal.

    And the singing from the deep was too much to drown out.

    Thirteen heard it clearer than ever before; the voices of all her sisters whispered from down there, down below a world of rot and decay and struggling pain. Their voices danced across the nanomachine ecosystem itself, like a tapping behind the walls, a scratching in the back of Thirteen¡¯s mind.

    <<I don¡¯t know what that was,>> she replied to Elpida ¡ª and plugged the comms uplink directly into her visual cortex, feeding images back to Pheiri. <<Look at this. Commander, look at this.>>

    For a long time she received no reply.

    Eventually another zombie spoke up. It was Atyle, the ancient one. <<A sea of death, or of new life? Swim hard, newborn god.>>

    <<I will,>> Thirteen replied. <<Thank you.>>

    Elpida broke in again. Thirteen could barely hear her words.

    <<Thirteen! Thirteen, that thing you saw back there, the figure standing on the beach¡ª>>

    Somebody barked with laughter, repeating the word ¡®Beach, beach!¡¯ in an almost hysterical tone. That was Mirror.

    <<¡ªcan you go back and get a better look at it?>> Elpida said. <<Thirteen? Thirteen?!>>

    <<I¡¯m sorry, Commander,>> Thirteen replied. She could not tear her eyes away from the green ¡ª dying and dying and dying beneath the black. <<Central¡¯s assets are an hour behind me. They¡¯ll catch me if I turn back. I have to dive. I have to go. I¡¯m sorry.>>

    Inside her own body, behind her bone-armour, Thirteen Arcadia was quivering like naked meat exposed to freezing winds. She grew limbs to hug herself tight, but that didn¡¯t help. She sucked down lungfuls of her own innards, choking her tears and her panic on warm, salty blood. Her legs felt like they were made of lead and concrete, but they kept moving, carrying her to the very edge of the upper world.

    She peered off the cliff ¡ª the drop-off. There were no rocks below on which to dash herself by accident, no outcroppings on which to snag or smash a limb. No clinging cliff side trees, no bird¡¯s nests tucked into cracks. Just grey rock, a straight drop down into the roiling black unknown.

    <<Okay,>> Elpida said. Her voice was barely more than a whisper now, drowned out by static interference from below. <<Okay, Thirteen. I understand. I understand you have to go. But this isn¡¯t¡ª>>

    <<Thirteen Arcadia.>>

    Elpida understood instantly. <<Thirteen Arcadia. This isn¡¯t goodbye. This isn¡¯t the end. Whatever you¡¯re going into down there, you are coming back to us. Eventually, somehow, you are coming back. You understand? We¡¯re going to see what you see, aren¡¯t we? This isn¡¯t the end.>>

    Thirteen stared down into the ocean.

    <<I don¡¯t know.>>

    But she had no choice. Behind her lay death, and no clever tricks up her sleeve. Before her was infinity, dark and unknown.

    The revenants were all saying things over the comms uplink. Each of them cheered encouragement, or said thank you for protecting them, or ¡®good luck¡¯ or ¡®see you soon¡¯. Even the androids ¡ª Melyn and Hafina ¡ª chipped in with a few words. Serin purred and murmured about the world beyond the continent. Mirror and Victory snapped at each other. Pheiri completed a full systems handshake, and passed on a wordless message of positive emotion from Iriko, though tainted by childlike petulance. Hope joined in with a soft acknowledgement ping, to which Thirteen replied with an automatic ¡®I love you.¡¯ Howl added a war-cry of whooping excitement, telling her to ¡®give ¡®em hell¡¯ ¡ª whoever ¡®they¡¯ turned out to be.

    But all of it washed over Thirteen like so much greasy rain. None of it helped, even as she clutched the words to her heart. Below her feet, hundreds of meters down, the dying green called to her, full of her sisters¡¯ voices, full of¡ª

    Elpida spoke. Suddenly her voice was clear, by luck or chance or the clarity of Hope¡¯s relay.

    <<Good hunting in the green, but do not stay from these doors too long. Hurry home to us, sister. Hurry home soon.>>

    Thirteen took the combat frame equivalent of a deep breath; she would not need it down there, for she had grown filters and gills and specialised structures for permanent submersion. But the breath helped, drawing oxygen through her body, filtering out the nanomachines, filling her blood with fresh determination.

    <<Thank you, Commander. Sister. Elpida. Thank you, everyone.>>

    <<You¡¯re welcome, Thirteen. Good hunting. Stay safe. I love you, sister.>>

    And then Thirteen leapt off the edge of the world.

    She plummeted hundreds of meters, twisted her body side-on to cut the surface, and hit the black like a blade. Dark sludge closed over her in an instant, swallowing her whole.

    For a moment Thirteen almost lost herself, tumbling in the black. Up was down, left was right. She was lost in the dark.

    But then she reached out and touched the rough, raspy, raw surface of something upright, something growing and rotting at great speed, living and dying over and over with every second.

    A tree. The green. Still here.

    Thirteen found her bearings, thanks to a tree. Down was down once again. She pointed herself in the right direction, pushed her sensors to their maximum, and slammed back the darkness with the probing beams of a hundred lance-lights.

    Thirteen Arcadia descended, diving deep into the dark beneath the world.

 custos - 11.1

    Frigid flesh quickened with furious flame; frozen meat melted into metabolic motion. A stilled heart stirred with a single beat, then hammered hard against a cage of bone. Lungs inflated with a clotted breath, sucking air down a slime-clogged throat. Eyes flew open, blinded by viscous residue. Lips parted with a slick wet rasp.

    Eseld woke screaming, clawing at the inside of her resurrection coffin.

    She screamed until her throat bled and her ears rang. She clawed until her fingertips were bloody and bruised.

    She screamed to purge her respiratory system, splattering the grey lid of the coffin with blue-stained mucus from inside her windpipe and lungs. She screamed for the friends and companions once again left behind in the yawning abyss of death. She screamed with the realisation that she had been ripped back into unlife once again, dumped into this grey metal box once again, pushed into the abandoned, overgrown, rotten garden of the world once again, to die, once again. Once again. And again. And again. And again.

    The cycle had begun anew, and all Eseld could do was break her nails against the coffin lid.

    Eseld¡¯s memory was a jumble. Always a jumble! Death and time stole everything except hunger. But this latest death felt different.

    She had been asleep ¡ª sleeping for real, with closed eyes and softened breath, not the sleep of death in a heaven plundered and emptied by the demonic machines of this accursed future. No, she had been curled up in a dark hole with Su and Mala and Andasina, huddled beneath some threadbare blankets they¡¯d found in the waterlogged entrails of a collapsed building. They¡¯d been cuddled up, warm and tight, when¡ª

    Or was that the death before this last one? Or one before that? Eseld¡¯s memories felt like shifting through tar with a toothpick. She had known her latest trio of friends for only a few months, and could barely remember their faces. Just another short-lived pack, bonded by sensation and shared meat, barely holding back from eating each other. They were little different to all previous faces, all previous flesh, all previous incarnations.

    Eseld had died so many times. She had lost count long ago. She had stopped trying at fifty seven deaths ¡ª half because her mind could not take any more, half because fifty seven was a special number. Fifty seven was the year the king had ascended to the throne, which was also the year Eseld¡¯s little brother had died. The number fifty seven had endured where so much else had turned to decay and fallen away; Eseld could not recall her brother¡¯s name, nor the name of the king who she had never seen. She could not remember her parents¡¯ faces, or the feeling of sunlight, or the sound of birdsong.

    There was very little left of ¡®Eseld¡¯. She knew this with greater clarity, in these brief respites after return to unlife.

    Eseld stopped screaming and stopped clawing at the lid of her coffin. She panted for breath, though she knew she did not strictly need to breathe. It just felt better to fill her lungs. She snorted clots of nanomachine slime and glue-like mucus out of her nose.

    She had long ago given up recalling the exact circumstances of each death; there was nothing to learn, no improvements to be made. Eseld had harboured those illusions for her first few dozen deaths, when she had first been ripped from heaven and cast into this pit. But like everyone else, she had eventually given up and surrendered to eternal torture. Why make it worse by remembering the pain of being shot, stabbed, run-through, dismembered, disembowelled, crushed, and eaten alive?

    But this death felt different ¡ª why? Eseld struggled to remember, gritting her teeth and hissing with frustration. She closed her eyes and focused. She had been sleeping, when¡ª

    Andasina!

    The realisation hurt. This death was different, because relief had briefly interrupted the torture.

    Because Eseld had liked Andasina.

    They had met over the corpse of a fallen revenant ¡ª a real monster, covered in bio-mechanical augmentations, her flesh ripe with nanomachines, slain in a personal duel over some lofty consideration far beyond the ken of scavengers like themselves. Eseld and Andasina had stumbled across the corpse by chance, at the same moment, in the brief window before stronger predators had moved in to claim the resources. Fighting each other over the corpse would have been a useless waste of time, for they were both emaciated and starving; a fight would only have delayed them until the bigger girls turned up, and then they would both have come away with nothing ¡ª or died. So they had leapt at the corpse side-by-side, unspeaking, sharing only glances, tearing into the fresh and steaming meat, stuffing it into their mouths, clutching the bloody gobbets to their chests, working as quickly as they could to secure whatever nutrition they could steal.

    When the well-fed revenants had descended with their guns and their body armour and their bionic limbs, Eseld and Andasina had fled together, back into the dark alleyways of the city. They¡¯d giggled as they fled, over a caper shared.

    Chance had brought them together, with full bellies and a wordless truce; touch and sensation had closed the remaining gap. Andasina was cuddly and small, perfect for tucking up against Eseld¡¯s front, like a hot stone wrapped in cloth, warm in the freezing nights of this empty and Godless world. At first they had snuggled for sheer physical comfort. Over time they had grown used to the behaviour, made it a routine, the foundation of something new amid the rot.

    Eseld had grown sharp teeth, after about a month together. Andasina had said that was cool, even though it sometimes made her lips bleed when they kissed each other. Eseld couldn¡¯t remember how they¡¯d picked up Su and Mala; Andasina had done the work, coaxing the fellow scavengers to safety one night with a chunk of wet and bleeding meat. Then they were four. Friends, or something more.

    For a little while, companionship had eased the pain of eternal life without grace.

    But then ¡ª last night? No, in the morning!

    Light had been filtering through the broken bricks of their night¡¯s nest. Su had heard footsteps outside the hole in which they¡¯d been sleeping, footsteps approaching down the alleyway, one pair booted and heavy, the other clawed and quick. Stronger revenants, hunting for prey. Nowhere to run ¡ª the building was too clogged with ruin and rubble. Mala had tried to wriggle through, but all she¡¯d achieved was ragged cuts down her shoulders and back. Andasina had hissed for silence, in the forlorn hope that the predators would pass them by, but they all knew that wasn¡¯t true. Strong revenants did not poke around in dark holes unless they were hunting for meat.

    All four of them had wept quietly, hoping the predators would turn away or take another route. But they hadn¡¯t.

    In the end, Eseld and Andasina and Mala and Su had put their heads together in the dark, skull to skull, tears intermingled. Eseld had kissed Andasina so hard that they¡¯d both bled. Su and Mala had torn at each other¡¯s clothes in premature loss. They all knew what was coming. There was no way out. They had no chance of beating stronger revenants, those who had thrived and flourished on cannibalism, and freed themselves from the cycle of torment. Those zombies approaching down the alley carried guns and wore armour. They may as well have been another species.

    Eseld knew she was prey, no different to the rabbits she had trapped and eaten in life.

    But she knew from experience that a rabbit with some fire still in it could twist in the snare and bite the hunter¡¯s hand. A dying rabbit could still draw blood.

    She and her friends had boiled from their nest and into the alleyway, screaming and shouting wild defiance. Eseld had snapped her nice sharp teeth, showing off what she¡¯d made. Andasina had a knife, hidden somewhere inside her clothes. Clever little Anda.

    Eseld didn¡¯t recall much after that, only pain. She¡¯d stared down the barrel of a shotgun, then been slammed sideways, smashed to the ground, her chest opened to the cold air. She had lain face-down in a gritty puddle of her own blood, wheezing and twitching, choking on her bodily fluids. A zombie had hoisted her up by her hair, to cut her throat ¡ª a true monster, a shining giant with glowing purple eyes and a shock of pure white hair, skin so clean and glossy, body armoured in plate, armed with death-spitting machinery that Eseld could barely dream of holding.

    Eseld had turned away from it, toward Andasina, already lying dead on the ground. She had not wanted her last memory of that resurrection to be the face of some unknown zombie. She died with Andasina¡¯s name on her lips, spoken through bubbles of hot, steaming blood.

    Then, oblivion, for but a moment.

    Death never held. Now she was back, in a resurrection coffin, weeks or months or a million years later.

    She would likely never meet Andasina again. They were parted like two leaves in a storm, never to touch once more.

    Tears cut tracks into the slime on Eseld¡¯s cheeks, sliding down to join the shallow film of blue gunk in which she lay; with the gnawing hunger briefly sated by the mechanics of resurrection, her thoughts were clear for the first time in months, and all she felt was grief.

    Eseld tried to scream again, but her voice emerged as a wet and withered whimper.

    She had to be quiet and quick. Survival demanded she repress sorrow.

    This resurrection coffin was identical to all the others in which she had woken ¡ª a grey box barely large enough for her naked flesh, with little room to move her arms across her body. A cold blue glow came from left of her head, from a tiny screen with the usual rows of buttons beneath. She did not bother to glance at the screen, because it never said anything different. Her pale, freckled skin was coated with a thin layer of nanomachine slime, already being absorbed into her body. But her build was no longer as emaciated as when she¡¯d died. She was lithely muscled, supple and athletic once more, as she had been in true life. Eseld was gifted with compact, elegant muscle, from twenty years of climbing trees and cliffs to pluck eggs from bird¡¯s nests, from scurrying about the woods to hunt rabbit and pheasant, and from a solid diet of oats and game meat. She could not recall the taste of those foods now, only that of human flesh.

    Russet hair was slicked to her skull, soaked with slime. She ran her tongue across her teeth and discovered they were still sharp ¡ª she had retained the nano-biological adjustment, for once. Not much use in a fight. Perhaps she could use them to intimidate?

    Noises filtered through the metal of her coffin ¡ª screaming, crying, thumping. The usual. The rest of this batch of resurrections were waking up. Some of them sounded as if they were already out of their boxes, sprawling on the floor, pounding the metal in their frustration, screaming to the empty heavens.

    That was bad; the slow risers and the last out made easy prey. Eseld needed to get on her feet.

    At least it didn¡¯t sound as if the killing had started yet. That still gave Eseld a decent chance of sprinting for the door. Most of the weeping and babbling was coming from her right, but that didn¡¯t mean anything; it was impossible to tell where one was in relation to the door before one actually broke the seal and climbed out.

    This could be one of the rare groups which did not descend into instant cannibalism, of course. Eseld had learned long ago that was a poor wager.

    Eseld wriggled both arms up, so she could press on the underside of her coffin lid.

    It didn¡¯t move.

    ¡°Fuck! Fuck, no! Move! Let me out! Move!¡±

    She pulled a fist back and thumped on the metal; she prayed to God¡¯s empty throne that she was not one of the few who needed help, stuck inside her own unbroken egg. That practically guaranteed she would get eaten, pulled live and wriggling from her shell and gutted with her first breath of open air.

    She thumped again. Nothing happened. She gritted her teeth and tried not to scream. These deaths were always the worst, the ones which came before the hunger set in, when she still held onto shreds of hope. Eseld¡¯s face scrunched up with cold tears.

    ¡°Please,¡± she hissed through her teeth. ¡°Please. Please. I want ¡­ I want to see her again. I know¡ª I know I can¡¯t. It¡¯ll never happen. But please.¡±

    God did not answer her prayers, because God was dead, like everyone else.

    Eseld slumped, giving in, giving up, giving¡ª

    Shick.

    A black knife cut into the side of the coffin, six inches from Eseld¡¯s face, slicing through the invisible seam between the lid and the base.

    The blade broke the seal. The coffin lid clicked, then began to open.

    The knife retracted as fast as it had appeared.

    Eseld¡¯s resurrection coffin opened on smooth hydraulics, lid rising with a gentle hiss. Cold air rushed in and coated her slime-soaked skin. The lid tilted to one side, blinding her with the clean white illumination of the resurrection chamber. Eseld had missed the red-alert stage, slept too long in the embrace of death. She was late to rise.

    She gathered herself and grabbed the sides of her casket, feet slipping and skidding in the slime as she tried to get her footing. She found her balance and scrambled out of the box, down over the edge, onto the cold grey metal floor of an echoing vastness.

    This resurrection chamber was like all others Eseld had witnessed; they always varied in the smallest details, but not in the larger aspects. Besides, who cared? The ceiling was higher than the vault of any Church or Cathedral she had ever seen, encrusted with great looping lines of cable and wire and pipe, hung with vast dripping orifices, their ends ragged with the afterbirth of the revenants below. Infernal machinery stretched off to the left and right, rows of semi-transparent obsidian glittering with inner lights ¡ª ¡®computers¡¯, running equations to tear souls from heaven; Eseld had not learned the word ¡®computer¡¯ in true life, only here in this empty and abandoned shell of creation. The rear wall of the resurrection chamber was dominated by a gigantic screen of silvery, liquid metal, flowing and scrolling with nonsense words and strings of numbers, as the devils in charge of hell chattered to themselves. Before the screen stood a human-scale control panel covered in buttons and switches and dials, same as always.

    Clean white light burned upon every surface. Two rows of grey metal coffins faced each other in the middle of the room, raised on plinths, like caskets in a tomb.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Eseld was unlucky ¡ª her coffin was at the head of the rows, right next to the control panel, above which towered the unintelligible text of the liquid metal screen. The door was in the opposite direction, past the screaming, weeping mass of slime-soaked zombies.

    This was a big batch. Twenty coffins. Poor odds.

    Eseld glanced at her tomb-mates and tried to estimate her chances of survival if she sprinted for the door. Previous experience told her that one runner would set off a general panic, and trigger any wolves hiding among the flock.

    Seventeen coffins had opened successfully; three revenants were still in the process of climbing free to join the others, but everyone else was out. Most of this batch was fresh meat, first-timers ¡ª eleven of the seventeen births looked dazed and awed, sitting or sprawling on the floor, gaping at the resurrection chamber, or clutching at where their mortal wounds had slain them in life. Harsh white light highlighted shivering, naked, sticky flesh.

    Some of them were beginning to voice questions in halting speech.

    ¡°Where are¡ª I was¡ª I was sleeping, I was sleeping¡ª¡±

    ¡°What is this? What is this?! Who are you people?! What is this!?¡±

    ¡°Father? Father, you were right there, where are you? M-my eyes were closed only for a moment. Father?¡±

    ¡°And peace and tranquillity and safety will come to all, will come to a-all, oh God, oh God, where am I, where¡ª¡±

    Eseld knew this was misleading. Some of those ¡®confused¡¯ and ¡®stunned¡¯ girls were predators, play-acting, planning on biding their time among the sheep.

    But one of the fresh revenants tugged at Eseld¡¯s heartstrings, no matter how she tried to resist; a young girl was up on her feet, walking between the two rows of coffins. She was one of the youngest zombies Eseld had ever seen, a little girl no more than eleven or twelve years old. She had bright blonde hair stuck to her skull with nanomachine slime, and the widest blue eyes, staring at everything with blank surprise.

    One coffin appeared to have malfunctioned and melted into a twisted lump of slag ¡ª that was new, Eseld had never seen that before, but it didn¡¯t matter. Two coffins had opened to reveal abortions ¡ª girls whose bodies had not finished forming, just meaty slurry and half-cooked organs in a soupy mass of tainted blue. One revenant was busy sticking her head into the melted flesh of the aborted births, slime and gore trickling down her chin, hands shoving the filth into her maw. Some of the others were beginning to stare at her in shock; any moment, somebody would ask what she was doing, and a panic would ignite.

    Two additional revenants were covertly picking themselves up and eyeing the door. They knew the score, just like Eseld. One of them ¡ª a short and stocky girl with a weird twist of greenish hair ¡ª locked eyes with Eseld for a moment. Eseld bared her sharp teeth. The girl looked away, back at the door.

    They were all trying to guess the best moment to run, but they were blocked.

    Bad news: at the far end of the rows, closest to the doors, a highly modified zombie was rising to her feet. Bionic legs, bionic arms, all four limbs glistening with chrome casing and bio-polymer muscle. Her torso was a mass of armour plates set into dark skin. Her head bristled with additional sensory equipment embedded into her skull. Her joints were lined with pistons and armoured motors, giving her massive leverage. Two bright green eyes like headlamps opened in a narrow face. She must have been very well-stocked to carry all those enhancements over from her death.

    The cyborg grinned as she straightened up, casting hungry eyes across the assembled prey. Eseld tensed, ready to sprint, sharing a silent glance with the other two girls who knew what was about to happen. The moment that cyborg committed to a target, that would be their opening to escape.

    The cyborg¡¯s glowing green eyes fixed on the little blonde girl. She tilted her head to one side, as if curious.

    Eseld¡¯s heart soured with disgust. But she could do nothing. She was prey.

    But ¡ª wait. A shiver went up Eseld¡¯s spine. If there was only one cyborg here, on the other side of the room, where had that black knife come from?

    Who had freed Eseld from her coffin?

    Despite her better judgement, Eseld tore her eyes away from the precipice of violence. She glanced over her shoulder, toward the control panel and the liquid metal screen.

    A final revenant was standing right there, not five feet from Eseld¡¯s back.

    Soft brown skin, slender build, very little muscle on her frame. Long black hair fell all the way to the tops of her thighs ¡ª already dry, free of nanomachine slime, hanging in a glossy dark sheet. She had no visible bionics, no modifications, no bio-mechanical additions.

    She was gazing upward at the vast liquid metal screen, as if she could read the machine¡¯s words.

    Before Eseld could back away, the final revenant lowered her gaze from the screen and looked right at Eseld. Her eyes were wide and dark, like oil at night. She wore no expression. Not a scrap of nanomachine slime was left on her skin or in her hair, dried or otherwise. How long had this one been awake?

    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me,¡± she said.

    That voice and that face froze Eseld¡¯s blood inside her veins and turned her stomach to a leaden fist. Her legs went weak. She broke out in cold sweat.

    This zombie was calm, collected, and unconcerned.

    Eseld had never seen anything like this, not in all her resurrections.

    ¡°Wh-what ¡­ ¡± Eseld croaked, then cleared her throat. She wanted to retreat, but her own coffin pressed against the small of her back. ¡°What do you mean? Was that you, with the knife?¡±

    The calm woman said: ¡°Forget it. Forget you saw me. You¡ª¡± Her eyes flickered past Eseld¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Oh. Tch.¡±

    From behind Eseld, a tiny voice spoke up, soft and gentle amid the weeping and babbling.

    ¡°Hello,¡± it said, angelic and happy. ¡°Do you not want to be here?¡±

    Eseld turned away from the calm woman.

    Three coffins down, the little blonde girl had paused in front of a crying, confused, fresh-meat revenant ¡ª an older girl with pale skin and dark hair, face streaked with snot and tears, clutching at her stomach as if expecting to find a wound there. The little blonde girl really did look like an cherubic angel, smiling with open kindness, blue eyes burning bright amid all the shivering flesh.

    Eseld wasn¡¯t the only one staring. The little girl¡¯s voice had carried to all the other zombies in the chamber. Others were watching, stilled to silence.

    The heavily modified cyborg was stalking down the row of coffins, heading straight for the little girl. That one didn¡¯t want just food, she wanted sport. But why was she frowning like that?

    ¡°Ah,¡± said the calm woman, behind Eseld. She sounded bored. ¡°I don¡¯t have the patience for this.¡±

    Eseld prepared to break for the door. As soon as the cyborg began the violence, that would be her opening. She eased around the side of her coffin, ready to move.

    Three coffins down, the weeping fresh-meat blinked up at the little blonde girl. ¡°W-what? What?¡±

    The cyborg raised her voice into a shout, breaking into a run, bionic legs pounding against the metal plates: ¡°Don¡¯t answer her!¡±

    The little blonde girl ignored the cyborg. Other zombies leapt out of the way, scrambling back, yelping, shouting. The little blonde girl just smiled wider and repeated her question.

    ¡°Do you want to go back?¡±

    The weeping freshie nodded. ¡°I ¡­ yes! This isn¡¯t real! I¡¯m having a nightmare, I¡¯m having a nightmare! I want to go back, yes! My¡ª my guts are inside me, they were never spilled, it was just another part of the nightmare. I do want to go back, I do, I¡ª¡±

    The little blonde girl¡¯s body opened like a mouth.

    The diminutive figure unfurled, fleshy membranes expanding outward like the petals of a carnivorous flower, coated with crimson slobber and caustic saliva. The maw-body was lined with dozens upon dozens of foot-long, razor-sharp, envenomed fangs. Lashing tentacles uncoiled from between the teeth, whipping at the metal floor with tiny spikes and claws of bone. Eye stalks and suckers and bloody orifices snaked forth in a cloud of quivering flesh. The girl¡¯s shining blonde hair hung backward and upside down from the rear of the monster, her face twisting with a giggle and a grin of childish cruelty and gluttonous glee.

    An ambush predator, in no mood to wait.

    The fresh-meat revenant was paralysed by the sight of the transformation, but her shock was lived-short; the ambush predator reached for her with tooth and tendril, grabbed her tight in a dozen lacerating limbs, and tore her to pieces with a single spasm of muscle.

    A detonation of blood and bone and viscera splattered across the cold metal and the faces of nearby revenants. The ambush predator¡¯s tissues flushed deep red, sucking the gore in through her skin, extending delicate tentacles to absorb the blood, shoving gobbets of minced organ into her many mouths. Even as she ate, she reached for her next victim with half a dozen grasping limbs.

    The resurrection chamber exploded into panic.

    A few girls tried to flee for the door. Some of them even got away, but the general chaos revealed other predators hiding among the flock ¡ª not like the true horror which had shown itself, just regular zombies who were skilled enough to pretend they were true fresh meat. Eseld saw girls go down, snagged at the ankles, heads bashed open against the sides of resurrection coffins. The ambush predator tore apart a second girl as quickly as the first, threshing her to pieces in an instant of flying blood and shattered bone.

    The huge cyborg crashed into the ambush predator. They tumbled together, smashing into the floor, rolling across the cold metal. The cyborg won the tussle briefly, coming out on top. She reared up, a grin ripping across her face; her bionic limbs emitted some kind of near-field electric pulse that the ambush predator could not grip. Tentacles and tendrils slapped at the air, unable to find purchase on her foe. The little blonde girl ¡ª the ambush predator ¡ª squealed and screamed.

    ¡°The fresh meat is mine, slug-bitch!¡± the cyborg roared. ¡°Down!¡±

    The ambush predator replied with an ear-splitting squeal and a squirt of steaming acid into the cyborg¡¯s face. Flesh hissed and smoked. The cyborg howled with pain and smashed a fist into the tooth-lined meat.

    Eseld did not need to see who won. If she stuck around, the victor would eat her alive.

    She leapt into a sprint, and broke for the door.

    The resurrection chamber was chaos, covered in blood, full of girls eating or being eaten, fleeing or pursuing, or standing in frozen shock, still not quite believing that this was real. A few were staring at the fight. Eseld ducked past two awestruck freshies, leapt a puddle of blood, darted past the end of the coffins and¡ª

    Somebody grabbed her right ankle. Eseld went flying, then hit the floor, face first. She spat blood and heaved for breath.

    An opportunistic predator swarmed over her, all teeth and fingernails, going for her throat and eyes. Eseld fought like she always had, biting and kicking, spitting blood into her opponent¡¯s face. They grappled together on the floor, rolling against the side of a coffin. Eseld saw nothing of her opponent but a pale blur, a pair of wild eyes, a set of bared teeth. She was larger than Eseld, stronger, quicker.

    The bigger revenant somehow got Eseld¡¯s head in both hands and slammed her skull against the coffin-plinth. Eseld¡¯s head rang with the impact; the world went dim and dark, throbbing black at the edges of her vision. Her opponent grabbed her throat and pinned her to the floor.

    Eseld leaned forward and bit down.

    That earned her a scream. Her fancy sharp teeth came in useful after all; Andasina had been right all along ¡ª her new chompers were very cool.

    Eseld bit down again, chomping and biting and gnawing, until her mouth was filled with the hot iron taste of blood and ragged scraps of fresh meat. She clung on and kept biting until her opponent stopped moving, until she was slumped atop a blood-soaked corpse with the throat ripped out.

    Heaving for breath, half-blind with a concussion, Eseld rolled off the other revenant. She never even got a good look at the girl¡¯s face. She lay on her back for several moments, wheezing and whining, knowing she had to get up, had to move, had to go! She staggered to her feet.

    The resurrection chamber was saturated with gore, all over the coffins and the grey metal floor. Beyond the bloody mess, the dark obsidian computers and the liquid metal screen carried on glinting and scrolling, as if calmly cataloguing the carnage. A few girls seemed to have reached the door and won their freedom, but most were dead. Corpses and limbs and offal lay everywhere, blood and guts and shit in great smears on the floor and up the sides of the coffins. A long streak of blood led to the door ¡ª somebody had dragged a wounded friend, or more likely a corpse, to find a quiet spot to eat their kill.

    The huge cyborg lay in a tangled heap in the narrow passage between the coffins, bionic limbs shattered and broken, face melted away and torn off, ribcage hanging open.

    Aside from Eseld, only three revenants were still alive.

    Two fresh-meat girls clung to each other, both young, both smeared with gore, both faces covered in snot and tears and screaming in horror. They had collapsed in retreat against the obsidian blocks to one side of the resurrection coffins.

    The ambush predator was advancing toward them, having killed and eaten everything else in the room. Teeth and tentacles whipped the air, dripping with fresh blood, flexing rows of tiny teeth and claws. The bright blue eyes of a little girl still hung upside down from the monster¡¯s back, set in a face giggling and grinning with childish glee.

    Eseld had a clear path to the door. The ambush predator ¡ª the little girl ¡ª was distracted. With any luck, it would stay up here and eat its fill.

    The fresh-meat pair were seconds from death; they closed their eyes and pressed their heads together, skull to skull, tears intermingled.

    Eseld hesitated, chest torn inside with an empathy she would never have felt when hungry. She felt almost truly alive.

    For the first time in so many deaths, she broke in a new direction.

    Eseld sprinted toward the fresh-meat pair. ¡°Get up!¡± she screamed. ¡°Get up! Feet, now! Door! Run to the door! Door!¡±

    They didn¡¯t seem to understand. The pair lurched to their feet, clinging to each other, bewildered. Eseld skidded to a halt between them and the onrushing nightmare-zombie. Eseld turned and spread her arms out wide, placing herself in the path of the killer. The thing was giggling, playing with its food.

    ¡°Run to the door!¡± Eseld screamed, waving her arms up and down. ¡°Run! Run! Here! I¡¯m here! Eat me, eat me first you bitch, you¡ª¡±

    She realised the fresh meat were not fleeing. They were sobbing, babbling pleas for her to follow, tugging on her arms.

    ¡°No!¡± she screamed, throwing the pair of them off. ¡°Just run! Run, go, go!¡±

    Then the ambush predator was upon her.

    A wall of whirling teeth and tentacles was inches from Eseld¡¯s face. Tendrils reached out to grab her and pull her into the monster¡¯s muscular embrace. She kept her eyes wide open and opened her mouth even wider; she would bite down on the first thing she could reach. She would die, but at least this death would be quick. She would take a chunk of this bitch for herself, she would make these two behind her see that not everything in this Godless emptiness was hate and predators, that there was still something worth protecting, even if it was just a moment of respite, a moment of¡ª

    A figure appeared, standing right next to the ambush predator.

    It was the calm woman ¡ª the one with the very long black hair, with no expression on her face, with absolute lack of concern.

    She extended her right arm. The hand narrowed and sharpened, lengthening into a black blade ¡ª slamming through the predator¡¯s body.

    The calm woman ran the predator through with a ten-foot lance of lightless metal. She did not even have to thrust with her shoulder, or brace her hips ¡ª her flesh simply hardened and extended, until her right arm was a sword of black steel. She hoisted the girl-predator with effortless strength, lifting it off the ground and into the air. The predator squealed and hissed, like a squid on the end of a spear, animal noises mixing with the terrified weeping of a small child.

    The calm woman held the predator in the air until it stopped moving, then lowered her arm and let the zombie slip from her blade. It fell in a bloody heap, and did not move again. The blue eyes had gone blank in death.

    Eseld stared, mouth hanging open. The pair of fresh-meat girls clung to her shoulders, peering at their bizarre saviour, speechless and panting.

    The calm woman flicked her sword-arm; it became flesh again, wrapped in soft brown skin. She flexed her fist. She stared at the dead predator for a long moment. Then she seemed to dismiss it, casting her eyes across the carnage of the resurrection chamber. She still wore no expression.

    Then she looked at Eseld.

    ¡°Why did you do that?¡± said the calm woman. ¡°Why did you protect those two? Do you know each other?¡±

    One of the two fresh-meat girls said: ¡°N-no! No! I don¡¯t know where ¡­ what ¡­ what any of this, is? Are we in a fairy mound? Are you one of them?¡±

    The other one nodded. ¡°Yes. I mean no. No. We don¡¯t. What¡ª what¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop talking,¡± said the calm woman.

    Eseld groped for her own voice. ¡°What ¡­ what are you?¡±

    The calm woman looked at Eseld again. ¡°Answer my question. Why did you do that?¡±

    ¡°Do ¡­ do what?¡±

    ¡°Why did you attempt to sacrifice yourself?¡± said the calm woman. ¡°Tell me the truth. I¡¯ll know if you lie.¡±

    Eseld shrugged; she wasn¡¯t quite sure. ¡°I ¡­ they¡ª these two.¡± She reached back and patted one of the hands clutching her shoulders. ¡°They reminded me of ¡­ myself? I didn¡¯t want them to be separated. Not again.¡± She shook her head. ¡°What are you?¡±

    The calm woman sighed; it was the first emotion she had displayed. She looked away, up at the liquid metal screen. The scrolling text was slowing down, the clean white light growing dimmer by the second. The tomb had done its job, now it was dying.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have all the permissions I was promised,¡± the calm woman said. ¡°This is wrong. Somebody fucked up. Or somebody¡¯s fucking with me.¡±

    Eseld glanced at the fresh-meat pair, still touching her shoulders. Both of them shrugged and shook their heads.

    Eseld said: ¡°Permissions? What does that¡ª¡±

    ¡°Never mind,¡± said the calm woman. ¡°Don¡¯t ask that question.¡±

    Without another word, she set off toward the door.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Eseld said, scrambling forward. The freshies followed her, with nowhere else to go. ¡°Wait, please, what are you? Can we¡ª can we follow you? You saved me. Twice! You were the one who opened my coffin, weren¡¯t you? Why did you¡ª¡±

    The calm woman stopped and turned around. Her eyes were wide dark pools. Eseld halted instantly, holding herself as still as she could. The freshies blundered into her back, but she kept her feet; the idea of accidentally touching the calm woman ¡ª let alone offending her ¡ª terrified Eseld in a way she had never felt before. She eyed the calm woman¡¯s right hand, the one which had turned into a blade.

    The calm woman echoed the question: ¡°What am I?¡±

    Eseld shivered inside. One of the two freshies whispered, ¡°Maybe we shouldn¡¯t ask that? Maybe we shouldn¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Eseld repeated. ¡°What¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shilu,¡± said Shilu. ¡°My name.¡±

    ¡°O-oh! Eseld,¡± said Eseld.

    The freshies piped up too: ¡°Sky!¡± ¡°Cyneswith!¡±

    Shilu showed no reaction to the names. Wide dark eyes considered the trio one by one, with little interest. Those eyes were cold and distant.

    Eseld swallowed. She had to try. ¡°Can we follow? You¡ª you helped. We could get out, together? At least to the¡ª¡±

    Shilu said: ¡°Follow me if you wish. I won¡¯t stop you. But I doubt that¡¯s a good idea. I think I¡¯m about to get fucked over. You may not want to be nearby when that happens. Good luck, little zombies.¡±

 custos - 11.2

    Eseld followed Shilu out of the resurrection chamber. The surviving pair of freshies followed Eseld; there was nowhere else to go.

    The fresh meat pair stuck close to Eseld¡¯s heels, holding hands as they tiptoed around the smears of blood and gore, careful not to slip or to dirty their feet. Eseld paused at the threshold, next to the metal lockers which were always present in every resurrection chamber; the lockers had already been ransacked. The girls who¡¯d made it out first had grabbed the stun batons. There was no point pausing to wriggle into the grey jumpsuits. The clothing was always a waste of time.

    Eseld looked back at the freshies. They were both terrified, faces smeared with the remains of snot and tears, hair still slick and damp with slime.

    Eseld put a finger to her lips. ¡°Shhhhhh. Quiet. And fast. We have to keep up with Shilu.¡±

    The freshies nodded. Behind them, the clean white illumination of the resurrection chamber was fading, plunging the carnage and corpses into darkness.

    Eseld turned away and stepped from the dying cradle.

    In the smooth grey corridor outside, three pairs of bloody footprints led away to the right; the prints were uneven and overlapping, dusted with flakes of dried slime. Three runners, sprinting for freedom. A streak of blood stained one of the walls, ending in a big smeared splat on the floor. Hand prints showed where a revenant had scrambled to her feet. No corpse, no evidence of more killing. In the opposite direction, a trail of fresh glimmering gore led deeper into the warren of featureless passageways. Eseld knew from experience that was the wrong direction to reach the first downward ramp. Distant screaming whispered from far away, funnelled down the tangle of metal. Eseld¡¯s initial guess had been correct ¡ª that trail of smeared blood was not a revenant dragging a companion to safety. An injured zombie had been hauled off by an opportunistic predator, hoping for a private meal.

    Shilu was already thirty feet away, to the right. Her long black hair swayed with her stride.

    The freshies were both staring off to the left, eyes wide at the sound of far-off screams.

    Eseld hissed: ¡°Ignore it! We can¡¯t do anything!¡±

    One of the freshies ¡ª the smaller one ¡ª said: ¡°But¡ª¡±

    Eseld grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. The girl flinched, then gasped at the sight of Eseld¡¯s mouth, full of sharp teeth. ¡°Move or we¡¯re dead! Move! Come on!¡±

    She let go, turned away, and hurried to catch up with Shilu. The freshies dithered for a second, whispering to each other, but then they scurried after Eseld, bare feet pattering against the cold grey metal.

    Eseld had always hated the upper six floors of each tomb, with their featureless smooth passageways and omnidirectional pale light and little branching capillaries. They made her feel as if she was being expelled from a dying womb, the soft tissues replaced with metal and stone. On her first resurrection she hadn¡¯t found the way out. She had wandered the silver grey passageways for about six or seven hours, sobbing, hyperventilating, calling for her parents, screaming the names of her friends. Eventually she had curled up to rest, weeping herself to sleep in the pitiless light and cold eternity of these hallways.

    She had assumed that these empty passages were the afterlife, and that something had gone horribly wrong with heaven. This couldn¡¯t possibly be hell, of course, because Eseld had been devout and faithful all her life. She had kept God¡¯s commandments and accounted for her meagre sins ¡ª a little lust here and there, some fury and envy, but who did not feel those? She did not lie or cheat or steal. She worked hard to hunt and trap, and shared her meat with her family, her neighbours, her friends. She practised charity whenever she could. She prayed ¡ª infrequently, to be sure, but she meant it whenever she did, especially when the weather was good and she stood beneath the vault of the sky and felt the world was a good place to be. She obeyed her parents, despite her tendency to keep to herself, to wander the woods and spend her hours on archery and hunting. So, this could not be hell, not unless God and the priests and the entire Church had lied to everybody.

    Or unless Eseld had committed some terrible sin she did not comprehend.

    She had decided, back during the screaming, weeping, mad hours of that first resurrection, that it was all because of Taran¡¯s balls.

    That hunt was one of the few clear memories which still surfaced on occasion, especially in those hours after resurrection, when Eseld could think and recall with greater clarity.

    When Eseld was fifteen years old she had spent two summer months hunting a bear ¡ª a very special bear who had developed a taste for human flesh. The man-eater had killed and partially devoured an old miller from the village of Rockport, that spring. The miller had been elderly, unsteady, and dying of cancer, easy prey for a curious and hungry bear. But then three weeks later the bear had killed two small children in Deepsbridge; a few weeks after that, a woodcutter in Lower Boot, then a trio of hunters who had gone into the woods in order to deal with the creature.

    Eseld¡¯s parents had not wanted her to hunt the bear. It was too dangerous. The King was sending men, apparently, but they didn¡¯t know the woods, and Eseld did. The King¡¯s park rangers and professional fur trappers would blunder about the peninsular forests, spear some starving old she-bear, and claim victory. But Eseld knew the truth. The man-eater was a giant, twice the size of any other bear. It had eaten something in the woods, some foulness from the ancient world, a taint of witchcraft which had made it clever and strong. It knew where and when to hide. It thought almost like a person. Eseld had glimpsed it once, and it had stared back at her in return, with eyes that saw and understood.

    She named the bear ¡®Taran¡¯, but had not spoken that name before any living soul, only to her little brother¡¯s gravestone.

    The hunt had taken all summer. She and Taran had learned each other¡¯s routines, tracking each other in spirals through the deep woods. She had endured more than one ambush, and almost died twice. She had eventually bested the bear with a combination of snares, a metal jaw-trap she¡¯d bartered for with threescore fox hides, and over two hundred arrows. Taran had looked like a pincushion when he¡¯d finally closed his eyes.

    Eseld had eaten Taran¡¯s heart and testicles. She had told nobody about that, not ever. That was old magic, the kind her grandmother had whispered to her, from her own grandmother¡¯s time, before the Churches and the Christians. Eseld had taken Taran¡¯s head to the magistrate and claimed the reward, while Taran¡¯s secret strength had boiled in her belly.

    Bear killer! Single handed. Very few had believed it.

    Such an irony that she would die a few years later to a broken leg and a sadistic master of hounds. Eaten by dogs, guts first. That first resurrection had rung with fresh memories of Eseld¡¯s own death. She had drifted off in those grey metal arteries thrice, awoken each time by her own screams as her hands had tried to shovel entrails back into her belly.

    After six or seven hours the undead predators had found her, and eaten her all over again.

    Now, after so very many deaths, Eseld knew the way out of the grey tunnels by memory and instinct; everything below the top six floors of a tomb was jumbled and new each time, but the initial passageways were always identical. She had also learned that the many side-rooms full of biological experiments and nanomachine-flesh were not accessible without heavy weaponry; she had battered herself to pieces on those doors once before, and gained nothing from the experience but bruises and cuts.

    Shilu knew the way out.

    Shilu strode without looking back, chin and shoulders high. Shilu didn¡¯t even bother to check the corners as she passed. Shilu¡¯s long black hair shone like oil on the sea, clean of resurrection slime; Eseld was still picking the drying flakes off her skin and cramming them into her own mouth, running her fingers through her russet hair and licking the tasteless goop off her hands.

    Eseld did not know what Shilu was.

    That shape-shifting knife-arm trick back there was unlike anything Eseld had ever seen before, and must have required a truly gigantic store of nanomachines. But highly evolved revenants and predatory zombies did not make a habit of saving and protecting random fresh meat and bottom-rung scavengers. Nobody with power had ever saved Eseld before.

    So, what was Shilu?

    Not a zombie? Not a revenant. Something else. Something from outside all this?

    Eseld did not dare ask.

    Shilu led them to the first ramp, then down to the next floor. She didn¡¯t speak. She didn¡¯t look back. She didn¡¯t spare Eseld and the fresh meat a single glance.

    The fresh-meat pair ¡ª ¡®Sky¡¯ and ¡®Cyneswith¡¯ ¡ª did their best to keep up, scurrying in Eseld¡¯s wake.

    Halfway across the second floor down, they started whispering to each other.

    ¡°We¡¯re in a fairy mound, aren¡¯t we? We¡¯re miles below ground, inside a fairy mound. I remember dying, it was horrible, just horrible. I should never have eaten the poisoned stew with the mushrooms, I knew it was bad and it was my own fault. The fairies must have brought us all back. And she ¡ª Shilu? ¡ª she¡¯s a fairy! She must be! She¡¯s part of the court, one of the aristocrats. She¡¯s been cast aside or abandoned!¡±

    That was Cyneswith. She was small and slight, though she seemed older than Eseld by a few years. Feathery blonde hair fell past her shoulders, shedding flakes of slime from fluffy little up-curls at the tips. Her face was dusted with freckles over pale skin, pinched and tight with manic energy. Her eyes were wild with caged panic. She did not look strong.

    ¡°We¡¯re all uploads,¡± hissed the other one ¡ª Sky. ¡°Brain uploads and re-prints. But that doesn¡¯t make sense. My last imaging was two years ago, but I ¡­ I remember dying. I remember the bomb going off, just to my right. I saw it just before I went. I was too slow, had the perp to the ground, thought he was wearing a vest, but he¡¯d already planted it. Fucker. Fuck! How can I be here with that memory if I was imaged two years back?!¡±

    Sky was tall and muscular, though younger than Eseld. Dark hair lay in a thick twist down across one shoulder. Her skin was a ruddy red-brown colour that Eseld had never seen in life, but had encountered plenty in this Godless emptiness. She was bright-eyed and alert and checked her corners with care. She had the face of a professional killer.

    Cyneswith had been resurrected without any visible bionics. She probably had something internal. Sky¡¯s entire left side was bio-polymer synthetic skin, the seam barely visible unless you looked directly at the line.

    Cyneswith hissed to Sky: ¡°What are you talking about, madam? Are you a magician? Can you talk to the fae for us? Can you negotiate?¡±

    Sky just tutted.

    Eseld realised that she had no idea what she was doing with these two.

    She had never left a tomb as part of a group before. Every prior exit had been a race to the gates, to get out before being caught, before the tomb was overwhelmed by raiders and predators from outdoors. Every successful exit was followed by a desperate scramble to escape the inevitable battle at the foot of the tomb, where monsters fought over the right to get inside.

    Eseld did not know this fresh-meat pair. She had rescued them on an emotional whim, but she had no idea what to do, how to shepherd them out of here, or how to stop them dying, or how to explain the world to them. She had no idea how they would react under pressure, or if they would turn on her.

    She twisted to look over her shoulder, without slowing her pace. ¡°Both of you are wrong. Both of you shut up and concentrate!¡±

    Sky whispered: ¡°You seem to be pretty well informed. Thank you for saving us, earlier. But what¡¯s going on here, where¡ª¡±

    ¡°God¡¯s dead and this is hell,¡± Eseld hissed.

    She hadn¡¯t meant to say that. She had wanted to say something like ¡®Don¡¯t worry about it, I¡¯ll get you out of here¡¯, or perhaps ¡®This is the end of all things, but we¡¯re still around¡¯. Instead she felt a hysterical laugh tug at her lips, fighting with a wet sob. These two girls had no idea what they were about to face. Eseld wished she could spare them that. Maybe dying in the resurrection chamber would have been more merciful. Maybe she had condemned them by saving them.

    Cyneswith¡¯s eyes widened again at the sight of Eseld¡¯s sharpened teeth. She wet her lips with a dart of a little pink tongue. ¡°And you¡¯re a fairy, too. Are you Shilu¡¯s attendant? Her knight?¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Sky said, ¡°Shilu called us ¡®zombies¡¯, what did that mean?¡±

    ¡°Means we¡¯re all dead,¡± said Eseld, struggling not to sob or bite down on a laugh. ¡°Don¡¯t¡ª don¡¯t think about it! Don¡¯t think at all! Just move. Just walk. Just¡ª just don¡¯t!¡±

    Sky shook her head. ¡°And what was all that killing about, back there? Look, I¡¯m no stranger to death and corpses, but that was madness. And that¡ª that thing, with the teeth and claws, that was like a bio-mod job but it wasn¡¯t based on anything, it just¡ª¡±

    Cyneswith let go of Sky¡¯s hand and veered to the side. ¡°You are all fairies and magicians, and none of you will use proper words! Please!¡±

    Eseld hissed: ¡°Panic and you¡¯re dead. Keep moving, keep¡ª¡±

    Shilu stopped, turned around, and stalked back toward the trio.

    All three scrambled to a halt. Eseld hunched her shoulders, dipped her head, and lowered her eyes.

    Shilu stopped six paces away, then said: ¡°Don¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ don¡¯t do what?¡±

    ¡°Grovel. Bow. I¡¯m not your master. Stop that.¡±

    Eseld forced herself to straighten up and look directly at Shilu. Wide dark eyes were framed by soft brown skin. Shilu wore no expression, like her face was a mask of flesh over an iron skull. Despite the shared nudity, Eseld felt naked and vulnerable.

    ¡°I should probably be sprinting,¡± Shilu said. ¡°But that would leave you all behind. This pace is a compromise. Stop to argue and I will give up on you. Is that understood?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Eseld said. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Cyneswith bobbed her head several times. ¡°Madam.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± said Sky. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Shilu turned away and walked on. Eseld shot the freshies a look, then scurried after Shilu. A moment later she looked back; Cyneswith and Sky were holding hands again, hurrying to catch up.

    Shilu led the trio through the warren of passageways, descending the metal ramps between the floors, worming through the top slice of the tomb. She did not stop again, nor speak another word. Eseld concentrated on the side-corridors and capillaries ahead of Shilu, ready to screech a warning if she saw any movement. But she never did. The three zombies who had escaped the carnage in the resurrection chamber must have sprinted for their lives, and the predators ascending from outdoors had not yet reached this level. Cyneswith and Sky whispered to each other again, but they kept their voices low, and did not ask any more stupid questions.

    Eseld needed a plan, but she did not know what to do. Shilu¡¯s protection was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She could do nothing but follow in Shilu¡¯s wake.

    After the usual six ramps downward, the tight and twisty passageways of smooth grey metal terminated in a security checkpoint. This landmark was always present in every tomb, at the junction between organic metal and the more human lower floors. None of the machinery ever worked ¡ª the metal detectors and body-scanners and computers were all dead and dark, swept clean of every speck of dust and dirt, preserved exactly as they had been in some distant past.

    Shilu strode through without pause. Eseld scurried after her, then turned back to make sure the freshies didn¡¯t get confused.

    Cyneswith eyed the arches and barriers with uncomprehending fear, but Sky seemed to know what they were, and guided the other freshie past the checkpoint. The trio emerged together onto the tiled floor beyond, among the orange cones and little yellow arrows.

    This space was nothing new to Eseld; she had passed through the ancient checkpoint and sprinted past the waiting area so many times. Metal tables and chairs were always scattered on the right, before the bank of windows from wall to ceiling. Broken computers always stood on the desks to the left, always with black screens and empty innards.

    It had been many dozens of deaths since Eseld had paused to stare out of the windows. She had long since given up the hope of ever seeing any sign of change. Staring down at the charred corpse of all creation was not good for one¡¯s mind, even one already bruised into madness. The first time she had made it to this floor, Eseld had fallen insensible upon the ground, weeping silent tears at the rotten cinder of the world.

    But Shilu had stopped. She was standing by the windows, looking through the glass.

    Sky and Cyneswith stumbled past Eseld. Cyneswith gaped, letting out sharp little gasps as if she was suffocating. Sky went very still and very tense, eyes tracking back and forth across the ruins beyond the tomb, lips pressed into a tight line. Cyneswith began to sob, shoulders jerking, tears pouring down her face. Sky took Cyneswith¡¯s arms in a gentle grip and tried to soothe her.

    Eseld watched. Would Sky get violent if Cyneswith didn¡¯t stop crying? Probably. Eseld was starting to make judgements about the freshies. Sky was a potential predator. Cyneswith would give up after one death and resurrection.

    Eseld gave the fresh meat a wide berth, and edged up to the windows. She left a six or seven foot gap between herself and Shilu.

    Beyond the toughened glass lay the corpse-city which covered the world. It was never the same twice, but it also never changed, like a preserved cadaver. Rotten towers scraped at the blackened underbelly of the sky, as if trying to tear it open and devour the sagging entrails of the dead sun; one corner glowed with faint red, embers trapped behind cold iron. Ash and mould and grey streaks of crumbled concrete spread out through the lower buildings like a skin disease upon the hide of a dying animal. Roads and railways snaked out into the city like capillaries and arteries plugged with congealed blood, gone black with decay and poison.

    Far away to the left, Eseld spied the segmented grey line of the graveworm, the one which must have seeded her inside this tomb. Taller than any building, like a mountain range shorn of life, the worm was still. Post-partum. Recovering from the latest raid on heaven.

    The black metal of the tomb pyramid descended toward the ground in gigantic steps; each layer was studded with long-dead weapon emplacements and sleeping cannons; Eseld had never seen those guns twitch or turn, let alone wake or loose their payloads. At the foot of the pyramid, the tangle of black metal walls and funnels and bridges were the same as ever, the same old killing ground, the same narrow exits, the same gauntlet leading out.

    Except this time it was already packed with the undead.

    Tiny black dots darted back and forth, far below Eseld¡¯s lofty vantage point ¡ª zombies, hurling themselves into cover, or scurrying along trenches, or mounting assaults on opposing groups. The tomb¡¯s outworks were a hive of violence, in the middle of a battle joined long ago. As Eseld squinted downward, she saw the orange blossom of a detonating warhead, the whirling machinery of a miniature armoured suit, and the flow of a hundred zombies charging up a ramp. The battle was not confined to the tomb¡¯s outworks, but seemed to be spilling over from the edge of the city; the ruins teemed with revenants, with groups scurrying among the concrete and brick, highlighted here and there by the flash and puff of small-arms fire. A massive cloud of debris and masonry dust swirled in the air just to the right of Eseld¡¯s view, down beyond the tomb¡¯s outworks. Something down there was throwing up vast amounts of shrapnel, pounding the buildings with fire, shaking the ground beneath.

    Shilu spoke.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t make any sense. Does it?¡±

    Eseld almost jumped out of her skin. Shilu was staring down at the battle too. Eseld waited, but Shilu did not elaborate, nor look up.

    ¡°Right,¡± Eseld murmured. ¡°Lots of them. More than usual. And they¡¯re early.¡±

    Shilu sighed in the same manner as she had back in the resurrection chamber. She raked one hand across her scalp. Her long waterfall of black hair shimmered in the dying light of the red sun, more like metal than keratin.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Shilu. ¡°A battle of that size should already have penetrated the tomb, two or three hours ago. A fast moving predator should have already reached this floor, or even the main birthing chamber.¡± Shilu gestured to her left, toward the rest of the security checkpoint room; a left hand turn in the corridor led to a set of stairs down into the rest of the tomb structure. ¡°But we are not yet attacked.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Eseld said softly. She did not want to interrupt Shilu¡¯s train of thought.

    Shilu raised her eyes from the ground outside and looked directly at Eseld. Her eyes were so dark, like a starless void. ¡°Why?¡±

    Eseld hesitated; was this a test? ¡°Because ¡­ because something is blocking them at the tomb¡¯s gate?¡±

    Shilu nodded. ¡°Something is blocking them at the gate. Most likely. How many times have you been around, zombie?¡±

    Eseld shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t remember. More than fifty seven.¡±

    Shilu looked at the fresh meat; the pair had stumbled closer. Sky had one hand on the windows as she gazed down at the dead world. Her other was wrapped around Cyneswith¡¯s wrist. Her breathing was ragged with near-panic. Cyneswith was still crying, but slower now, as if in grief rather than horror. She held onto Sky¡¯s arm like a little girl.

    ¡°What am I looking at?¡± murmured Sky. Tears were gathering in her eyes. ¡°What happened? Nuclear war? I don¡¯t ¡­ no. Who struck first? Us, or the Sudmercians? Did we burn the world? Did we burn it all down?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s hell, it¡¯s hell,¡± Cyneswith whispered. ¡°The fairies said, it¡¯s hell. It¡¯s hell. It¡¯s hell and we¡¯re dead. It has to be, it¡¯s the underworld.¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Sky said through clenched teeth. ¡°Shut up!¡±

    Shilu raised her voice. ¡°You won¡¯t survive an exit from this tomb, not through that battle down there. Your only chance is to move in my wake, but I doubt you can keep up with the necessary speed. Try if you like.¡± Shilu turned away from the windows, toward the stairs. ¡°If I were you, I would make for the armoury, but I cannot spare the time for¡ª¡±

    Shilu stopped.

    Eseld heard the footsteps a moment later. Click click click click ¡ª smart heels on solid floor, ascending the stairs.

    A figure stepped around the corner.

    Blonde hair fell in curling ringlets about snowy shoulders, framing a low neckline. A white dress made for the sun¡¯s kiss clung to generous hips and caressed slender calves. Matching white leather shoes clicked across the floor tiles ¡ª high-heeled, toes exposed, nails painted red. Bare arms shone as if beneath a blue sky. Glittering green eyes danced in a glossy, healthy, plush-cheeked face. Red lips parted with a wet click. Delicate hands held a severed head by the hair, dripping a trail of fresh gore onto the floor as the figure approached.

    A woman in a sundress, smiling with mischievous joy.

    Eseld recognised the severed head ¡ª it was one of the three girls who had escaped the carnage of the resurrection chamber.

    The sunny woman stopped and smiled with explosive delight. ¡°Shilu! Soooo sorry I¡¯m late for your party!¡±

    Eseld backed away and bared her sharpened teeth; this revenant was beyond her comprehension, just like Shilu. Cyneswith and Sky went silent.

    Shilu looked unconcerned. She said nothing.

    The sunny woman pouted, swinging the severed head in one hand like a fancy bag. ¡°You don¡¯t recognise me, Shilu? Awww, Shishi. Tch, you¡¯re being rude to amuse yourself. You always were like that, even with no constraints. Such a ratty little bitch.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time,¡± Shilu said. ¡°Forgive me.¡±

    The sunny woman rolled her eyes. ¡°As if you would ever offer a real apology.¡± Her glowing green eyes darted sideways, glancing at Eseld and the pair of freshies. ¡°And who are these three morsels? The big one looks yummy.¡±

    ¡°Nobody,¡± Shilu said. ¡°Zombies.¡±

    The sunny woman laughed and tossed the severed head to the floor. It landed with a moist thump. Both the freshies flinched. The head rolled until the eyes pointed toward Eseld; she tried not to look at them.

    The sunny woman said: ¡°You were always terrible at jokes, Shishi. Running around with zombies in tow, really? Now you¡¯re just making more work for me.¡±

    Shilu¡¯s eyebrows twitched.

    The sunny woman¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Oh. Oh, Shishi, you weren¡¯t joking. You don¡¯t recognise me, do you? Because you can¡¯t. You¡¯ve been crippled. Wings clipped. Gotten the snip-snop.¡±

    Shilu answered slowly. ¡°I do not have full permissions. Something has gone wrong.¡±

    The sunny woman laughed again, louder and brighter this time, opened-mouthed to show off her clean white teeth. ¡°Gone right, more like! Is that why you¡¯re all fleshy, not doing your robot-girl shtick? Oh, thank my lucky stars. You really don¡¯t recognise me, Shishi?¡±

    ¡°All I can see is the face you¡¯re wearing.¡±

    The sunny woman tutted and pulled a flirtatious pout. She put her blood-soaked right hand to her chest ¡ª but it left no stain on her white dress. ¡°Lykke, my dear little insufferable bitch. It¡¯s Lykke. Remember me now? Do you like the new look? I stole it from a very determined zombie. She told me she would ¡®force her shit down my ancestor¡¯s throats¡¯. Very creative. I wanted her face.¡±

    Shilu said: ¡°Are you my backup?¡±

    Lykke smiled and ran her tongue over bright red lips. ¡°You¡¯ve been a very naughty girl, Shishi. I¡¯m here to send you to the naughty step.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m following orders.¡±

    ¡°Mmmmmmmm-nope! Don¡¯t think you are!¡±

    Shilu sighed. ¡°I am following explicit orders from central. Go back into the network or get out of my way.¡±

    ¡°You first.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, because you don¡¯t have a full permission suite!¡± Lykke giggled. ¡°How can you be following orders when you don¡¯t have permissions? Don¡¯t be a silly cunt, Shishi.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a war in heaven,¡± Shilu said. ¡°All I know is that I¡¯m following¡ª¡±

    ¡°Orders, yes yes yes. Who cares?¡± Lykke stretched her arms above her head and rolled her neck from side to side. ¡°I want to pull you apart and make you scream, especially if you don¡¯t have full permissions right now. I¡¯ve always wanted to know what one of us sounds like if we can¡¯t get away. It¡¯s going to be so much fun, Shishi! I¡¯ll even leave this face on for you, it¡¯ll be sexier that way.¡±

    Shilu raised her hands; her fingers and palms narrowed, sharpened, and extended, transforming into a pair of black metal blades.

    She turned her head slightly to address Eseld and the fresh meat: ¡°This one won¡¯t treat you with mercy. When we fight, I suggest you run.¡±

    Lykke said: ¡°How about no?¡±

    Suddenly Eseld couldn¡¯t move. She couldn¡¯t breathe, or twitch her fingers, or even blink. Only her eyeballs still belonged to her, swivelling inside their sockets. Panic clutched her guts, but she could neither scream nor whine nor flinch, not even shiver. The same appeared to be true for the freshies too, though Eseld couldn¡¯t see them from her current position; they¡¯d gone silent.

    Shilu said to Lykke: ¡°Why bother with the zombies?¡±

    Lykke shrugged her bare shoulders. ¡°You¡¯re probably not the only air-dropped bullshit around here, Shishi. Everything in here dies, back to the network, shoo, shoo. You, them, whatever else I can find. Those are my orders. And my pleasure.¡±

    ¡°Orders from who?¡±

    ¡°From central! Where else?¡±

    ¡°My orders also come from central,¡± said Shilu. ¡°One of us is lying or mistaken. I suggest we stand down. You return to the network for further instructions.¡±

    Lykke winked one brilliant green eye. ¡°I¡¯m going to follow my orders. I get treats when I¡¯m done! Do you?¡±

    Shilu took one step sideways, away from the windows. ¡°That battle at the foot of the pyramid, is that your doing?¡±

    Lykke raised both hands and wiggled her blood-stained fingers, as if preparing to do magic. ¡°No, that¡¯s some zombie nonsense. Lots of meat making a big fuss. Who cares?¡±

    Shilu took another sidestep, so her back was no longer to the windows; clever, that way she couldn¡¯t be knocked through the glass. Eseld cheered inside, to hold back the terror.

    ¡°Are you the only one here?¡± Shilu said.

    Lykke snorted. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know? Oh, that¡¯s right, you can¡¯t! No network access! Gosh, it¡¯s been a long time since I talked to one of us with actual words. This is fun. Oddly. Maybe this form helps. Should I be the old man again, what do you think that would be like?¡±

    ¡°There is no such thing as us,¡± Shilu said. ¡°I am nothing like you.¡±

    Lykke rolled her eyes and gestured at Eseld. ¡°You think they see any distinction, Shishi?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then what¡¯s the difference?¡± Lykke sneered. She kept wiggling her fingers. ¡°You need actual weapons, while I¡¯m just going to pull your guts out? You¡¯re going to menace me with swords ¡ª swords! ¡ª which bounce off my skin? You¡¯re just meat, while I¡¯m nanomachine and data without any pretence of impurity? Pfffft. Maybe you¡¯re right, Shishi. We are different. You¡¯re still a human being underneath all that, with all the same old vulnerabilities. Jumped up pond slime, only useful as the generative organs of your own machine descendants. But me?¡± Lykke spread her hands and winked. ¡°I¡¯m a shard of God.¡±

    Shilu shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s not the difference I was thinking of.¡±

    Lykke sighed and let her shoulders sag. ¡°Then what is?¡±

    ¡°The difference between you and I is that I don¡¯t need a full permissions suite to take you apart.¡±

    Shilu kicked off the floor and darted toward Lykke. The smiling monster just laughed; she made no effort to defend herself.

    ¡°Shishi, at least give yourself¡ª ahh!¡±

    Lykke¡¯s cackle curdled into a sudden gasp.

    Six feet out from Lykke¡¯s throat, Shilu became a scarecrow of black chrome and razor-sharp blades.

    She crashed into the sundress and soft flesh with an explosion of blood and bone.

 custos - 11.3

    Shilu ¡ª the nightmare of seamless metal and obsidian spikes into which she had transformed ¡ª cut Lykke into three pieces.

    Her shoulder slammed into Lykke¡¯s chest, ramming lances of black steel through the revenant¡¯s ribcage, shattering bone and pulping flesh. Blood spluttered from Lykke¡¯s mouth in a strangled cough. Shilu¡¯s bladed arms blurred outward to either side, then scissored inward. One sliced through Lykke¡¯s white sundress and opened the soft flesh beneath, bisecting her at the stomach, passing through skin and spine like a hot wire through cheese; the blade was out and trailing an arc of blood before Lykke¡¯s breached intestines boiled forth in a ruptured mass. Shilu¡¯s other arm scythed through Lykke¡¯s delicate neck. The decapitation was so swift that for a moment Lykke did not appear wounded, but then her neck exploded in a fountain of gore. Her blonde curls tumbled aside. Blood splattered against the grey ceiling, falling as crimson rain. Lykke¡¯s head hit the floor with the crack of a skull fracture; her torso followed, landing with a wet splat of splayed guts and spilled fluids, bile and chyme pumping and pooling from the ruin of her belly. Her legs and hips remained upright for a split second ¡ª half a white sundress drenched with scarlet, fancy white shoes stained with blood, painted toenails drowned in red. Then the legs followed the rest of her corpse, slumping to the floor.

    Shilu stood amid the dripping gore, her front and face speckled with misted ruby droplets.

    She had abandoned her human disguise, her soft brown skin, her long silken hair. ¡®Shilu¡¯ was a machine figure of black chrome and lightless blades. Her feet were spear-tips. Her face was a pale mask. Wide dark eyes stared down at Lykke¡¯s remains.

    Eseld could do nothing but watch. She was still immobilised, frozen by some magic or science beyond her comprehension.

    Eseld had witnessed and experienced many strange horrors during the unending cycle of her damned unlife. She had seen zombies so changed by nanomachine consumption that they were barely recognisable as human; she had hidden from revenants who were capable of tortures and cruelties she could not have imagined in true life; she had witnessed weapons and artefacts which seemed to her like infernal wizardry and alien invention. She was surrounded every day by the world-corpse of the city, reminded every hour of her status as a microbe inside a rotting leviathan. She had met monsters and predators, seen miracles of technology, been shot and killed by guns she could not begin to understand ¡ª and been devoured by living horrors at the very edge of mortal madness.

    But she had never been frozen in place by the whim of another, like a mouse before a snake. She had never seen a revenant¡¯s entire body flow like molten metal and reform into a living knife. She had never met anything like Shilu. Whatever Lykke was, she had not stood a chance.

    The crimson splatters on Shilu¡¯s black-metal skin began to vanish. Shilu¡¯s body was absorbing the blood.

    Eseld needed to scream. She needed to run. She needed to curl up in a ball on the floor and sob and weep and pray this end would be a quick one, for an angel of death stood before her, unveiled in terrible glory.

    But Eseld could not move a muscle.

    Shilu opened her pale polymer lips, and spoke to Lykke¡¯s trisected corpse.

    ¡°Get up.¡±

    Lykke¡¯s mangled intestines jumped like a nest of snakes. Severed ends writhed and wriggled and rose into the air. The two halves of her sundered bowels found each other and clung together, braiding themselves tight like rubbery, blood-stained ropes. Lykke¡¯s legs jerked and bucked, kicking against the slippery grey floor; her arms flapped and slapped amid the reeking fluids. Bones cracked and snapped as she rose ¡ª knee sockets enlarging, elbows turning backward, femurs expanding. New joints burst from inside her legs and arms ¡ª twists and knots of muscle and bone. Her hands grew thick and wide, planted flat on the floor, fingers tipped with

    long white claws. Her spilled blood and viscera and intestinal fluids flowed back upward into her open wounds, sucked into the rents in her flesh, or simply absorbed into her skin. Lykke¡¯s legs and torso heaved upward and stood ¡ª not in the upright pose of a human being, but as an upside down curved bridge, hands and feet planted on the floor like the four paws of a beast.

    The stump of her neck sealed over with a blood-red plug, then extended into a barbed tail. The open mess of her guts remained parted, intestines waving like tentacles. Her white shoes fused into gnarled hooves. Her white sundress shimmered and shifted, then burst into a cloud of bloated, glistening, milk-white flies.

    The monster was now twice Shilu¡¯s height and several times her body weight. Eseld had never seen a living thing this large except the graveworm. Lykke was larger than a bear ¡ª larger than Taran. Eseld did not understand where the mass had come from, but the revenant had grown into a giant.

    Shilu stepped back.

    Lykke picked up her own severed head with a cluster of gut-tendrils. The bouncy blonde curls became razor-sharp twists of bleached steel. She held the head over her own groin, suspended on a neck of intestines. She pointed the face down at Shilu.

    Lykke¡¯s eyes snapped open, glowing a bright and toxic green. A grin ripped her mouth open like a bloody slash in pale flesh. White teeth had turned jagged.

    ¡°You sneaky little cunt!¡± Lykke shrieked. Her new voice hurt Eseld¡¯s ears, shook her guts and eyeballs, and made the floor vibrate. Lykke¡¯s plague-fly dress buzzed in time with her words. ¡°You have more permissions than you were letting on! Enough to get all up inside me! And I don¡¯t let just anybody do that, hahahahahaha!¡±

    Lykke¡¯s laugh made Eseld¡¯s eyes water. She couldn¡¯t even blink to clear the tears and blot out the pain.

    Shilu didn¡¯t answer. She raised her blades.

    ¡°Whatever,¡± Lykke spat, turning sour. She pawed at the floor with one white hoof, gouging the metal. ¡°You won¡¯t land the same trick twice! Your flesh-mask is off now. What are you going to do, spring at me again and hope I fall for it a second time?¡±

    ¡°Stand down,¡± Shilu said. ¡°Go back to the network. This is a mistake.¡±

    ¡°Shishi,¡± Lykke purred, backed by the chorus of her pestilent aurora. She raised her severed head higher as she spoke, on a neck of tangled guts. ¡°You can¡¯t fight forever, not without access. You¡¯ve got nothing outside ambient. But I can go for days on a droplet of honey. I¡¯m infinite. I draw on an endless well. What are you going to do, fight me until you¡¯re exhausted, just to show that you¡¯re a good little doggy? Nobody cares!¡±

    ¡°We can debate later, when the mission is over,¡± said Shilu. ¡°Stand down or get out of my way.¡±

    Lykke sighed ¡ª a sound like a roaring fire consuming human flesh. ¡°Okay, now you¡¯re boring me.¡±

    Lykke charged.

    Shilu dived aside, rolling across the grey metal floor. Lykke galloped at her like a steed from the mouth of hell, all open entrails and slavering tongue, clad in a buzzing cloud of bloated flies, denting the metal with her hoofed feet and the claws of her modified hands. Shilu dodged the first charge and came up on one knee, raking a blade-arm down Lykke¡¯s flank as she passed. Shilu¡¯s blade parted a fan of ribs and flowered open the monster¡¯s hipbone.

    But Lykke didn¡¯t care. Her open ribs transformed into teeth, the wound becoming a dripping maw, snapping shut inches shy of Shilu¡¯s head. Her shattered hip twisted like an opening blossom; a gleaming point glittered in the centre of the bloom. That point shot forth and tried to spear Shilu through the leg with a tendril of metal-tipped flesh. Shilu turned the spear aside with a flourish of one sword-arm ¡ª but she staggered back with the impact.

    ¡°You can¡¯t beat me off by cutting me up, Shishi!¡± Lykke screeched. She bounced off the wall with a clatter of hooves and a splatter of intestinal tendrils, rearing up to crush Shilu beneath her bulk. ¡°Is this how you won so much favour, by hitting things with swords!?¡±

    Shilu tried to dive aside a second time, going left. Eseld saw the mistake and wanted to scream, but her lips and vocal cords were as paralysed as the rest of her. Lykke had predicted the dodge; she fell upon Shilu¡¯s intended trajectory with hooves and tendrils and spears of stabbing flesh.

    But Shilu turned her leftward dodge into a rightward jink, flickering through the air so fast that her black metal body blurred against the grey background. She twitched her hips; three spikes of lightless metal extended from her skin like the stinger of a wasp, slamming through Lykke¡¯s chest and side, retracting as fast as they had shot forth.

    Lykke howled ¡ª with laughter.

    The blood trailing from her three fresh puncture wounds hardened and rose, turning into a trio of thick tentacles, each tipped with a fist of stiffened crimson.

    Three fists crashed into Shilu¡¯s metal torso. The angel of death went flying, knocked off her feet. She hit one of the windows with a clatter of metal on glass ¡ª and a sickening crack-a-crack as the window fractured under the impact.

    But the window held. Shilu dropped to the floor with a crunch.

    Lykke raised her tendrils, her tentacles, her ghoulish severed head. ¡°You can¡¯t win a contest of arms against infinity, Shishi! If you don¡¯t want to lose, you may as well cut off your own head. Isn¡¯t that what your people used to do, back in life? Something like that, anyway. Come on, let me see you cut your own throat!¡±

    Shilu rose to her pointed feet, framed by the endless rot of the corpse-city and the black skies beyond. The clouds were churning and thickening with an oncoming storm. A dribble of blood trickled from one corner of Shilu¡¯s mouth. She wore no expression on her pale mask.

    ¡°Internal bleeding?¡± Lykke said; she seemed surprised. ¡°Oh, you really are fragile. Wow!¡±

    Shilu raised her swords.

    ¡°Stand down and return to the network,¡± she said. ¡°I won¡¯t warn you again.¡±

    Lykke clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. ¡°And there you go ruining all the fun. Shishi, it¡¯s not worth playing if you don¡¯t show any¡ª¡±

    Shilu leapt at the monster.

    The black-metal scarecrow and the white-clad demon moved faster than Eseld¡¯s eyes could follow. Shilu and Lykke traded blows in close proximity, blades and tendrils and teeth and spikes flashing and cutting, snapping shut and lashing through the air. Shilu sliced into Lykke¡¯s flesh again and again, opening bloody rents in her pale skin ¡ª but each wound closed with a wet slurp or opened into some new horror, fanged and dripping, full of digestive juices or sucking membranes. The monster spouted new limbs from the ragged orifices of her wounds, grew eyeballs in her back, flowered open her ribcage and hips into snaking tentacles of blood-slick bone.

    Shilu¡¯s metal skin turned aside Lykke¡¯s teeth and claws, but she could not withstand the kinetic force of every blow. She was knocked aside, pushed back, thrown off her footing.

    Lykke raised her decapitated head above the fray. ¡°Bored now!¡± she announced.

    The swarm of bleached and bloated flies about Lykke¡¯s body suddenly flowed toward Shilu, taking advantage of a moment during which she was off balance. A river of insect bodies pushed in through her parted lips.

    Shilu turned aside and vomited ¡ª heaving up a mass of fused and melted flies, their pale bodies turned to slush in an instant, cooked by her inner fires.

    Lykke did not press the opening. She stepped back.

    Shilu tried to raise her sword-arms once again ¡ª but then she blinked, twitching and shivering, taken by a fever, by the chills, by a hand inside her body.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Lykke grinned. She raised a hoof and hit Shilu with a lazy side-swipe, catching Shilu in the middle. Shilu went flying a second time, her black-metal body gone limp. She sailed in an arc through the air, beyond the limit of Eseld¡¯s restricted vision. Eseld heard Shilu land with a clatter of metal on metal, smashing into the detritus of the security checkpoint. She rolled across the floor, then lay still.

    Lykke cackled. ¡°Without permissions, you don¡¯t even own your body! Come on, Shishi. Get up and let¡¯s finish this off so I can crack your shell and root around inside.¡±

    Eseld heard Shilu stand up, metal clacking against metal. She walked back into view. Something was very wrong with her body ¡ª she kept twitching and tensing up.

    She stopped well short of Lykke and raised her swords.

    Lykke grinned. ¡°One more round? Really?¡±

    ¡°I told you I wouldn¡¯t warn you again,¡± said Shilu.

    Lykke rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re mine now, Shishi. Fine! Come hereeeeee baby!¡±

    Lykke charged, galloping across the blood-smeared grey metal.

    Shilu twisted one foot, as if bracing for a fancy riposte.

    Eseld still believed in God. She believed that a loving God had created the world and everything in it. God was all powerful, knew all things, and loved all things. This love was sometimes beyond human comprehension, which was why evil things happened; this was also why good people sometimes suffered and bad people often prospered. But Eseld had long since accepted the fact that God was dead; the throne of heaven lay empty and cold. Even God¡¯s inscrutable love was missing from the world. During some of her early resurrections she had attempted to figure out what had gone wrong. Had God aged and died? Had God been killed ¡ª by humans? By the devil? By something else? In time she had accepted that the exact events did not matter. All that mattered is that creation had been abandoned to madness and decay. All the angels were as rotten as the world, and could offer these pitiful mortals no hope at all, for they had surely perished along with God.

    But here, for the first time in so many cycles of death and resurrection, with so much of her mind worn away by time and pain and grief, Eseld knew she beheld a demon.

    Lykke was a demon, intimate with the taste of victory.

    The demon slammed into Shilu at full speed; Shilu¡¯s metal spear-tip feet scraped across the floor as she caught the charge. Hooves battered at Shilu¡¯s head and shoulders; bone-tipped tentacles whipped at her torso and constricted about her chest. Dripping maws snapped shut on her limbs and hips. Body weight pressed down on her, threatening to crush her against the floor. Bloated flies mobbed Shilu¡¯s ears and eyes, swarming over her skin, looking for another way in to infect her with more twitches and shivers. Lykke¡¯s severed head descended, razor teeth gnashing and snapping to bite off chunks of Shilu¡¯s metal body. A dozen more mouths opened in Lykke¡¯s fly-shrouded flesh, to pull Shilu apart by the arms and legs.

    Shilu let it happen. Her blade-arms sank deep into the soft and spongy flesh either side of what had been Lykke¡¯s groin, all the way to Shilu¡¯s elbows.

    Lykke screeched: ¡°Bet I can freeze you like I froze those zombies, Shi¡ª¡±

    Shilu¡¯s black metal skin crackled with a blue shimmer, like lightning flashing across a storm¡¯s underbelly.

    Lykke screamed.

    Her white flesh and bloated fly-cloud recoiled from Shilu like shadow from flame.

    The scream turned into an ear-splitting note, then descended to a blood-choked gurgle. Lykke¡¯s body lost definition, her sharp edges melting into rubbery blue translucence. Her cloud of flies died all at once, falling upon her like droplets of rotten, milky rain. Her legs collapsed, folding up as they lost rigidity. Lykke¡¯s mass hit the floor with a wet slap of blubber, then appeared to shrink, as if draining away through a hidden grate. Her face melted, eyeballs running down her cheeks, mouth vanishing amid the mess. She turned to slime, then to nothing.

    Within ten seconds no trace of Lykke remained. Not even a drop of blood.

    Eseld was released from the spell binding her limbs and lungs; she toppled backward, heaving for breath, shaking all over. She caught herself on one of the metal tables bolted to the floor.

    Shilu straightened up. She did not twitch or jerk. Her blades melted back into hands and forearms ¡ª not of soft brown flesh, but more of that lightless chrome and black metal. She flexed the mechanical fingers of her right hand, then looked down at her fingertips. A droplet of white formed at the sharp point of her right index finger, the exact colour of Lykke¡¯s plague-fly dress. Shilu watched the droplet for a second, then flicked it onto the floor. The droplet vanished.

    Eseld felt an emotion she had not experienced since true life ¡ª awe and wonder, like looking up at a starry night sky from within a forest clearing, and knowing that God had made the world good, for her.

    A choked sob came from behind Eseld. She tore her eyes away from Shilu.

    Behind her, the fresh meat was having a breakdown.

    Sky ¡ª the tall and strong one with the reddish skin ¡ª was collapsed on the floor, sitting on her backside, weeping openly, hands clawing at her own cheeks, on the verge of hyperventilating. Cyneswith, the smaller but older one with all the freckles, was still on her feet, staring at the point where Lykke had vanished, mouth agape with wordless fascination.

    Cyneswith met Eseld¡¯s eyes. She closed her mouth and swallowed. ¡°Fairies are terrifying.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ yes,¡± Eseld said. Fairies, demons, what was the difference? ¡°Yes, they are.¡±

    Cyneswith raised both hands and put her palms together, as if praying. She bowed her head. ¡°Thank you, Lady Shilu.¡±

    Shilu turned away from her vanquished foe. Wide dark eyes stared without expression.

    Eseld swallowed. ¡°What are you?¡±

    An angel, she told herself. An angel of death. Or a demon, a fallen angel like¡ª

    ¡°All three of you stay exactly where you are,¡± Shilu said. ¡°Do not move. Disobey and I will kill you. Do you understand? Answer verbally with yes or no.¡±

    Eseld said: ¡°Yes! Yes. Yes.¡±

    Cyneswith froze, head still bowed. She murmured a tiny ¡®yes¡¯.

    Sky was hyperventilating now, heaving for breath. She managed to speak: ¡°No! No, I don¡¯t¡ª no, no¡ª what was that, how was that possible, what¡ª¡±

    Eseld snapped without looking back, ¡°Do as she says!¡±

    Sky gulped twice. ¡°I¡¯m just¡ª I¡¯m not moving, I¡¯m just sitting here, I¡ª o-okay, yes, yes.¡±

    Shilu walked up to Eseld. Her spear-tip feet tapped on the grey metal floor. Eseld focused on those feet and wondered how Shilu kept her balance ¡ª if she didn¡¯t think about that, she might scream and scramble backward. Eseld held herself perfectly still to avoid flinching away from the angel of death.

    Shilu stopped, close enough to touch, or to impale and rend Eseld¡¯s body on her blades and spikes and black metal angles.

    ¡°Look at me,¡± Shilu ordered.

    Eseld raised her gaze and looked into Shilu¡¯s wide, dark eyes, the only part of her which still looked human.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± said Shilu.

    She raised her right hand and made it smooth, so the edges would not cut. Then she cupped Eseld¡¯s chin and leaned forward, staring deep into Eseld¡¯s eyes.

    Wide and dark as a sea of oil; Shilu¡¯s eyes shimmered with a sudden glitter of emerald light.

    ¡°Ah!¡± Eseld winced. Pain bloomed inside her head. Her vision blurred and her hearing went dull. Her brain was full of cotton wool. Her skin tingled all over, as if pricked with a million needles. She gasped and jerked in Shilu¡¯s grip, but Shilu held on tight, squeezing Eseld¡¯s jawbone.

    Then the pain passed and Eseld¡¯s senses cleared. Shilu let go of her chin. Eseld staggered back, gasping for breath, blinking and twitching, rubbing at her face. Her knees were weak. Her skin was flushed. She felt fragile and vulnerable, violated somehow, as if Shilu had been rooting around inside her skull.

    ¡°You¡¯re free to move and speak,¡± Shilu said.

    Before Eseld could react, Shilu stepped around her and repeated the process with Cyneswith, cupping her chin and staring deep into her eyes. Cyneswith winced and flinched, gasping with pain, writhing and whining. She arched her spine and bucked in Shilu¡¯s grip. Shilu held her longer than she had held Eseld, until Cyneswith was panting ragged, caked in sweat, flushed all down her front, hair stuck to her scalp.

    Then Shilu let go. Cyneswith¡¯s knees gave out. Eseld darted forward and caught Cyneswith under the armpits.

    ¡°You¡¯re cleared,¡± said Shilu. She moved onto Sky and said: ¡°Get up.¡±

    Sky shook her head. ¡°I-I don¡¯t think I can, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Get up or I¡¯ll kill you,¡± said Shilu.

    Sky lurched to her feet, still panting for breath, eyes wide with delayed panic and the onset of trauma. Shilu grabbed Sky¡¯s chin ¡ª reaching upward this time, because Sky was taller. She stared into Sky¡¯s eyes until Sky snorted with pain, then shook all over. Sky¡¯s eyeballs rolled into the back of her head. She gritted her teeth and tried to resist, but gave in with a deep whine in her chest, heaving and spitting.

    Shilu let go. Sky staggered back, but kept her feet.

    ¡°W-what was that!?¡± Sky demanded. ¡°What was that, were you reading data off my retinas? What¡ª¡±

    ¡°None of you are compromised,¡± Shilu said. ¡°You are what you appear to be. But all three of you contain scraps of anomalous code.¡± Shilu paused, then said: ¡°I don¡¯t understand what this means.¡±

    Shilu turned away to face the bank of windows, staring through the glass which had cracked under her own body weight. She looked down at the ground, at the tomb¡¯s outworks beyond the walls.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand what any of this means,¡± she repeated.

    Eseld made sure Cyneswith could stand before she let go of her. ¡°You alright? Cyne¡ª Cyneswith?¡± she hissed. They were both still shaking from Shilu¡¯s examination, both flushed, both covered in sweat. Cyneswith was bright red beneath her freckles, eyes full of tears.

    Cyneswith nodded. ¡°Cyn. Yes. I can stand.¡±

    Sky was hugging herself, trying to pull herself together, staring at the ground and struggling not to slip into hyperventilation again. Eseld nodded toward her. Cyneswith took her meaning and went to touch Sky¡¯s arm. Sky flinched; for a moment, Eseld thought Sky might attack Cyn, but then she backed down.

    Eseld turned back to Shilu ¡ª a black-edged scarecrow of blades and spikes, outlined by the cracked glass and the corpse-world beyond. The sky was darkening with the beginning of a storm. Droplets of greasy, gritty rain speckled the windows.

    Eseld crept closer, but made sure to stay to one side. She did not want to surprise Shilu.

    ¡°May I ¡­ ask a question?¡±

    Shilu answered without looking. ¡°You don¡¯t have to ask permission. I am not your master.¡±

    ¡°What ¡­ what are you?¡±

    ¡°The same thing as Lykke.¡±

    Fallen angel.

    Eseld wanted to ask so very many questions. What are you really? What was that fight about? Why is any of this happening? Why did you stare into our eyes and ransack our souls? What do you mean we¡¯re full of ¡®anomalous code¡¯? What¡¯s your mission?

    Instead, she said: ¡°What do we do now?¡±

    Shilu didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡° ¡­ Shilu?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do,¡± Shilu answered. She stared into the gathering rain. ¡°None of this makes sense. Events are moving beyond my control.¡±

    ¡°But ¡­ you beat the demon, right?¡±

    Shilu looked directly at Eseld. Her pale mask was more expressive than her fleshy face had been, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed. ¡°The what?¡±

    ¡°Lykke. You beat Lykke. That¡¯s pretty under control.¡±

    Shilu blinked. ¡°No. I didn¡¯t kill her. She¡¯s still nearby. I only disrupted her current physical matrix. The same trick will not work twice. In fact, it should not have worked even once. She should have been knocked off balance, perhaps disoriented for a few moments. Instead she acted as if I had disrupted her inter-nanonic definitional matrix.¡±

    Eseld swallowed. ¡°Can you make it permanent? Can she be killed?¡±

    Shilu¡¯s mouth twitched ¡ª was that the hint of a smile?

    She said: ¡°Ambitious, zombie. Yes, there are certain methods by which a physical matrix can be permanently disabled, but they are beyond my current access and permission levels. As for physical damage, mm, maybe. Application of gravity, heat, enough electromagnetic force to pull her atoms apart. Fire would work, but it would need to be very hot indeed. And she would need to be signal-caged so she doesn¡¯t just slip into any nearby high-density nanomachine hosts. We lack the means.¡±

    ¡°Then shouldn¡¯t we be running? We¡¯ve got to get out of here. Can we outrun her?¡±

    ¡°Unlikely. We¡¯re marked in the network. She has full access. Doesn¡¯t matter how fast I move now. Besides, I believe she¡¯s playing with ¡­ ¡±

    Shilu trailed off. Eseld finished for her. ¡°Playing with you?¡±

    Shilu blinked again. She examined Eseld, looking her up and down. Eseld felt exceptionally naked in front of this machine-person of black metal and burnished chrome and blushless polymer.

    ¡°Or with you,¡± Shilu said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± Then: ¡°Why do you look at me like that?¡±

    Eseld let her eyes flicker up and down Shilu¡¯s form; she wasn¡¯t sure if she should answer, or if Shilu would find that offensive.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Shilu said. Her skin suddenly broke and re-set, like oil sliding off the surface of pottery.

    Shilu transformed back. Light brown skin and long black hair, human and short, with ordinary feet and hands. Her expression remained identical.

    Eseld shook her head. ¡°Y-you don¡¯t have to¡ª¡±

    ¡°It is better to keep the truth concealed from other revenants,¡± Shilu said, then sighed. ¡°What am I saying? What am I doing? You cannot possibly be important to any of this. One of those girls back in the resurrection chamber might have been. I should have been decisive and protected them all. But you three? I¡¯ve checked you. You¡¯re not. Nothing but scraps and leftovers. Then again, I do not have access to the network. I do not know what to do. I do not understand what is going on.¡±

    Eseld didn¡¯t know how to react to that. If Shilu didn¡¯t understand what was going on, then what hope did Eseld have?

    All Eseld knew is that Shilu was the strangest thing she had seen in all her many resurrections ¡ª and Shilu had slain a demon, if only temporarily. On an intellectual level, Eseld knew that Shilu was not an angel and Lykke was not a demon, at least not literally. She understood computers and nanomachines, she knew what the graveworms did and how firearms spat bullets. She had learned so much about science and technology from other zombies, even if only in bits and pieces, early in her cycles of death and rebirth.

    But Lykke was a demon, and Shilu was the same ¡ª a fallen angel.

    Eseld began to feel an emotion she had not entertained in many resurrections.

    Perhaps not every angel was dead. Perhaps the throne of heaven could be filled once again. Perhaps hope was not all poison in her belly and brain.

    And right now, Shilu was still her best chance of getting out of this tomb, and her only chance at escaping that monster if it returned again. Cyneswith and Sky stood even less chance of survival. Sky was calm now, though her eyes were still wide and alert, her muscles tight, her face pulled taut ¡ª a professional killer, her trauma neatly packaged and ready to go. Cyneswith waited for instructions as if born to take orders, clinging to Sky¡¯s arm and listening to the ¡®fairy ladies¡¯ with rapt attention.

    Eseld took her chances: ¡°I think we would all like to get out of here. Please, Shilu. We should be moving, shouldn¡¯t we?¡±

    Shilu said nothing for a moment, then sighed again. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ve changed my plans. I¡¯m going to the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber. That¡¯s my best shot at getting rid of Lykke, and that¡¯s also the location of the armoury. We¡¯re going in the same direction. If you keep up, you may have a better chance of survival. If you get there, you¡¯ll be in a good position.¡±

    ¡°The ¡­ the what, pardon?¡±

    ¡°Armoury. Where they keep the guns.¡± Shilu turned away and started toward the stairs.

    Eseld gestured at Sky and Cyneswith to follow, then picked up her feet and scurried after Shilu.

    ¡°No, no, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Eseld said. ¡°I know what an armoury is, though I¡ª there¡¯s an armoury inside the tomb? And what do you mean, gravekeeper¡¯s chamber? Somebody tends to this place, between resurrections?¡±

    ¡°In a manner of speaking. Don¡¯t think about it, zombie. You just focus on getting your hands on some guns.¡±

 custos - 11.4

    Shilu led the way, down into the labyrinth of the tomb.

    Eseld knew from bitter experience how easy it was to get lost in these barren caverns of grey metal. The top six floors of every tomb were always identical ¡ª fresh revenants were always ejected naked and shivering into the smooth passageways beyond the resurrection chamber, always laid out in the same quasi-biological pattern of thick arteries and tiny branches of capillary. Those first six floors could be memorised, and left behind in a matter of minutes.

    Below that ¡ª past the security checkpoint where Shilu had fought Lykke ¡ª each tomb¡¯s architecture became recognisably human, with proper corners and doorways, with corridors studded by entrances into vast echoing chambers, with tables and chairs, little cells, barred doors, raised platforms for meetings, or plays, or rituals. Many of the rooms contained equipment, though none of it was ever useful; every object was always broken or irrelevant. Eseld had spent more than one brief resurrection clawing through the abandoned rubbish, praying to her absent God for a weapon or a shield among the refuse. But she¡¯d never found anything useful, not even a solid length of pipe or a fist-sized chunk of metal, just dead machines and useless detritus. Every surface and item was always swept clean of dust and dirt, as if preserved in stasis since God¡¯s lonely death.

    Below the sixth floor, the tomb was never the same twice; Eseld often recognised individual features or spaces, as if they had been reused in different configurations, but the layouts were never identical.

    These spaces were bait ¡ª meaningless rooms and empty chambers, drifts of pointless junk, false promises of hope and hiding places. Staying there was death. Stronger revenants would search every nook and cranny for the nanomachine-rich flesh of newborn undead.

    Survival and exit depended on movement. Run. Don¡¯t look back. Don¡¯t slow down.

    Eseld had eventually learned how to navigate these floors, how to win the exit as quickly as possible: go down and out. Stairs, outer wall, down and out, down and out. Never stop running, find those stairs, get to the exterior wall, keep moving, and sooner or later the gate would be there, waiting for another morsel of undead flesh to join with the corpse of the world.

    Eseld could reach the tomb gates in under an hour, allowing for dead ends and failures and doubling back.

    Shilu had a different destination in mind.

    The fallen angel ¡ª or risen demon, or pretender to God¡¯s throne, or ¡®Fae Lady¡¯, or whatever she was ¡ª led the trio of naked zombies at a brisk walk. She did not follow Eseld¡¯s technique of prioritising the outer wall to locate the next set of stairs on each floor; instead, Shilu made a beeline for the closest stairs down, as if she possessed perfect knowledge of the tomb¡¯s layout. She made better progress in fifteen minutes of walking than Eseld could in half an hour of terrified flight. Shilu strode with detached confidence down echoing hallways of bare metal, through vaulted rooms dominated by gigantic meeting tables, past tangles of abandoned equipment and broken parts, all without so much as a sideways glance to orient herself. She took each set of downward stairs two at a time, without effort or sweat or even a deep breath.

    Eseld scurried to keep up, eyes darting left and right, shoulder blades itching at every blind corner, heart clawing into her throat at every jagged shadow; Shilu walked with head high and eyes forward, as if Lykke was not still stalking them through the empty halls and passages of this echoing shell.

    Eseld knew her meagre strength would count for nothing next to Shilu¡¯s, if they were attacked a second time. But she wanted to help, she wanted to be useful. She wanted to do what little she could to warn this angel of death.

    Sky and Cyneswith stuck close. The fight at the security checkpoint had changed them both. The two no longer held hands. Cyneswith was calmer than before, clear-eyed and curious. She looked with wonder upon everything they passed, even the broken junk. She would learn soon enough that her curiosity was irrelevant, which saddened Eseld a little. Sky¡¯s earlier terror had calcified into tight-faced tension and nervous motion; she placed herself between Cyn¡¯s smaller, more vulnerable body and every open doorway and deep shadow, acting protective, trying to shepherd the smaller woman. Cyn often picked up her pace to match Eseld, sharing a hesitant smile as she hurried ahead and left Sky behind.

    Eseld could not return those smiles. Sky was volatile. Would she be jealous? Too much of a risk.

    All three zombies were rapidly shedding the resurrection slime which had dried on their skin, leaving a trail of flakes behind them as they walked. Eseld shook out her russet hair and raked it back over her skull to keep it out of the way, then licked her hands clean. Cyn peeled the dry slime off her own skin and followed Eseld¡¯s example, touching her tongue to the edge of the papery, translucent membrane.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t taste of anything,¡± Cyn whispered. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Eat it,¡± Eseld grunted.

    Sky caught up and spoke in a hushed voice: ¡°It¡¯s like placenta, or amniotic fluid, right? Nutrient bath. Stem cells of some kind? Our new bodies grew from it, didn¡¯t they?¡±

    Cyn¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°New bodies?¡± She touched her fingers to her own cheek. ¡°But I ¡­ I look just the same as always.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t think about that,¡± Eseld hissed. ¡°Eat it if you¡¯ve got any left. We¡¯ll need every scrap.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Sky grunted. ¡°Understood.¡±

    Shilu led the trio down and down and down ¡ª three floors, six floors, falling deeper. Eseld kept an ear out for sounds of distant combat filtering upward from the tomb¡¯s gate, but she heard nothing except a growing static murmur. After Shilu¡¯s victory by the security checkpoint, rain had been falling against the window ¡ª but there was no way a rainstorm would be audible this deep inside the tomb. The raindrops would have to fall like bullets.

    Lykke showed herself, thrice.

    The first time she appeared as a shadow on a wall. The group was traversing a long room filled with low tables, halfway across the yawning darkness between one corridor and another. Cyn and Sky had fallen into complete silence, since even the whisper of bare feet returned haunting echoes from the shadowy ceiling of the stone-walled space. Eseld watched Shilu¡¯s back as best she could, keeping her eyes on the dense gloom beneath each table they passed.

    Lykke¡¯s outline ¡ª a chimera of twisted flesh ¡ª burst onto the left-hand wall all of a sudden. She flickered and jerked as if cast by a roaring hearth-fire, fifty times the size of her already enlarged and monstrous body.

    Cyn smothered a scream with both hands, scrambling forward to shelter behind Eseld¡¯s back; Sky turned a yelp of surprise into an angry shout, raising her fists in hopeless resistance.

    But Eseld followed Shilu¡¯s lead, and Shilu did not react. Shilu strode on, unconcerned.

    ¡°Ignore her,¡± Shilu said. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡±

    The second appearance was all whispers and white-wreathed wraiths. Shilu led the way down onto a spiral staircase which descended into darkness as it reached toward the floor below; the walls to either side were beyond sight, either too far away or cloaked by some clever trick of vision. Once Shilu and all three zombies were suspended on a stretch of staircase seemingly floating in a void, a teasing voice began to buzz and sigh at the edge of Eseld¡¯s hearing.

    She could not make out any words, like a howling scream lost amid the storm-winds deep in a forest. Any human speech was muffled and blurred. The whisper was accompanied by a flickering ghostly white in her peripheral vision, wisps and streamers of phantasm which vanished when she turned her sight toward them.

    Cyn did not take this apparition well. ¡°Am I the only one of our party besieged by ghosts?¡± she asked, voice quivering, clinging to Eseld¡¯s arm with one hand. ¡°Can none of you see this all about us? Am I touched? Am I haunted?¡±

    Sky snorted. ¡°Sensory interference. It¡¯s nothing. Ignore it, like ¡­ like Shilu said. I¡¯ve had worse. Got a heads-up rig hit by a custom ECM blast once. Shit had me seeing straight up gore splash for a week. Blindfolded myself in the end, waited it out. This is weak stuff.¡±

    Eseld shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s her. It¡¯s obviously her.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Shilu said from ahead, descending the staircase quickly. ¡°It¡¯s Lykke. Ignore her. Keep moving.¡±

    The ghosts and phantasms vanished by the time they reached the next floor.

    Shilu took the group outward, toward one of the exterior walls on this floor of the tomb pyramid. The static murmur intensified, growing louder and clearer. Eseld cocked her head; she picked out individual gusts of wind raking against the black metal of the tomb, followed by pounding sheets of precipitation throwing up rolling waves of dense sibilance. Distant booms and cracks and thumps punctuated the haze.

    ¡°Is that a storm?¡± Sky asked. ¡°Sounds heavy.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Eseld replied. Her throat was going dry. How could a storm be heavy enough to penetrate a tomb with such clamour? ¡°A big one.¡±

    Shilu said nothing.

    The noise grew and grew ¡ª and then burst into view as the group stepped into a wide atrium. The room was walled on three sides in light brown stone, and on the final side with a slab of toughened glass, easily twelve inches thick. A wide skylight matched the window.

    Rain was lashing against the glass in drumming sheets of wind-whipped grit and grease, a wall of water hurled about by the tendrils of the storm. This was an exterior room, on the edge of one of the pyramid steps which formed the tomb, but the corpse-city was barely visible through the torrent of rain churning in the air. The sky was a sagging gyre of black, like a distended stomach about to burst from accumulated rot.

    Eseld had seen plenty of rainstorms, both in life and during her many resurrections, but nothing on this scale. The sky looked as if it was trying to reach downward and scoop up the land. Eseld wanted to retreat deeper into the tomb, away from the windows.

    Before anybody could comment on the storm, Lykke made her third appearance.

    The hem of a white dress fluttered in the depths of the corridor ahead, vanishing around a shadowy corner; the fabric was followed by the darting white motes of several bloated flies.

    No footsteps. No laughter. Nothing which could be heard over the raging storm and heavy rain.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± Sky spat. She reached out to grab Cyn¡¯s arm, to halt her as well; Cyn winced at the tug on her wrist, but she stopped. ¡°That thing is hunting us, making fun of us, trying to rile us up! She was right there! Right ahead of us!¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Shilu said. ¡°She¡¯s not.¡±

    But Shilu paused as well, several paces deeper into the atrium. Eseld did the same, examining Shilu¡¯s expressionless face and wide dark eyes.

    Shilu paid no attention to the spot where Lykke had vanished into the shadows. She stared out of the window, at the storm.

    ¡°Then what the fuck did we just see?¡± Sky demanded.

    Eseld bared her teeth at Sky. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t what?¡± Sky narrowed her eyes at Eseld. ¡°Don¡¯t ask questions? Don¡¯t try to protect ourselves? That was her, her dress, her fucking disgusting flies, that was her, she¡¯s hunting us¡ª¡±

    ¡°She is, yes!¡± Eseld snapped. ¡°But we can¡¯t do anything about it! You got a knife on you? A gun? No, huh?¡±

    Sky let go of Cyn¡¯s arm and tightened her hands into fists. Eseld kept showing her sharpened teeth.

    This was bad ¡ª why had she leapt to Shilu¡¯s defence? It wasn¡¯t as if Shilu needed the help. Sky was large and strong and aggressive, exactly the type who tended to make it further and start eating other people first. Sky was dangerous and Eseld knew it all too well. Eseld glanced at Cyn, but Cyn was edging away, clearing the way for a fight, eyes darting back and forth.

    ¡°Lykke,¡± said Shilu, ¡°is reconstituting her inter-nanonic definitional matrix.¡±

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Sky snorted. ¡°And what does that mean, when it¡¯s at home?¡±

    Shilu turned her head to stare at Sky for a moment. Sky swallowed.

    Shilu said: ¡°She¡¯s putting herself back in her body. We¡¯re seeing echoes of the process moving across the local network. It¡¯s not Lykke, not really. It¡¯s her reflection.¡±

    Eseld said, ¡°How long do we have?¡±

    Shilu sighed. ¡°Good question. I don¡¯t know. The process should be instantaneous. She should not take this long. As I told you, I do not have the means to disrupt her in this manner.¡±

    Sky snorted. ¡°So she¡¯s faking. Winding us up.¡±

    Cyneswith cleared her throat. ¡°Trying to get us to fight each other, perhaps? That¡¯s always a risk. You should never listen to voices from the forest. Don¡¯t listen to anything you can¡¯t see, especially if it¡¯s trying to tease you.¡±

    Shilu looked back at the windows. ¡°No. She has no need for that. She knows I cannot defeat her a second time.¡±

    Eseld said, ¡°Is she maybe ¡­ ¡®limited¡¯ as well? Somebody else holding her back? Something like that?¡±

    Shilu blinked. Her eyes tightened ¡ª a new expression. ¡°Perhaps. I do not understand who would do that, or how.¡± She pointed at the window. ¡°Especially in this new context.¡±

    Sky frowned. ¡°The storm?¡±

    Eseld said, ¡°It¡¯s not natural, is it?¡±

    Shilu did not explain. She crossed the atrium and walked right up to the wall of windows, putting her face close to the glass. Eseld shared a glance with Sky and Cyneswith, then hurried to follow. The freshies trailed behind.

    Eseld could barely see the revenants in the tomb¡¯s outworks down below, obscured behind a wall of thickening rain and constant swirls of high wind, in addition to the gritty, greasy, black-oil residue on the glass itself. Anybody down there would be drenched to the bone if they were not under cover ¡ª which was not dangerous for a revenant, freed from the indignity of hypothermia and the maintenance needs of an immune system, but deeply unpleasant all the same, and very difficult in which to fight. The rain was so heavy that visibility must be terrible, footing treacherous, communications garbled.

    Some movements were still visible even through the dense rain ¡ª large chunks of rubble and rebar picked up by the wind and tossed through the streets beyond the tomb. Walls were shivering in the wind, concrete debris stripped from exposed edges, crumbly brick collapsing before the storm.

    Shilu was staring upward, at the dark and churning clouds on the jagged horizon; the storm was mounting the back of the graveworm.

    Eseld said, ¡°The worm is blocking the worst of it, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Shilu grunted. ¡°Not for long.¡±

    Cyn spoke from behind Eseld: ¡°That¡¯s real pretty. A really pretty storm. I always loved storms.¡±

    Sky said, ¡°Shit, we have to head out into that? Can we grab some coats first? We¡¯re not gonna be naked, are we?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Shilu. ¡°That storm would kill the three of you. That¡¯s a hurricane.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± Sky said.

    ¡°Those gusts down there are hitting a hundred miles an hour. The heart of the storm is to the north. Sustained winds of one-fifty, maybe one-sixty miles per hour. Likely higher on the far side of the graveworm, two fifty to three hundred miles per hour. Maybe higher. I can¡¯t get exact measurements without network access, only what I have on-board. It¡¯s heading directly toward the tomb. Perhaps half an hour until direct contact.¡±

    Eseld knew what was happening.

    ¡°It¡¯s Lykke, isn¡¯t it?¡± she whispered.

    Sky laughed ¡ª a horrible jerking sound on the edge of hysteria. ¡°You¡¯re kidding? You¡¯re joking, right? That monster can ¡ª what, summon storms? You¡¯re telling me it¡¯s trying to kill us with a storm? It¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fairy magic,¡± Cyn said. ¡°Command of the weather.¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Sky snapped at her. Cyn flinched. ¡°Shut up! It¡¯s not magic, there¡¯s no such thing as magic, or ghosts, or¡ª¡±

    Eseld rounded on Sky and showed her sharpened teeth. ¡°It may as well be! Stop shouting at her!¡±

    Sky¡¯s face flashed with anger.

    Shilu turned away from the windows. ¡°There are no atmospheric convection cycles to begin a hurricane, and no liquid water left in the oceans with which to form one. Even if that was not true, we are thousands of miles inland. The storm is impossible. It is being sent on purpose.¡±

    ¡°By Lykke?¡± Eseld prompted.

    Shilu shrugged. ¡°Unknown. I doubt she has network access enough for this. This is not unprecedented, but it is very rare.¡±

    Eseld hurried on. ¡°It¡¯s a way to drive us to ground, or to create a lot of confusion to cover for something else, so ¡­ so Lykke wouldn¡¯t need to do that, not to kill us, I mean. It¡¯s something else, something trying to stop her? Or to confuse her. Or make sure she¡¯s finished the job.¡±

    Shilu stared at Eseld for a moment. ¡°You think quickly, zombie.¡±

    ¡°Just trying to survive.¡±

    ¡°Yes. And somebody is trying to kill you, you three zombies.¡±

    Sky blinked several times. Cyn just nodded.

    ¡°Not you?¡± Eseld asked.

    Shilu shook her head. ¡°The storm is little danger to me. The tomb can withstand winds ten times that intensity. The graveworm could survive much more. The only threat is to exposed zombies. Whoever sent it wants to keep you in the tomb. Or perhaps they aren¡¯t taking any chances of Lykke failing. But it gives me a perfect opportunity to escape. I could break this window and fly to the ground. The hurricane will soon introduce enough local network interference to give me a chance. But it would kill the three of you.¡± Shilu sighed; for the first time her expression went further ¡ª she scrunched up her eyes with frustration. ¡°I don¡¯t understand why any of this is happening.¡±

    ¡°Does this change our plans?¡± Eseld asked.

    Shilu¡¯s eyes snapped open. She shook her head. ¡°No. We go to the gravekeeper.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s go!¡± Sky snapped. ¡°Before that plague-ridden bitch finishes putting herself back together. Cool? Can we move out now, ma¡¯am?¡± Her voice dripped with sarcastic deference.

    Shilu turned and set off again, heading deeper into the tomb. ¡°We¡¯re almost at the elevator. Not far now. No more stairs.¡±

    For ten minutes Shilu led them deeper into this floor of the tomb, heading toward the core of the building, worming through increasingly tight passageways and narrow corridors, with lots of awkward blind corners. The pounding of the storm grew and grew as the zombies burrowed deeper into the ossified meat of the tomb, a standing wave of background static pounding against the exterior walls. Eseld could barely imagine the growing fury outdoors. Such a storm would have ripped trees from their roots and flattened buildings to kindling.

    Eventually Shilu stopped about twenty meters shy of a sharp left-hand turn in a long corridor. Eseld almost blundered into her back, scrambling to a halt. Cyneswith let out a little squeak. Sky hissed, ¡°What is it?¡±

    Shilu said nothing for a moment. She stared through the metal of the corner, as if she could see through solid matter; Eseld guessed she probably could. The corner did not look any different to Eseld.

    Then Shilu said: ¡°This is unexpected. I may be about to die. If I do, turn back and run for the exit.¡±

    Eseld shared a look with Sky. Cyn shrugged and mouthed ¡®fairies¡¯.

    ¡°Stay here,¡± said Shilu

    Then she strode forward, heading toward the corner. On the last step she paused for a split-second, then stepped out of cover.

    Nothing happened.

    Shilu stood beyond the corner for several seconds, staring at something Eseld couldn¡¯t see. Then she turned and gestured to the trio of revenants, pointing toward the corner ¡ª a clear instruction: do not advance further until ordered.

    Eseld hurried to the corner, with Cyneswith and Sky at her heels. All three zombies pressed themselves against the wall, as Shilu indicated.

    Shilu said, ¡°One of you will have to take the same risk I just did. Decide who.¡±

    ¡°But you just did it, right?¡± Eseld asked. ¡°What is it, what¡ª¡±

    ¡°Guns. They may respond differently to zombies. One of you volunteer, quickly.¡±

    Cyn started to say: ¡°What if we¡ª¡±

    ¡°Quickly.¡±

    Sky snapped, ¡°Why, what¡¯s wrong? Spit it out!¡±

    Shilu pointed back the way they¡¯d come.

    The outline of a human figure was extruding itself from the grey metal wall which they had just passed, like a person pressing their whole body against a sheet of canvas. Facial features were sharpening and clarifying, individual fingers popping free of the metal surface, limbs gaining substance and shape with every second. Textures grew from metal layers ¡ª bouncy curls and fluttering sundress frills, splaying forth in fans of simulated fabric, stiff and grey.

    Lykke was emerging, pressed from dead matter into living flesh.

    Cyn clapped both hands to her mouth, recoiling into Eseld¡¯s arms. Sky spluttered and slapped her own right thigh, reaching for a weapon which wasn¡¯t there. Eseld bared her teeth and spat.

    ¡°Quickly,¡± Shilu repeated.

    Eseld started to move, intending to step out next to Shilu and accept whatever this godless fate had decided for her ¡ª but then Sky said, ¡°I¡¯ll do it!¡± and darted past Eseld.

    Sky stepped out of cover and threw her arms wide, eyes bulging, ready for a second death.

    Nothing happened.

    ¡°We¡¯re clear,¡± Shilu said. ¡°Go.¡±

    Shilu took off at a sprint. Sky blinked in shock, then reached back and grabbed Cyn, sweeping the smaller woman off her feet and into Sky¡¯s arms. She darted after Shilu.

    Eseld glanced back. Lykke had both arms free from the wall now, half her head and torso out, legs trailing behind. The metal surface of her skin was gaining colour, flushing with pale skin and white sundress and blonde hair. Her eyes were still dead grey, empty of life. Her hair was stiff as metal shavings. Her head twitched.

    Eseld scrambled around the corner and after the others ¡ª then gasped, almost losing her footing in shock. She caught herself, got herself upright, and broke into a sprint.

    The corridor was kinked in three places as if to create a trio of choke points; it terminated in a steep switchback ramp which climbed toward a raised, walled platform or second level, from which an observer might look out over the choke points below.

    The walls and ceiling bristled with firepower.

    Hard-point weapon emplacements cradled all manner of guns and cannons, none of which Eseld could name. Black-mouthed machines tracked Eseld and the others with empty muzzles as they ran down the corridor toward the ramp. Shilu was not spared the battery¡¯s attention; clusters of lance-structures swivelled to follow her, backed up by multi-barrelled monsters ticking and clicking in time to their internal engines. Many of the guns whirred with the sounds of tiny motors as they twisted and turned, or hummed with the infernal buzz of power-packs and on-board reactors.

    Hundreds of automatic turrets and gun emplacements tracked the zombies and the fallen angel down the length of the jinking corridor. Eseld felt as if she was sprinting down a length of intestine, lined with waving cilia.

    Shilu hit the ramp first and reached the observation platform moments later. Sky went next, hurling herself upward, cradling Cyneswith in her arms. Eseld was last, mounting the ramp and hauling herself to the top. She collapsed against the wall-lip of the platform, heaving for breath.

    A pair of large metal doors stood half-open on one side of the platform, ten inches thick. Beyond them was a blank metal box.

    ¡°It¡¯s a dead end!¡± Cyneswith wailed.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s a lift,¡± said Sky, tipping Cyn back to her feet. ¡°We need to get in the lift! Where does it lead?¡±

    Shilu turned to face the corridor through which they had just passed. She held her arms out to either side and made her hands into blades, extending flesh and bone into lightless black metal.

    ¡°Shilu?¡± Eseld hissed. ¡°Shilu, this is a dead end, and I know it too. You said you can¡¯t fight Lykke again, what do we do?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± said Shilu. ¡°None of this is meant to be here. These guns should not be here. And they should have killed me.¡±

    Sky whirled on Shilu. ¡°What now?! Do we pile into that lift? We can¡¯t just stand here and die!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no point,¡± said Shilu. ¡°Not unless the guns wake. And I don¡¯t think they will, I think¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shishi!¡±

    Lykke¡¯s bright and burning warble filled the air with laughter.

    An apparition in white stepped around the far end of the jinking corridor, hands raised in playful surrender.

    Lykke looked exactly as she had when she had first appeared ¡ª a young woman with luxurious blonde hair, wearing a sundress and fancy shoes ¡ª except her colours were greyed out, washed thin by her rebirth from the wall. Her joints did not appear to work properly, as if she was suffering a restricted range of motion. Her hair was stiff and artificial. Her eyeballs were fused in place.

    ¡°Shishi, really!¡± Lykke said. ¡°That¡¯s more than enough of making me run about. Now I need to limber up and oil down and you just¡ª¡±

    Every turret in the corridor whirled to point at Lykke.

    Her eyes went wide. Her mouth formed a little ¡®oh.¡¯

    Shilu shouted, ¡°Into the li¡ª¡±

    The battery of guns opened up with a deafening roar, filling the cramped corridor with a storm of firepower; the slam of bullets and plasma bolts and sabots drowned out the distant drumming of the hurricane¡¯s fringe, punctuated by the kick and thump and whine of a hundred magazines and motors and mechanisms.

    Lykke¡¯s grey-washed form vanished beneath a hail of gunfire, blotted out by the flash of energy weapons, swallowed by the explosion of debris. The end of the corridor collapsed into metal slag and flying fragments and molten droplets of melted steel. A cloud of shrapnel burst against the platform, whizzing and pinging through the air.

    ¡°Into the lift!¡± Shilu howled above the noise.

    Sky swept Cyneswith off her feet again; Cyn was screaming, hands clamped over her ears. Eseld sprinted for the gap between the lift doors and hurled herself through, into the darkness. Sky shouldered inside after her. Shilu slipped through last and slammed the doors shut, blotting out the worst of the cacophonous gunfire.

    A two-button control panel stood to the left of the doors. Shilu slammed the ¡®down¡¯ arrow. A tiny red light flickered on.

    The lift jerked, then began to descend.

    Three pairs of lungs panted hard in the dark. Cyn held back a sob, gulping for air. Sky muttered, ¡®fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.¡¯

    The sound of the guns above did not stop ¡ª but the furious roar started to slow, growing quiet, as if the turrets were falling silent one by one.

    ¡°That didn¡¯t stop her,¡± Eseld said. ¡°Did it?¡±

    Shilu¡¯s gaze crept upward, watching through the wall and the shaft as the lift descended. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°Not for long.¡±

    ¡°What do we do now?¡± Sky said. ¡°What do we do, how do we get away from her?! How do we fucking kill her?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± said Shilu.

    ¡°There has to be a way, you were listing them earlier! We¡¯re heading to an armoury, right? You mentioned fire, heat. What¡¯s in there? Do we have thermite? A flamethrower? You need an ECM bubble to stop her re-downloading her imprint? I can rustle up something if we have a powerful enough plasma charge and some kind of shield to contain the¡ª¡±

    ¡°We do not have the means,¡± said Shilu. ¡°Nothing in a tomb armoury will be enough to stop one of us.¡±

    ¡°Nothing?¡± Sky swallowed. ¡°Nothing at all?¡±

    Shilu considered this for a moment. ¡°There may be a flamethrower. The flame will not be hot enough. She might retreat from it regardless. Maybe.¡±

    Sky clenched her teeth and raked her hands through her dark hair. How naive, Eseld thought, how childish. One could not turn at bay and fight demons and angels, not with all the weapons in this dead world, not with anything she¡¯d ever witnessed, or could imagine. One could barely turn and fight stronger revenants, let alone true cosmological actors in charge of their own destinies, like Shilu. Their only option as zombies was escape ¡ª or the salvation of this ¡®gravekeeper¡¯.

    Silence stretched on. The lift continued to descend. Shilu said nothing, staring at nothing, her sheet of flawless black hair hanging like frozen obsidian. Cyneswith shuffled closer to Eseld, then wormed her hand into Eseld¡¯s grip. Sky began to pace. Eventually the sound of the guns was gone completely, replaced with the distant thundering howl of the hurricane outside, battering the tomb with walls of storm and surge.

    Over two minutes later, the lift stopped.

    Shilu turned to face the trio of zombies. Her skin flowed and flowered and hardened ¡ª back into the nightmare scarecrow of black chrome, covered in blades and sharp edges, standing on a pair of spear-point feet. Her face was a pale mask, inhumanly perfect.

    Cyneswith went stiff and still. Sky snorted. Eseld attempted to show no fear.

    ¡°There are two chambers beyond this door,¡± said Shilu. ¡°I am going to step into the second chamber. Do not follow me. One of four things will happen. The gravekeeper may kill me, or it may kill Lykke. It might kill both of us. Finally, it might do nothing. Those are the four outcomes. In the event it kills me or kills both of us, you should arm yourselves and attempt to escape the tomb.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t kill us?¡± Eseld asked.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±

    Shilu smiled ¡ª a pair of tiny curls at the corners of her pale polymer mouth.

    ¡°You are beneath notice, zombie. Even with a storm sent to pin you in this grave. To a gravekeeper you¡¯re not even there. If I die here, do not linger. Good luck.¡±

 custos - 11.5

    Shilu opened the elevator doors and strode into the cavernous room beyond, balanced on the sharp points of her spear-tip feet.

    Eseld crept out of the lift in Shilu¡¯s wake. She stumbled to a halt after three paces, eyes wide, mouth agape.

    The armoury was divided in two by a pathway of slightly darker metal. The path led across a wide grey room, then terminated at an archway opposite the elevator doors. To Eseld¡¯s right was the largest collection of functioning machinery she had ever seen. Tables overflowed with scientific equipment and hand-held devices, visored headsets and bulky goggles, portable scanners and arm-mounted readouts, trays of little mechanisms and robots and more, all manner of electronic and mechanical gadgetry. Eseld understood almost none of it, but she knew these objects were useful, because she had seen many similar examples in the hands of powerful, well-equipped, predatory revenants. A row of computers stood against the wall behind the tables; screens glowed with toxic greens and electric blues, scrolling through reams of text and numbers, or waiting to the silent beat of blinking cursors.

    On Eseld¡¯s left was power and salvation, a treasure-trove beyond her wildest dreams, a promise she had not understood when it was made.

    Guns. So many guns.

    When Shilu had used the word ¡®armoury¡¯, Eseld had understood perfectly well on an intellectual level. An armoury was a large store of weapons. But she had not ¡ª could not have! ¡ª imagined such limitless bounty. She had been too preoccupied with the implications of the running battle between Shilu and Lykke.

    Eseld had handled a firearm only once before ¡ª a small calibre pistol. She had looted it from the remains of a powerful revenant, more deaths ago than she could count. Stronger and more ruthless scavengers than Eseld had already stripped the corpse clean of meat and cracked the bones for marrow. By the time Eseld had crept forth from her hiding place the body had been reduced to a tangle of blood-stained clothes and torn webbing, punctuated by bone fragments. Eseld had been sucking on scraps of bloody clothing when she¡¯d discovered the handgun in a knot of sticky fabric, missed by the earlier scavengers. Snub-nosed, pocked with rust, the thing had looked like debris. The magazine had contained only three bullets. Eseld had wasted two rounds shooting at a wall, to see what would happen; recoil had surprised her so badly that she¡¯d dropped the gun on the first shot. For the second shot she¡¯d held the gun in both hands, closed her eyes, and turned her face away from the target. She had used the last bullet on a rival scavenger a few weeks later, but she had missed that shot and drawn attention to herself. She had died again that day, chased down by a long-legged zombie who had heard the gunfire.

    The tomb¡¯s armoury contained enough guns for a million missed shots.

    Firearms of all shapes and sizes were lined up in racks and laid out on shelves ¡ª pistols, submachine guns, assault rifles, heavy weapons, energy weapons, coilguns, plasma rifles, and more, many of which Eseld could not identify. Most of it was outside of Eseld¡¯s experience, because those who carried such guns were usually so far beyond her place in the ecosystem.

    Combat knives lay sheathed in rows, sorted by size. Grenades nestled in trays, arranged according to type. Body armour soaked up the light, stowed in deep rows on the shelves. Clothing sat in tubs and bins, black and grey and brand new, folded neat and tidy, without holes or bloodstains or threadbare hems.

    Three sets of powered armour were locked into charging ports along the wall, their fronts open like the mandibles of giant crustaceans.

    Eseld was shaking. She wiped her mouth on the back of one hand, expecting to find drool running down her chin.

    Shilu walked straight down the centre of the room, following the pathway which separated the weapons and armour from the devices and computers. She scooped up a large pistol and a handful of bullets as she passed the armoury, black metal fingers clacking against the firearm. She slipped the magazine out of the pistol and loaded the loose rounds with a rapid click-click-click, then slapped the magazine back into place seconds later, all without breaking her stride.

    ¡°Arm yourselves. Be ready to leave,¡± Shilu called without looking back. ¡°Don¡¯t follow me.¡±

    Shilu stepped through the archway, into the second chamber.

    The room on the far side of the archway looked much larger than the armoury, as if the armoury was merely an antechamber. A huge pyramid of grey metal filled most of that second room, easily twenty feet tall. The tip of the pyramid was flattened out into a kind of socket; in the socket sat a perfect black sphere, lightless and empty, like a hole in reality.

    A resurrection coffin stood upright at the foot of the pyramid, facing the archway and the elevator doors. The coffin was occupied.

    The zombie within the coffin was bisected at the waist, her legs and hips gone. Her body was suspended on a patchwork of cables and tubes, spilling from her ruptured belly like mechanical intestines, hooked into the sides of the resurrection coffin. Wires punctured her arms and neck and penetrated the bald surface of her scalp, snaking across her withered shoulders and prominent ribcage. Her hands had been severed, replaced with yet more cables running from the ends of her wrists, plugged into the base of the coffin. She stared straight ahead, unblinking and unbreathing. She showed no reaction as Shilu entered the pyramid chamber.

    Eseld had seen a great many heavily modified zombies, some of them far from human, but never anything quite like that.

    Shilu¡¯s scarecrow body of sharp angles seemed tiny before the grey pyramid and the empty black sphere, framed by the curve of the arch. Silence was smeared by the distant drumming of torrential rain. The voice of the hurricane howled against the exterior of the tomb.

    Behind Eseld, Sky let out a low whistle. Eseld flinched.

    ¡°Damn,¡± Sky said. ¡°That sure is a sight for sore eyes.¡± She stepped past Eseld and flashed a smile. ¡°Guess our friend wasn¡¯t lying about the armoury, huh? And real clothes, thank fuck for that.¡±

    Eseld gestured at the pyramid and the black sphere. ¡°What¡ª¡±

    Sky laughed, hard and harsh. ¡°Bugger that, I don¡¯t even care. Forget whatever AI mind bullshit is going on. I¡¯m getting strapped.¡± She beelined toward the guns and body armour. ¡°Keep a look out for a flamethrower, a plasma torch, or a directed microwave gun. Or thermite, that might do the trick. And toss me any EMP or ECM output equipment. We need something to take out Lykke, and make it permanent this time.¡±

    Cyneswith advanced with more caution, pale and still. She paused and caught Eseld¡¯s eyes. ¡°What is all this?¡±

    ¡°Guns.¡±

    Cyneswith wet her lips. ¡°I ¡­ I don¡¯t understand these mechanisms. What would you have me do, Miss Eseld?¡±

    Eseld forced herself to smile. ¡°Get some clothes on. Grab some of the backpacks. The things with straps, over there. We¡¯ll need at least three.¡±

    Cyneswith glanced toward Sky. The larger woman was already rummaging through the clothes. ¡°Can you show me, Miss Eseld?¡±

    ¡° ¡­ in a sec. Grab clothes. Get dressed. I ¡­ I need to ¡­ ¡±

    Eseld hurried forward, leaving Cyneswith behind. She followed Shilu.

    Eseld paused to grab a pistol from the same rack Shilu had selected. She lifted the firearm in one sweaty palm. The gun was heavy and cold in her hand. The grip was too slippery. She had neither the time nor the dexterity to fumble bullets into the magazine as she walked, so she skipped that step and hurried to the archway.

    She made it just in time; in the chamber with the pyramid and the black sphere and the insensate zombie wired into a coffin, Shilu raised her gun.

    She aimed at the black sphere and pulled the trigger.

    The weapon¡¯s discharge echoed off the chamber walls with a deafening bang. Eseld flinched and scrambled to a halt. Cyneswith yelped in surprise. Sky said nothing, but the sound of rummaging stopped. Eseld had assumed that Shilu would deliver a threat or an ultimatum first, perhaps to the revenant in the coffin ¡ª was that the ¡®gravekeeper¡¯? She had not expected Shilu to open the conversation with a bullet.

    No ricochet sound followed the gunshot. The surface of the black sphere showed no damage.

    The bullet was floating in mid-air about six feet out from the sphere¡¯s surface. An area of heat-haze or optical illusion linked the bullet to the sphere, as if the air itself was warping under incredible pressure.

    Eseld¡¯s stomach turned over with sudden nausea. Her vision swam. Her head pounded.

    ¡°Do I have your attention?¡± Shilu said. She was speaking to the sphere.

    The suspended bullet fell from the air and landed on the floor with a delicate metallic clink. Shilu squeezed the trigger three more times ¡ª bang! bang! bang! All three bullets froze in mid-air before they could reach the black sphere, arrested by that heat-haze warping in the air.

    A wave of nausea crashed into Eseld. She spluttered and retched, but there was nothing in her belly to bring up. She was freshly resurrected, without even a mouthful of bile in her own stomach.

    Shilu¡¯s head whipped around. Wide dark eyes stared out of a pale polymer face, framed by a frown.

    ¡°I told you not to follow me,¡± she snapped. ¡°Back away.¡±

    Eseld staggered backward. The nausea lifted as suddenly as it had arrived. Her vision cleared. The pressure in her head ceased.

    She stared at Shilu, panting for breath.

    ¡°Brave, zombie,¡± Shilu said. ¡°But very stupid. You are not hardened against gravitics. Stay away from the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber while I talk. Get dressed. And pick up some guns.¡±

    Shilu turned back to the sphere and the coffin.

    ¡°Do I have your attention?¡± Shilu repeated.

    She received no answer that Eseld could hear, but apparently Shilu was satisfied by an invisible response, because she lowered her pistol. The trio of bullets fell to the floor with a clink-a-clink of metal. Shilu walked up to the zombie inside the coffin, then stopped and spoke. Her voice was a jumble of hissing and buzzing, like a machine trying to imitate a cloud of insects.

    Eseld turned away; whatever was happening in there was the domain of angels and demons. To even stand too close was to risk obliteration. She should have trusted Shilu¡¯s warning the first time.

    She was only a zombie, after all. Only meat.

    The freshies were faring far better. Cyneswith had tugged on a pair of tomb-grey trousers and a stretchy grey thermal t-shirt; she was looking down at herself with a bemused expression. Sky was already fully dressed, wearing boots and combat webbing over her muscular frame. Her hair was tugged back into a dark twist, pinned by a strap of webbing across her shoulders. She was tugging some kind of rigging off the shelves and buckling pieces of it around her own body, settling metal struts across her back, like a frame for a rucksack.

    She caught Eseld¡¯s eye and shrugged. ¡°Mind-jobs, hey?¡± she said. ¡°What can you do? Leave her to it.¡±

    Eseld answered with a shrug of her own.

    Sky smiled, showing white teeth in the reddish skin of her face. Eseld did not like that smile. It contained too much glee.

    Sky finished strapping the metal frame to her back; Eseld couldn¡¯t see what the process had achieved. Sky hesitated for a moment, then trotted to the other side of the room to poke through the equipment. ¡°There¡¯s gotta be a wide-band ECM set somewhere here,¡± she said. She glanced at the open doors of the lift, then at Eseld. ¡°Come on! We need a flamethrower or a plasma torch if we¡¯re gonna hold that thing off. You¡¯re still naked, soldier. Get your gear on.¡±

    Sky turned back to the equipment without waiting for Eseld to respond. Eseld shook her head. There was nothing a lowly zombie could do to stop a demon like Lykke. It was all up to Shilu now. Sky would die quickly if she did not learn that. Sky would probably die anyway. True fresh meat did not keep long.

    Eseld walked over to the bins and tubs full of clothes.

    Cyneswith looked up with a bashful smile. She gestured down at herself. ¡°They don¡¯t have any skirts, so I¡¯m wearing trousers! It¡¯s such an odd feeling.¡±

    ¡°Um, good,¡± Eseld said.

    Cyneswith held out one of the t-shirts, beaming with a smile. ¡°All ready for you, Miss! They¡¯re quite comfy. Try it!¡±

    Eseld realised she was still gripping the handgun she¡¯d picked up earlier, so tight that her knuckles had turned white. She put the gun down on a pile of coats and flexed her right hand to ease the aching muscles. Then she accepted the tomb-grey t-shirt and pulled it over her head.

    Eseld had seen plenty of revenants wearing tomb-grown gear before ¡ª mostly the full-length padded coats, the suits of ballistic armour, and the ubiquitous boots. She knew the stuff came from the tombs, but she had always assumed the strongest revenants somehow manufactured it from the machinery inside, not that it was all just sitting here for the taking. Most of the clothing worn by ordinary zombies was dragged out of the ruins or picked off corpses. Eseld had spent every prior resurrection wearing filthy rags and rotten bits of cloth, scavenging what she could from the dead, clinging to the rare find of a jumper or a blanket amid the rubble.

    The tomb-grown t-shirt was the most deliciously comfortable garment she¡¯d ever worn. The fabric stretched, conforming to the shape of her body. The hem hugged her hips. The sleeves enclosed both arms all the way to her wrists. The material somehow warmed her skin without making her sweat. Subtle padding cupped her elbows, cushioned her ribs, and covered her upper back.

    Eseld hugged herself, eyes squeezed shut. She could have cried.

    Cyneswith said, ¡°Miss Eseld? What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Eseld croaked. She opened her eyes and gathered herself. ¡°Nothing.¡±

    Eseld got dressed. She tugged on socks, underwear, and trousers. She laced up a pair of boots. She strapped knee-pads to her legs and slipped her hands into matte black fingerless gloves with grippy surfaces on the palms. She pulled protective goggles from a box and jammed them into her trouser pockets. She found a neck gaiter and yanked it down over her head, tucking the fabric beneath her chin. In the space of a hundred seconds, Eseld felt more protected than she had since true life.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    She grabbed a backpack and swung it toward Cyneswith. ¡°We need extras. Everything we can carry. Socks, t-shirts, gloves, every¡ª¡±

    ¡°Already done!¡± Cyneswith held up a backpack of her own. She hesitated. ¡°Well, except for my own. I don¡¯t know what to wear. I don¡¯t know what most of this is. And it¡¯s all so ¡­ utilitarian. All these greys and blacks. Aheh ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Boots. Gloves. Coat. Everything you can. Especially the coat. Maybe a bullet-proof vest. Here.¡±

    Eseld pulled an armoured coat from a bin and shoved it into Cyneswith¡¯s arms. The freshie had no idea what she would face once out of the tomb; this was her only chance to prepare and she did not even understand what she was preparing for. Eseld grabbed a second coat for herself and held it up. The coat was a miracle ¡ª light enough to wear without effort, but packed with little armoured scales inside the fabric, ready to stiffen and harden in response to impacts and projectiles. The hood was deep enough to hide one¡¯s face from any light. The inside of the coat was lined with pouches and straps for weapons and equipment, and the exterior pockets had plenty of room for extras.

    Eseld slipped a bullet-proof vest over her shoulders first, then added the tomb-coat over the top. She tested her flexibility, rotating her arms. The armour did not restrict her natural range of movement. It was perfect, as if tailored just for her.

    Then she raised her eyes to the rest of the armoury, and felt a lump grow in her throat.

    Eseld walked over to a rack of submachine guns ¡ª two dozen of them, and this was just one model among several. She lifted one of the weapons, gently at first, as if she might damage or break the mechanisms inside. But the gun was sturdy, made of black metal and durable polymers, solid yet lightweight, cold to the touch. She looped the strap over her shoulders, so the gun lay against her belly. She located a magazine and loaded the bullets; her hands shook so badly that she dropped several rounds, but that didn¡¯t matter. The armoury contained tens of thousands of bullets, in boxes and cartons and wrapped in plastic. She finished filling the magazine, then clicked it home. She shouldered the gun, aiming at nothing. She cocked the charging handle and heard the first round slide into the chamber.

    She found the safety and flicked it off.

    Eseld¡¯s mouth was dry. Her breath came in hard little jerks. She was shaking all over, quivering with a feeling she had never experienced before. Her world was filled with static ¡ª was that the storm, intensifying its fury? Was the hurricane pounding the tomb with hailstones, or with concrete grit scooped out of the corpse-city and hurled against the walls?

    Eseld curled her finger around the trigger of the gun.

    Power. The same power which had been used on her, again and again, by a thousand predators and monsters and cannibals. Now it was hers, solid and real in her hands, embodied in a physical object. She could barely breathe.

    ¡°Eseld?¡±

    Eseld jerked with surprise. She pulled her finger off the trigger and flicked the safety back on.

    Cyneswith was staring with wide eyes and parted lips. She¡¯d been watching the whole process.

    Eseld said, ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m just ¡­ we need to arm ourselves. Come on. Follow me.¡±

    Eseld jammed additional magazines into her pockets and tossed packages of bullets into her backpack. She chased that with a short-nosed combat shotgun and handfuls of shells. She snatched a neat little PDW off the shelves and strapped it inside her coat so it lay flat against her flank, then followed that up with a pair of lightweight pistols tucked into her inside pockets. She grabbed two knives and shoved them into her trousers. The only non-combat equipment on the shelves was a stack of compact thermal blankets. She split the lot between her and Cyneswith¡¯s backpacks. Blankets were a hard-won comfort in this Godless afterlife.

    Eseld paused before some kind of energy weapon ¡ª a rifle made of black barrels and a big bulbous chamber ¡ª and wished she knew how to use the thing.

    ¡°How do these machines work?¡± Cyneswith asked.

    ¡°The guns?¡± Eseld shook her head. ¡°You don¡¯t know guns?¡±

    Cyneswith frowned and bit her lower lip. ¡°Like ¡­ cannons?¡±

    ¡°Sort of. Weapons. They ¡­ shoot lead. Some of these do, anyway. Some of them do other things. You need to take one for yourself. Or several. They¡¯re valuable, we need to take as much as we can carry. Grab a gun, fill your bag with bullets. And hurry. Sky¡¯s right, we don¡¯t know when Lykke might turn up again.¡±

    Cyneswith blinked several times, chewing on her lips. She stared at the submachine gun strapped over Eseld¡¯s belly.

    ¡°Can you show me how to use one? Please, Miss Eseld? I¡¯m only ¡­ I¡¯m only a human. I don¡¯t know any of these things, and you and Miss Sky seem to know them all. I¡¯m no fairy-kin, nor¡ª¡±

    Eseld bared her teeth. She hadn¡¯t meant to, but Cyn flinched from her sharp-toothed maw.

    ¡°Sorry!¡± Eseld blurted out. ¡°Sorry. Ask Sky. I don¡¯t really know. I just ¡­ I just know how to point and shoot. This is my first time.¡±

    ¡°First time what?¡±

    Eseld gritted her teeth and gestured at Sky. ¡°Just ¡­ ask her.¡±

    Sky was still on the other side of the chamber. She¡¯d found something useful amid all the equipment ¡ª some kind of gun-shaped device festooned with tubes and screens, though it didn¡¯t have a barrel or any kind of opening for a projectile to come out of. She was raising it and pressing the stock against her shoulder, reading numbers off a tiny screen in front of her face.

    Sky noticed Eseld and Cyneswith looking at her. She flashed a grin. ¡°EMP flash-shield,¡± she said. ¡°Short range, but it might do the trick, might scramble that bitch upstairs for a few seconds. She¡¯s probably network adaptive though, won¡¯t last long. Might buy us a second, right?¡±

    Cyn hissed, ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Eseld whispered back. ¡°Just ¡­ ask her to show you. I have no idea. Go on.¡±

    Eseld gently pushed Cyneswith toward Sky. Cyneswith hesitated, then trotted across the room.

    Eseld turned back to the armoury shelves. She couldn¡¯t deal with the freshie right then, not with those kinds of questions. Eseld was overwhelmed by the implications of this place, of all these guns and all this armour and all the gadgets and equipment and clothes and everything. All this power, right here in the open, naked all along. She¡¯d had no idea. Had this banquet been there for the taking, in every tomb she had escaped from so swiftly? Had this always been waiting for her?

    She looked down at herself, loaded with weapons, clad in armour. She laid one shaking hand on the submachine gun.

    Was she a predator now? Was this opportunity the only thing that had separated her from the revenants who had preyed on her for so many lifetimes?

    Would she now hunt girls like herself, once she escaped the tomb? Would she hunt and kill girls like Andasina?

    No, she wouldn¡¯t ¡ª she wouldn¡¯t prey on those who were weak and helpless. She swore she wouldn¡¯t. She swore. She shook and she swore. If she had been armed like this when that revenant monster had come for her and Andasina, she could have won! She could have protected what mattered. She could have been the victor, eating the defeated. She would murder the powerful, the other monsters, her new equals. She swore she would. She swore.

    But when the hunger started, would she have a choice?

    Was this the only option, after God had died and left creation to fend for itself? Was the exercise of power the only thing left in a lonely cosmos after the withdrawal of all divine meaning?

    Had this been the answer all along? Inflict power upon others, as it had been inflicted upon her?

    Eseld took a deep breath and made a fist, digging fingernails into her palm. She could not afford this morbid introspection, not while trapped in a tomb, hunted by a demon, and pinned beneath a hurricane. She had to keep her head and keep moving, even if she was nothing but spoiled meat. She had to support Shilu.

    Because Shilu was an angel, fallen or otherwise, and her fight mattered.

    Eseld walked down the line of weapons, wishing she knew how to use the more esoteric and powerful firearms. Many of them were simply too large to carry by herself, or came with attached power-packs she could not hope to lift. Others lacked traditional trigger mechanisms, or were missing anything which looked like a barrel. Some she did not know which way to point, or could not figure out how they were meant to be used. She did slip a few grenades into her pockets, but she kept that covert, just in case. She kept an eye out for a flamethrower, as Sky had suggested, but Eseld did not hold out much hope.

    The armour was even more of a lost opportunity. Dozens of carapace suits were lined up on the racks in glinting rows of ceramic and metal, much more sturdy and protective than Eseld¡¯s bullet proof vest and armoured coat. She pulled down a helmet with a nice chunky visor, tested it for size, then clipped it to her belt. But the rest of the carapace suit components were too complex, covered in straps and buckles and wires and lines, fitted with interlocking mechanisms and slots for joining to some kind of underlying framework. The suits looked as if they required specialised knowledge simply to put one on.

    Eseld picked up a shoulder-pad, then sighed and tossed it back on the racks. She could spend hours trying to armour herself in one of those suits. She glanced toward the open doors of the elevator, a narrow snatch of darkness between the metal leaves.

    They didn¡¯t have hours. Lykke might come down that lift shaft at any moment.

    The storm pounded at the edge of Eseld¡¯s hearing, louder than before. Maybe it really was raining hailstones, big ones, falling like rocks. Even if Shilu managed to defeat Lykke, wouldn¡¯t they all be stuck in here until the storm passed? Maybe then Eseld could spend as long as she needed wrapping herself in an armoured shell, going at whatever pace she pleased. Maybe Shilu would help.

    Ha. No, Eseld did not even smile at that notion. Shilu was on a quest of her own. Eseld could only hope to follow in her footsteps, probably not much further than the gates of the tomb.

    Cyneswith and Sky had crossed back over to the armoury section of the chamber. Sky was banging about again, showing Cyneswith how to work a gun. Eseld paid them no attention. She could not deal with freshies being so naive.

    She paused to examine the three suits of powered armour.

    These machines were so far beyond Eseld¡¯s experience that she felt a little intimidated just standing in front of them. She¡¯d only rarely seen revenants wearing powered armour, and then only from far away ¡ª true monsters who could not be stopped by anything, certainly not bullets. Out in the corpse-city powered armour came in many shapes and sizes, but these three suits were all identical, eight feet tall, blocky and sharp, made of solid grey material. Eseld pressed her hand to a piece of thigh armour. It didn¡¯t feel like metal. It was warm.

    All three suits were hinged open at the chest and belly, waiting for a pilot to wriggle inside the mechanical mouth. The innards of each suit were studded with little electrodes and spikes and tiny wires, many of which seemed positioned as if to penetrate the flesh of the wearer.

    Eseld peered deeper inside one suit. The holes for legs and arms were pitch black.

    Sky called out: ¡°Best not climb in there! Hey, don¡¯t touch that. Seriously. Shit like that needs a whole ground team just to get you suited up, let alone extract you again. Don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Eseld murmured, stepping back from the suits. They made her skin crawl.

    Eseld glanced down the rest of the racks and shelves, casting her eyes over the cannons and heavy guns and weird blocky machines. Maybe there really was something here which they might use against Lykke. Maybe Sky wasn¡¯t so blind to the truth after all. The guns strapped around Eseld¡¯s body made her feel confident, strong, and powerful. She had not felt this way since the last time she had held a bow, in her true life. She could almost feel the bowstring spring free from her left hand, feel the arrow loose in flight.

    Power. She had power, for the first time. Maybe if they searched for¡ª

    Blue.

    A glint of blue glow, right at the end of the armoury shelves.

    Eseld froze in shock, then swallowed a mouthful of sudden saliva. She hurried down the armoury, mouth open, panting with thirst. Or was it lust? She stopped in front of a large plastic box; the lid was open by just a crack. Blue glow peeked out through the gap. She opened the box with shaking hands.

    Two dozen cannisters were nestled inside, each cannister full to the brim with blue liquid.

    Eseld gaped. Her skin tingled. She slurped drool off her chin.

    She picked up one of the cannisters and ripped the seal open, then poured the contents down her throat, swallowing rapidly, chugging the raw blue nanomachines as quickly as she could. The liquid went down so easily, like water but thick and warm, slightly below body temperature. She felt the fluid settle in her stomach like honey and lightning. She let out a soft moan of true satisfaction.

    She uncapped a second cannister and poured that down her throat too.

    Eseld had only ever seen raw blue twice before, both times in the hands of powerful revenants. She had barely understood what she was looking at those times, but her body had known. Her body needed the blue like it needed meat. She had put two and two together eventually, when she had realised that the soupy mess inside the coffin of a failed resurrection was almost the same colour as that maddening blue. This was the raw stuff of nanomachine unlife, the building blocks of personal modification, more valuable and precious than any gun or any number of bullets.

    Eseld¡¯s body remembered that need. She could not resist it, as a living human could not have resisted the need to draw breath.

    She lowered the second cannister and reached for a third.

    ¡°What is that stuff?¡±

    Eseld flinched, bared her teeth, and span to face¡ª

    Sky. Looming overhead. Fully armed.

    Sky was wearing a suit of the carapace armour which Eseld had been unable to comprehend. Her legs, torso. shoulders, and arms were all protected by lightweight articulated plates of grey ceramic and metal, moving like a second skin. Her throat was covered by a matching gorget. Her hands were hidden by armoured gloves, fingers and palms shielded by projecting plates of metal. A visored helmet hung from her belt, sleek and smooth, not the blocky kind which Eseld had grabbed. The purpose of Sky¡¯s torso rig was now made obvious ¡ª four mechanical arms extended from Sky¡¯s back, lengths of finely balanced steel tipped with interfaces for firearms. The lower two mechanical arms held one of the large machine guns which Eseld had decided was too heavy for one person to carry, now suspended in an easy grip in front of Sky¡¯s waist. The top two arms held a matched pair of energy weapons ¡ª fluted black rifles with bulky power-packs slung beneath. The arms moved as Sky moved, following her motions.

    Sky also had a machete strapped to one armoured thigh, an assault rifle slung over one shoulder, and the ¡®EMP¡¯ gun strapped to her chest.

    Eseld had mistaken herself for a potential predator. But here was the real thing, ready to fight off an army, single-handed.

    Sky raised her eyebrows at Eseld¡¯s sharp teeth. She cracked a nasty grin of her own. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, kid?¡± Sky said. ¡°Never seen a real professional before?¡±

    Eseld considered reaching for her submachine gun and jamming it under Sky¡¯s chin. Could she move fast enough to outwit those semi-autonomous mechanical arms? Could she put Sky off the scent of the raw blue? Sweat prickled on Eseld¡¯s back. She peeled her lips away from her teeth.

    Sky¡¯s grin faltered. She nodded at the cannisters. ¡°I asked you what that stuff is.¡±

    Cyneswith was looking on, a little way behind Sky. She was finally wearing boots and gloves and a neck gaiter of her own. She was also wearing some kind of armoured poncho, a variation on the tomb-grown coats stacked up at the far end of the armoury. The garment reached all the way to her ankles. A rucksack hung from her shoulders. She clutched a PDW in both hands, then tucked it under her poncho, looking awkward and ashamed of the weapon.

    Eseld hesitated, licking a glaze of raw blue off her lips. She couldn¡¯t lie about this, not openly. Sky glanced at the cannisters, then back at Eseld.

    Sky opened her mouth to repeat the question a third time. ¡°I said¡ª¡±

    ¡°Food,¡± Eseld answered. ¡°It¡¯s food. Sort of. We need it.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Sky grunted, unsmiling. ¡°I¡¯m not feeling hungry, not since boot-up, or whatever that was back there. You got peckish, kid?¡±

    ¡°Sort of.¡± Eseld leaned around Sky. ¡°Cyn, grab another pack, please. We need to take all of this, it¡¯s important.¡±

    ¡°O-okay!¡± Cyneswith answered. She scurried off.

    ¡°¡®Cyn¡¯?¡± Sky echoed, narrowing her eyes. ¡°Pet names already, huh? Am I the only one out of the loop?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just quicker to say her name like that.¡± Eseld moved fast; she had to avoid this monster¡¯s ire. She picked up a cannister and held it out to Sky. ¡°You want one? If you open it, you have to drink it all, or it¡¯ll go bad.¡±

    Sky smiled, tight and hostile. Her quartet of gun-arms adjusted as she turned sideways, looking back along the armoury racks. ¡°Nah, thanks. You keep ¡®em for now. Get them stowed in a bag and all that. But you know what I do want?¡±

    ¡°No?¡±

    ¡°I want a fucking flamethrower. One of these plasma rifles can put out a lot of heat, but it won¡¯t keep that bitch at bay. And I want a central control unit for some of these drones.¡± Sky gestured at the weird bulky objects on the armoury racks, things that Eseld had never seen before. ¡°Get me wired up and we can at least throw numbers at her. You seen a flamethrower or a central control unit, kiddo?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a child,¡± Eseld said. ¡°I¡¯m older than you.¡±

    Sky snorted. ¡°You look like a kid, you¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve done this hundreds of times. Lived hundreds of times. You¡¯re so young you don¡¯t even know it. Shut up.¡±

    Sky frowned. Her eyes went cold. ¡°What¡ª¡±

    Cyneswith scurried back, holding an additional rucksack in one hand and a weird looking weapon in the other ¡ª a collection of pipes with a flat metal ¡®muzzle¡¯ at one end, but without an opening in the barrel, and a pair of large cylinders either side of the gun¡¯s body.

    She held the bag out to Eseld and showed the gun to Sky. ¡°Is this what you were talking about?¡±

    Sky¡¯s face lit up. She grabbed the gun from Cyneswith and flicked several of the controls. The weapon hummed to life.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sky said. ¡°Oh, fuck yeah. Directional microwave gun. It¡¯s not exactly flame, but it¡¯s heat. Big heat. Better than nothing. Ha, fuck me.¡± She tried to laugh, but couldn¡¯t quite get there. ¡°We¡¯re gonna use a tank-buster on a human-sized target? You two are lucky I¡¯m just that damn good.¡±

    Eseld ignored Sky and started packing the raw blue nanomachines into the additional backpack. Cyn trotted closer and peered at the cannisters.

    ¡°What is that stuff?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s so blue, goodness me. Like the sea on a sunny day.¡±

    Eseld winced. She couldn¡¯t remember sunlight. ¡°It¡¯s just food, it¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kyahahahahaaaaa!¡±

    A bubbly giggle broke across the armoury, echoing from within the pyramid chamber; the voice was amplified a hundred times into a deafening cacophony of spine-raking laughter, drowning out the fury of the hurricane beyond the distant walls.

    Eseld jerked upright, frozen to the spot. Cyn grabbed Eseld¡¯s arm, one hand stifling a scream. Sky span like a walking tank, all armour and swinging weaponry, shouldering the microwave gun.

    The giggle faded away.

    ¡°Oh, Shishi,¡± said Lykke, from within the pyramid chamber. ¡°You thought I was going to chase you down an elevator shaft? I¡¯m not a roving construct, what an insult. The tomb is already mine, darling. Now, where did you stash all that zombie meat? I do need to clean up every last drop of your mess, though perhaps not before shoving your nose in it. Save me the trouble and call them over here, will you? Be a good girl now, and maybe I¡¯ll just dump you back in the network instead of finger-painting the floor with your insides.¡±

 custos - 11.6

    Eseld wanted to run away.

    Lykke had not spotted her, not yet. From where Eseld stood in the armoury she could not see much of the second chamber through the archway ¡ª not Shilu or the open resurrection coffin or the black sphere atop the grey metal pyramid. She could not see Lykke, so Lykke could not see her. Escape was still possible

    Eseld¡¯s whole body quivered with adrenaline. Her throat closed up. Sweat broke out beneath her armpits, down her back, and on her forehead.

    Run. Run. Run!

    Even with nowhere to go, she still wanted to flee. She could throw herself into the elevator and jab at the buttons, hoping that the lift car might respond before Lykke noticed; or she could drop to her belly and crawl beneath the weapon racks, then hold her breath and squeeze her eyes shut and curl into a ball, praying to the dead and empty heavens that once the violence was finished, the demon would pass over Eseld¡¯s hiding place. She might be able to drag Cyneswith to safety alongside herself ¡ª Cyn submitted to orders with so little resistance, she wouldn¡¯t question Eseld¡¯s flight until it was too late. But Eseld had no hope of saving Sky, nor of helping Shilu.

    All her long experience of survival had taught Eseld that confronting the strong was futile madness. No scavenger could stand up to a well fed, heavily armed, predatory revenant. It stood to reason that no revenant could hope to defeat a demon, or an angel, or whatever Lykke and Shilu really were, these appendages of the rotten pretenders who surely quarrelled over God¡¯s empty throne.

    But for the first time in an infinity of fifty seven deaths, Eseld was no longer naked and powerless.

    Her flesh was wrapped in armour, a gun was strapped over her shoulders, her belly was filled with raw blue.

    And Shilu needed her.

    ¡°Cyn!¡± Eseld hissed. She shoved the backpack full of blue cannisters into Cyneswith¡¯s arms. ¡°Hold on to that. Don¡¯t lose it!¡±

    Eseld took the grip of her submachine gun in her right hand, and shoved her left into a pocket of her armoured coat. She wrapped her fingers around a hard metal egg ¡ª a grenade.

    Would these mortal weapons be enough? Absolutely not. Eseld had watched Shilu sever Lykke¡¯s head from her shoulders, and then watched Lykke stand back up and turn into a nightmare. Bullets and bombs would not stop this putrid divinity.

    Eseld¡¯s newborn resolve faltered.

    Cyneswith whispered: ¡°She¡¯ll freeze us again! Miss Eseld, Miss Sky, please, she¡¯ll just paralyse us, like before!¡±

    Sky hissed over her shoulder, without taking her eyes off the archway: ¡°Not if we get the drop on her first. Let me take the shot. You two hang back, don¡¯t foul my aim.¡±

    Sky unhooked the tapered helmet from her belt and slid it over her head, hiding her face behind the tinted visor. The helmet locked to her armoured carapace with a sharp click and a short hiss, sealing Sky into a full-body suit of grey metal and reinforced ceramic. Then she swept forward, holding the microwave gun low and loose; Sky moved like a real predator, walking quickly and quietly, her boots soundless against the floor. Her four articulated weapon-mount arms swung outward as she advanced, covering the archway with the heavy machine gun and the pair of plasma rifles.

    Eseld wanted to follow, but experience told her to turn tail and run away.

    Let Sky throw herself into the fire. Let the predators and the monsters and the demons war amongst themselves. Eseld knew she would make no difference in a fight between Shilu and Lykke. The idea was madness. Eseld was meat; she would always be meat. Godless and abandoned, she was nothing but dead matter.

    Lykke¡¯s voice echoed from within the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber once more, bubbling with toxic amusement: ¡°Don¡¯t give me that blank stare, Shishi, it¡¯s really not sexy. Maybe it was mysterious or inscrutable where you came from, but right here and right now it makes you look constipated. Now, come on, cough up your zombies so we can both go home.¡±

    Shilu answered. ¡°Home died two hundred million years ago.¡±

    Lykke sighed. ¡°Always a literalist. You know what I mean, don¡¯t be such a boor. I preferred you much better when you spent most of your emotional energy shepherding around that little pet you kept. What was her name? Lily? Lulli? Loopy? Something like that. Is she around here too?¡±

    ¡°Keep her name out of your mouth.¡±

    Lykke laughed. ¡°Or what? You¡¯re going to come up here and slap me? Try it! Seriously, Shishi, maybe we can wring some entertainment out of this after all. Not that earlier wasn¡¯t plenty juicy, mind you. Been a long time since I got double-fisted all the way to two elbows. Next time you try that, I¡¯ll bite your arms off with my cunt.¡±

    Sky reached the arch. She dropped to one knee and pressed herself to the wall, poised to swing out around the opening. Eseld saw Sky flex her armoured gloves on the trigger and forward grip of the microwave gun. She was really going to do it; Sky was going to shoot at the demon.

    Hope was madness, and madness was intoxicating.

    Eseld ripped her feet off the floor and scrambled forward. She hissed to Cyneswith: ¡°Stay behind me!¡± Then she sprinted for the arch.

    Lykke¡¯s voice rang out again: ¡°Ahhh, is that the sound of a little mouse I hear? Come closer, little mousey. Save me the trouble of breaking the skirting board to dig you¡ª¡±

    Sky launched out of her crouch, swung around the corner, and raised the microwave gun.

    An ear-splitting hiss cleaved the air.

    Hisssssssssssssssssss¡ª

    Eseld scrambled to a halt beneath the arch.

    ¡ªssssssssssssss¡ª

    Lykke was standing halfway up the grey pyramid, her blonde curls haloed by the negative light of the perfect black sphere. A cylinder of superheated air connected the flat muzzle of Sky¡¯s microwave gun to the centre of Lykke¡¯s mass, wavering with heat haze, hissing with a noise like a pit of giant snakes. Lykke¡¯s eyes were thrown wide in surprise. A circle on her white sundress was turning black with heat, smouldering at the edges, sticking to the skin beneath.

    ¡ªssssssssss¡ª

    Shilu stood before the upright resurrection coffin, all black chrome and sharp edges. She twisted to stare at the arrival of her unlikely cavalry, with no expression on her pale polymer face.

    The ¡®gravekeeper¡¯ ¡ª the insensate half-bodied zombie inside the coffin ¡ª did not react at all, still and serene, unblinking and unmoving.

    ¡ªssssss¡ª

    Eseld raised her submachine gun, tucked the short stock against her shoulder, and grabbed the forward grip with her left hand. She pointed the gun ¡ª pointed with her whole body ¡ª up at Lykke. She pinned the gleaming sunlit demon between the crosshairs of the weapon. Then she pulled the trigger.

    The submachine gun bucked like a donkey, kicking back into her shoulder with a one-two-three slam!-slam!-slam!

    Three bullets tore through Lykke¡¯s flesh. One punched straight through the meat of her left hip while the other two ripped into her left thigh.

    Eseld squeezed the trigger again; another three rounds stabbed into Lykke¡¯s belly and out through the small of her back. A blossom of dark blood bloomed open across the white stomach of her sundress. A third salvo took her through the right hip, shattering bones, jerking her like a puppet pummelled by hailstones. A fourth trio went wide, plinking off the grey metal pyramid. A fifth, a sixth, a seventh ¡ª Eseld lost count, jamming her finger onto the trigger over and over, gritting her teeth, making Lykke dance.

    This was power. To strike at a demon and see the demon twist and writhe. Eseld screamed through her clenched teeth.

    ¡ªsssssss-splurpt!

    The superheated circle on Lykke¡¯s chest suddenly imploded, collapsing inward ¡ª and then exploded out her back in a shower of boiling blood, blackened ribs, and steaming chunks of ruptured organ.

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± Eseld roared with furious joy.

    They¡¯d done it ¡ª she and Sky, though Eseld knew she had barely helped, the bullets meant nothing. But the superheated flesh, the burns, the internal fire, wasn¡¯t that what Shilu had said might work, might hold Lykke back for¡ª

    Lykke froze.

    The eruption of blood and bone and burst lungs stopped behind Lykke, suspended in the air, like a cape caught mid-flap in a gust of icy wind.

    The demon straightened back up, as if she did not have a fist-sized hole punched through her chest and half her entrails blown out of her back. Her white sundress was ruined once again, soaked in gore and torn apart by bullet holes, the fabric sticking to her pale skin with her own steaming blood. She was punctured by so many wounds, so many of Eseld¡¯s tiny little bullets. Her right eye had burst inside her face in a splatter of blood and bone fragments.

    Lykke¡¯s lips curled with curious amusement ¡ª at Sky.

    ¡°What an interesting woman you are,¡± Lykke purred. ¡°What blind hope. What reckless abandon. What did you think that would do to me?¡±

    Sky slapped the microwave gun to the floor and grabbed the EMP weapon off her own chest. She pointed the weird blocky muzzle at Lykke. The little screens and readouts all turned green at the same time; the weapon went ¡®ding!¡¯ A tiny mechanical voice announced: ¡°Discharge prepared.¡±

    Sky pulled the trigger. The gun went buzzzzt-thump.

    Lykke blinked once, inhaled with apparent relish, and licked the blood off her own lips. ¡°Mmmm! Juicy and unique, but such a tiny morsel. You¡¯re going to need a lot more than that to keep me fed. Is this the end of the meal, or is there a main course?¡±

    Sky dropped the EMP weapon and grabbed the microwave gun a second time. She lurched to her feet; Eseld could hear Sky panting for breath inside her sleek-angled helmet. Sky¡¯s suit-mounted gun arms twitched to correct their aim as she rose, locked onto Lykke. Sky twisted to brace her weight on her back foot.

    Lykke¡¯s face twinkled with girlish delight. ¡°Oh, bravo. Encore, encore!¡±

    Sky opened fire.

    The heavy machine gun on her lower mechanical limbs opened up with a slam-bang of large calibre rapid fire, juddering and jerking Sky¡¯s armoured frame with recoil. The paired plasma rifles whined and flared with bolts of eye-searing purple light. The microwave gun split the air with a fresh hiss of superheated particles.

    Lykke¡¯s cape of blood and bone and organs whirled into life. The mass of viscera split into two and curled around her sides like the petals of a rose, forming a shield to her fore. Bullets sank into suspended blood like pebbles landing on thick tar. Plasma bolts dissipated into crackling static upon bulwarks of baked and blackened bone. A wall of ruptured lung-flesh and heaving crimson innards absorbed the beam of the microwave gun, glowing orange like the sun at storm-tossed dusk.

    Eseld raised her submachine gun again and added her own firepower to the barrage, but Lykke¡¯s blood melted the bullets on contact, like dropping the lead directly into the heart of a forge.

    She needed something stronger.

    Eseld pulled a grenade from her pocket, checked the text printed on the side, and yanked the pin out with her teeth. She let go of the lever and counted ¡ª one, two, three, four ¡ª then hurled the grenade toward Lykke.

    She wasn¡¯t foolish enough to believe an explosion would prevail where directed heat had not, but the grenade she had selected was special; the text printed on the metal casing said ¡®INCENDIARY ROUND WHITE PHOSPHORUS¡¯.

    Eseld counted in her head ¡ª five, six, seven¡ª

    Lykke¡¯s bloody shield twitched upward at the last second, catching the explosive in a pool of suspended blood. The grenade vanished as if dropped into a lake. The shield bulged a moment later, then subsided.

    Lykke had swallowed the grenade, explosive and incendiary and all.

    Sky ceased fire. ¡°Fuck,¡± she shouted inside her helmet. ¡°Fuck. Fuck!¡±

    ¡°All done, are we?¡± Lykke asked from behind her bloody shield of rose-petal gore. ¡°Is that it? I was hoping for a touch more spirit than that! Come on, somebody throw their gun at me in despair, that¡¯s always a fun conclusion. No? Not going to play? Awwww, diddums.¡±

    Lykke¡¯s viscera unfurled and rose upward. Streamers of blood and spears of blackened bone and sheets of cooked organ-meat reached past her head and shoulders, spreading outward to either side.

    Eseld¡¯s submachine gun tumbled from numb fingers, caught on the strap around her shoulders. Her mouth fell open, skin flushed with cold sweat. She staggered backward, eyes wide, unable to breathe.

    Lykke turned her wounds into a pair of gore-soaked wings.

    The demon smiled down at the zombies and Shilu, bright and bubbly. She stood aloft on the side of the pyramid, haloed by the black sphere, ruined and punctured and covered in wounds, scorched and blackened and burned and bruised and bleeding. And none of it mattered ¡ª not the heat and the fire, not the ¡®EMP¡¯, not the incendiary grenade, nothing.

    Bloated white flies began to crawl out of Lykke¡¯s many wounds, swarming across her flesh, rising into the air around her body in a buzzing aura. The flies matched the distant pounding of the storm outdoors, a high-pitched counterpoint to the waves of precipitation washing over the exterior of the tomb, their fattened bodies pulsing and shuddering in time to the great gusts of wind.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    The demon was as untouchable as the hurricane.

    ¡°Shishi, did you put them up to this?¡± Lykke said. ¡°I would never expect such courage from a zombie. Usually they would be crawling around on the floor and clawing their eyes out by now.¡±

    Shilu looked up at Lykke. ¡°Stand down and return to the network.¡±

    Lykke rolled her one remaining eye, shoulders slumping. ¡°You are such a broken record. Even defeating you is boring. I¡¯m not going to take your orders, so stop trying.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re in a gravekeeper¡¯s chamber and nothing is happening,¡± Shilu said. ¡°I shot at it, Lykke. I shot four bullets at the gravekeeper¡¯s core and I¡¯m still alive. I suggest you stand down and return to the network.¡±

    Lykke laughed, spreading her arms and her gore-wrought wings. Her cloud of flies followed, billowing outward. ¡°And I¡¯m standing right here too, right on the bitch. What did you hope to accomplish by running down here?¡± She stamped one blood-stained white high heel against the grey metal of the pyramid. ¡°This thing is a blind fool. No better than the worms. Did you think it would listen to you, care about you, give a single solitary shit about who feeds it and waters it? It can¡¯t think on that level, Shishi. It doesn¡¯t care. I own the tomb systems, because I¡¯m here, and I¡¯m the biggest node around. That¡¯s all there is to it. You lost before you even drew your first breath.¡±

    ¡°Who sent the storm?¡± said Shilu.

    Lykke frowned. ¡°The what now?¡±

    ¡°The hurricane,¡± Shilu said. She raised one black metal finger. ¡°Outdoors. Can¡¯t you hear that?¡±

    Lykke cocked her head, listening to the muffled fury of the hurricane outside. Then she shrugged. ¡°Since when do we care about the weather? Gosh, you¡¯ve been slumming it down there without permissions for what, a couple of hours, at the most? And you¡¯re already going native. Scared of a little moist air, really?¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°You have no idea who sent it. You can¡¯t see it in the network, can you? You don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on here any better than I do. Stand down.¡±

    Lykke leaned forward, hands on her bloodstained hips, wings of tainted viscera spreading outward, wrapped in her chorus of bloated flies. ¡°I don¡¯t need to know, Shishi. All I need to do is eat you up.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re stalling.¡±

    Lykke sighed again. ¡°I¡¯m waiting for my¡ª ah!¡±

    Lykke jerked upright, reached out with one hand, and clicked her fingers ¡ª at Sky.

    Sky shuddered and stumbled, then righted herself, growling inside her helmet. Her articulated weapon-arms swung upward to aim at Lykke, but she held fire.

    ¡°Ah ah ah,¡± Lykke purred, wagging a finger. ¡°No running, little one.¡±

    Sky shouted, ¡°I wasn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°And don¡¯t lie,¡± Lykke added, smiling with flirtatious glee. ¡°Try that again and I¡¯ll hold you tight. And I don¡¯t want to do that, not just yet. You interest me. You and I are going to have a one-on-one dance before this night is over.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t running,¡± Sky repeated. ¡°I wasn¡¯t running!¡±

    Lykke bit her bottom lip. ¡°Oh, yes. You are an interesting woman. I think I¡¯ll bend the rules a little, keep you around for a day or¡ª¡±

    Eseld stepped forward.

    ¡°Just fucking kill us!¡±

    She screamed the demand at the top of her lungs; her voice echoed off the grey metal of the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber.

    Lykke turned a much less interested gaze upon Eseld. ¡°Something to add? Or are you just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kill us!¡± Eseld screamed again.

    She strode forward, stomping toward the foot of the pyramid; somebody tugged at her arm, trying to halt her ¡ª Cyneswith, pleading in a tiny voice. But Eseld was consumed by fury. Cyneswith didn¡¯t let go, so Eseld dragged her along. She walked up to the pyramid and stopped next to Shilu, just in front of the open resurrection coffin. The bisected zombie inside the coffin had not reacted to anything, still staring straight ahead, unblinking and unbreathing.

    Eseld spread her arms, empty handed, submachine gun hanging from her shoulders. She shook with rage, eyes bulging, showing her mouth full of sharp teeth.

    ¡°Kill us,¡± she repeated. ¡°Get it over with. You have all ¡ª all the power! You always do!¡±

    Lykke tilted her head to one side, unsmiling but curious. ¡°What do you think I am, little zombie?¡±

    ¡°You¡ª you give us these scraps, of promise, of bullshit. You feed us with each other¡¯s meat, over and over again. You keep all this going, this rot and hate and¡ª and¡ª and you could just take it! Just take it for yourself! You left God¡¯s throne empty so you could play these games with each other! Stop bringing us all back! Kill us or let us go! Let me stay dead! Let me go! Or I¡¯ll¡ª I¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    Eseld¡¯s throat burned from shouting, but a kind of madness had taken hold; she didn¡¯t know if it was the power and the failure, or the raw blue roiling in her guts, or Shilu¡¯s influence, or the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber, or the storm outdoors, or a cocktail of all those things. But the notion struck her like a God-given inspiration. For a brilliant and shining moment her faith came rushing back, reborn in a new form.

    ¡°Or I¡¯ll come back and come back and come back again, and eventually I¡¯ll find out how to eat you!¡± she roared up at Lykke. ¡°That¡¯s it, isn¡¯t it?! One of us just has to eat one of you, and then pull it all down, pull you all down, into meat, like us!¡±

    She stopped, panting hard, blinking rapidly, unsure of what she¡¯d said. She was losing her mind.

    Lykke snorted and looked at Shilu. ¡°They always come up with such interesting cosmologies, don¡¯t they?¡±

    Eseld whirled on Shilu. ¡°And you, Shilu, why aren¡¯t you doing anything?!¡±

    Shilu stared out of her pale polymer face, perfect and poreless. ¡°I¡¯ve lost.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ what?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve lost,¡± Shilu repeated. ¡°I can¡¯t beat Lykke, not like this, not without network access permissions. My only hope was to appeal to the gravekeeper.¡± She gestured at the open coffin and the half-a-girl within. ¡°My words have fallen on deaf ears. I still believe Lykke should stand down, because this situation is abnormal. But she won¡¯t. We¡¯re dead.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡ª I wanted to help.¡± Tears filled Eseld¡¯s eyes and ran down her cheeks. Her hands shook. She reached out for Shilu, but dared not touch those razor-sharp edges. ¡°Shilu, you¡¯re the first I¡¯ve ever¡ª you helped when you could have¡ª you¡¯re an angel. Aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, zombie. Better luck next time.¡±

    Eseld keened through her teeth. ¡°I don¡¯t want a next time!¡±

    Sky raised her voice from inside her helmet: ¡°We can¡¯t just give up! There¡¯s gotta be something else. Shilu, stun her again, buy us time!¡±

    Shilu didn¡¯t bother to answer.

    Eseld turned away and stared up at Lykke. The demon was resplendent, haloed in black, with her aura of flies and her wings of meaty gore.

    Lykke shrugged, and said: ¡°Shishi, I thought you didn¡¯t like watching them get destroyed?¡±

    ¡°Get this over with,¡± said Shilu.

    ¡°Haha! Hardly. I¡¯m having too much fun playing with my food. That¡¯s why I¡¯m stalling, you see. I¡¯ve called some acquaintances to help. I want to see how many of them you can handle before you give up.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    Eseld blinked away her tears. ¡°Y-yes, what? There¡¯s more of you?¡±

    Lykke wrinkled her nose. ¡°I can¡¯t really call them friends, of course. Friendship across such a vast gulf is simply impossible. Just a few little puppies I¡¯ve been nudging around out there, laying a trail of treats for them, leading them around the ridiculous blockage at the front of the tomb. They didn¡¯t even know each other until I brought them together a couple of hours ago. They¡¯ll be here any moment. Right through ¡­ ah, that wall, I think?¡± Lykke pointed to the right, at the blank grey metal wall of the chamber.

    Eseld staggered backward. Other revenants were about to arrive, down here? Her hands scrambled for the submachine gun. She couldn¡¯t fight Lykke, but she could defend herself against her own kind, if Lykke was so determined to draw out this torture.

    Eseld blundered backward into Cyneswith, only a step or two behind her.

    Shilu asked, ¡°Why bother bringing more zombies into this?¡±

    Eseld grabbed Cyn and tried to steer her away, back toward the arch. Perhaps if they could reach the lift¡ª

    ¡°Originally?¡± Lykke answered. ¡°To mop up any stray messes, of course. I hate having to chase down every last zombie, it¡¯s such a bore. But now that¡¯s rather redundant, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Cyneswith wouldn¡¯t move. She was staring at the girl inside the resurrection coffin, eyes wide, lips parted. Eseld tried to drag her back by one shoulder. Cyneswith pulled free and stepped forward as if in a trance.

    ¡°Instead,¡± Lykke went on. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to see how much zombie meat it takes to completely swamp you. Just think! One of us, felled by rotting meat. A first time for everything! And, oh! I¡¯d almost forgotten. I still want a private dance with the brave little soldier over there.¡± She gestured at Sky, batting her eyelashes. ¡°Can¡¯t have anybody getting in the way of that.¡±

    ¡°Cyn!¡± Eseld hissed. ¡°Cyn, Cyn we need to run, we need to¡ª¡±

    Cyneswith reached out with one hand and cupped the cheek of the girl inside the coffin.

    The bisected girl ¡ª the ¡®gravekeeper¡¯ to whom Shilu had been addressing her plea for help, suspended from tubes and cables, unmoving and unmoved, insensate and beyond communication ¡ª blinked, opened her lips, and spoke.

    ¡°Crowned and veiled. Once again revealed. Do you wish this?¡±

    Lykke looked down with a sudden frown. ¡°What was that? What was¡ª¡±

    The right-hand wall of the chamber burst inward with a crack-thump of explosive detonation; metal fragments and whirling debris scythed through the air, plinking off the grey pyramid and pattering off Eseld¡¯s armoured coat. Eseld threw herself forward to grab Cyneswith and shelter her face from the storm of shrapnel. Sky ducked low, protected by her carapace suit. Shilu twisted to face into the breach, extending both arms into lightless black blades as flying wreckage and rubble clattered off her armoured body.

    ¡°Hahaha!¡± Lykke cackled. ¡°Oh well, who cares? My hounds are here! Din-dins, darlings!¡±

    A mass of figures crept from the breach in the wall, shrouded silhouettes within the cloud of masonry dust. Armoured boots and naked claws clicked against the metal floor. Weapon readouts and warning lights glowed in the gloom. Generators and power plants hummed deep and low. Hissing saliva dripped from hidden maws.

    The smoke and haze parted, blown aside by a gust of air from the wounded wall.

    Revenants ¡ª three or four dozen, large and strong, heavily modified, well fed and well armed.

    Skinless horrors stood shoulder-to-shoulder with suits of powered armour. Zombies bristled with more guns and limbs than Sky could ever have achieved with her articulated rig. Humming swords of electrical power were raised next to short-barrelled shotguns and heavy-duty rotary cannons. A dozen naked faces were encrusted with bionic enhancements or bio-mechanical sensory organs. Eyeballs glowed red or green or sickly yellow. Mouths were filled with steel teeth, or turned into sucking proboscises, or missing entirely, replaced with some other, more terrible method of feeding from cannibalised victims.

    Half a dozen weapons pointed toward Eseld and Cyneswith. Loping hunters readied to pounce. Barrels began to spin. Fingers tightened on triggers. Grins split foot-wide jaws. A helmet-muffled voice shouted, ¡°Fresh meat!¡±

    And then Shilu was among them.

    Shilu¡¯s blades flashed and flickered through flesh and steel too fast to follow with the naked eye. Limbs went flying, severed from elbows and shoulders, trailing arcs of blood as they fell. Lightless black punched through armoured chest plates and sliced apart heavy shields like a hot wire passing through butter. Shilu weaved through the crowd, ducking and dodging, twisting on her ankles like a dancer, diving aside from flailing counter-blows, jinking around grasping hands and jerking claws. The scrum of revenants turned inward, shouting and screaming, trying to draw a bead on Shilu as she raced through the pack.

    Injured zombies staggered free or slumped to their knees, clutching their own voided guts or groping for their severed arms. Blood sprayed upon the floor, forming great puddles slick with gore.

    Gunshots rang out. Most of them missed, going wide, nowhere near Shilu¡¯s ever-changing position. But a few landed true, ricocheting off her black metal body. The impacts slammed her sideways, forcing her out of position.

    A bold revenant took the obvious opening and leapt on Shilu¡¯s back, trying to knock her to the floor, lashing at her with sharpened limbs and two mouths full of extra teeth.

    Shilu threw her off with a twist of her shoulders, opening the zombie¡¯s chest with a blade as she dropped the dead weight.

    At the other end of the chamber, Sky brought her weapons to bear upon the crowd. Her articulated gun-arms swung around, aiming into the mass of targets with the heavy machine gun and the twinned plasma rifles. She raised her assault rifle to her shoulder as well, aiming down the sights, finger slipping onto the trigger.

    Lykke shrieked: ¡°Did you forget, soldier-girl?! Tonight¡¯s dance is all mine!¡±

    Lykke launched herself off the side of the grey pyramid. Her wings of extruded viscera spread wide and snapped to catch the air; a wave of reeking pressure washed down upon the combat below. Several of Lykke¡¯s ¡®hounds¡¯ looked up and around with dawning horror ¡ª but they were too busy with Shilu to realise whose orders they had been following this whole time.

    Lykke twisted in the air, pointing her feet toward Sky, trailing a corona of bloated flies. Her pretty little white shoes warped and flowed, transforming into gleaming talons of razor-sharp bone.

    Lykke pounced.

    Sky tried to turn, to reorient her firepower at this priority target ¡ª but she was too slow. She pulled the trigger on her rifle but the bullets went wide. Her heavy machine gun opened up, but Lykke tucked in her legs at the last second, then crashed into Sky from above.

    The pair went down together in a clatter of carapace armour and talons, topped by the whirring sheets of gore repurposed as Lykke¡¯s infernal wings.

    Lykke howled laughter into the visor of Sky¡¯s helmet, grappling with Sky¡¯s upper gun-arms, one in each hand. She snapped the articulated metal like brittle bones, casting the plasma rifles aside. Greasy insect bodies swarmed all over Sky¡¯s armour, searching for a way inside. Sky jammed her assault rifle into the soft meat of Lykke¡¯s throat and pulled the trigger ¡ª and held it down, the weapon switched to full-auto. Bullets tore through Lykke¡¯s throat and burst out of the back of her neck, smashing vertebrae and pulping her spinal cord.

    But the wound was nothing. It simply didn¡¯t matter, not to an agent of the divine, no matter how far fallen.

    Sky¡¯s rifle ran out of bullets. Click.

    Lykke smashed Sky¡¯s helmet off with a lazy swipe of one hand. Sky¡¯s head snapped back, her exposed face streaked with blood, eyes clenched in pain, flies descending to mob at the crimson on her skin.

    ¡°You were showing so much promise!¡± Lykke howled. ¡°Don¡¯t give up now, we¡¯re so close!¡±

    The heavy machine gun was still intact; Sky tried to jerk it upward and stick the barrel in Lykke¡¯s guts, but Lykke rammed a knee into the weapon, grinding it into the belly-armour of Sky¡¯s suit, holding it down with both hands. Her feet-talons gripped Sky¡¯s thighs, cracking the ceramic and metal armour.

    ¡°Boooo-ring!¡± Lykke cackled. ¡°Whatever, you can finish yourself. I¡¯m going to go play with Shi¡ª¡±

    Sky reached down with her right hand and drew the machete from the sheath on her thigh; she wound back her arm, rocking her whole body weight to one side for more leverage, then reared back up. She used the momentum to ram the blade directly into Lykke¡¯s left temple, point-first. The tip of the machete exploded from the other side of Lykke¡¯s skull in a welter of blood and brains.

    Lykke blinked ¡ª then grinned wide, showing all her teeth. ¡°Yes! Yes, you¡¯re it! You¡¯re my new best friend!¡±

    Lykke opened her mouth wide and vomited a torrent of glistening white flies directly into Sky¡¯s face; Sky clamped her eyes and lips shut, but the bloated, greasy insects forced themselves up Sky¡¯s nostrils. She bucked and writhed, her armour clattering against the floor.

    Eseld couldn¡¯t watch any more, because Shilu was losing.

    Shilu had felled more than a dozen zombies and wounded about a dozen more, but the weight of firepower and the close press of bodies was beginning to prevail against her. She went down in a tangle of limbs, three revenants bundling themselves atop her slender black-metal form. She burst from the pile moments later, leaving a decapitated corpse behind alongside two howling wounded ¡ª but then a slam-slam-slam of shotgun rounds boomed through the air, catching Shilu in the flank and spinning her to one side. Another pair of revenants darted in, unloading weapons on her at point-blank, smashing her backward, pounding to her the floor. She tumbled to her knees, thrown about like a rag doll by the impacts.

    Other revenants slipped around the combat, turning their attention toward the remaining targets ¡ª Eseld and Cyneswith.

    Two armoured zombies and one slavering monster of skinless muscle rounded on Eseld. Guns rose to cut Eseld down. The skinless revenant advanced, opening a mouth full of suckers and tiny cilia.

    Eseld grabbed her submachine gun in one hand and yanked Cyneswith back with the other. She jammed her finger on the trigger, spraying bullets toward the advancing trio. The skinless monster jerked to the side, deftly avoiding the fire.

    ¡°Cyn!¡± Eseld shouted. ¡°Use your gun, use your¡ª¡±

    Bullets slammed into Eseld¡¯s armoured coat, hitting her like rocks thrown by the hurricane outdoors. She went flying, crashing to the floor, pain shooting across her ribs and belly. Cyn screamed, going down beside her, gasping in shock, eyes wide and watering, clutching at the protection of her armoured poncho.

    The skinless zombie loomed overhead.

    Eseld threw one arm across Cyneswith, and raised her submachine gun with the other. She pulled the trigger ¡ª but the skinless monster slapped the barrel aside and yanked the weapon from Eseld¡¯s hand. The bullets pinged off the distant ceiling.

    In the corner of Eseld¡¯s eye, the gravekeeper stared straight ahead, unblinking, unbreathing, uncaring.

    ¡°¡ªhelp¡ª¡± Eseld croaked.

    The skinless revenant tore the submachine gun off the strap around Eseld¡¯s shoulder and tossed it aside. A mouth of tiny suckers and blood-red cilia descended, opening wide enough to cover Eseld¡¯s whole face. She scrambled at her coat for one of the pistols, eyes filled with tears, face streaked with snot. Did it have to end like this, so soon, so soon after this false promise of power? Eseld would never meet Shilu again; she had lost her one chance to be more than mere meat, her one chance to understand why, her one chance to claw her way out of this pit of eternal suffering. But all that was gone now, devoured by the strong, eaten up by those she could never hope to match, even Shilu¡ª

    A wave of invisible force smashed into the skinless zombie, slamming her sideways, sweeping her away from Eseld. She bounced off the side of the grey metal pyramid with a deep grunt, the wind knocked from her lungs.

    Had the gravekeeper finally responded, descending to help this pitiful meat? But Eseld felt no wave of nausea, saw no wavering heat-haze pressure in the air; the black sphere was silent, the gravekeeper-girl unresponsive and still.

    A silver-grey oblong about the length of Eseld¡¯s hand hovered in the air three feet from her face, in the space the skinless revenant had occupied a moment earlier.

    A voice rang out ¡ª from the right, from the breach in the wall, full of confidence and command.

    ¡°Newly resurrected, heads down! Drop to the floor, now!¡±

    On Eseld¡¯s left, the skinless revenant whirled to her feet, eyes wide with rage, spitting blood from split lips. She raised two sets of bone-tipped claws, opening her mouth to screech and squeal her outrage at a meal denied.

    A stomach-pounding thump of magnetic discharge shook the chamber; a projectile slammed into the skinless revenant¡¯s waist, bursting her apart. Blood exploded up the side of the pyramid and across the floor, showering Eseld¡¯s face and coat with steaming crimson droplets. The two halves of the skinless revenant tumbled to the floor, her face caught in an expression of blank surprise.

    The command rang out again, the speaker¡¯s voice muffled inside a suit of armour.

    ¡°Fresh resurrected, stay down! The rest of you¡ª¡±

    The speaker paused for a heartbeat.

    ¡°The rest of you are done here.¡±

 custos - 11.7

    Six new arrivals burst from the breached wall and swept into the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber.

    Eseld did as the voice had ordered. She kept her head down, body pressed to the floor, armoured hood pulled up to protect her skull. Her chest and stomach ached with deep tissue bruises and cracked ribs from where her armour had turned away the bullets. Cyneswith was screaming and sobbing, clutching at Eseld in manic terror. Eseld pinned her down, covering Cyneswith¡¯s body to shelter them both from debris and shrapnel.

    But she could not look away. She peered out from beneath the flimsy cover of her armoured hood.

    A miracle was unfolding. She was being rescued.

    At the vanguard of the six was a cackling flash of black-and-red bionic limbs, blonde hair, and ballistic shields ¡ª a petite little zombie bounding ahead of her comrades. All four of her limbs were high-grade cybernetics; her legs terminated in a pair of bird-like feet, each toe tipped with a razor-sharp talon. A matching bionic tail whipped out behind her, ending in a bright red spike. She had a ballistic shield strapped across her back and another one clutched tight against her front.

    She used the shield as a battering ram, smashing straight into the massed mob of Lykke¡¯s hounds. Half a dozen revenants went tumbling to the floor, crashing into those beside them, dragging others down as they went. The little berserker jerked an automatic shotgun out from behind her shields and fired into the crowd ¡ª boom-crunch-boom-crunch-boom-crunch. Slug rounds cracked armour plates and knocked more hounds aside, blasting holes in torsos and bursting limbs asunder. The zombie¡¯s black-and-red tail coiled outward like a striking snake, ramming the spike through the back of a fleeing opponent.

    The hounds recoiled, some scrambling to their feet, others taking cover around the side of the grey metal pyramid. Return fire plinked off the berserker¡¯s ballistic shields; she closed herself up like a tortoise inside a shell.

    Close behind the berserker came a giant, nine or ten feet of the most heavily armed and modified revenant Eseld had ever seen. She was clothed in curtains of dark robe and rag, draped with sheets of hanging armour and bulletproof material, all covering glistening underlayers of skintight fabric, colours shifting like oil on water. She was like a statue in a deep forest, hung with a mantle of ivy and moss. She wore an eyeless helmet of smooth black, pointed like a beak. Six arms carried a miniature arsenal of esoteric energy weapons.

    The giant opened fire on the fleeing hounds. White hot flashes blurred across Eseld¡¯s vision, leaving eye-searing contrails in their wake, followed by the ear-splitting crack of anti-materiel rounds crunching into the side of the pyramid.

    A third revenant advanced in the shelter of the giant¡¯s wake. She was unassuming ¡ª long black hair, light brown skin, terrified eyes peering out from behind a full-face visor, wearing some kind of scanner strapped around her head. She had a tomb-grown coat over her shoulders and carried no weapons.

    Four more of those strange little silver-grey oblongs orbited her, darting through the air, the same as the one which had somehow saved Eseld. Drones.

    Three bullets bounced off thin air in front of the terrified revenant, as if deflected by an invisible forcefield. She flinched, then hissed with irritation.

    Behind the giant strode a woman who did not look like she was on a battlefield at all. Head held high, eyes calm and composed, dark skin untouched by sweat or concern. She wore a tomb-grown coat as well, the front wide open on her naked chest. She held a submachine gun in one lazy hand. Bullets whizzed and cracked through the air around her, but she didn¡¯t even blink. She raised her submachine gun and casually sprayed one of Lykke¡¯s hounds in the back.

    In the rear, braced against the breach in the chamber wall, was a hump of shapeless black robes, topped by a hint of pale flesh. She held a sniper rifle in a trio of spindly arms, bracing herself with another half dozen stick-thin limbs.

    The giant¡¯s firepower pinned down the hounds who were trying to dislodge the beachhead established by the berserker with the ballistic shields. The berserker took the opening, darting forward again with a shrieking cackle and a click-boom-click-boom of her automatic shotgun. Behind them, the sniper rifle cracked and barked, picking off any who threatened the berserker¡¯s advance.

    Firepower poured into Lykke¡¯s hounds, disrupting their attempts to regroup, knocking down the ones in powered armour, tearing apart the unprotected.

    As individuals, Eseld saw little difference between her would-be rescuers and Lykke¡¯s unwitting minions. This was just another gang of heavily-armed revenants with extensive cybernetic and biological modifications. Just another pack of predators, another way to die. There was nothing special or new about these six, nothing Eseld had not seen before in some other form, dozens of times over.

    But they were greater than the sum of their parts.

    The six moved as a single organism, without apparent orders or jostling for position or arguing over who got the best kills or who got to claim the most meat. The actions of each were backed up and supported by the other five.

    Eseld had never seen anything like this before. It would have been beautiful, if the violence was not so terrible.

    The turtle-backed berserker disrupted the loose formation of Lykke¡¯s hounds, throwing off their firing arcs and smashing them into each other, acting as the tip of a spear. The giant provided fire support, preventing the massed mob from regrouping to repulse the berserker. The sniper in the rear picked off the high-value targets ¡ª downing revenants in powered armour, shooting the legs out from the ones clever enough to flank the berserker or fast enough to disengage from the pack to circle around. Eseld did not understand the function of the terrified revenant or the one who didn¡¯t fear bullets, but they must have served some purpose.

    And then there was the leader, the one who had shouted the orders.

    She made herself known last of all, striding through the breach in the wall behind her comrades ¡ª leading from the rear while her soldiers exposed themselves to danger.

    The leader wore a full-body suit of carapace battle armour, similar to the one Sky had taken from the armoury. But this suit was white, once gleaming, now dirtied to grey by soot and damage and age, scuffed and scorched and battered and burned. Her face was concealed inside a matching helmet with dark eyepieces and a rebreather grille over the mouth. A tomb-grown coat lay over the armour plates, layering more protection atop the slender lines of the suit.

    The carapace chestpiece was daubed with a symbol in shining green ¡ª a crescent intersected by a pair of lines, like a tower silhouetted by moonrise.

    She carried a coilgun, supported by a rig strapped around her hips and locked to her armour. The backpack alone would have required all of Eseld¡¯s strength just to lift.

    The leader strode past the sniper, past the giant and the pair in her wake, out into the battle.

    Shouts broke out from Lykke¡¯s hounds ¡ª ¡°Cover, cover, now!¡±, ¡°Shoot that one! Shoot her! Bring her down!¡±, ¡°Fuck, fucking run¡ª¡±

    The leader walked straight into a storm of gunfire. Bullets slammed into armoured fabric and ceramic plates, ricocheting away or falling to the ground. She strode through the bullets like raindrops, though she must have felt the impacts like hammer blows.

    She ignored it all and raised her weapon ¡ª the rifle-like receiver of the coilgun. Her backpack hummed with a spike of power. The leader aimed into the thickest remnant of Lykke¡¯s hounds, where they were trying to regroup in the cover of the grey metal pyramid.

    Eseld saw the logic and realised her mistake. The woman in armour had not been leading from the rear, safe while her comrades risked themselves.

    The leader had joined the battle only when the hounds had begun to regroup from the initial shock of combat, as they had started to take cover and regain their cohesion, as their massed return fire had begun to find targets. Her armour, her weapon, her mere presence as she strode forward, unflinching before a storm of gunfire ¡ª it drew all the attention, all the return fire, every eye in the chamber. She took the pressure off her comrades just by her existence.

    And for what?

    To rescue Eseld and Cyneswith and Sky? All for the sake of this pitiful defeated meat, this strange flesh she had never met before? None of this made any sense to Eseld; powerful revenants did not do things like this, did not harbour motivation for altruism or kindness or heroic mercy. This action did not belong to the empty world left behind after God¡¯s death. This was the moral act of a person who still felt the clean wind and saw the clear skies, a person who held true to the sunlit uplands when God still sat upon the throne of heaven, the days when angels watched over the world, instead of scrabbling in the dirt for scraps of meat alongside the lost and the damned.

    Cowering on the floor, aching from bullet bruises, with her armoured coat dusted by debris, Eseld began to cry. Tears ran in twin tracks down her cheeks.

    Lykke was a demon; Shilu was a fallen angel. Neither required the presence of divinity. No matter how good Shilu¡¯s intentions, no matter how hard she had tried, whatever her secret plans, she had said it herself ¡ª she had failed. And Eseld had watched Shilu give up.

    But this, whoever this was, she was still fighting.

    Eseld decided she was being rescued by a saint.

    The leader stopped, feet braced wide, sighting down the receiver of the coilgun. ¡°Stand down or be cut down!¡± she howled through her helmet.

    Bullets plinked off her armour. She fired.

    A thump of magnetic discharge shook Eseld¡¯s guts. A round from the coilgun slammed straight through a revenant¡¯s hips, exploding her into a shower of gore, then carried on into the ground, throwing up an explosion of grey metal fragments and debris. The shock wave tossed a dozen more zombies aside, peppering them with shrapnel, leaving them bleeding and reeling, screaming and yowling, staggering and stumbling. Their return fire was broken, their line scattered, their cover ruined.

    Just as the leader had said, they were done here.

    Eseld stayed down, head pressed to Cyneswith¡¯s shoulder. Cyn was sobbing, clinging to Eseld, mewling terrified questions.

    But Eseld couldn¡¯t answer. She couldn¡¯t look away from the saint and her disciples.

    She¡¯d never seen revenants work together like this before; even the sustained glimpses she had gotten of the most well-armed and well-fed groups were not like this, not led from the front, not operating in concert. The saint and her disciples overcame many times their own number by application of teamwork and tactics, not superior armament; they weren¡¯t even wearing powered armour, after all. The berserker cut down revenants up close with shotgun and tail, while the others worked inward from the edges, herding the remaining hounds into crossfire, so the giant and the sniper could take them down from opposite sides. The leader fired her coilgun twice more, always to disrupt attempts to regroup. Bullets and energy bolts slammed through the air; blades bounced off ballistic shields and snapped under the berserker¡¯s claws. The coilgun tore through powered armour with the clarity of a divine lance.

    Within thirty seconds the battle was over. All but one of Lykke¡¯s hounds lay dead or had turned tail and fled. Only a couple had escaped ¡ª thrown down their guns and sprinted for the breach in the wall, shown mercy by the saint¡¯s followers. The floor was littered with corpses, lying in pools of blood and gore, smeared around by bootprints and the crash of toppled bodies. The side of the grey metal pyramid was splattered with crimson spray. Great chunks had been torn out of the metal ground, pockmarked by bullet holes, scorched black by energy weapon discharge.

    Only one hound remained, a power-armoured zombie almost as tall as the six-armed giant. The last zombie standing, about three meters diagonally from Eseld and Cyneswith.

    The final hound raised a massive gatling gun toward the newcomers. ¡°Not down yet, morons!¡± she bellowed. The barrels began to spin.

    The leader ¡ª the saint ¡ª stepped forward and aimed the coilgun receiver. ¡°Drop it or die.¡±

    The gatling gun barrels went click-click-click-whirrrrrrr¡ª

    The terrified disciple, the one surrounded by the drones, now looked more exasperated than afraid. She snapped: ¡°Elpida, just fucking shoot her!¡±

    ¡ªwhirrrrr-bangbangbangbang¡ª

    Gatling rounds tore through the air. The first one slammed into the leader¡¯s chestplate, scuffing the tower-and-moon symbol. The next three rounds bounced off empty air, deflected by the invisible power from the silver-grey drones.

    The saint fired the coilgun, squeezing the trigger three times in quick succession. A trio of magnetic discharges rocked Eseld¡¯s intestines.

    Three coilgun rounds hit the final hound. The first shot broke her powered armour with a high-pitched crack of metal and ceramic. The impact rocked her backward; the gatling gun bullets whirled up the side of the pyramid and tracked across the wall. The second round punched through the armour and ballooned the back of her suit in a spider-webbed mass of broken plates and elastic underlayers. The third shot burst her apart. She exploded in a shower of gore and shrapnel.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The last of Lykke¡¯s hounds clattered to the floor, followed by fragments of her suit. Debris plinked off Eseld¡¯s armoured coat. A chunk of steaming forearm landed in front of her face, still wrapped in armour, fingers twitching. Cyneswith muffled one last scream in Eseld¡¯s side.

    ¡°Hold fire,¡± the saint ordered. ¡°Repeat, hold fire. Targets clear?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± said the terrified revenant. ¡°No, we are not clear. We are very, very far from clear. Elpida, do you not fucking see that thing over¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know. Hold fire, stick to the plan. Sound off. Any wounded?¡±

    ¡°All good!¡± snapped the berserker.

    The leader, the saint, the saviour in a battered and burned suit of armour ¡ª ¡®Elpida¡¯? ¡ª strode forward, carapace boots ringing against the grey metal floor, splashing through sticky puddles of blood and viscera. Eseld stared upward at her, eyes wide, panting with instinctive fear and religious awe. This monster was no different than thousands of others she¡¯d encountered in all her many deaths and rebirths. Black eyepieces concealed any proof of humanity inside that once-white helmet.

    But this was no predator. This was a saint.

    Elpida stopped just short of Eseld, staring across the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber. Eseld realised with a lurch of horror in her chest, and turned to look.

    Lykke was staring back.

    The demon had gone untouched by the brief battle. She was crouched atop Sky like a bird of prey upon a bloody carcass, gore-wrought wings held high, raptor talons clutching Sky¡¯s armoured thighs, drooling a line of white fluid from her perfect bow-shaped lips. Her cloud of pustulent flies formed a pulsing aurora about her body. Sky lay limp, face streaked with blood. Her eyes were open, rolled back into her head, showing only bloodshot whites. She twitched and jerked as if trapped in a nightmare, snorting and wheezing and gasping for breath. Her armour was cracked and broken, pieces of it tossed to the floor. A single bloated white fly crawled out from between her parted lips and wriggled up her left nostril.

    Lykke smiled at Elpida with perplexed curiosity.

    Elpida spoke quickly: ¡°Kagami, talk to me. What am I looking at?¡±

    The terrified revenant ¡ª Kagami ¡ª snapped, ¡°Nanomachine readings like the heart of the fucking sun! I don¡¯t know, but we can both make an educated guess. And it¡¯s not cloaking anything, it¡¯s not trying to hide!¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Atyle, your opinion.¡±

    The fearless revenant answered this time, submachine gun loose at her side. ¡°I concur. The devil is out in the open. She hides not.¡±

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Do it.¡±

    Kagami hissed through clenched teeth. ¡°Really? You¡¯re serious? We can¡¯t just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do it,¡± Elpida ordered. ¡°Now.¡±

    Four of those silver-grey drones darted outward from Kagami. Three of them surrounded Elpida¡¯s disciples in a triangle pattern. The fourth shot upward, hanging above the group.

    A sharp crack-hum of electrical power pulsed through the air. Eseld blinked. She tasted iron.

    Lykke¡¯s curious smile curdled into a frown.

    Suddenly the black-robed sniper appeared next to Elpida. She was massive, taller than Eseld had expected from seeing her crouched in the breached wall. She flowed like a centipede, back hunched, limbs tucked inside her robes. The lower half of her face was concealed behind a metal mask, the top half dominated by red bionic eyes. A boxy weapon emerged from beneath her black robes, clutched in four spindly arms, pointed toward Lykke.

    Elpida said: ¡°Serin, hold.¡±

    ¡°Coh-mannder,¡± Serin grunted. ¡°This is a Necromancer. There is no doubt.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll get your chance,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Stick to the plan, keep her covered. Hafina, you help, eyes on the Necro. Atyle, Ilyusha, we have two survivors here. Get them on their feet.¡±

    ¡°One more back here!¡± screeched the berserker.

    The fearless revenant ¡ª Atyle ¡ª stepped around Elpida and pulled Eseld to her feet. The little berserker must have been Ilyusha; she grabbed Cyneswith and yanked her upright. Cyneswith screamed and flailed, battering her rescuer with flapping hands. Ilyusha hissed with irritation.

    ¡°H-here, here!¡± Eseld yelped, hands out. ¡°Give her to me, give her¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha shoved Cyneswith into Eseld¡¯s arms. Cyn clung on tight, weeping and shaking, gaping at the carnage spread out across the floor, then up at the unfamiliar faces, then over at Lykke perched on Sky¡¯s limp body.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, it¡¯s okay, it¡¯s okay,¡± Eseld hissed, though she was not sure she believed that herself. ¡°We got¡ª they¡¯re here for¡ª we¡¯re okay¡ª¡±

    Atyle crooned: ¡°Come come, babes in the woods, away from the slings and arrows.¡±

    She gently led Eseld and Cyneswith a few paces back, behind the leader and the giant and the sniper. The little berserker helped, holding up her ballistic shield in Lykke¡¯s general direction. Eseld felt hysterical fear crawling up her throat. What good would a shield do to stop a demon? Saint or not, they had to retreat, they had to leave before Lykke made a move, they had to¡ª

    A familiar figure was hunched in the rear, naked and bleeding from a score of wounds, her long black hair in blood-streaked disarray.

    ¡°Shilu!¡± Eseld panted.

    Shilu no longer wore her true face, her scarecrow-machine of razor edges and black chrome. She had transformed back into her disguise, with soft brown skin and wide dark eyes.

    She said nothing. She stared at the back of Elpida¡¯s head.

    Eseld and Cyneswith and Shilu were tucked in tight behind the front row of their would-be rescuers. To one side, the gravekeeper stared straight ahead, insensate and silent inside her upright resurrection coffin. Her papery skin was splattered with blood. Atop the grey metal pyramid, the perfect black sphere looked on like a hole in reality.

    Elpida said: ¡°Kagami, talk to me.¡±

    Kagami looked the trio up and down from behind her visor, then snapped, ¡°These three are fresh, yes. No major wounds. The naked one is bleeding but it¡¯s all surface, she¡¯ll keep.¡±

    Shilu croaked, ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Serin, Hafina, keep eyes on the Necromancer.¡± Then she turned her head to look back. Dark eyeholes swept across Shilu and Cyn ¡ª then paused on Eseld.

    Elpida¡¯s hidden gaze lingered, on and on and on. Eseld stared back, cheeks still streaked with tears.

    ¡°You¡¯re ¡­ ¡± Eseld croaked. She couldn¡¯t even see Elpida¡¯s eyes, but that didn¡¯t matter. ¡°You¡¯re not here to eat us.¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°Obviously not. Well done. This one is clearly a genius. Great catch.¡±

    ¡°Nope!¡± Ilyusha said, cracking a toothy grin. ¡°Lucky you!¡±

    Eseld didn¡¯t even look at them. She just stared into those blank eyepieces set into Elpida¡¯s helmet.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she croaked. ¡°Thank you. I ¡­ I don¡¯t ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida just kept staring.

    Ilyusha snapped, ¡°Elpi?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Illy,¡± Elpida said. She nodded to Eseld. ¡°Names, quickly.¡±

    ¡°Eseld. This is Cyneswith. That¡¯s Shilu.¡±

    ¡°Just you three? Any other survivors?¡±

    Eseld shook her head. Cyneswith panted softly, her panic finally ebbing. She ducked her head in wordless greeting or gratitude, but said nothing.

    Shilu pointed across the chamber, at Sky. ¡°Her.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± snapped Kagami. ¡°I think she¡¯s a little bit fucking beyond us, thank you very much!¡±

    ¡°Never say never,¡± Elpida muttered, helmet turning away.

    On the far side of the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber, Lykke was climbing off Sky and rising to her feet.

    Her wings of living gore stretched out wide, tips touching the wall and the metal of the grey pyramid. Her talons clicked against the floor as she advanced, hips swaying inside the stained and ruined fabric of her white sundress. Bloated flies crawled from her many wounds, adding their glistening pale bodies to her buzzing aura.

    Eseld¡¯s awe and relief turned to ice in her guts. All this heroism, all this effort, all this blessed benevolence ¡ª all of it was going to be destroyed.

    She reached out and grabbed the back of Elpida¡¯s coat, bunching a fistful of armoured fabric in one hand.

    ¡°No!¡± Eseld wailed. ¡°N-no! You can¡¯t! You can¡¯t fight her, she¡¯s a demon! She¡¯s not a zombie like us, she¡¯s something else. She¡¯ll kill you all, there¡¯s nothing we can do, nothing! Shilu, can¡¯t we¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Shilu. ¡°We can do nothing.¡±

    Eseld stared at Shilu in shock. Shilu just shook her head, totally calm.

    Kagami hissed: ¡°The freshie has a point. Elpida, Commander, I don¡¯t know if this can hold. Look at that fucking thing! She¡¯s¡ª it¡¯s¡ª¡±

    Elpida murmured, ¡°Can you hold it, Kaga? Can you do this for me?¡±

    Kagami clenched her teeth. ¡°Yes, of course I can. Fine.¡±

    ¡°Keep comms open,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Just in case.¡±

    Serin rasped behind her mask. ¡°No running this time.¡±

    Ilyusha made her shotgun go click-crunch. She shouted at Lykke. ¡°Fuck you, reptile shit-eater! Bring it! I¡¯ll shit on your face!¡±

    Eseld panted with growing panic. These revenants could not stand up to the demon, whoever and whatever they were. No armour, no faith, no bullet would avail them.

    ¡°It¡¯s impossible!¡± Eseld said. ¡°Please¡ª E-Elpida? She¡¯ll just paralyse us, she¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elpida said. ¡°She can¡¯t. Not us, not here, not now.¡±

    Lykke stopped about a dozen paces away. She cocked her hips to one side. Her aurora of white flies followed the gesture, flowing outward. Their putrid bodies mirrored the ebb and flow of the storm outdoors. The hurricane washed over the tomb in deep, slow, standing waves of furious drumming, filling the air with so much rainfall it became distant static pressing in on the whole world. The wind whipped around gargantuan metal walls, howling like a voice from the pits of hell.

    Lykke glanced to the group¡¯s left and right, then upward. A wry smile creased her face.

    The demon was examining the silver-grey drones, the points of a miniature pyramid which surrounded Elpida and her disciples.

    Elpida said: ¡°You can¡¯t access our bodies from the other side of this firewall.¡±

    Eseld¡¯s jaw dropped. She was wrong; Elpida, the saint and her disciples, had found a way to fight a demon.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Lykke said, voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°I¡¯ll play along for a little while. At least this is somewhat original, though I¡¯m not impressed by the extras. Nice trick.¡± She raised her hands and mimed a tiny round of applause. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since anybody pulled this particular move. Did you figure it out yourselves, or did you have some help?¡±

    ¡°All home grown!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°As if I¡¯d need fucking help to figure out basic electromagnetic firewalling.¡±

    Lykke snorted and rolled her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s hardly believable, considering your company. And you do know it won¡¯t actually help you, yes? I can¡¯t access you via the network through that, but your flimsy little wall can¡¯t stop me from walking up to you and pulling your guts out.¡± She flexed a blood-glazed hand and narrowed her eyes. ¡°I could also destroy the drones themselves. I doubt you could do anything to stop me, you jumped-up handful of worms.¡±

    Eseld couldn¡¯t believe her ears. Lykke was genuinely pissed off.

    Elpida said: ¡°Are you the same Necromancer?¡±

    Lykke spread her hands. ¡°The same Necromancer as what? What are you talking about, you filthy little scrap of flesh? As if you have the right to ask me questions! Oh no, this is just in poor taste, I¡¯m growing unimpressed with this already.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll chalk that down as a no,¡± Kagami rattled off. She swallowed hard. ¡°Elpida, we¡¯re not going to get anything out of her that she doesn¡¯t want us to know. She might be, she might not. Who cares?! What does it matter?¡±

    Atyle ¡ª the confident one, naked beneath her coat ¡ª said: ¡°Did you bring the storm, she-devil? I see hidden hands behind your back.¡±

    Lykke huffed and tossed her blood-streaked hair. ¡°One more question and I¡¯ll slay you where you¡ª¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°What do you want, Necromancer?¡±

    Lykke¡¯s irritation vanished with a sharp smile. She gestured at Eseld, Cyneswith, and Shilu. ¡°Those three! Those three you¡¯ve so heroically rescued. They¡¯re mine. I was already done here, just having fun in the vinegar strokes. I have no reason to spend more than a single second on the rest of you, whatever you¡¯ve been convinced you are. Not that I won¡¯t tear through you like tissue paper to get this finished. I am beyond bored and being distracted from the one thing here that was remotely interesting.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°If we hand them over, will you leave? Will you let us loot the tomb armoury, and keep all these bodies?¡±

    Eseld¡¯s blood froze. She shared a glance with Cyneswith; Cyn was wide-eyed in fresh terror. Shilu¡¯s expression hadn¡¯t changed.

    Why was Shilu hiding her own divine nature? Why not reveal herself to the saint, and fight together? And she was staring at Elpida¡¯s back, as if she could see through the coilgun pack and the armoured coat and the carapace beneath, as if she was boring into Elpida¡¯s flesh and reading her soul.

    ¡°Ha!¡± Lykke barked. ¡°Is that part of your little play? Is that what we¡¯re doing here? Do you need me to push a little so you come quietly? As if you¡¯re in any position to make deals! Darling, the only reason I haven¡¯t already torn you apart is because I¡¯m humouring all this. Buuuuuuuut.¡± Lykke smiled like a little girl and put a fingertip to her lips. ¡°Sure! Hand me my targets and I¡¯ll be gone. I can even leave the bodies for your bellies. Though ¡­ that one?¡± She gestured back at Sky, lying in a heap of her own broken armour, twitching and shivering. ¡°She¡¯s coming with me, for some personal time.¡±

    Elpida fell silent for a long moment. She took one hand off her coilgun receiver and tapped her chestplate twice, over the tower-and-moon symbol.

    ¡°No deal, Necromancer,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re leaving with these three. Kagami, tell the others to be ready for us. We¡¯re leaving.¡±

    Kagami clenched her teeth and hissed: ¡°Commander¡ª¡±

    ¡°No need to whisper, this thing can hear everything we say, no matter how quiet. Go ahead.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Even if we can get all the way back to Pheiri with this fucking thing following us, there¡¯s nowhere to go. We¡¯re pinned by this bastard storm. And it¡¯s gotten worse since we got down here. Pira says Pheiri¡¯s sensors read winds of almost eight hundred miles an hour. Even he can¡¯t go out in that! It¡¯s blasting the whole fucking city flat for miles around and flooding the remains! We¡¯re trapped!¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Elpida said. She sounded perfectly calm. She tapped her chestplate again, once, twice, three times. ¡°We¡¯re sticking to the plan. You three.¡± She glanced back at Eseld and the others. ¡°Did you secure any raw blue from the armoury?¡±

    Eseld tightened her grip around Cyneswith. Cyn was still wearing the backpack full of cannisters over her armoured poncho. None of the cannisters seemed to have broken in the fight. ¡°Y-yeah. Yes. We have it all. I¡¯ve got guns and bullets too. If that matters.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°And this one has been drinking the stuff. She¡¯s glowing.¡±

    ¡°I needed it!¡± Eseld hissed.

    ¡°Good,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Hafina, how many corpses can you carry?¡±

    The giant rolled her upper shoulders. ¡°Three. Four?¡±

    Lykke burst out laughing, her mirth rolling off the grey pyramid in waves, echoing from the walls and ceiling. Elpida¡¯s disciples tensed up. Ilyusha showed her teeth and swished her tail. Kagami went pale and crossed her arms over her chest. Serin¡¯s spindly pale fingers tapped against her strange boxy gun. Atyle just tilted her head. Only Hafina didn¡¯t react.

    ¡°Hold!¡± Elpida raised her voice above the laughter. ¡°Stick to the plan. Everyone hold.¡±

    Lykke¡¯s laughter died away. She sighed and fanned her face with one hand.

    ¡°Zombies, hello?¡± Lykke said. ¡°Little ones, that shield cannot protect you from me. If you know what I am, then you know you can¡¯t fight me. You cannot retreat from here with those three in your possession. This is getting very old, my amusement is wearing off, and I¡¯ve had enough of playing along.¡±

    Elpida spoke slowly: ¡°We can ward you away and cut your access. Do you believe that is the limit of our capabilities?¡±

    Lykke smiled in a different way, hungry and curious. ¡°Oh. Oh my. That confidence is real, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re more than just playing along. How very spicy, very rich of you. And here I thought I¡¯d already drunk my fill for the evening. I wouldn¡¯t mind a private dance with one like you. Can I try you on for size, once this absurd little farce is concluded?¡±

    Elpida barked with a sudden laugh. ¡°Ha! Step off, bitch! I¡¯ll bite your throat out!¡±

    Lykke blinked, perplexed and put off. She put her hands on her hips. ¡°What is this? What are you doing, zombie? Are you trying to get me to charge at you, because you think you¡¯ve got some trick up your sleeve?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s voice snapped back to normal, calm and collected. ¡°Are you sure we don¡¯t?¡±

    Lykke narrowed her eyes, lips pursed with venomous distaste. ¡°This is just sad, very sad. Pitiful, really. I can¡¯t tell if this is an attempt at survival or just some sad little game. What¡¯s the point of this?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to let us go,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Or you¡¯re going to attack us, and find out what we can do. Your choice, Necromancer.¡±

    Lykke sighed a very long sigh. She closed her eyes, then snapped them open again.

    ¡°Alright,¡± she said, cold and harsh. ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of playing along, I¡¯m bored now. Come out and let¡¯s finish this properly, or I¡¯ll murder all your zombie pets and reanimate them as my own drones for the next couple of millennia. How does that sound for a credible threat?¡±

    In the corner of Eseld¡¯s eye, Shilu raised her right hand, fingertips pointing at the back of Elpida¡¯s helmet.

    ¡° ¡­ Shilu?¡± Eseld whispered. ¡°No, n-no¡ª¡±

    Elpida said to Lykke, ¡°Who are you talking¡ª¡±

    Lykke interrupted. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re trying to achieve by this pathetic show with these random zombies, but I¡¯ve had enough. Stop pretending to be one of them, Shishi. It doesn¡¯t suit you.¡±

    Shilu¡¯s right hand and forearm shimmered, transforming into black chrome; a knife-point of lightless metal cut the air, a spear tip glinting in the grey.

    Shilu¡¯s naked blade shot forward, aiming for the rear of Elpida¡¯s armoured skull.

 custos - 11.8

    Eseld lunged at Shilu.

    She crashed into Shilu¡¯s side, fouling her aim ¡ª but not enough. Shilu¡¯s arm-blade of lightless black metal punched forward, moving so fast it became a blur, the point aimed at the rear of Elpida¡¯s helmet, to puncture the saint¡¯s armour and split the skull beneath.

    Elpida¡¯s head jerked aside. Shilu missed by several inches.

    Eseld clawed at Shilu¡¯s sword-arm to prevent a second strike, nails raking bloody scratches down Shilu¡¯s soft brown skin. Momentum carried them both to the floor, landing in a tangle of kicking legs and slapping hands and the loose sides of Eseld¡¯s armoured coat. Eseld found herself on top, knees buried in Shilu¡¯s gut. Her hands flailed, trying to catch the blurring shadow of Shilu¡¯s weapon.

    ¡°No¡ª Shilu¡ª don¡¯t¡ª don¡¯t!¡±

    Shilu wore no expression around her wide dark eyes.

    Eseld did not know why Shilu had tried to kill Elpida, but she knew she could not let that happen. Eseld did not know who Elpida really was, or what she looked like under the dirty grey helmet of her carapace suit. She knew nothing of the sins Elpida may have committed in her past, or what unsavoury methods she may have employed to gather and bind her disciples to her side. None of that mattered, not beneath the blazing light of hope, an emotion Eseld had not felt with such clarity in all her infinity of fifty seven deaths, not since the warm days of true life. Elpida had strode into battle against overwhelming numbers, itself an act of madness, for nothing more than to save the meaningless lives of fresh meat. Elpida had not only scattered the opportunistic cannibals, she had also refused to retreat from Lykke, after all else had failed and all hope faded. Even Shilu had given up and declared defeat. But not Elpida.

    A living saint stood in defiance against the very absence which lay at the heart of all creation since God¡¯s death. Her actions redefined Eseld¡¯s world.

    Whatever Shilu¡¯s metaphysical disagreement with the saint, whatever protection and kindness Shilu had offered, none of it mattered. Eseld would throw herself upon Shilu¡¯s blades rather than stand by and watch the murder.

    She knew she was dead now. Shilu was strong and fast in a way that no mere zombie could hope to match. Another heartbeat, another breath, and Shilu would slice Eseld open from throat to gut, then toss her aside and attack Elpida again. But perhaps Eseld had bought Elpida enough time to react. Perhaps her sacrifice would not be in¡ª

    Eseld caught Shilu¡¯s sword-arm in both hands, just above and below the elbow. She gaped, stunned by her own success. This was impossible; Shilu must have allowed her to win.

    Then she slammed Shilu¡¯s arm to the floor, pinning it with all her strength. Her nails dug deep, drawing beads of blood from Shilu¡¯s skin.

    Elpida¡¯s disciples were turning toward the scuffle, shouting confused questions or snapping requests for orders, levelling weapons, backing away.

    Shilu stared up into Eseld¡¯s eyes, and said: ¡°Are you certain?¡±

    Eseld hissed, ¡°Yes! Don¡¯t kill her, don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Shilu bucked. The world turned upside down.

    Eseld hit the floor face-first, cracking her chin off the metal, biting through a chunk of her own tongue, knocking the wind from her lungs. The impact rang a chorus of agony down the patchwork of bullet-bruises across her chest and belly, scraping her insides with the jagged ends of her own broken ribs. Her vision blurred, eyes blinded with tears, throat choked with an uprush of bile and acid. She drooled long strings of sticky spittle from slack lips. A pounding pulse inside her head drowned out all sound.

    Cold metal hooked beneath her chin, dragging her upright. Eseld clawed at the arm around her throat, breaking her fingernails against black chrome.

    ¡°Be still,¡± said Shilu.

    ¡°No¡ª¡± Eseld wheezed, kicking against the ground, choking for breath. ¡°Don¡¯t hurt¡ª not her¡ª¡±

    ¡°Be still.¡± Shilu paused. ¡°I don¡¯t want to kill you. Please.¡±

    Eseld stopped struggling. The metal arm slackened the chokehold. Eseld blinked to part a veil of tears.

    Shilu had dragged her clear of Elpida¡¯s formation, over to the foot of the grey metal pyramid. Eseld could feel Shilu¡¯s true body pressed against her back through her armoured coat ¡ª a landscape of sharp metal edges and cold black chrome. One of Shilu¡¯s arms was wrapped around Eseld¡¯s throat; the other was a blade, poised in front of Eseld¡¯s face.

    Elpida and her disciples were about twelve feet away. Eseld realised with scant relief that she was still within the pyramid-shaped protective barrier formed by Kagami¡¯s silver-grey drones.

    Elpida¡¯s disciples retained their coherence despite this surprise from their midst. The giant ¡ª Hafina ¡ª swung half her exotic energy weapons to cover Shilu, splitting her attention between Lykke and this new target. Kagami squinted and blinked at Shilu from behind her full-face visor, lips moving in silence. Ilyusha brandished her shotgun and spat a string of colourful insults: ¡°¡ªcuckfuck traitor shit-beak¡ª¡± Atyle merely stared, curious and unmoved. Only Cyneswith was paralysed and speechless, mouth agape, tears running from her eyes, hands fluttering in helpless panic.

    Serin ¡ª the tall one wrapped in black robes ¡ª levelled that boxy grey firearm at Shilu.

    Perhaps that mysterious gun really would harm Shilu through her shield of tattered divinity. But at this range it would also rip Eseld apart, unless Serin was an expert shot. The muzzle of the gun was a wide mouth. It did not look very precise.

    Eseld turned her head and squinted, bracing herself for the shot, for the end, for yet another death. At least she had used this life to protect something worth her sacrifice. At least Cyn would survive, sheltered by the saint. And if Lykke could be defeated, perhaps Sky was not lost either.

    Elpida snapped, ¡°Hold fire! Serin, hold¡ª¡±

    Serin¡¯s finger compressed the trigger. Eseld screamed between her clenched teeth.

    Nothing happened.

    The smooth grey gun didn¡¯t even make a sound, not like Sky¡¯s ¡®EMP¡¯ weapon or the microwave rifle. Serin flickered the muzzle up and down, as if painting Eseld and Shilu with an invisible beam or cone of power, but Eseld felt nothing.

    Serin grunted behind her metal mask. ¡°Huh.¡±

    Kagami hissed, ¡°I keep telling you, that fucking thing doesn¡¯t work! The gravitic engine is broken, or misaligned with the grid. Give up, for fuck¡¯s sake, especially right now! We have more important targets, don¡¯t you think?!¡±

    Serin pointed the gun at Lykke again. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±

    Elpida raised an armoured glove. The dark eyeholes of her helmet faced toward Shilu and Eseld. ¡°Everyone hold fire! Kagami, talk to me, tell me what I¡¯m looking at.¡±

    ¡°Nothing!¡± Kagami spluttered. She gestured at Eseld and Shilu. ¡°Normal zombie, as far as every reading is concerned. Which is obviously bullshit, fine, yes, but that¡¯s all I¡¯m getting. Slightly more nanomachine density, sure, but not like her over there.¡± She jabbed a finger toward Lykke.

    Serin rasped, ¡°They hide. She¡¯s a Necromancer.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Atyle?¡±

    The fearless one ¡ª Atyle ¡ª was staring at Eseld and Shilu with her right eye wide open, a solid green sphere of bionic augmentation.

    ¡°She is alone,¡± Atyle said. ¡°Unstrung. Not the same. Are you trapped, like us?¡±

    Lykke let out a giggle, a high-pitched bubble of bloody mirth. She had one pale hand pressed to her mouth, eyebrows raised, her remaining eye gone wide. She held her gore-wrought wings swept backward to keep them out of the way, their surfaces flowing and gurgling with boiling blood and organ meat and chips of bone. Her aurora of white flies pulsed and buzzed to a silent heartbeat.

    Elpida turned her helmet to acknowledge the laugh.

    ¡°Oh, please, don¡¯t mind me!¡± Lykke said, voice tinkling with breathless amusement behind her delicate blood-glazed fingers. ¡°Do go on. I¡¯m dying to see where you¡¯re taking this, Shishi! This is positively original!¡±

    Kagami hissed a curse beneath her breath. Ilyusha spat on the floor and sneered at Lykke.

    Elpida ignored that. ¡°Eseld,¡± she said. ¡°Are you wounded? In pain?¡±

    Eseld croaked, ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for the help, Eseld,¡± said Elpida. ¡°That was quick thinking. Quick reactions. Well done.¡±

    Shilu spoke from behind Eseld¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You didn¡¯t need it though. You dodged. And that helmet doesn¡¯t have a rear head-up display.¡±

    Elpida answered with a smile in her voice: ¡°I had an early warning. Nice try.¡±

    ¡°Thought so,¡± said Shilu. ¡°You have network access.¡±

    ¡°Not quite. Shilu, yes? What are we doing here, Shilu? Answer me quickly. Talk fast.¡± Elpida nodded sideways, toward Lykke. ¡°She¡¯s not going to stay entertained for long.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Lykke laughed, a sound like breaking glass. ¡°Oh no, no no, I¡¯m deadly serious, please do take your time. Bravo, Shishi, I never expected this of you, of all people. You were always so¡ª¡±

    ¡°I was sent here to kill you,¡± Shilu said to Elpida.

    Eseld¡¯s stomach lurched; vomit tried to climb up her throat. Her head throbbed with a dizzying rush of blood. Shilu was an assassin? All this was part of a plot to slay Elpida? All this death and madness, this false hope, the predators in the resurrection chamber, the storm outdoors, all of it? And what manner of being would ¡®send¡¯ something as powerful as Shilu? Did this mean Eseld herself was part of the same assassination plot? And what did that mean for Lykke? Was the demon on the same side as the saint? What were the sides, what did any of this mean?

    The religious metaphors to which Eseld had clung for the last few hours began to fall apart; she knew they were not literal, they were merely her own inventions, but they made the horrors of this Godless world easier on her mind.

    She started to hyperventilate. Her mouth filled with the taste of bile. Her heart raced faster and faster and faster. A terrible weight pressed on her chest.

    Shilu was still talking. ¡°I was placed in your path so you would stumble upon me. You, your group, the rogue Necromancer you met, those are my targets.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Who sent you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±

    Kagami scoffed. ¡°Fucking hell!¡±

    Ilyusha growled and spat, pawing at the metal floor with one of her clawed feet. Atyle shook her head, a sad smile flickering across her lips. Serin¡¯s attention did not waver from Lykke. Cyneswith let out a whimper.

    Elpida said, ¡°And now you¡¯ve changed your mind about killing me.¡±

    It was not a question. Sweat ran down Eseld¡¯s face. Her mouth was full of vile-tasting saliva. She wanted to vomit. Her chest felt as if it would collapse and crush her heart.

    The sound of the storm outdoors filled the silence. A standing wave of static hissed and hummed beyond the distant walls of the tomb.

    Shilu did not reply, so Elpida continued: ¡°I saw the bodies when we entered this chamber. You¡¯d already killed a dozen revenants, single handed. That wasn¡¯t the Necromancer over there, she was too occupied. If you wanted us dead, you would attack us right now. You don¡¯t need a hostage. You¡¯ve changed your mind. Save us both the time, don¡¯t deny it. Just make your point, and make it quickly.¡±

    Shilu spoke again. ¡°This whole situation is wrong. My current state, without network access. The storm outdoors is not natural, something summoned it. The tomb is armed and active. The Necromancer to your left is named Lykke. She should not be here. And now you.¡± Shilu paused. ¡°You are not what I expected.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°What were you expecting?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Kagami snapped, ¡°Seems like there¡¯s a lot of things you don¡¯t know!¡±

    Elpida gestured for Kagami to stop. ¡°Kaga, please.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°I knew I was being used. I¡¯m used to that. But now I¡¯m not certain that completing my mission will get me what I want.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Elpida asked.

    Shilu paused again, then said: ¡°The falcon cannot hear the falconer. The centre cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.¡±

    ¡°And what do you want, Necromancer?¡±

    ¡°To be dead, and remain so.¡±

    Kagami hissed, ¡°Great. Just fucking great. This one is no more sane than the first.¡±

    Ilyusha barked a nasty laugh. She made her shotgun go click-crunch and pointed the big black muzzle at Shilu, right through Eseld. ¡°We can do that for you, reptile fuck! Put you back in the dirt!¡±

    Elpida raised a hand for silence. Her disciples stopped. ¡°What are you proposing?¡±

    Kagami hissed, ¡°You¡¯re fucking joking! You have to be fucking joking, Elpida. Commander, it¡¯s a Necromancer! It could be doing anything! That¡¯s not even its real face! We are being lied to.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Shilu, what are you proposing?¡±

    ¡°Lykke has network access,¡± Shilu said. ¡°I don¡¯t. I can¡¯t beat her. She was sent to stop me, but that doesn¡¯t necessarily mean she knows who you are, or that she is restricted from killing you or harming you. I do not know why she was sent. She refuses to stand down. Can you really fight a Necromancer, or was that a bluff, zombie?¡±

    Elpida was silent for a long moment, eyes hidden behind the twin lenses of her helmet. Behind her, Serin started to chuckle ¡ª a long, low, rasping sound behind her metal mask. Kagami went very pale and swallowed twice, eyes darting to glance at Lykke. Hafina and Atyle didn¡¯t react at all. Ilyusha grinned and made a biting motion toward Shilu.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Lykke broke the silence. ¡°Of course they can¡¯t! Shishi, don¡¯t be so¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elpida said. ¡°We can disable her. However, we will need an opening. She needs to stay still when we act.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°I can hold her for a few moments.¡±

    ¡°What happens after we defeat our mutual foe?¡± Elpida asked. ¡°What happens then, Necromancer?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know anymore.¡±

    Elpida laughed inside her helmet, surprisingly warm and easy. ¡°I¡¯m gonna need you to release Eseld first.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t hurt her,¡± said Shilu. ¡°I just don¡¯t want you to shoot me yet. I¡¯ll let her go once we start.¡±

    ¡°Commander!¡± Kagami hissed. ¡°Elpida. We cannot trust that thing! Every word it says could be a lie! They could be working together, playing with us for some sick shit! We are in too deep, we need to extract, now.¡±

    Atyle let out a soft hum. ¡°Mmmmmm. Even the smallest of devils will play tricks on the mind. Lead the unwary traveller astray.¡±

    Ilyusha shouted, ¡°I vote we blow her open! Fuck her up!¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°We need to pull out. Leave this behind. Commander, we cannot fight in here!¡± She gestured upward, past Eseld, toward the grey metal pyramid topped by the perfect black sphere. ¡°I don¡¯t know what might happen if I use gravitics in this place. The last thing we want is that AI substrate feeling threatened. Commander, we cannot fight here!¡±

    Even the giant hesitated, swinging her armoured head back and forth, as if waiting for the order to disengage.

    Elpida sighed. Eseld saw the subtle rise and fall of the armoured plates of her carapace suit. The saint was listening to her disciples, preparing to make sacrifices. And then Eseld would be left behind with Shilu and Lykke and whatever was left of Sky, denied her salvation, denied this one chance to be something more than meat. They had to work together, Elpida and Shilu. Eseld¡¯s heart hammered against her ribs and she wanted to vomit up her own intestines with fear and disgust and worse. The weight on her chest compressed her broken ribs into her lungs.

    She tried to wheeze, ¡°She¡ª Shilu helped¡ª protect¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shilu protected us!¡±

    Cyneswith¡¯s voice was reedy and weak. She clutched her hands before her, fingers interleaved, like a supplicant in prayer. Her eyes were upturned, pleading with Elpida.

    ¡°Please!¡± Cyn went on. ¡°I do not understand what is happening, what manner of fairy mound we are within, or what terrible wars have disordered your realm so badly. But Miss Shilu protected us during our descent. She saved us when we climbed from our coffins! She fought Lykke when Lykke turned into a beast. She led us here, without abandoning us. And she could have! She bid us clothe and arm ourselves. She tried to protect us. She fought for us. Please, please, trust her. Please don¡¯t leave us behind. Don¡¯t leave Miss Eseld or Miss Sky behind. Please, I beg you, great warrior. I beg you.¡±

    Serin snorted. ¡°Fresh meat. Clueless.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Kagami hissed. ¡°Clearly. Elpida¡ª¡±

    ¡°Alright, Necromancer,¡± Elpida said to Shilu. ¡°You have a deal. We fight our mutual enemy, then we talk. Are you ready?¡±

    Lykke burst into peals of laughter.

    Her mirth echoed off the grey metal walls of the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber in deafening girlish giggles and guffaws, snorts and snickers, rolling through the carpet of corpses and the pools of drying blood. Eventually she trailed off into little hiccups, waving a hand as if her laughter was smoke before her face. She ended on a big sigh, filling her lungs and puffing out her chest beneath the fabric of her stained and torn sundress; blood bubbled from several of her wounds, followed by the squirming bodies of yet more white flies, emerging to join her pestilent corona of bloated insects.

    She smiled, and said, ¡°You¡¯re serious! You¡¯re actually serious, golly gosh gee I¡¯m such a lucky girl sometimes, I never thought I¡¯d see the day! I¡¯m sorry if I seem rude, it¡¯s just that I assumed this was all an elaborate joke, not the real thing. Shishi, this is just ridiculous. You can¡¯t be doing this for real, can you? You must own up to the hands behind the curtain, this is too silly. I¡¯m awed, really! Look, you even got a genuine laugh out of me. We¡¯re equal! Come on, sweets, let¡¯s just go back together and let bygones be bygones.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±

    Elpida nodded, then turned to face Lykke. She raised the coilgun receiver and took aim. ¡°Kaga, tell Pheiri to abandon his position and start moving deeper. Holding the gate no longer matters, there¡¯s no other survivors.¡±

    ¡°Done!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Less walking, good!¡±

    ¡°Be ready,¡± Elpida continued, her voice calm and confident. ¡°Haf, you¡¯re on catcher duty, don¡¯t worry about firepower. Illy, Atyle, back me up, don¡¯t move if you can help it. Serin, you know when, just in case. On my count.¡±

    Lykke sighed, shoulders sagging, all her good humour vanishing in an instant. ¡°As if!¡± she snapped. She gestured upward, at the silver-grey drone hanging at the apex of the loose pyramid formation which protected Elpida and her disciples. ¡°I know exactly what you¡¯re going to do, zombie. You aren¡¯t the first to figure this out, nor even the first to attempt it. You¡¯re going to squish me with gravity and cut me off from the network. It¡¯s been done before and it¡¯s very boring! And that!¡± Lykke gestured at Serin. ¡°That¡¯s not even a new technique, and it doesn¡¯t work. I don¡¯t know what you hope to achieve by disrupting my intracellular connections, but any satisfaction will be very short lived. I am bigger than this body. How do you zombies have such trouble with that simple principle? Ahhhhh,¡± she sighed. ¡°I was hoping for better than this. You got me all riled up and ready, Shishi, and now you¡¯re just disappointing me.¡± Lykke paused, put her hands on her hips, and looked Elpida up and down. ¡°And you¡¯re even worse, zombie. I thought you were up for a bit of spicy tango, but you¡¯re just¡ª¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to put you in a cage, Necromancer,¡± Elpida said. ¡°If you break out, I will personally strangle you to death. This is your last chance to flee. You have until my count. Three.¡±

    Kagami took a deep breath; she was visibly shaking, wringing her hands together. Hafina turned all her guns toward Lykke, ignoring Shilu. A grin ripped across Ilyusha¡¯s face as she pointed her shotgun at the demon. Atyle shrugged and waved her submachine gun vaguely in Lykke¡¯s direction.

    ¡°Two¡ª¡±

    ¡°One!¡± Lykke roared. ¡°Too slow, here I come!¡±

    Lykke cracked her great wings of hanging gore and frozen blood, propelling herself forward with a gust of noxious wind. The reeking air drew tears from Eseld¡¯s eyes and burned the lining of her throat. A cloud of flies surged forward, smashing their tiny, glistening, greasy bodies against the invisible shield strung between Kagami¡¯s drones. Lykke launched herself from a standing start like a bird of prey from the skies, cackling at the top of her lungs as her taloned feet sliced through the air, razor-sharp points aimed straight at Elpida.

    ¡°Go,¡± Elpida said.

    The disciples opened fire. Bullets and shotgun rounds pounded into Lykke, tearing gobbets of steaming flesh from her body and wings. White-hot flashes from Hafina¡¯s energy weapons seared patches of Lykke¡¯s dress, melting the skin beneath and turning her muscle to cooked meat. Elpida fired the coilgun. The magnetic thump shook Eseld¡¯s guts. The round punched a hole clean through Lykke¡¯s belly and blew out her lower back, her spine flopping free like a dead snake, pelvis shattered into a million pieces, strung out behind her like the train of a wedding dress.

    But the demon could not be stopped. The many wounds did not even slow her down; her flesh simply rose again, reaching outward in tendrils of ragged muscle and prehensile feelers of blood and bone. Bloated flies poured from her wounds in their thousands, crashing against the invisible shield in thick waves of white.

    Lykke cackled, claws descending toward Elpida¡¯s armoured helmet. ¡°I can¡¯t believe this play was for real! You dirty little minx, maybe I will have a little dance with you!¡±

    Eseld bit back a desolate sob. Even the saint did not comprehend that mortal weapons could not harm a demon.

    Kagami was the only one not shooting. A convulsive shiver passed through her body. She squinted hard, eyes scrunched tight. A bead of blood ran from her nose. ¡°Commander!¡± she screamed. ¡°I need a second to¡ª¡±

    Shilu¡¯s arms left Eseld¡¯s throat.

    Eseld collapsed to her knees, choking and wheezing, pressing one hand to the tiny cuts on her neck left behind by Shilu¡¯s sharp edges. She raised her other hand toward Elpida, desperate to help, to throw herself in the path of the demon, to buy her saviour that one second.

    Shilu shot across the grey metal floor and exploded through the wall of white flies. She had transformed back into her true self, her scarecrow body of black chrome and razor-sharp lines, balanced on a pair of spear-tip feet. The insects swarmed over her, suffocating her black metal skin beneath a living carpet of slick and shiny flesh. The flies tried to press themselves up her nostrils or wriggle past her lips or jam their tiny bodies into the corners of her eyes. Shilu¡¯s pale polymer face went blank and flat, transformed into a featureless surface to deny Lykke¡¯s filthy swarm their ingress.

    Shilu raised her arms, a pair of lightless black blades.

    She caught Lykke¡¯s twinned talons on her swords, black edges tangled in white claws. Lykke flapped her gigantic blood-and-organ wings. Each beat was like a breath of the hurricane from beyond the walls, tearing at the corpses on the floor, shivering the pools of blood as if beneath a storm.

    Elpida hunched, locking the joints of her armour to resist the terrible downdraft. Kagami collapsed with a strangled squeal; Hafina caught her in two arms before she could hit the floor. Atyle sheltered behind Ilyusha¡¯s shields; Illy dragged Cyneswith into cover beside her, pressing Cyn to the floor. Only Eseld was alone, down on her knees, then smashed to her front again, with the reek of the wind filling her mouth and nose and lungs with the stench of rotting meat and boiled blood and fear and sweat and putrid flesh.

    The force of Lykke¡¯s wing beats drove Shilu to her knees.

    Lykke cackled. ¡°What are you even trying to do, Shishi?! We had this fight earlier, and I won! You think some zombies with a few busted grav¡ªtricks can actually contain one of us?! Look at you, playing down in the mud with the meat! You¡¯ve gone mad! Let me put you out of¡ª¡±

    A crack of electrical power passed over Eseld¡¯s skin in a painful tingle. Her mouth filled with a fresh gush of iron, gums bleeding freely, washing away the foul reek of Lykke¡¯s downdraft wing beats. The flies pressed up against the invisible shield spasmed and fell, a wave of tiny white bodies floating to the floor like pale ash.

    The silver-grey drones ¡ª the four points of Kagami¡¯s protective pyramid, the only thing that kept the demon from paralysing Elpida and her disciples ¡ª hinged forward, like a paper toy unfolding into a new shape. One drone whipped past Eseld¡¯s face, moving so fast it made the air pop with pressure. The two other points raced forward, matched by the drone at the apex. Thousands of surviving white flies were swept away and gathered up as if caught within an invisible net.

    The drones surrounded Lykke and Shilu in a much smaller and tighter pyramid than before. Lykke¡¯s great wings folded up, crushed inward by invisible force. Thousands upon thousands of flies were compacted down into a tiny space, plunging Shilu and Lykke into a miniature swirling snowstorm of greasy pale bodies and buzzing wings.

    Lykke tumbled to the ground, landing in a tangle of limbs, blanketed by the gore of her own broken wings. Shilu stayed kneeling, frozen in place.

    ¡°Cease fire!¡± Elpida yelled, lowering the receiver of her coilgun. Her disciples obeyed. ¡°Kaga, do you have them?¡±

    Kagami was collapsed in two of Hafina¡¯s arms, but she was still conscious. Blood ran from her nose, smeared all down her lower face, wiped across one arm of her grey coat. Her hair was stuck to her scalp with sweat, she was shaking and shivering as if in the grip of a fever, and squinting as if exerting every ounce of strength in her petite little body.

    But she was grinning. ¡°What does it look like, Commander? I¡¯m a genius!¡±

    ¡°Kaga,¡± Elpida snapped. ¡°Report.¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine! Yes, they¡¯re both in the cage. And it¡¯s stable. Points locked, drones externally stabilised via the remaining two. I can keep them there for six to eight hours, give or take. We have them. Fuck me backwards and sideways, I am done. Ugh.¡± Kagami slumped, scrubbing her bloody face on her sleeve. ¡°I¡¯d give my left tit for a bath.¡±

    Eseld couldn¡¯t believe her eyes, nor her ears. The saint and her disciples had put the demon in a cage? It was true, everything Eseld had hoped was true, and more besides, miracles she could not have imagined.

    She started to weep slow and silent tears. The others emerged from cover, straightening up from behind Ilyusha¡¯s ballistic shields. Elpida locked her coilgun receiver to the support rig strapped around her hips. Cyn crawled away from the disciples, scrambling toward Eseld and worming into her arms.

    Inside the cage, Lykke lay still. The white flies were so thick that Eseld could not see any expression on the demon¡¯s face. Shilu was coated with the insects too, still and silent.

    Elpida said: ¡°Haf, get Kagami secured. Illy, help the other two up, get them on their feet, grab their gear, double-check the raw nanomachines. Atyle, head around the cage, check on the other one, the one Lykke attacked. Tell me what you see, tell me if we can save her. Kaga, isolate Lykke, please.¡±

    The others all started to move. Kagami just sighed. ¡°We¡¯re really letting the other one free? We¡ª¡±

    ¡°Please do it, Kagami.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, do this, do that, jump here, jump there. Ha!¡± Kagami spat a bitter laugh. ¡°This one isn¡¯t like the other one, Commander, I can¡¯t just¡ª¡±

    A tentacle of shimmering heat-haze unfolded from the perfect black sphere at the apex of the grey metal pyramid.

    It descended like a falling leaf, slow and fast at the same time. Eseld¡¯s insides rocked with a sudden wave of nausea. Cyneswith doubled over in her arms and vomited a mouthful of bile onto the floor, whimpering and wheezing. Eseld¡¯s head span, blood pounding inside her skull.

    The gravekeeper ¡ª the zombie inside the upright coffin ¡ª said: ¡°We are suborned those never born.¡±

    The heat-haze distortion brushed against the demon¡¯s cage, then vanished.

    All four of Kagami¡¯s drones clattered to the floor. Kagami screamed and writhed in Hafina¡¯s arms, then twisted sideways, vomiting a stream of black blood. The rest of Elpida¡¯s disciples were reeling to regain their balance, shaking their heads, clenching their eyes against the same effect Eseld had felt. Ilyusha spat a string of vomit to one side. Atyle sagged and grunted. Only Hafina seemed unaffected.

    ¡°Hold!¡± Elpida shouted, choking for breath. ¡°Everyone hold!¡±

    Lykke flowed back to her feet.

    Her wings billowed upward to take her weight, her aurora of flies swirling to mirror the curves and lines of her body. Shilu staggered upright as well, lurching backward, arms raised to ward off the resurgent demon.

    ¡°Can¡¯t keep a good girl down!¡± Lykke crooned. ¡°I told you, Shishi, the tomb is mine, and that does include¡ª¡±

    Serin raised her boxy grey gun and pulled the trigger.

    Lykke screamed.

    The demon¡¯s body juddered backward, like paint smeared across a canvas by a careless hand. Her flesh, her white dress, even the flies of her putrid aurora, they all flickered and jerked, turning jagged and angular, as if Lykke was an image projected upon a surface, and the surface been been torn and ripped by a fistful of knives. Her skin flickered and flashed, turning a hundred different colours in the blink of an eye, all shades and hues running into each other, then exploding outward into naked muscle and bleeding tissues, her body sprouting into uncontrolled growth. Her white dress melted into fluid, then seemed to meld together with her flesh, the layers of fabric and skin floating through each other like cloud or mist upon a hillside. Lykke¡¯s hair suffered the same fate, mixing into her skin, then hardening into chitin or bone, then floating free like tissue paper. Her face ran like hot wax, her eyes cycling through a dozen colours and shapes and sizes.

    The demon was not Lykke anymore. She was a hundred people, trapped in one body. A legion of souls.

    Only her bloody wings escaped the disruption; the effect of Serin¡¯s gun was not wide enough to erase the coherency of the boiling blood and blackened bone.

    Then, Serin released the trigger.

    Lykke returned to normal, her body sucking slowly back into shape. She blinked several times, smoothing her bloody hands over her wide hips, smearing the gore in slick red swoops down her sides. She took a deep breath. Her cloud of flies reformed, whirling in a spiral and settling above her like a great halo. She breathed out, purring into a smile.

    Nobody was saying anything. Nobody was moving except Hafina, her helmet twitching back and forth, and Shilu, who was raising her lightless blades once again.

    Eseld realised she couldn¡¯t move. Her lips, her tongue, her limbs, even her lungs, all were frozen.

    She was paralysed, exactly as she had been before. They were all paralysed ¡ª Eseld and Cyneswith, Elpida and her disciples. Serin had not released the trigger; Lykke had forced her to stop shooting. Lykke had taken control of all their bodies.

    Lykke had won.

    Eseld wanted to weep, but she could not. The demon had snatched victory so easily, dashed whatever faint hope had been kindled by the saint¡¯s arrival and the clever mechanical tricks deployed by her disciples. Eseld did not understand how Hafina could still move, but that didn¡¯t matter. Firepower alone could not halt the demon¡¯s designs.

    All zombies were nothing but meat before the ragged remnants of heaven¡¯s host.

    Eseld felt her sense of self drop away, falling into a dark pit, descending back into the animalistic hell she had occupied for fifty seven deaths. Hope and humanity fled together. She was meat; she would always be meat. There was no escape, not in death, not in sainthood, not in service, for there was nothing left to serve but one¡¯s own appetite and hunger. Nobody and nothing was coming to save her. No way out, for ever and ever.

    Lykke spread her wings with a sharp crack. Her halo of white flies exploded outward, filling the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber with the greasy mass of their tiny bodies, flooding every cubic inch of air.

    Thousands of flies landed on every disciple, crawling across their exposed flesh, swarming over their armour and coats and clothes and weapons. Eseld saw Elpida¡¯s carapace suit buried beneath an avalanche of white. Cyneswith and Eseld were blanketed a split-second later. Eseld felt thousands of tiny feet coat her face and scalp, worming down beneath her clothes and into the fold of her flesh, forcing their way into her mouth and jamming themselves up her nose, wriggling hard to penetrate the corners of her eyes.

    Lykke¡¯s voice rang out, high and girlish. ¡°Now, Shilu, let¡¯s finish this tedious errand and go home! Let¡¯s go¡ª¡±

    A voice interrupted, audible over the drone of a billion flies.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± said Elpida.

    Before anybody could answer, Elpida moved. She reached over with her left hand and unclasped the buckles of her right gauntlet and vambrace. The armour plates clicked free and slid away, clattering to the floor, revealing a muscled forearm beneath, the skin a healthy pale copper-brown.

    Lykke¡¯s bloated white flies burst outward from Elpida, as if repelled by a breath of clean wind.

    Elpida strode forward, walking free and untouched.

    She stepped past Shilu and reached out with her exposed right hand. It happened so quickly that Lykke and Shilu could not react. Lykke¡¯s eyes flew wide at the last second, mouth gaping open.

    ¡°W-what?! How¡ª you should be¡ª¡±

    Elpida grabbed Lykke¡¯s throat, fingers digging into flesh, squeezing the demon¡¯s windpipe.

    Lykke jerked as if hit with an electric shock. Her wings whirled, trying to pull her free, but her muscles weren¡¯t working properly ¡ª the wings drooped and flopped, organs and bone and blood collapsing to the floor. Her flies fell like rain all around; Eseld felt them tumble out of her nose and go still inside her mouth. Lykke shrieked and wailed, bucking and kicking, trying to yank herself free of the saint¡¯s burning grasp. She flailed with both hands, smashing her fists against the front of Elpida¡¯s armoured helmet.

    One of Lykke¡¯s strikes landed true. Elpida¡¯s helmet was knocked free from the neck-clasps which locked it to her suit of armour. The helmet tumbled off, landing with a hard thump upon the floor.

    A waterfall of pure white hair. Copper-brown skin, clean and glossy. A pair of glowing purple eyes.

    Not a saint. Not a saint at all.

    Eseld recognised that hair, that skin, those purple eyes. She recognised it all, from the monster who had inflicted her own most recent death.

    Eseld needed to scream. She could not even whimper.

    And the monster ¡ª Elpida, or whatever spoke through her ¡ª was grinning, her mouth wide and full of teeth.

    ¡°Surprise, bitch!¡± Elpida howled into Lykke¡¯s face. ¡°Told you I¡¯d choke you out!¡±

 custos - 11.9

    The saint crushed the demon¡¯s throat in a grip of burning iron, howling wild laughter into her face; Lykke could not escape, kicking and flailing, screaming and screeching, pinned like a moth with a nail through her abdomen. Her wings of gore lay broken upon the ground. Her aurora of bloated white flies formed a carpet of tiny corpses, like greasy ashen snow settled upon the grey metal and the crimson blood and the scattered bodies of Lykke¡¯s former hounds.

    Elpida ¡ª monster, cannibal, revenant predator, a true devil of the corpse-city, clothed in the false armour of righteousness ¡ª held Lykke at bay with nothing more divine than a single bare fist.

    Eseld wanted to screw her eyes shut and deny what she saw, but she was not permitted even that slender mercy.

    She remained paralysed, her body frozen, her eyes wide.

    Lykke tried to hit Elpida in the face, now that Elpida¡¯s helmet had been knocked aside ¡ª an open-palmed slap, poorly aimed, fingernails hooked to rake across the saint¡¯s exposed flesh. Elpida caught the strike on the vambrace of her free arm, smashing Lykke¡¯s hand aside with a sharp crack of broken bones. Lykke screamed in fresh pain and manic alarm, her remaining eye wide with terror and running with blood-streaked tears.

    Elpida howled again. ¡°Never learned to fight without an advantage, did you?!¡±

    Lykke squealed, choking on her compressed windpipe, both hands flailing, trying to slap at Elpida¡¯s face and head. One bloody hand landed true upon Elpida¡¯s skull, then tightened and gripped a fistful of white hair. Lykke yanked, ripping snowy strands from Elpida¡¯s scalp.

    Elpida reared backward ¡ª then jerked forward, smashing her forehead into Lykke¡¯s face. The demon¡¯s nose exploded in a fountain-arc of blood, choking her cries beneath clotted gurgles and wet splutters.

    The force of the blow ripped Lykke free from Elpida¡¯s grasp, but the saint¡¯s fist was stronger than Lykke¡¯s demonic flesh; Lykke¡¯s throat tore open, pale skin ripping and parting with the sound of rending meat. A chunk of Lykke¡¯s body came away in Elpida¡¯s naked fist.

    Lykke reeled back, staggering for balance on her white talons, putting distance between herself and Elpida. She raised both hands to ward off the saint. A waterfall of blood emptied from her open throat, cascading down the front of her ruined white sundress, bubbling up through her lips and glazing her chin with sticky crimson fluid. Her wounds oozed and spluttered as she heaved for breath, one eye bulging, jaw hanging open. The ruptured flesh of her throat did not raise or reknit or renew. Her wings stayed broken. Her flies did not stir.

    ¡°What¡ª¡± Lykke gurgled, then spat a gobbet of wet, red, quivering tissue from her blood-glazed lips. ¡°What did you¡ª do to me?¡±

    Elpida raised the bloody chunk of Lykke¡¯s throat to her teeth, then took a bite. She tore into the raw meat with a sideways flick of her head, then chewed with an open-mouthed grin, crimson droplets running down her copper-brown chin.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the size of your network access that matters,¡± Elpida said through a mouthful of meat. ¡°It¡¯s how you use it, babe.¡±

    Shilu still stood a few feet to Elpida¡¯s rear, arm-blades raised, positioned for her own aborted confrontation with Lykke. She said: ¡°Zombie, that is Necromancer flesh. That¡ª¡±

    ¡°You stay the fuck out of this, you oversized cheese grater,¡± said Elpida. She did not look away from Lykke. ¡°Unless you want the same special treatment? Want me to bounce your stupid metal head off the floor a few times until you find your marbles? This is between me and this bitch cake here. Shut the fuck up and wait your turn.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± said Shilu.

    Lykke stared down at herself, at the terrible wounds all over her body, the bullet holes and burn marks upon dress and her skin, the massive blown-out portions of her chest and her hips. Her gore-wrought wings twitched and jerked, as if trying to rise on shattered bones. She kept gasping ¡ª sharp, hard, tight little hitches of breath. She shook all over. Tears ran in a bloody track from her one remaining eyeball.

    ¡°W-what¡ª¡± she croaked. ¡°What is¡ª what is this ¡­ this sensation? N-no, no ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida crammed the rest of Lykke¡¯s stolen throat-meat into her mouth, chewing and swallowing with obvious relish. She licked her middle finger with a loud, wet pop.

    ¡°Pain,¡± Elpida said, grinning a wide and blood-soaked smile. ¡°Pretty cool, huh? Not the full load, sadly. I can¡¯t bring you all the way down to our level, but I can jam your own nerves open. Stuck a few other tricks in there too, screwed up your polymorphics and your cellular control and your ambient nano-draw. And hey, looks like you aren¡¯t lofty enough in this hierarchy of mega-bullshit to override your own settings.¡±

    Lykke tried to laugh. The sound emerged as a gurgle of choking pain. ¡°And¡ª if I r-release you z-zombies, you¡¯ll l-lift this¡ª¡±

    ¡°Nah,¡± Elpida grunted. ¡°If you want the pain to end, you gotta fuck off. Fuck all the way off and suck a log of shit out of your own arse. Pretty sure you can twist that way now, what with no spine or guts or anything. Go on, get bending, girl. Pucker up for some anal self-suck.¡±

    Lykke¡¯s face blossomed with rage. ¡°You¡ª I can still f-finish you o-off. P-pain is n-nothing, you filthy bag of flesh and¡ª¡±

    Elpida reached down and unclasped the coilgun support rig from around her waist. She wriggled out of the backpack and lowered it to the floor, then straightened up again and rolled her shoulders.

    Lykke narrowed her eye. ¡°What are y-you doing¡ª zombie?¡±

    Elpida raised her fists ¡ª right one naked, left still clad in a gauntlet of metal and ceramic. ¡°Come at me then, bitch tits.¡±

    Lykke blinked, then gurgled: ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°You and me,¡± Elpida said. ¡°One on one. No tricks, no nanomachine crap, no shape shifting, no back up. Isn¡¯t that what you wanted? You wanted to dance, right? Well, cunt-face, I¡¯ve got my fuckin¡¯ dancing shoes laced nice and tight to go up your arse. Let¡¯s rock.¡±

    Lykke gulped down three great lungfuls of air. The demon was hyperventilating in panic, losing control of her emotions.

    She screamed, raised both hands, and flew at the saint.

    Elpida¡¯s right fist crashed into Lykke¡¯s face. Lykke¡¯s head snapped back, blood arcing into the air from her broken nose. Elpida followed with a second punch from her gauntleted left hand, smashing into Lykke¡¯s jaw with a compound crack-a-crack of shattering bone. Lykke reeled backward, hands pressed to her face, sobbing and spluttering and heaving for breath. Elpida leapt forward, grabbed a fistful of Lykke¡¯s hair, and dragged her upright. The demon¡¯s hands came away from her face, flailing at Elpida¡¯s armour, revealing a mask of split flesh and flowing blood and one terrified eyeball. Elpida ignored the flailing slaps and punched Lykke in the face twice more, breaking her jaw again, splitting her lips, cracking her eye sockets, fracturing her skull. Elpida slammed an armoured knee into whatever was left of Lykke¡¯s guts. Lykke doubled up, squealing and wailing. Elpida grabbed her by the back of the neck and yanked her upright a second time, then punched her in the face again, and again, and again, and again, right arm pistoning back and forth.

    ¡°You wanted to dance with Elps!?¡± Elpida shouted. ¡°Too fucking bad, bitch! You got me instead!¡±

    Eseld realised the implications of what she was hearing, even through the spectacle of the demon¡¯s fall from darkly divine grace.

    There was more than one Elpida.

    The first was the Elpida who had rescued her, who had strode into the tomb under fire, who led her companions from the fore; that Elpida was perhaps worthy of sainthood. That Elpida spoke with calm confidence, showed respect for her soldiers, and compassion for the ones she had rescued. That Elpida was a shining beacon, beyond anything Eseld had imagined in all her fifty seven deaths, or even before, in her true life.

    The second was this Elpida, who revelled in cruelty, and held the power to banish a demon.

    With an almighty kick and a desperate backward shove, Lykke managed to tear free from Elpida¡¯s grasp. She staggered away, face reduced to pulped meat and shattered bone, running with a waterfall of blood, hacking and wheezing and whining and heaving. Her broken wings dragged after her, brushing aside the carpet of dead flies.

    ¡°I¡ª¡± she coughed and gurgled, spitting a spray of blood. ¡°I hate you! You were supposed to be mine!¡±

    Elpida¡¯s face ripped into a blood-soaked grin. She opened her mouth and howled a war-cry, then leapt at Lykke. The demon could not escape, she was too slow now, too wounded, in too much pain. Elpida¡¯s gauntleted fist smashed her face aside, driving her back, once, twice, three times.

    After more punishment than any human or zombie could have endured, Lykke gave up.

    Her body deliquesced instantly, turning into a thin blue soup. Elpida¡¯s final punch passed through empty air. The pale blue mass slapped to the floor and soaked through the grey metal in the blink of an eye. The corpse-carpet of white flies did not follow, lying dead upon the floor and the corpses of the fallen zombies, little insect bodies fouled in the pools of blood.

    Silence settled over the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber, backed by the roaring static fury of the hurricane beyond the tomb¡¯s walls.

    Lykke¡¯s paralysis broke. Zombies jerked back into animation.

    ¡°Fucking hell!¡± Kagami shouted, still cradled in Hafina¡¯s arms, struggling to sit upright. Her lips were black with tarry blood and her eyes were shot through with crimson veins. Her coat and lap were littered with white flies; she raked the tiny bodies out of her hair with shaking hands. ¡°Fuck that! Fuck all of that! Fuck! Fuck!¡±

    The little berserker ¡ª Ilyusha ¡ª shook herself like a dog, throwing down her ballistic shield and spitting out a mouthful of dead flies. Atyle merely inhaled deeply, filling her lungs before she chewed and swallowed; she stuck a finger into her mouth and pulled out a single half-crushed fly, bringing it upward to examine the tiny corpse with her peat-green bionic eye. Serin started laughing ¡ª a deep and raspy metallic sound behind her half-mask, even as she swung her boxy weapon up to cover Shilu; flies fell from the inside of her robes, as if shaken free from secret folds inside her body. Only Hafina seemed mostly unaffected, doing her best to cradle Kagami and stop her from trying to rise to her feet.

    Cyneswith wept and shuddered in Eseld¡¯s arms. Eseld retched out a mouthful of dead flies, snorting them from her nose and shaking them from her russet hair. She cringed at the feeling of the dead insects on her skin and inside her mouth.

    On the other side of the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber, Sky drew in a deep, rasping breath, then began to hack and cough and convulse. She was surrounded by the shattered pieces of her armour and her broken gun-rig. Her eyes stayed shut. Thick blood bubbled up out of her mouth, carrying a wave of dead flies upon a crimson torrent.

    Elpida straightened up. Her right fist was grazed and bruised; her mouth and lips were streaked with blood; a clump of her perfect white hair was tangled and matted from Lykke¡¯s grip.

    Kagami shouted: ¡°You did not know that would work! Commander, don¡¯t you dare pretend otherwise! That was a fucking gamble and I hated every second of it!¡±

    Elpida turned around. Her purple eyes were bright with victory. ¡°Howl was right,¡± she said. ¡°It works. We can fight Necromancers.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Howl can fight Necromancers. The rest of us have to sit back and choke on flies!¡±

    A nasty grin ¡ª the other Elpida, ¡®Howl¡¯? ¡ª flickered across Elpida¡¯s face. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Moon cunt.¡±

    Kagami let out a great huff, shaking her head and spitting out more blood.

    Elpida returned to normal as she glanced at Shilu. ¡°Are these flies dangerous?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Shilu said. She lowered her blades. The swords transformed back into hands and forearms of black chrome and serrated metal. ¡°Lykke has abandoned the biomass. They¡¯re inert.¡±

    ¡°The Necromancer bitch is correct!¡± Kagami shouted. ¡°They¡¯re nothing now. Ugh. Ugh! Nothing except vile!¡±

    ¡°Elpi!¡± Ilyusha snapped as she straightened up, aiming her shotgun at Shilu. ¡°You hurt?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not wounded. Illy, hold your fire.¡±

    Ilyusha hissed between clenched teeth. Shilu stared into the mouth of the shotgun, no expression on her pale polymer face.

    Elpida snapped out orders: ¡°Illy, go help Cyneswith and Eseld back to their feet. Grab the backpack full of raw blue. Haf, you take one cannister and get it down Kagami¡¯s throat. Kaga, you stay still and concentrate on rebooting the drones. Get me a sitrep from Pheiri, we need his ETA. Atyle, take a look at the other zombie, see if we can stabilise her. Give her some blue.¡±

    ¡°Sky,¡± said Shilu. ¡°The injured one is called is Sky.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Serin, cover the ¡­ cover Shilu. Don¡¯t shoot her unless she moves. Shilu?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I suggest you don¡¯t move.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s disciples hopped to their orders. Ilyusha scurried over to Eseld and Cyneswith, pulled Cyneswith to her feet, then got the backpack of raw blue off Cyn¡¯s shoulders. Eseld assumed the disciples were about to claim the cannisters for themselves, but Ilyusha took only two from the bag, then left the rest at Cyneswith¡¯s feet.

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    Ilyusha paused for a second, staring at Eseld. ¡°You hurt? Hey? Heeey?¡±

    Eseld felt nothing.

    Her internal metaphors of sainthood and divine intervention and demonic power had collapsed into sand and trickled away between her fingers. What use was that flimsy framework of comprehension when a monster like Elpida was the only force capable of banishing a demon? What kind of former world did Elpida truly represent, what salvation did she offer, when she had butchered Eseld once before, as a predator in the guts of this rotten, abandoned, Godless world? The inside of Eseld¡¯s chest was empty and hollow. Her skin was numb. Her heartbeat was gone. Yet she could not tear her eyes away from Elpida ¡ª from that white hair and those purple eyes, that healthy, glossy, rich dark skin, that commanding height, that presence of power, that clarity of action.

    All of this, from a false saint. A monster. A cannibal ¡ª no different to Eseld herself. No different to any other zombie.

    Ilyusha cracked a grin. ¡°Yeah. I know, right? Serious though. Wounded?¡±

    ¡° ¡­ no,¡± Eseld croaked.

    Ilyusha scurried off. She handed one cannister of raw blue to Hafina and the other to Atyle. Hafina helped Kagami sip from the open cannister. Atyle skirted around Shilu and headed for Sky.

    Cyneswith helped Eseld to her feet. Warm little hands touched Eseld¡¯s wrists, then her face, trying to cup her cheeks.

    ¡°Miss Eseld? Miss Eseld? We¡¯re delivered! We¡¯re safe. We¡¯ve been saved. Miss Eseld?¡±

    Elpida and Shilu faced each other. Serin covered the latter with her boxy grey gun, and two other weapons besides ¡ª new guns that had appeared from inside her cloak, clutched in additional spindly arms. Ilyusha joined them, scowling at Shilu.

    Shilu stared back with wide dark eyes.

    Elpida said, ¡°Well then, Necromancer. Here we are. Mutual enemy defeated. What now?¡±

    ¡°I do not know,¡± said Shilu. ¡°You seem to be in command here. I surrender myself to you.¡±

    ¡°How long do we have until Lykke returns?¡±

    Shilu blinked. ¡°I cannot be certain. She requires a full permissions reset. The conditions of the hurricane are likely interfering with the network. Hours. Perhaps days.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I have a lot of questions for you, but we can¡¯t ask them here. We need to secure the supplies from this tomb and return to our vehicle.¡± Her eyes flickered to the gravekeeper, to the half-a-zombie inside her upright coffin, then upward toward the perfect black sphere cradled in the apex of the grey pyramid. ¡°Though I would prefer to attempt communication with the gravekeeper.¡±

    ¡°I do not recommend that,¡± Shilu said. ¡°It is not communicative. I have tried.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Right, not unless it¡¯s Lykke. So, Necromancer, will you come with us, or will you try to stab me in the back of the head again?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Shilu. ¡°But I¡¯m not going to assassinate you.¡±

    ¡°Glad to hear that.¡±

    ¡°I have ¡­ questions for you, as well,¡± Shilu said.

    Kagami spluttered. ¡°Commander! Elpida, you cannot be serious about taking this thing back to Pheiri! You¡ª¡±

    ¡°This is intel,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Highest priority. Best we¡¯ve ever gotten. And she doesn¡¯t have to come inside. Kaga, sitrep from Pheiri?¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°He¡¯s gone as deep as he can. Passages get too small. The entrance is overrun with zombies trying to escape the storm. Winds have hit eight hundred and fifty miles an hour, and still climbing. Hailstones enough to strip flesh from bone.¡± Kagami swallowed. ¡°Commander, Elpida, I don¡¯t know what the fuck is happening out there. That¡¯s like the surface of a gas giant! This storm should be impossible!¡±

    ¡°None of us understand,¡± Elpida said, then nodded at Shilu. ¡°Except maybe her.¡±

    ¡°I have no information on the storm,¡± said Shilu.

    On the other side of the chamber, Sky rolled onto her side and vomited up strings of sticky white mucus; Atyle was crouched next to her, dripping raw blue onto Sky¡¯s lips. Everyone looked round, including Elpida.

    ¡°Atyle?¡± Elpida shouted. ¡°How is she?¡±

    Atyle called back: ¡°This tin soldier is in poor condition. Her paint flakes. Her metal is bent. Something burns inside her.¡±

    Sky¡¯s eyes were swollen shut. She vomited again, retching stringy masses of white gunk into a growing puddle on the floor.

    Eseld stumbled out of Cyneswith¡¯s gentle hands. She cast around nearby while the others were distracted, her feet lost in the swamp of corpses and blood and drifts of dead flies.

    Shilu said, ¡°Lykke may have compromised her. I can purge her internal nanomachine permission strings. Or perhaps you can do that too, Elpida?¡±

    Eseld located her submachine gun, down on the floor. She pulled it from a pool of blood and brushed away the flies. She slipped the magazine out with shaking hands ¡ª empty.

    Elpida said, ¡°I think that¡¯s beyond me. What do you need to do, Shilu? Touch her?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Well?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not moving without your permission.¡±

    Eseld dropped the submachine gun. She had taken more weapons from the armoury earlier ¡ª a pair of pistols, a PDW, a combat shotgun, and those grenades. The shotgun was in her backpack, which she had lost at some point. The PDW was too unwieldy, strapped beneath her coat. She reached into her pockets to grab a grenade, but her hands were slick with sweat and shaking too much; she could not hold one of the metal spheres.

    Eseld finally managed to get her right hand around the grip of a lightweight pistol. She pulled it from inside her coat, racked the slide, and flicked the safety off.

    Cyneswith¡¯s hands touched Eseld¡¯s shoulder. Perhaps she murmured Eseld¡¯s name, but Eseld wasn¡¯t listening.

    ¡°Serin, Illy,¡± Elpida was saying. ¡°Cover her while she moves. Let her touch Sky. Atyle, back away, give her room. Kagami, any word from Ho¡ª¡±

    Eseld turned around and pointed her pistol at Elpida.

    ¡°Look at me,¡± she said.

    The disciples reacted first. Ilyusha spun on her clawed feet, baring her teeth, aiming her shotgun at Eseld. Hafina twitched upright, half her guns coming up, limbs locking her weapons in Eseld¡¯s direction. Kagami spluttered in surprise; her drones twitched where they lay on the ground, half of them jerking into the air. Atyle raised her eyebrows with curious interest. Only Serin stayed absolutely focused on Shilu.

    ¡°Hold fire!¡± Elpida shouted. ¡°Hold fire, all of you! Illy, Illy, stand down! Kagami, drones back. Hafina, that goes for you too. Hold fire, stand down.¡±

    ¡°Commander!¡± Kagami spluttered. ¡°She¡¯s pointing a gun at you, you¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s earned the right.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s her. One of the four. She¡¯s the one I finished off.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s disciples looked upon their leader with baffled confusion, then with slowly dawning realisation. Kagami¡¯s eyes went wide behind her visor, staring at Elpida, then at Eseld. Ilyusha hesitated, then lowered her shotgun, squinting at Eseld in disbelief. Hafina did as ordered. Atyle broke into a smile.

    Had they not known? Did they not know their saint¡¯s sordid and sadistic past? Or were they all in on it?

    ¡°Fucking hell,¡± Kagami growled. ¡°Commander! Commander, what are the chances of this? A billion to one? You think this is a coincidence? You have an assassin standing at your shoulder, and you think this girl is a coincidence¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Elpida said. ¡°She¡¯s earned the right.¡±

    ¡°Look at me,¡± Eseld repeated. ¡°Look at me!¡±

    Elpida looked.

    Purple eyes met Eseld¡¯s gaze, within a face dirtied by demon¡¯s blood.

    ¡°I see you,¡± said Elpida.

    Eseld¡¯s hands and arms were shaking hard. Her palms were slippery with sweat. She could not hold the pistol steady, could not keep her aim true. She wrapped her free hand around her wrist. A weight like a millstone lay on her chest, crushing the breath from her lungs. Cyneswith murmured something, trying to touch Eseld¡¯s arms, but Eseld shook her off with an angry hiss, baring her rows of sharp teeth. Cyneswith stumbled back, silent and gaping.

    Eseld stared into those glowing purple eyes, searching¡ª

    For what? For meaning? For answers? For a reason?

    She had expected the other Elpida to rise to the surface, the cruel one, the one who could never be a saint. But it was the first Elpida staring back at her, the confident commander, not the devil clothed in flesh.

    ¡°You ¡­ ¡± Eseld tried to speak, but she could barely whisper. ¡°You recognise me.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath. ¡°Because I have spent every day for the last forty one days staring at pict-captures of when we killed you and your friends. Because I have etched your face into my memory. Because you did not deserve to go unremembered or unmourned. None of us do.¡±

    Eseld couldn¡¯t breathe. She could barely stay standing or hold onto her gun. The weapon felt as if it would slide out of her grip, though her fingers hurt from squeezing so hard. She shook her head, jerking it back and forth. ¡°Wha¡ªwhat? Why? What are you¡ª why? Why?!¡±

    ¡°Because¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is it not enough to eat me?! You had to ¡­ to stare at ¡­ my ¡­ my face?! What¡ª¡±

    ¡°I kept your skull, too.¡±

    Kagami let out a long hiss, squeezing her eyes shut. Ilyusha looked away, gritting her teeth, as if in shame. Atyle just kept smiling. Serin may have laughed, but Eseld could not be certain through the ringing inside her head.

    Eseld said, ¡°My skull?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elpida replied. ¡°All four. Yours, and those of your three companions. I had hoped to one day place them in some kind of reliquary, or shrine, or simply bury them with proper headstones, grave markers, when we could be sure the nanomachine ecosystem would not eventually erode or destroy them. Something along those lines. A memorial. The skulls are held inside our vehicle, our home. I can take you there and relinquish the skulls to you, whatever else you decide. You have an absolute right to them.¡±

    Tears fogged Eseld¡¯s vision, running down her cheeks, yet she did not know why she was crying. Elpida¡¯s words made no sense. Was this cruelty? Was the false and hateful saint simply lying to her? Or did God ¡ª and God¡¯s remaining instruments, those who had outlived his death yet stayed true to the world ¡ª work in ways Eseld could not begin to comprehend?

    Was Elpida a saint or a demon, a devil hiding inside a person, or something else? Eseld didn¡¯t know. Saints and demons didn¡¯t really exist, only nanomachines and God¡¯s empty throne. Was Elpida aiming for that throne, by any means necessary, even through preying on the weak?

    Had Eseld not realised that she would do the very same, if given the opportunity?

    As Eseld hesitated, the sound of the storm steadily increased. Though the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber lay deep in the core of the tomb itself, perhaps even deep underground, the fury of the wind and the rain and the hail penetrated the layers of black metal as a growing static voice pouring from the heavens. Great slams and cracking sounds creaked and pinged through the warren-like guts of the tomb. The wind howled like the voice of a demon trapped beyond the walls. Perhaps it was. Perhaps Lykke had joined the hurricane.

    Sky coughed up another gobbet of stringy white vomit, shaking and shuddering in Eseld¡¯s peripheral vision, behind Elpida.

    Kagami cleared her throat. ¡°That zombie is going to expire. Elpida, your obsession is going to cost us.¡±

    ¡°Eseld,¡± Elpida said. ¡°May Shilu¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Eseld spat. ¡°Yes! I don¡¯t care! Help her, kill her, whatever! Go on!¡±

    Shilu nodded to Serin, asking permission. Serin nodded back. Shilu strode across the room, clicking on the spear-tip points of her feet, and then knelt at Sky¡¯s side. Atyle watched her with naked curiosity.

    Eseld ignored all of that.

    Elpida said: ¡°We won¡¯t hurt you, Eseld. We certainly won¡¯t eat you, not again. We wouldn¡¯t have expended all this effort to save you, just to do that. Do you believe me?¡±

    Eseld couldn¡¯t decide what she believed anymore, if anything at all. ¡°So ¡­ out there you eat us, but in here you save us?¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath, then nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Kagami hissed, ¡°Great answer, Commander. Yeah, wonderful. That¡¯s really going to convince her not to shoot you in the face! You, you, what was your name, Cyneswith? We¡¯re not going to eat you, okay? Come over here, come away from her, don¡¯t get yourself perforated because of these fucking fools, you¡ª¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Are you going to shoot me?¡±

    Eseld panted, staring into those purple eyes. ¡°I ¡­ I ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°There was no justification for what we did to you,¡± Elpida said. ¡°There is no justification for any of this.¡±

    ¡°The¡ªthen, why ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°The meat in our bellies came from your body. Our strength was once yours. You and your three companions fed us all, which allowed us to be here today. Without your meat and the meat of your friends, we would not be here to save Cyneswith there, beside you, or Sky. We would not have been here to fight Lykke. None of those things would have happened.¡±

    Eseld¡¯s head spun. ¡°Is that your excuse?¡±

    Elpida waited as if for Eseld to continue, then shook her head in the storm-tossed silence. ¡°No. It¡¯s not a justification, it¡¯s just what happened. We owe you. We¡¯ve been developing alternative sources of nanomachine supply, ones that don¡¯t rely on killing and eating other people. But we couldn¡¯t get there from a standing start. We had to sustain ourselves in the meantime. But I have no power to compel you to accept any of this.¡±

    ¡°Then why ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you because, above all else, you deserve to understand why it happened, why we did it. You deserve answers, possibly restitution, maybe even revenge.¡±

    Eseld felt a great sob building inside her chest. ¡°What ¡­ what are you?¡±

    Elpida took a step forward, hands raised, palms open. The boots of her carapace armour crushed white flies to powder beneath each footfall.

    ¡°She¡¯s a fool,¡± Kagami said. ¡°But she¡¯s not lying. We¡¯re not going to eat you, you moron. We did what we had to. Now we don¡¯t. Put the fucking gun down.¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Ilyusha snapped. ¡°Put it down!¡±

    Elpida gestured with a chop of one hand. ¡°Stop, both of you. She has a right to this.¡±

    Eseld said, ¡°Answer me yourself. Answer me! Are you a¡ª¡± Eseld almost choked on the word. ¡°A saint? A servant of God? Or just another demon? What are you!?¡±

    Elpida took another step forward.

    ¡°I¡¯m a promise,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m a promise that there will always be a place for all, no matter the mistakes and missteps we make. I¡¯m a piece of a living promise, handed down all the way into this nanomachine afterlife, into this curse, this madness, and I am still that promise, even if my flesh is undead and I¡¯ve killed and eaten others who did not deserve to die. None will be left behind, none will be abandoned. That¡¯s why I kept your skull and memorised your face. That¡¯s why I want to know the names of your three friends, so I can remember them too. Do you understand, Eseld? Even in death, I was not willing to abandon you, though I¡¯d never met you before, though I had wronged you, and eaten your flesh, and ended you. I am a promise, and that promise is called ¡®Telokopolis¡¯.¡± She lifted her naked right hand to the symbol on the chestpiece of her armour ¡ª the spire-like tower silhouetted by an arc of moonrise. ¡°Have you ever heard that name before?¡±

    Eseld shook her head.

    ¡°It means a place for all,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Where none will be left outside or forgotten.¡±

    Elpida took another step forward; she was only a few paces away now. Eseld pointed her gun directly at Elpida¡¯s face, finger coiled on the trigger. ¡°That doesn¡¯t answer anything!¡± she hissed. ¡°What¡ª what are you? What¡ª¡±

    Elpida took another step. Eseld stumbled back ¡ª but Elpida surged forward, and pressed her forehead to the muzzle of the gun.

    ¡°Elpi!¡± Ilyusha snapped.

    ¡°Commander, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡± Kagami joined in too. Even Atyle said something and Serin grunted out a word or two, though Eseld was not sure what they meant.

    Elpida¡¯s face shifted, as if somebody else peered out from inside her flesh, wearing an expression alien to her musculature ¡ª darkly amused, lips curling upward, eyes narrowing tight.

    This was the other Elpida, the one who had beaten and tortured Lykke, and banished the demon. Elpida called her ¡®Howl.¡¯

    Howl¡¯s eyes burned with purple flame beneath the grey gunmetal of the pistol¡¯s muzzle, looking down at Eseld. Up close she was so very tall.

    ¡°Serious answer?¡± Howl rasped. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna lie to you. Not that Elps was lying, but shit, she can¡¯t do this. She can¡¯t even say it. She¡¯s too kind. Doesn¡¯t wanna admit what we¡¯re turning into. You really wanna know what we are? There¡¯s no going back, if you do.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes.¡±

    Howl grinned. ¡°We¡¯re the best chance in forever that any of you zombies got to stop fuckin¡¯ eating each other.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ what?¡±

    ¡°Even if we did have to eat you once before.¡± Howl winked. ¡°So you got a choice, girl. Be one of us, or go back out with the predators and the monsters, all alone. And that¡¯s up to you. With that gun in your hand. You¡¯ve got the choice. Take your pick.¡±

    Eseld stared into those burning purple eyes and that face-splitting grin. The silence of the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber turned to deep static and the howling of the wind around the walls of the tomb, pressing in on Eseld¡¯s skull. The storm felt like the inside of her own mind. She could not think.

    She sobbed, and squeezed the trigger.

    Howl smashed Eseld¡¯s arm aside; the gun discharged into the air, bullet slamming into the wall of the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber. Howl grabbed Eseld¡¯s wrist in the gauntlet of her carapace armour and held the gun high; Eseld squeezed the trigger again and again and again ¡ª bang! bang! bang! Howl tightened her grip, crushing Eseld¡¯s wrist so hard that the bones creaked. Eseld cried out. The pistol tumbled from her fingers and clattered to the floor.

    ¡°Sorry, zombie,¡± Howl said. ¡°But I can¡¯t let¡ª¡±

    Eseld lunged forward, shark-toothed maw open wide, aiming for Howl¡¯s throat.

    Howl caught Eseld¡¯s teeth on her bare right arm. Eseld bit down, puncturing the healthy, glossy, copper-brown skin, sinking her teeth deep into the meat. Blood exploded into her mouth.

    Howl tried to shake her off, so Eseld wrapped her legs around Howl¡¯s waist and bit down even harder. Howl slammed her to the floor, knocking the wind from Eseld¡¯s lungs. Still she bit down, deeper and deeper, slicing and tearing through the meat. Howl tried to pull her forearm free, so Eseld wrapped her other arm around Howl¡¯s back, clutching and clawing at the cold plates of the carapace armour. Eseld sobbed, salty tears mixing with the hot blood running over her cheeks and chin.

    She met Howl¡¯s burning purple eyes.

    But Howl was gone.

    Elpida smiled. She showed no pain or anger, only a distant melancholy.

    ¡°Bite as deep as you need,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Take as much as you want, flesh or blood, it¡¯s yours. You¡¯ve earned it.¡±

    Elpida let go of Eseld¡¯s wrist; Eseld wrapped her other arm around Elpida¡¯s back, against the cold metal of her armour, clinging on tight. Elpida cradled the rear of Eseld¡¯s skull in her gauntlet.

    Eseld cried, hard and wet and messy, wracking her body with each convulsive sob. She bit down and down and down, anchoring herself in Elpida¡¯s flesh, clenching her jaw until her teeth met bone.

    Saint¡¯s blood flowed down her throat, rich and dark and hot, like liquid iron.

    Eseld¡¯s world dissolved in the taste of tears and blood.

 tempestas - 12.1

    Iriko was on a very special mission.

    Technically she was on two special missions at the same time, but the first mission was neither particularly difficult nor any different from what she would have done anyway. She did not need to be asked or encouraged or have her efforts acknowledged, but those things all felt very nice regardless of necessity. Outwardly Iriko had replied to the transmission with a sharp complaint and much residual grumbling, via several follow-up tight-beam radio squirts. But inwardly she had delighted at the message.

    Iriko admitted to herself that this undermined the task¡¯s designation as a ¡®special mission¡¯. But special missions were cool, and therefore she was on a special mission. Pheiri was rubbing off on her, silly boy that he was.

    Iriko¡¯s first special mission was very simple.

    Stay alive!

    The mission had come from Pheiri himself, via the private tight-beam uplink through which they passed all regular chatter. The actual wording was much more complicated than simply ¡®stay alive¡¯; even at the best of times, Pheiri was a gentleman of most ostentatious loquaciousness. He loved his data so very much, and loved to gesticulate it around to make points which could be easily condensed into much more concise forms. His tight-beam squirt had included predicted weather patterns and incoming rainfall amounts, wind speed adjustments and debris saturation calculations, and even suggested routes of exfiltration beyond the range of the incoming storm, backed up with locations of several dozen nearby potential hardened buildings or subterranean tunnel complexes, which might survive the fury of the approaching hurricane. Pheiri did not so much ¡®order¡¯ Iriko to flee ¡ª he never ¡®ordered¡¯ her to do anything. He simply and strongly suggested via a torrent of information that she needed to make herself scarce.

    Iriko felt all warm and fuzzy at the request. Pheiri cared, despite his usual prickly exterior.

    But Iriko wasn¡¯t going anywhere. Oh no, not now. She would have to flee for miles and miles to outrun the storm. She wasn¡¯t about to leave Pheiri behind inside that horrible tomb.

    She¡¯d been feeling a little lonely and abandoned after Pheiri had gone charging through the tomb¡¯s outworks and fortifications, guns blazing in all directions, shield flashing, punching his way through any groups of zombies unwise or stupid enough to engage him. Iriko had watched from her rooftop vantage point with actual eyeballs, suitably modified with magnification and telescoping so she wouldn¡¯t miss any of the details of Pheiri being all heroic. He had been very dashing, but then within thirty seconds he was inside the tomb¡¯s gates and Iriko was left outdoors, all by herself, with only the rising wind and the pouring rain for company, amid thousands of zombies starting to panic and run off through the city streets.

    So she sent a big raspberry-blow of refusal ¡ª ¡¸nooooooooo! no! no! no!¡¹

    Pheiri¡¯s personal tight-beam connection narrowed into raw audio, unspooling directly inside Iriko¡¯s body.

    ¡¸Hey there Iriko, how¡¯s it hanging out there?¡¹ said one of Pheiri¡¯s zombies. It was Vicky!

    Of all Pheiri¡¯s zombies, Iriko liked Vicky the best, because Vicky talked with her more than any other. She¡¯d even held one or two conversations with Iriko while standing up on Pheiri¡¯s back, rather than across the tight-beam connection. Iriko had enjoyed those a lot, even though Vicky had struggled to understand Iriko¡¯s replies. It wasn¡¯t that the other zombies never talked to Iriko at all, but the others were often all business, or treated Iriko like she didn¡¯t understand, or like they were speaking with an animal. But Vicky? Miss Victoria was always up for a good natter.

    Iriko replied ¡ª not with a detailed breakdown of her current biochemical composition and mass-levels. Pheiri always demanded that whenever he was concerned about Iriko¡¯s condition. Instead, Iriko replied with a poem, composed that very moment, as raindrops began to kiss the tiny scales of her refractive mail.

    ¡¸victoria yes!

    full stomach and lightened heart

    sky fury scary?¡¹

    Vicky laughed down the radio, but Iriko could tell something was wrong. Vicky¡¯s laugh was all stressed.

    ¡¸Yeah, Iriko, uh, beautiful phrase. Sky fury scary. You see all those low clouds on the horizon to the north? That¡¯s a bunch of very high winds and really heavy rain. Pheiri says it¡¯s an actual hurricane, but uh, he¡¯s already sent you that data, right. You¡¯re probably feeling the leading edge right now, but within fifteen minutes those winds are gonna be hitting sustained speeds of eighty to a hundred miles an hour. Behind that, uh ¡­ shit. Fuck me.¡¹ Vicky stopped and swallowed. ¡¸Well, it¡¯s a very powerful storm. We¡¯re worried about you, Iriko. You can¡¯t stay out there in this storm, not even if you stick yourself to the ground and armour up. You gotta leave the area or come indoors, you¡ª¡¹

    ¡¸no tomb not tomb dark tomb dead things badness dark smelly bad bleh bleh. bleeeeeh!¡¹

    ¡¸We all know how you feel about the tomb. I¡¯m sorry. But it¡¯s the only structure sturdy enough to withstand the storm. Iriko, please, you¡¯re going to get hurt. You need to come inside, or flee, or take some kind of shelter.¡¹ Vicky did a big sigh; Vicky liked doing big sighs. ¡¸Iriko, we¡¯re on a serious time limit here. That storm is going to rip a canyon straight through the city. Come on, girl, don¡¯t be stubborn now. You gotta understand this. Do I need to put Elpi on? Or Serin, you¡¯ll listen to Serin, right?¡¹

    Iriko understood perfectly well. She knew all about typhoons and hurricanes and great big storms. She couldn¡¯t remember any specific storms from before being like this ¡ª her memory was still a shattered window of broken fragments, which she knew she would never restore. But she got the gist of it. Big wind, lots of rain.

    She also knew this storm was special. She didn¡¯t need Pheiri¡¯s big clever eyes and the panicked voices of the zombies to tell her that. The leading edge of the storm had chased the worm-guard away from the limit of the graveworm¡¯s safe-zone a couple of hours earlier. When the ceiling of black cloud had started to dip and bulge toward the earth, the worm-guard had scuttled off through the ruins. Pheiri¡¯s long-range sensors showed that they¡¯d retreated into the shelter of the graveworm¡¯s body itself, huddling beneath the vast curve of dark grey metal.

    The storm had cleared a path for Pheiri and Iriko to strike inward for the tomb.

    But Iriko wasn¡¯t going to take shelter inside that tomb. She hated tombs! She couldn¡¯t remember why, but tombs were very dangerous. Tombs were the most likely place to die, over and over again. She would get eaten if she entered a tomb. Tombs were dark and scary places full of dead things.

    But the word itself was a paradox; Iriko found that fascinating, in a way she would not have been able to do so as little as two months earlier.

    A ¡®tomb¡¯ was a place where you put the bodies of dead people. But the tombs here made people anew, bringing them back from the dead. The massive black metal pyramid which reared toward the sagging black belly of the sky was not a ¡®tomb¡¯ at all. It was the opposite of a tomb.

    Iriko composed a poem about that paradox. The rain was falling heavier now, splashing across the top of her body, coating her refractive armour, and running down her sides, to pool in the cement surroundings of the city below.

    ¡¸not dead but only

    resting in eternity.

    returned, for eating.¡¹

    Iriko decided she didn¡¯t like that poem. It was another failure. She didn¡¯t broadcast it, not to Pheiri or any of his zombies. She filed it away in the new parts of her mind where she kept notes and scraps and other such failed poems.

    ¡¸Iriko? Iriko, hey, come on, say something!¡¹ Vicky was still broadcasting down the tight-beam. ¡¸You can¡¯t just sit up there on a rooftop and ride this one out. At least get down to ground level and into a tunnel or something! Come on, girl!¡¹

    Iriko heard other zombies in the background ¡ª Kagami and Pira and Elpida, arguing about something, clattering about with their guns and armour plates. Somebody started shouting about risky behaviour.

    Suddenly a new voice crackled down the tight-beam.

    Elpida said: ¡¸Iriko, I¡¯m leaving Pheiri and pushing into the tomb, with a team of five. If you¡¯re staying on-station instead of running from the storm, I need you ready for network interdiction.¡¹

    Vicky spluttered behind Elpida: ¡¸Elpi, she can¡¯t fucking stay out there! The winds will rip her apart¡ª¡¹

    ¡¸Not if she gets into the tomb or gets underground. Do you read, Iriko? Do you understand?¡¹ Elpida paused. Iriko didn¡¯t feel like answering. ¡¸You need to enter the tomb or get underground. I know you can do it, for me and for Pheiri. Iriko? Iriko, I want you to acknowledge me, please. Get into the tomb or get underground. Iriko, acknowledge please. Iriko. Iriko. Acknowledge¡ª¡¹

    ¡¸pppppffffffffftttttt!!!¡¹

    Iriko blew a big raspberry down the tight-beam, then cut the connection.

    Elpida was only trying to be nice, but Elpida¡¯s ¡®nice¡¯ was so pushy! Besides, Iriko did not feel like running and hiding anymore. She had spent so much time running and hiding. Now things were different.

    Iriko decided to enjoy the storm.

    The wind began to shriek and wail between the taller concrete buildings, just as Pheiri and Vicky had said would happen. Tentacles of wind tugged and pulled at loose boards and hanging beams, whipping up whirls of grit and dust, sending great swirling torrents of sideways rain splattering against broken windows, running down the brickwork and the exposed steel in great flows of crashing water.

    Iriko lay flat on the roof for a while and watched all this, anchored to the concrete with hard spikes of extruded metal and special bone from the underside of her body; this storm wasn¡¯t anything like the other storm a couple of months ago, the storm caused by that great shining golden diamond in the sky. This storm could not be eaten, which Iriko found very disappointing ¡ª it was just wind and rain. On the other hand, this storm wasn¡¯t dangerous in the same way. No beast lurked at the centre of the maelstrom, nor did the wind burn Iriko¡¯s flesh with anything more than friction.

    Iriko extended special armoured eyes into the wind, followed by thin tentacles covered in millions of microscopic hairs. She added infra-red, echolocation, and a big messy clutch of predictive algorithms.

    She almost giggled. Was she really going to do this? How naughty!

    This was the precise opposite of what Pheiri had suggested she do. She wondered if his zombies would start to panic when they realised her plan. She had to do it now, before she lost her nerve.

    Iriko retracted all her bone-and-metal anchor spikes, launched herself off the rooftop with a single muscular heave, and went surfing through the sky.

    First she flattened her body to catch the wind, riding the powerful surge of air between rows of buildings, adjusting the surface of her skin to keep it hydrophobic and glossy, cutting through the rain with the edge of her sail. She extended her senses and identified a likely group of zombies down in the ruins below, busy eating each other and pulling bionics off a kill. Iriko narrowed herself into an aerodynamic, bone-tipped dart, and dive-bombed directly into the group of advanced zombies two hundred feet below, cushioning her impact on the wind itself with outstretched flaps of flesh. Her landing scattered half her prey, though she fluttered to earth as delicately as a leaf; she ate the other half, let the runners go, then spread her body wide to catch the wind beneath her fleshy sails once again. She whirled upward between the buildings, carried off in a spiral around the vast black bulk of the tomb.

    Iriko liked this very much.

    Ever since she had rescued Pheiri by diving off a skyscraper, Iriko had dreamed of trying to fly, but her body was simply too heavy. She had done some secret experiments with wings and pressure-based propulsion, but those had ended in failure. She was too big, too ungainly, too messy. The failed experiments had made her want to hide away again, slink off into the dark, and stop showing the ruin of her body to Pheiri and all his zombies.

    But they hadn¡¯t cared. Pheiri never cared. So Iriko had not given up entirely.

    And now, in these incredible winds, she achieved lift-off with such ease.

    The hurricane was beautiful. Great swirls of coal-black cloud were piled up on the horizon like a tilted stack of gigantic plates, each one racing forward and melting into sheets of pouring rain, replaced from below by layers of gathering storm. The nearer skies churned like the innards of an iron cauldron filled with boiling pitch, whipping itself into a vortex of rotten black.

    Iriko composed three poems in mid-flight. Two of them were failures, but the third was passable. She tidied it up a bit and then broadcast it in the open, so any nearby zombies with suitable communications equipment would hear her work. She used to be so terrified of doing that sort of thing, but fear itself trembled beneath the need for others to hear her speak.

    ¡¸wind and rain the gods

    have called down upon me

    but I laugh and fly!¡¹

    Iriko picked up a few scattered responses on local radio frequencies: ¡¸¡ªthe fuck was that?! Alice, Alice, was that you? Did you fucking hear that, somebody is shouting poems into this storm¡ª¡¹; ¡¸¡ªshut up shut up shut up! Get out of my heeeeead you bastard¡ª¡¹; ¡¸¡ªcut that open frequency, something¡¯s using it to mess with¡ª¡¹; ¡¸Mediocre, at best.¡¹

    Iriko tried to reply to that last one; she wanted to hear the critic¡¯s thoughts in more detail. But whoever it was flooded their own connection with jamming data and squirted a series of low-grade recursive viruses back up Iriko¡¯s tentative tight-beam. Iriko squashed the viruses. How rude!

    She satisfied herself with more food instead. Iriko slammed down amid groups of easily detected zombies, falling upon them from the sky, using the wind to speed up or slow down whenever she needed. She crashed through walls and straight into ongoing cannibal feasts, declaring herself the most essential uninvited guest; she landed behind ongoing firefights with a slam of concrete and brick, then ate the largest and most easily disoriented zombies; she rode the wind through hand-span gaps between buildings and fell upon clever revenants who were themselves about to ambush others ¡ª others who were more sensibly fleeing the hurricane.

    In a concession to Elpida, Iriko did her best not to eat those who were running away from the storm or just hiding and keeping to themselves. But she couldn¡¯t be sure. Certainty was impossible. What Elpida didn¡¯t know wouldn¡¯t hurt her.

    The flying ¡ª or rather, gliding, as Iriko admitted to herself ¡ª required a great deal of very complicated calculations, all done inside Iriko¡¯s mind. She could not have done any of this two months earlier, before Pheiri and the edible storm and all the talking she always did with Pheiri¡¯s zombies.

    This would have been impossible when distracted by hunger.

    Iriko was still hungry, of course. She was always hungry. She would always be hungry, no matter how many zombies she ate. Even after she had absorbed so much biomass and uncountable nanomachines from the edible storm ¡ª then spent quite a bit of that biomass saving Pheiri, of course ¡ª she had felt the hunger ebb back over the next few days, leeching the clarity of mind she had so briefly felt.

    But the hunger was easier to endure these days, because Iriko was not alone.

    Prior to meeting Pheiri, most of Iriko¡¯s conversations had been with those zombies she was about to eat. Such conversations had been necessarily quite short, and often ended inconclusively. But now Iriko spoke with Pheiri every single day and every single night. Pheiri was not the best conversational partner; he rarely communicated in actual words, preferring to share sensor readout data, pieces of his own internal functions, or short sets of curt instructions.

    But still, he talked.

    At first Iriko had misinterpreted the regular twice-daily broadcasts Pheiri always sent, no matter how much or how little they had spoken on any given day: ¡¸location and status update report CRITICAL PRIORITY¡¹, always followed by ¡¸proximity acknowledgement POSITIVE. retain supporting coherency¡¹

    After the dozenth time, Iriko realised these broadcasts always came at first light and total dusk. Pheiri was saying good night and good morning! And asking her to stay close, in case they should need each other.

    This had made Iriko so happy that she¡¯d sent Pheiri half a dozen poems. Pheiri had not supplied an opinion on those poems. He must have been embarrassed!

    Over the last two months, Pheiri had warmed to her, or so Iriko surmised from the implication of his guarded attitude. Pheiri was a very silly boy, after all. He liked to send her logic puzzles and chemical equations, things for her to chew on with her newly sharpened mind. He had sent her chemical compounds to improve the scales of her refractive armour and another set to heighten the potency of her various acid extrusion methods. He had spent two weeks broadcasting increasingly difficult logic puzzles after his morning greeting each day ¡ª strange many-angled shapes which unfolded inside Iriko¡¯s mind into much more complex arrangements. Each shape plugged into the results of the previous puzzles, building a vast trapezohedron in fourteen steps. When the trapezohedron was complete, the new shape formed a fresh puzzle which required all the tricks and principles Iriko had learned by solving each previous step; the moment she had completed the puzzle she had felt as if her mind expanded. She had paused to check her body for any signs of rogue organs or cancerous grey matter growth, but there was nothing physical to the effect. A few days later, Pheiri had sent her the chemical and molecular formula of his beautiful bone-armour; Iriko had tried to replicate the material, but she¡¯d found that her own cells did not turn in the right direction.

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    Pheiri¡¯s zombies ¡ª his ¡®crew¡¯ ¡ª spoke to Iriko as well, even if not quite as often as Pheiri himself. Iriko had gotten to know them as best she could. Elpida made sure to check in with her every day and ask if she had spotted anything important, but Elpida was all business all the time, and Howl was a little bit scary. Serin spoke now and then, but Serin liked to talk in riddles and Iriko could tell Serin did not actually enjoy Iriko¡¯s responses. Atyle liked Iriko a lot, but Atyle was impossible and spoke nothing but nonsense. Pira was weird and difficult; she liked to monologue at Iriko, and Iriko didn¡¯t like the subjects. Amina came by now and again too, but she seemed to find it challenging to speak for prolonged periods. Kagami had stopped in to talk quite often, but she was an angry little zombie and didn¡¯t like Iriko¡¯s poetry; Iriko knew that Kagami was using her as a kind of sounding board, first to rant about the difficulties of her meat-plant project, then to rant about how Victoria was a primitive fool with no sense of romance or timing. Iriko didn¡¯t like that, because Vicky was nice to her.

    But no matter how weird or troublesome the zombies could be, they just kept talking.

    Iriko was not alone. Not being alone made thinking easier. Iriko discovered that she could hold onto thoughts for longer, even beneath the weight of ever-present hunger.

    Words became easier, too. Poetry had come oozing back into Iriko¡¯s mind.

    She knew on some level that her poems were terrible. She was using language clumsily and shamefully, in ways that some vaguely defined prior self would have been horrified and disgusted by. She knew she had been good at poetry once. Beautiful people and clever people had liked her poetry. They would not like her now.

    But to Iriko, these words were still beautiful, even if she could not do much. So she kept going, and hoped the other Iriko ¡ª the older one, before she¡¯d been ¡®Iriko¡¯ ¡ª would understand the need to continue.

    After about half an hour of zipping through the air and eating zombies, the storm stopped being fun.

    The winds blew stronger and stronger and stronger still, tearing crumbly concrete from the edges of the buildings and casting it into the air; the grit and loose chunks started to foul Iriko¡¯s trajectories, rendering her calculations less reliable. The howling wind ripped at less sturdy structures, stripping away roofs and walls, throwing boulders of brick and metal into the hurricane-whipped air. Pieces of building smashed into other buildings, exploding with brick dust and sending debris flying everywhere. The rain hammered harder and harder and harder again ¡ª hard enough to pelt unprotected flesh with bleeding bruises; walls turned into waterfalls, streets to rushing rivers, broad roads to sheets of flowing froth. The lowest areas of the surrounding city were rapidly choked up with debris-filled waters, turned into deadly swirling stews of loose metal and wood and concrete. The only remaining zombies were held up inside the few sturdy structures ¡ª a handful of scattered bunkers or high-ground constructions ¡ª so there was nothing left for Iriko to eat or hunt. The beautiful sky darkened as the embers of the shrouded sun vanished, strangled to death behind a low ceiling like a fist dragging itself through the city.

    Iriko stopped flying and landed on a high hilltop; the buildings up there had all been wrecked and stripped by the wind, but the rising waters would not reach this high. She could barely control her flight anymore, the wind was too powerful and unpredictable. She anchored herself hard, sending spikes twelve feet down into the concrete and rock. Wind threatened to rip her muscular foot off her perch, so she glued herself to the ground with sticky mucus, then hardened the mucus to rival the best concrete. She made herself rounded and flat and low.

    Hail came next ¡ª small at first, gathering on the concrete and plinking off Iriko¡¯s refractive mail. The sound was quite pleasing.

    But the hailstones grew steadily larger, large enough to shatter glass and dent metal; the sound of them pounding into the waterlogged ruins drowned out all else, deafening Iriko even through the toughened aural organs she kept folded deep within. She added layers of spongy ablative flesh beneath her armour to absorb the repeated impacts.

    But then the hailstones kept growing. Concrete began to crack under repeated blows. The wind strengthened beyond anything Iriko had thought possible; even the tiniest tongue of air threatened to rip her from safety and throw her into the spume and scum of water and debris below; Iriko made the outer edge of her body sharp and dug it into the ground as additional anchoring, but then the wind started to tear at the earth itself, pulling up crumb-clouds of concrete and clods of grey mud. Pieces of building larger than Iriko¡¯s body sailed through the air, concrete floating like tissue paper; a few stray fragments slammed into Iriko¡¯s hardened shell, bruising the flesh beneath, cracking the plates of her refractive armour.

    A large enough piece of building would sweep her aside like nothing. Iriko pressed herself low.

    Iriko could not even see what was happening with any clarity; she dared not extend sense organs beyond her armoured shell. The debris in the wind would strip flesh from bone within seconds, and even the wind itself would tear her apart.

    This was too scary. Iriko had left it too late to run.

    Vicky¡¯s voice crackled over Pheiri¡¯s tight-beam, almost drowned out by the static of the storm: ¡¸Iriko! Iriko, is that you on that hill? Fuck me, it is you! Why are you still outdoors?!¡¹

    Iriko tried to compose a poem in reply, but panic made words hard.

    ¡¸stupid blob not smart

    mistakes made bad time

    help can¡¯t come fast now¡¹

    ¡¸Then get underground! You can swim, right?! All the subterranean stuff around here is flooded, but I know you can grow gills for oxygen if you gotta! Fuck, what am I saying?! We don¡¯t need to breathe, we¡¯re all zombies, you too! Come on girl, just go down! Dig!¡¹

    ¡¸dark in earth dark dark don¡¯t want to go down trapped in rock trapped trapped¡¹

    Iriko wasn¡¯t sure why she was so afraid, but the notion of being stuck underground was worse than being trapped in the storm. She knew she was panicking and being irrational, but she did not wish to go down into the dark.

    ¡¸Iriko, in about thirty seconds those winds are going to hit eight hundred miles an hour! You have to go underground! Girl, please, come on! We can¡¯t help you right now, Pheiri¡¯s driving deeper into the tomb. Fuck, we couldn¡¯t even come out there if we wanted to! The tomb is gonna be the only thing left standing! Just come and join us. Come on, girl! You can do it, being underground isn¡¯t scary at all!¡¹ Vicky¡¯s voice moved away from the microphone. ¡¸Mel! Mel, we need Pheiri to talk to her or something, she¡¯s not fucking going, she¡¯s going to die out there! She¡ª¡¹

    Pheiri interrupted the raw audio with a packet string of three chemical equations and a topographical structure map of a three dimensional shape.

    Iriko squealed with delight. Pheiri had been holding out on her. Cheeky boy!

    She synthesized the compounds Pheiri specified. She almost couldn¡¯t make them; these were similar to the composition of Pheiri¡¯s bone-armour, and her cells wouldn¡¯t turn the right way. Iriko had to find workarounds, but she worked fast, and she found her way around.

    The first was a fast-acting superacid; she squirted it from the underside of her body in a nice thick fat layer, directly onto the blackened rocky ground. The second chemical was a kind of foaming agent, rapidly clearing the layers of melted rock. Iriko dropped into the hole she had just burned; rain and hail sloshed after her, filling the shallow burrow with deep water and concrete debris. Iriko squirted the final compound upward ¡ª an expanding artificial concrete sealant, plugging the hole and plunging her into darkness.

    Iriko dived into the filthy water, churning the mixture into a soup of mud and gritty mess. Her sides blossomed with bioluminescent lamp-organs. She extended her front downward and formed a dozen versions of the topographical design Pheiri had sent.

    Drills! Big drills, with side-scoops and special angles for added efficiency!

    Iriko cut through the earth, burrowing deep, away from the surface and the sky and the hurricane which ruled both.

    Iriko had never been underground before. She had explored basement levels and subterranean tunnels and the like, but that wasn¡¯t the same as digging through the rock and soil itself. The concept terrified her for some reason she could not place, some piece of herself lost deep in her broken memory. The earth would surely trap her and crush her to death! But now she melted and burned her way through her very own tunnels, coating them with slick purple sealant as she went, to stop them from collapsing behind her as she wormed through the snug embrace of rock and stone. All her earlier fears melted away, just like the earth before her scoop-drills and her squirts of acid. With Pheiri¡¯s help she could do anything, even swim in the soil like it was the sea.

    She dug through layers of solid rock and burst out into flooded underground bunkers and sub-level tunnels of the buildings above, plunging back into the earth on the opposite side after drinking her fill to fuel fresh acid synthesis. She wormed deep into the open veins of natural cave systems, popping out and dropping through the black abyss before catching herself and squirming back into the tight arms of the living rock. She ploughed through layers of tight-packed soil, bursting ancient pipes and crashing through brick walls and splitting tree-trunk-width bundles of cable and wire.

    After ten minutes of wild headlong flight from the storm above, Iriko slowed down and learned to navigate. She used bursts of echolocation and sweeps of deep-penetration radar to map the rock and underground concrete and the empty spaces of open caverns.

    And when she looked closely, Iriko discovered something new.

    The tomb ¡ª the towering black metal edifice which ripped zombies back to life ¡ª was more than just a pyramid.

    Iriko¡¯s radar returns showed that the tomb structure was mirrored beneath the ground; black metal pyramid-steps descended in reverse, toward an apex-tip pointed down, into the bowels of the earth. The black metal was pressed flush against layers of rock and soil. The whole structure was more like a sharp-ridged octahedron, embedded exactly halfway into the ground. Iriko found this very curious, but she couldn¡¯t tell if it was important. She broadcast this information back to Pheiri, just in case, as she swam through the earth and circled the underside of the tomb, making sure of her observations. She drew close enough for a better look, but there wasn¡¯t much to see; the underside of the tomb did not have windows or doors or any way in and out.

    Pheiri replied with a plain acknowledgement ping. Iriko prepared a teasing retort at Pheiri¡¯s taciturn treatment ¡ª but then another voice spoke first, into Iriko¡¯s mind.

    ¡¸Hey, blob girl!¡¹ Howl yelled. ¡¸Nice job getting down there! Be ready to rumble!¡¹

    Iriko didn¡¯t like Howl¡¯s voice; Howl gave Iriko the creeps.

    Howl was fine when she spoke through Elpida¡¯s mouth, but Iriko didn¡¯t like it when Howl spoke directly into Iriko¡¯s mind. Iriko never understood where Howl¡¯s voice came from ¡ª it felt like a tight-beam connection, but it wasn¡¯t. When Pheiri spoke via tight-beam, Iriko could trace the broadcast back to his current physical location. But Howl¡¯s voice seemed to come from nowhere, with no broadcast origin. Iriko understood why this was; Howl had taught her about the network. But the sensation still made Iriko want to curl up and go quiet, in hopes that Howl would stop being so damned spooky.

    Iriko sent back: ¡¸what what ready for what ready ready?¡¹

    ¡¸I¡¯m about to flush a Necromancer back into the network! Remember everything we talked about? You got a meal coming your way! You¡¯re up, Iriiiiii!¡¹

    Iriko forgot all about Howl being creepy.

    This was the moment she¡¯d prepared for! This was Iriko¡¯s second special mission.

    ¡¸need help help iriko help?!¡¹

    ¡¸Nah!¡¹ Howl cackled. ¡¸Pretty sure we got this bitch! But be ready. She¡¯ll be fast, just like I told you. Give it your best shot, blob-queen. Scare the shit out of her for me, hey? I¡¯m about to give this cunt-face a set of bruises to remember!¡¹

    Howl cut the tight-beam.

    Iriko went still and silent inside her underground burrow, conserving resources, preparing her heart for the task ahead; she did not have a real heart right then, of course, that would be wildly inefficient, but she considered growing one anyway so she could count the beats.

    It was very quiet underground. Quiet and dark and empty. The hurricane was a distant static hum, far away, up on the surface, powerful but muted.

    Iriko felt very nervous. She¡¯d never done this before.

    Howl had taught Iriko about the network; Howl had kept it simple, avoided technical terms, and stuck to metaphors. Iriko had felt offended by that at first ¡ª she was not stupid, she understood more than she could express with words. But then Iriko had realised that Howl did not understand the network either. All the other zombies got the same metaphors from Howl, same as Iriko, same as Pheiri, same as Elpida. Iriko had felt much better after that.

    Iriko did not have what Howl called ¡®network access¡¯. Apparently that was impossible.

    But Howl had taught Iriko how to make special senses, to observe large enough things moving through the network; Elpida had climbed down from Pheiri¡¯s back one day and plunged her naked arm into Iriko¡¯s body, so Howl could show Iriko how the senses should be made.

    Iriko reformed and extended those special sense organs now: delicate tendril-clusters linked to gyroscopes of bone and metal held inside her core; miniature vibration-sensitive organs which contained isolated nanomachines in tiny vacuum sacks; wide plates of reactive chemical suspended between sheets of super-cooled flesh.

    When the Necromancer fled ¡ª because Howl was going to give her a set of bruises? Iriko decided that was another metaphor ¡ª Iriko would be able to see the Necromancer moving across the nanomachines themselves. Iriko could not see into the network, just as she could not see the wind of the hurricane above ground. But she could measure the direction and strength of the wind through observation of what the wind acted upon. She would know the Necromancer¡¯s escape route by the same method.

    Iriko waited in stillness and silence. Minutes ticked by.

    A little of the old fear crept back. Buried underground. Crushed beneath rock. Pinned, breathless, starving, eating pieces of¡ª

    There!

    At the tip of the inverted pyramid, a ripple passed through the nanomachines embedded in the rock and soil, spreading outward in a dozen different directions, so tiny that no senses would have noticed the passing, except those designed by another Necromancer.

    Iriko cried out in frustration ¡ª the Necromancer was going in twelve different directions at once! How could Iriko hope to¡ª

    ¡¸Get after her, blob-girl!¡¹ Howl shrieked into Iriko¡¯s head. ¡¸You don¡¯t have to get them all! Just one is brilliant!¡¹

    Iriko surged forward through the rock and soil, melting and burning and squirming and worming.

    The Necromancer¡¯s passage was faster than Iriko could move ¡ª faster even than the winds of the hurricane above ground. Iriko selected the nearest of the twelve offshoots and arced sideways to head it off, taking her one chance at successful interception.

    Iriko slammed through the roof of an open cavern and dropped straight down into darkness, falling faster than she could have dug, tumbling past walls of dead rock. For a split-second she drew level with the Necromancer¡¯s invisible ripple, a tiny signal on the network, racing downward six inches below the rock face.

    Iriko reached out with a specialised, thickened, armoured pseudopod, and formed a massive acid-dripping maw laced with a special metal cage structure ¡ª a ¡®Faraday Cage¡¯, Kagami had called it. She opened those jaws wide and lashed out toward the wall of rock, to bite deep into the stone and entrap this tiny mote of fleeing Necromancer.

    The rock wall exploded outward with golden-white light.

    A burning face of pale marble and melting wax thrust itself from the wall of the cavern, keeping pace with Iriko as she fell through the darkness. The face cried tears of white fire, expression warped with spurned fury, bow-shaped girlish lips twisted with spite and rejection. The light was so bright it melted Iriko¡¯s metal cage-mouth and burned away the specialised pseudopod. Her skin began to boil and bubble and cook; parts of her refractive mail began to blacken and burn. All the bioluminescent lamp-organs on one side of her body burst and sprayed the wall with fluids, droplets sizzling into smoke as the light consumed them.

    The face ¡ª the Necromancer ¡ª screamed into the cavern, drowning out the hurricane above, voice like all the storms of the world combined into one.

    ¡°Treated like so much meat! Pounded and beaten, and not even a word of care! I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her!¡±

    Iriko ran away.

    She shot out drag-lines of thick ropey tentacle and grabbed the opposite wall, fleeing from the Necromancer¡¯s burning mask. Iriko slammed herself into the side of the cavern, then burrowed into the rock with Pheiri¡¯s special superacid, sealing the way behind her as quickly as she could. The burning face fell into the darkness of the cave behind her, then went out like a fire snuffed beneath the waters.

    Iriko did not stay to watch. She got out of there.

    She dug upward, heading back toward the surface, toward the tomb. She did not want to remain underground with that thing, that tiny piece of a Necromancer, lurking down there among the horrible deep rocks. She had thought Necromancers were small and easy to eat, just like zombies except for that trick where they could freeze parts of her body. But now she knew better.

    She surfaced right next to the tomb itself, on the side facing away from the hurricane and the terrible winds and the worst of the hail. The tomb was on high ground, safe from most of the flooding. Iriko burst out of the earth and slumped against the base of the tomb, cold black metal kissing her skin.

    The air itself tore at Iriko¡¯s body, high-speed winds ripping around the walls of black metal on either side. Hailstones pounded at her armour, cracking the bone and metal and pockmarking her flesh beneath with hundreds of bruises, exploiting the damage already done by the Necromancer¡¯s white-hot fury.

    Tight-beam broadcast crackled inside her mind. Vicky again: ¡¸Iriko! Iriko, holy shit, girl, you need to get back below ground! The winds are going to hit nine hundred miles an hour, you won¡¯t¡ª¡¹

    ¡¸in we sadly slink

    sad and wet is not enough

    iriko is scared¡¹

    ¡¸ ¡­ you¡¯re coming into the tomb?¡¹ Vicky¡¯s voice softened. Vicky was kind. Iriko wanted to talk more, but she was getting very hungry and that made it harder to think. She wasn¡¯t sure how she had composed the poem. Perhaps it was shame. ¡¸Okay, okay, come on, come on in, quickly, get inside. There¡¯s zombies other than us in here now, but nothing which could threaten you. Get in, Iriko. Quick as you can now, come on!¡¹

    Iriko did not need telling twice. She climbed the massive metal steps of the tomb pyramid, sliding upward while clinging to the surface against the pull of the wind, thickening her armour to soak up the blows of the hailstorm as best she could. The wind howled around the sides of the tomb, making the structure creak and groan. Beyond the tomb, the city was a wall of grey rain and dense hail and the wild slashing and whirling of wind. The hurricane had swallowed everything.

    A broken window stood exposed about a third of the way up the tomb pyramid. The glass was very thick ¡ª three feet, at least, but it had not survived the hail. Iriko pulled herself through the gap and out of the rain. The wind still tugged at her, so she squeezed herself down several narrow corridors and up a stairwell, until she was finally beyond the hurricane¡¯s reach.

    Iriko sat quite still for almost an hour, mending her armour, healing her bruises, tending to her burned skin. The damage was not too bad; the shock had been worse than the actual pain or lost biomass. The embarrassment was worse. She and Pheiri exchanged acknowledgement pings; he was fine, but very busy, thank you. Some of the zombies asked her if she was okay. Iriko said yes, she was alright, but she didn¡¯t feel like composing a poem about it. She listened to the sounds of the storm and the odd sounds inside the tomb. She tried not to think about tombs.

    After another half hour, Elpida spoke over the radio. ¡¸You get the Necromancer, Iriko?¡¹

    ¡¸no nope no failed¡¹

    ¡¸That¡¯s alright. Thank you for trying. You did your best, and I¡¯m proud of you. Pheiri tells me you took some damage from the storm, and from Lykke. That¡¯s the Necromancer¡¯s name, Lykke. Did she hurt you very badly? Do you need biomass? We¡¯ve got a lot of corpses down here, more than we can process. None of our own though. Everyone¡¯s okay. We¡¯ve picked up a few new faces, so be careful please, don¡¯t eat them by mistake. Iriko? Iriko, are you there?¡¹

    ¡¸don¡¯t want go down down is bad¡¹

    Elpida paused. ¡¸We can bring a couple of corpses up to you, if you want. Did you enter the tomb through a broken window, or a skylight?¡¹

    ¡¸yes yes window shatter smash¡¹

    ¡¸I¡¯ll come up and see you, then. I want to get a look at this storm with my own eyes. The way you entered might be the best spot to take a look. Don¡¯t move far, okay? We¡¯ll be up to see you shortly. Shout to Pheiri if anything happens or if you see any unfamiliar revenants. Stay safe.¡¹

    Elpida signed off.

    Iriko extended some long meaty pseudopods back down the route she¡¯d taken from the broken window, to peer out at the storm beyond. She stayed like that for several minutes, watching the churning vortex of clouds, listening to the screaming wind and the pounding rain, and the drumming of massive hailstones bouncing off the black metal of the tomb pyramid.

    The storm did not seem to be moving; the hurricane had stopped directly overhead, as if trying to demolish the tomb.

    Iriko was pretty sure storms were not meant to do that. No wonder Elpida wanted to have a good look.

 tempestas - 12.2

    Izumi Kagami ¡ª Seventeenth Daughter of the Moon, Logician Supreme, Princess and Heroine, Mistress and Mother, the Hub of a Wheel who had once sat atop the sphere of Earth, cradled and beloved by the blessed silver soil of holy Luna beyond the sky, the will and brain and heart of the Moon, no matter the mockery and mediocrity of her father¡¯s court, the one true heir to the throne of Luna, who alone could command the voice of the people, who alone understood the truth of Luna¡¯s privilege and power, who alone could see further than the end of her own upturned nose, blah blah blah, so on and so on, not that her titles and honours and merits made a gnat¡¯s fart of difference anymore ¡ª kept her eyes screwed tightly shut, so that she did not vomit down herself.

    If Kagami opened her eyes, she would be quickly overwhelmed by the visual cacophony of drone-feeds and data-streams. She would lose her concentration. Vertigo and nausea would take hold. The stew of fresh meat churning in her belly would find a way out of her stomach, up through her throat, and down into her lap.

    She¡¯d already lost enough dignity for one day; besides, there was precious little to see with the naked eye.

    Not that acting as the nerve centre for a dozen additional drones was any challenge to her. Far from it! Sheer numbers were child¡¯s play ¡ª literally, she had been running drone-swarms beyond Luna¡¯s shallow gravity well since she was six years old. In her prime she had orchestrated fleets in the thousands, and supervised hundreds of wire-slaved surface agents at once, puppeting all those cyborg brains without breaking a sweat. True, she had achieved those feats with the assistance of her AI daughters, the cushion of her sensory suspension tank, and the support of the colossal data processing power of Luna¡¯s Defence Intelligence Network. But even reduced as she was ¡ª to a snivelling scrap of undead meat, a nanomachine animal wrapped in an armoured coat ¡ª Kagami¡¯s skills were as sharp as ever. She was in her element, or at least as close to it as she could hope to attain, down there in the dirt, surrounded by zombies and monsters and cyborg cannibals.

    Kagami almost laughed; was she not also a cyborg cannibal now? She could hardly deny that charge, not with her guts happily digesting almost two pounds of fresh meat, her share of the kill, her portion of the bloody harvest from down in the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber.

    But she didn¡¯t laugh. She needed to concentrate, or she would vomit.

    Kagami focused on the single drone-feed piped directly into her visual cortex.

    She nosed the scout-drone forward a final few inches, pushing beyond the shelter of the shattered window in the side of the tomb. The glass was almost three feet thick; huge chunks of it lay scattered in the stony chamber behind the drone, peppered with the buckshot of massive hailstones, half-sunk in pools of greasy, gritty, greyish rainwater. This was undoubtedly the window Iriko had used as an ingress point; the wind and water of the storm had washed away any visual evidence of Iriko¡¯s usual slime-trail, but the drone¡¯s sensor suite picked up familiar biochemical traces. The trail itself resumed about twenty feet up the corridor, deeper than the rain could reach.

    Iriko¡¯s slime trail had not been easy to locate. The hurricane had plunged the tomb into premature night, rendering the visible light spectrum almost useless. Kagami navigated the drone mostly by infra-red and laser pulses, limiting any use of the on-board lights. She did not wish to attract undue attention.

    Kagami edged the drone as far forward as she dared, just beyond the shattered boundary of the window. The drone¡¯s shields flickered and flared. Bright blue flashes blossomed in the corners of the visual feed, illuminating a few inches of the tomb¡¯s black metal surface to the left and the right. The shields held back the whipping wind, turned away the pounding hail, and formed an umbrella of murky rain.

    Kagami hissed between clenched teeth. The light was no better outdoors. She couldn¡¯t see shit out there.

    This drone was not one of Kagami¡¯s six silver-grey oblongs, her little miracles with their powerful gravitic engines; she would never have agreed to risk one of those six in the storm. This expendable scout was a bulkier model, about the size of her thigh. It was equipped with only basic gravitics for self-propulsion, armoured like a bristling hog in steel and polymer, and outfitted with a robust suite of sensory equipment ¡ª sniffers and probes and gauges and meters. The drone was physically anchored to the rear of the room via a trio of mechanical tentacles, with spikes rammed into the stonework to hold it fast against the grip of the hurricane. It was sturdy, strong, and fast enough to escape determined pursuit, as any good scout should be. Unfortunately it was also astoundingly stupid, compared with even Luna¡¯s most basic of semi-autonomous drones. The thing was horribly verbose, eager to flood Kagami¡¯s visual field with oh-so-helpful data at the lightest touch, as if quivering to be of use. Kagami had spent almost fifteen minutes wrestling with the audio feeds alone, so that the hellish thunder and rumble of the storm would not be rammed directly into her brain stem.

    Most of the other drones from the new tomb armoury were little better. None of them were as smart or as capable as her original six, nor equipped with the high-end gravitics she had come to take for granted. But they had proven pliant and made themselves easy enough to adopt. While Elpida and Vicky and the rest of the zombies had gone all dewy-eyed over guns and body armour, Kagami had crash-slaved as many drones as she could manage. She had concentrated on the most heavily-armed combat models, charging them from Pheiri¡¯s reactor, working as fast as she could in the three scant hours since the fight in the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber.

    Another two dozen new drones sat piled up inside Pheiri, for later investigation at Kagami¡¯s leisure. She relished that prospect as a welcome break from the meat-plant project, but the pleasure ¡ª and the rest! ¡ª was sadly deferred, all for this absurd little errand which Elpida insisted was so important.

    Kagami would rather be hunkered down inside Pheiri, waiting out the madness beyond the tomb.

    She had a dozen heavy combat drones spread out in a mobile, three-dimensional, overlapping cordon, pointed down pitch-dark hallways and squeezed into tight little tunnels, watching blind corners with their sensors and sweeping slow scanner-beaks over the ends of long corridors. Guard dogs in a ring around this risky position deep in the tomb, an early warning system alert to any zombies who might decide to sneak up on Elpida¡¯s precious rump.

    Kagami had the visual feeds minimized for now; the drones would alert her if they detected anything relevant, anything moving, or anything anomalous.

    Kagami checked the scout-drone¡¯s power draw; at this position it could endure the edge of the hurricane for perhaps seventeen full minutes. More than long enough. She took some preliminary measurements of adjacent wind speed; six inches further forward, the drone¡¯s shields would last only thirty seconds, and the physical tentacle-anchors would likely snap under the strain.

    Kagami sighed; she didn¡¯t care that the others could hear her. She had voiced her objections to this expedition strongly enough already. Elpida knew exactly what Kagami thought of this pointless risk.

    ¡°We need to invent a new word,¡± she muttered out loud. ¡°Something beyond ¡®hurricane¡¯.¡±

    ¡°God-storm,¡± Atyle replied from somewhere up ahead. Kagami felt queasy. The paleo had a point.

    Kagami extended the necessary sensors outward from the scout-drone, peering out into the storm-winds with radar and infra-red, taking measurements of the wind speed, trying to penetrate the darkness and the precipitation to see anything, anything at all, any hint that the world still existed beyond the tomb.

    Hail and rain formed a wall of matter, whipped into a churning vortex. The drone may as well have been blind.

    She took audio samples first and ran the results through the drone¡¯s on-board processing, trying to pick out individual sounds. But the drumming of the hailstones and the static of the raindrops told her nothing useful, except that the mysterious black metal of the tomb was tanking the storm¡¯s punishment with surprising tenacity. Kagami had already tried to analyse the metal; she had assumed it was just steel, but the stuff defied her comprehension ¡ª a fact she was unwilling to admit to the others, not yet. The metal did not block transmissions, but it was both hyper-dense and extremely flexible. Some nanomachine nonsense, Kagami was certain, but she couldn¡¯t look at the molecular structure to confirm any hypotheses. The tomb was making the most awful din in the storm ¡ª creaking and groaning like the boards of an ancient sailing ship in a nautical-themed sim ¡ª but it was holding together all the same. Kagami did not need the drone to pick out those noises, she could hear well enough with her own ears. The sounds made her palms sweat and her buttocks tense up and¡ª

    Audio spiked ¡ª a distant roar, louder even than the impossible hurricane. High-pitched, inhuman, lost in the labyrinth of whirling wind.

    The drone picked that up loud and clear. So did Kagami¡¯s ears.

    Elpida said: ¡°Kaga?¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡±

    ¡°You flinched. Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°I know I fucking flinched!¡± Kagami spat. She kept her eyes screwed up. Her grip tightened on her auspex visor, cradled in her lap. ¡°Shut up, Commander! Let me concentrate or I¡¯m going to lose the drone and vomit all over myself! Shut up!¡±

    Elpida fell silent. Kagami took a deep breath and tried not to shiver.

    She concentrated on the drone. She took the necessary readings.

    Eight hundred ninety nine ¡­ nine hundred ¡­ nine hundred ¡­ eight hundred ninety eight ¡­ gust to nine-oh-five ¡­ nine hundred ¡­ eight nine nine ¡­ nine hundred ¡­

    When she had enough data to be certain, Kagami retracted the drone¡¯s sensors out of the storm. She reeled the drone backward on the anchor-tentacles, retreating by about six inches, but then she paused. She examined the rim of wall just beyond the broken window. She peered upward with low-powered radar and magnifying cameras, to confirm her suspicions. A shutter for the broken window lay concealed in a slot above the glass. It was made of the same black metal as the rest of the tomb¡¯s exterior. Kagami reached upward with the drone¡¯s whip-thin mechanical arms and slipped tiny tendrils into the gap. She gripped the shutter and pulled, but it wouldn¡¯t budge.

    A deeper examination with the drone¡¯s sensors revealed an outcrop of mechanisms buried in the wall, spider-webbing away deep into the metal bones of the structure.

    Kagami sighed, sharp and fed up. More blasted machinery! More hidden circuits! Every wall and nook and floor in this place was lousy with secret innards.

    She gave up on the shutter and withdrew the drone. She sent it on a return course back to safety, followed by the two combat models she¡¯d used to guard the flanks. Within a few moments all three were folded back within the security cordon, the angles of her sphere of drones tightened, possible contact surfaces minimised.

    Kagami tried to relax, let her stomach settle, then opened her eyes.

    A dozen drone-feeds crowded her peripheral vision ¡ª low-light, infra-red, and heat-map views of a dozen different corridors, covering every possible angle of approach to this absurd little away-team. Kagami felt like she had become a surface agent herself, down in the dark and the muck, wormed into some forgotten warren full of borged-up monsters and unknown threats. The left side of her field of vision scrolled with data input from her six gravitic drones; she kept those within a few feet of her real body ¡ª three orbiting her head in a slow grey halo, three further out in a loose triangle. Their sensors penetrated the walls and floors and ceilings, in case something unexpected tried to creep up on her or blow through the walls or extrude itself from the raw matter of the nanomachine ecosystem.

    Beyond the feeds plugged into her visual cortex there was little to see. The hallway was nothing special, just a spot Elpida had chosen as a good place to stop. All was choked with night-like darkness. The hurricane had drowned even the faintest hint of the dead sun outdoors.

    Kagami did not want to be here ¡ª thirty minutes¡¯ journey from the safety of Pheiri¡¯s armour, high up inside the obvious trap of the tomb pyramid, tucked away in a dark and dingy corridor straight out of a bad horror sim. Not to mention that she was accompanied by a trio of maniacs. To make matters worse, she was only about twenty five feet away from Iriko, separated from the gigantic iridescent blob-monster by nothing but a wide doorway and a stretch of open floor. Talking to Iriko over the radio was one thing, but Kagami was not eager to expose her flesh to Iriko¡¯s sheer inexhaustible hunger.

    At least Kagami didn¡¯t have to use her horrible bionic legs; she was comfortably cradled in three of Hafina¡¯s very strong and sturdy arms. The combat android was the only sensible person in the entire group, and Kagami was glad for her protection. Androids and drones were so wonderfully uncomplicated.

    Atyle ¡ª maniac number one ¡ª was standing about fifteen feet ahead of everybody else, probably so she could feel the tongues of the storm on her naked chest, or some other equally primitive nonsense. This corridor was two floors and one staircase upward from the broken window, but the faint lapping and rolling of the storm could still be felt in the currents of the air.

    Maniac number two ¡ª Ilyusha ¡ª was crouched down at the heels of her Commander like a little monkey, dragging the tip of her tail across the wall, clacking her red claws against the floor. Actually, now that Kagami looked at her properly, Ilyusha seemed agitated and restless behind her ballistic shield. She kept making her shotgun go click-click-click, quick little bionic fingers moving over the parts, checking them again and again.

    Kagami allowed that Ilyusha was perhaps more sensible than she seemed. Good!

    Maniac number three was staring right at Kagami. Unblinking purple lamps hovered in the darkness, framed by flushed brown skin, waiting for a response.

    ¡° ¡­ what?¡± Kagami spat.

    Elpida said: ¡°You requested I stop talking while you concentrate. Have you finished?¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°Of course I¡¯ve finished. My eyes are open and I haven¡¯t voided my guts all over myself. You don¡¯t have to stare like you¡¯re trying to burn holes through me, Commander.¡±

    Elpida nodded. She glanced away, over at Iriko, then down the corridor. ¡°I¡¯m just concerned about you, Kaga. We¡¯re all tired and stretched thin. You have a veto on this operation, like everyone else. If you want to pull out, you just say so.¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m perfectly capable, just get on with it.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted, down by Elpida¡¯s heels. ¡°Tired as shit.¡±

    ¡°Illy?¡± Elpida said. ¡°You good too?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Ilyusha grumbled. ¡°Let¡¯s get this done. Done!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re all tired,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Just a little longer, and then we¡¯ll be finished. Back to Pheiri within the hour.¡±

    Elpida wasn¡¯t exaggerating. Between the rush for the tomb, the holding action at the gates, the mad dash for the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber, the pair of insane Necromancers they had met, the fight with ¡®Lykke¡¯, the looting of the armoury, and now this entirely unnecessary probe beyond Pheiri¡¯s support, they¡¯d all been going for hours and hours without a proper break. Ilyusha ¡ª for all that she was a dangerously violent borged-up thug ¡ª was quite correct. Kagami was ¡®tired as shit¡¯.

    Elpida said: ¡°Kagami, did you take the readings?¡±

    Kagami huffed again, then adjusted her position in Hafina¡¯s arms. The combat android was unfailingly strong and sturdy and solid, but being carried in a static pose was still uncomfortable. Kagami muttered, ¡°Hafina, you can put me down now, please. Keep one arm on my back for support, another beneath my legs. Yes, that¡¯s it. Thank you. Stop there. Thank you.¡±

    Once she was partially balanced on her own feet again, Kagami lifted her auspex visor and slipped it on over her head. The dark corridor lit up as the auspex offered her a dozen augmented options for night-vision and scanner context. She selected low-light enhancement, but that made Elpida look like a banshee, eyes a-glow, hair a sheet of ghostly white. Kagami killed the night-vision and lived with the darkness. She could still see in the dark anyway. She was a zombie, after all.

    Elpida waited patiently.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Kagami said, ¡°my direct readings agree with Pheiri¡¯s assessment. The storm doesn¡¯t seem to be rising above about nine hundred miles an hour, but it¡¯s static, holding a position above the tomb. Which, for those of you who were raised in time periods and places without proper storms, is both impossible and stupid. Hooray for us, we have discovered an entirely new form of fucking bullshit.¡±

    From up ahead, Atyle said: ¡°Nothing is impossible for the Gods.¡±

    Kagami clenched her teeth and bit back an insult.

    Elpida nodded slowly. Her purple eyes floated in the gloom, reflecting the faint iridescence which glowed from Iriko in the adjoining room. White hair hung down the back of her armoured coat, still matted and bloodied in one patch of scalp where Lykke had grabbed her during the fist fight. Elpida had not taken time to rest or recover, beyond shedding the bulky carapace suit and allowing Melyn to slap a bandage around the bite wound in her right forearm. The Commander had focused on nothing but getting the rescued zombies inside Pheiri and securing the contents of the armoury.

    Kagami understood well enough that Elpida was a gene-jacked super-soldier, even before being resurrected into her new nanomachine body. But she could not accept how Elpida was so full of energy, so bright-eyed, so alert, especially not after the fistfight with Lykke. Everyone else was exhausted. Even Ilyusha was on edge, and Atyle was clearly more wacked-out than usual, off with the fairies and far away. But Elpida? Our dear Commander? Walking on clouds, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, like she¡¯d spent all night getting her brains fucked out. But this had nothing to do with sex, oh no. Elpida was elated because she¡¯d finally gotten her redemption, at gunpoint.

    The fury of the storm filled the brief silence, a great crashing of static haze upon the tomb, a deep drumming of fist-sized hailstones, a howling whip and whirl of wind around corners of black metal.

    Another distant roar broke the hurricane¡¯s steady beat ¡ª a high-pitched screech, lost beyond the wind.

    Kagami bit her bottom lip to stop from flinching again. Ilyusha hissed between her teeth, then spat on the ground. Atyle just stared at nothing ¡ª reading the future in motes of dust, for all Kagami knew.

    Elpida said: ¡°Did you manage to take any readings of that? Did you see what¡¯s making it?¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°I have no idea, Commander. Visibility is nil, indoors and out. Audio doesn¡¯t match anything I can make sense of. And frankly, I don¡¯t want to see whatever is making that sound, because I don¡¯t want it to see me. I suggest we stay away from the windows.¡±

    The mysterious roaring had started about three hours ago, while they¡¯d all been busy looting the armoury and trying to pry Eseld¡¯s jaws off Elpida¡¯s radius. At first the calls had sounded more like buildings crashing through the impossibly strong hurricane winds, but by now it was unmistakably a voice, like the war-cry of some ancient beast striding through the storm.

    Elpida said: ¡°Any speculations?¡±

    Kagami frowned. ¡°What? What, Commander?¡±

    ¡°Speculations. Idle thoughts. Anything at all, doesn¡¯t have to be backed up by data. I¡¯m asking for your opinion, Kagami. What do you think is making that sound?¡±

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Ilyusha hissed: ¡°Giant monster. Fucking shit.¡±

    Kagami stared at Elpida¡¯s purple eyes; perhaps the Commander was going even more insane than before. Perhaps her miraculous redemption at Eseld¡¯s hands had finally sent the Commander over the edge and falling toward stark raving madness. Kagami tried to hold Elpida¡¯s gaze. It was not easy.

    Eventually Kagami shrugged. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s the graveworm. Or perhaps Ilyusha here is correct, maybe it¡¯s something that would normally stay away from a graveworm, taking advantage of the storm. How am I supposed to guess, Commander? Nothing should be able to survive nine hundred mile an hour winds! Whatever it is, I do not want to know, and I do not want it to know me.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Alright. Thank you, Kagami. Did you pick up any visuals out there? Any buildings, anything still standing? Anything where other revenants might be able to survive the storm?¡±

    ¡°No! How many times do I have to say this? Commander, I don¡¯t know how to make this clear. Visibility is nothing. Nine hundred miles an hour is not survivable by anything short of underground bunkers and low-Jovian orbitals. And I doubt the nanomachine processes were disgorging structures that well armoured.¡±

    Ilyusha tapped the wall with the tip of her tail. ¡°¡®Cept this!¡±

    Kagami sighed and cleared her throat. ¡°Yes, except the tomb. The material this pyramid is made from defies explanation. The wind should have ripped it apart by now, or at least pulled off big chunks of it. But it all seems intact. Nothing is denting it, either.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°You think the tomb can survive the hurricane?¡±

    Kagami shrugged. ¡°The main structure, the walls, the floors, everything made from the black metal itself? Certainly. But the innards? That window down there is shattered, letting in the wind and the rain. The wind is ripping at the insides, the rock and the regular metal, the plastics, all that. The wind is getting in and doing damage, slowly but surely.¡±

    ¡°Did you find the shutter?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Kagami huffed. ¡°There¡¯s a shutter, of course I was correct about that. This place is designed to be sealed up, though for what purpose I cannot imagine. Storms like this cannot be a regular occurrence.¡±

    ¡°And?¡± Elpida prompted. ¡°Did you get it shut?¡±

    Kagami huffed harder. ¡°No, I can¡¯t close it. The wind is going to continue to eat away at the stone and masonry.¡±

    Elpida raised her eyebrows. ¡°Do you need to use more than one drone? Better gravitics?¡±

    ¡°A hundred drones would not suffice, no. The shutter is wired up to some kind of internal mechanism, like everything else in this place. Commander, everywhere I look there¡¯s more machinery behind these walls. This whole structure is lousy with buried systems, network infrastructure, access points, the works.¡± Kagami gestured to the wall of dark stone to her left, lips curling with disgust. ¡°This? This dead exterior, this is a lie. This thing, we keep calling it a tomb, but it¡¯s not. It¡¯s a giant dormant machine. And I have no idea what it does. Except the bit that resurrects zombies, I suppose.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Right, Pheiri agrees with that too. Kagami, if you plugged your wrist-uplink into one of the tomb¡¯s access points, would you be able to close that shutter?¡±

    Kagami snorted, then saw the serious look on Elpida¡¯s face. ¡°Why? Are you planning to set up camp here?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°If we¡¯re going to be stuck in here for a while, we need to seal the structure. Yes or no, Kagami. Talk to me.¡±

    Kagami resisted the urge to gulp. She raised her chin. ¡°I can build very robust firewalls, but if I¡¯m plugging myself into the tomb, I want an entire server bank of fail safes. Especially with the gravekeeper downstairs. That thing would turn my mind inside out, and I¡¯m not afraid to admit it. We¡¯d have more luck asking that to close the windows for us.¡±

    ¡°Understood. If¡ª¡±

    ¡°And even if I was willing, I sure as fuck would not be doing it up here, away from Pheiri, exposed. If you want me to try, we need to be under the protection of his guns, not relying on me for a fucking drone cordon.¡±

    ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    ¡°Commander,¡± she snapped, temper finally fraying beyond relief. ¡°What are we doing up here?¡±

    ¡°Checking on the storm with our own eyes.¡± She nodded to the right. ¡°And making sure Iriko is okay. I know you don¡¯t like this, Kagami, but if you feel unsafe, we can pull the plug. The moment you feel your drone cordon is not enough, we move. Has that moment arrived?¡±

    Kagami ground her teeth. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Good. Thank you, Kagami. Now, how close can we get to that smashed window before the wind becomes dangerous? Can we get within visual range, on foot?¡±

    Kagami squinted. ¡°What? Commander, I¡¯m not getting any closer to that storm.¡±

    ¡°Not you, Kaga. Me,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I want to see the storm with my naked eyes.¡± She gestured behind her. ¡°Atyle too.¡±

    ¡°You cannot be serious.¡±

    ¡°Kaga, please. How close can we get?¡±

    ¡°Oh, fine!¡± Kagami spat. ¡°Yes, you can probably get visual without being tossed about like a fucking rag doll. Down the stairwell and ten feet to the left. That should give you a nice enough view. Enjoy the sights, Commander! Don¡¯t let the wind pluck out your eyeballs!¡±

    ¡°Thank you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Wait a second.¡± She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Perhaps she would get more sense out of the other one. ¡°I want to talk to Howl, please. Can you spare a moment for that, before you go stick your arse into the wind?"

    Elpida blinked; a toothy grin twisted her face in a new direction. Kagami tried not to flinch away from the instant transformation.

    ¡°I¡¯m always here, Moon girl,¡± Howl purred. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±

    ¡°Howl,¡± Kagami said. This was better. Howl was at least sane. ¡°Do you agree with Elpida putting herself in danger like this? You agree with this nonsense?¡±

    ¡°Sure do,¡± Howl purred. ¡°I wanna get a look at this sky-fucker for myself. If this thing¡¯s tryin¡¯ to murder us, I gotta stare it down. Don¡¯t sweat, Moon girl. We¡¯ll be right back. Ten minutes, that¡¯s all.¡± She winked and made a kissy face. ¡°I¡¯ll miss you too.¡±

    Kagami crossed her arms over her chest. ¡°Fine. But make sure she doesn¡¯t throw herself out of the window.¡±

    Howl cocked her head ¡ª Elpida¡¯s head ¡ª and narrowed her eyes. ¡°Why would she do that?¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Am I the only one who¡¯s noticed the death wish lately?¡±

    Down at Elpida¡¯s heels, Ilyusha let out an uncomfortable grumble; her red-tipped tail lashed at the air.

    ¡°See?¡± Kagami grunted. ¡°I¡¯m not the only one.¡±

    Howl grinned. ¡°Whatever. Nobody¡¯s jumping out of nothing.¡±

    Elpida blinked again, back in control; Howl¡¯s expression vanished.

    ¡°Five minutes,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Illy, Atyle, you¡¯re with me. Hafina, stick here and guard Kaga.¡± Elpida tapped her own headset. ¡°Kagami, you spot anything moving¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll scream and scream until my head falls off, yes. Get on with it, go on. Off you go. Don¡¯t get brained by a hailstone.¡±

    The trio departed, heading for the stairwell, off to stare into a storm which would flay the flesh from their skulls if they peered too far into the whirling abyss. Elpida went first, submachine gun covering the corner. Atyle strolled as if beneath the sun, unarmed once again. Ilyusha went last, guarding the rear, slinking off behind her ballistic shield. She shot an uncomfortable wink back at Kagami, then stepped out of sight, tail whipping behind.

    Pointless. They were still inside Kagami¡¯s drone cordon. She could protect them much better than their own guns.

    Kagami leaned back into the support of Hafina¡¯s arms. She tried to relax.

    The storm raged on beyond the walls of the tomb, crashing and howling, roaring and hissing, drumming with hailstones like cannonballs, turning the air itself into a void of death. The black metal of the tomb creaked and groaned incessantly. Kagami hated that. Despite her readings and measurements and the data she had collected, she was struck with an irrational and irritating terror. Would the whole tomb burst asunder and expose her to the raw fury of the storm? What if the roof peeled away, layer by layer, forcing them all down underground? What if the whole structure collapsed atop her head? Even her gravitic drones could not endure that.

    Kagami had never been beneath a storm before.

    She had watched countless hurricanes from up in orbit, of course, tracked them across the Atlantic Ocean and observed all the details as they slammed into the southern coasts and vast seawalls of NorAm, assaulting the fortress-like concrete bulwarks which kept those coastal cities from death by drowning. She¡¯d experienced a few via wire-slaved surface agents ¡ª nothing much to note, really, as her attention had always been on the missions and the tasks, too busy to mind the weather. She had weathered plenty of storms inside sims, too; big dark spooky storms were a favourite in many genres. She¡¯d passed the night inside more than one simulated haunted house, while a picturesque thunderstorm had crackled and flashed beyond the creaking walls.

    But never with her physical body. Never with the shaking and the quivering. Never with the crash and roar and groan about her own ears, unable to shut it all out or exit the simulation.

    She wasn¡¯t afraid of the storm, she told herself. She wasn¡¯t afraid of the storm.

    Kagami cast a wary glance at Iriko¡¯s iridescent bulk through the connecting doorway. The giant blob was sleeping, or at least resting, exhausted by her ordeal chasing Lykke. Kagami watched for a moment, making sure that Iriko wasn¡¯t about to start galumphing toward her. Then she cleared her throat and glanced up at Hafina¡¯s dark helmet instead.

    ¡°Sometimes I think you and I are the only sane ones here,¡± she said.

    Hafina looked down at Kagami ¡ª or at least angled her helmet downward, blank and eyeless ¡ª but said nothing. Kagami looked away. The noise of the storm and the creaking of the tomb rushed back to flood the silence.

    Kagami cycled through the drone-feeds from her outer cordon, staring down dark corridors inside the blank metal innards of the tomb. At least two hundred revenants had stampeded into the safety of the pyramid after Pheiri had ended his blockade of the entrance; there was a lot of room in here, more than enough for several hundred zombies to keep well out of each other¡¯s way, but Kagami wasn¡¯t taking any chances. She had detected some furtive movement on their way up here, the occasional echo of a shout or a distant voice, the bang of a door or the stomping of feet. But no gunshots or screams. The godlike power of the hurricane had forced a brief truce among the cannibals and cyborgs.

    The storm howled on and on and on. Kagami¡¯s breath clogged up her throat. Her drones had nothing to say.

    Eventually Kagami turned her attention back to Iriko. She flickered through the visual inputs on her auspex visor, then sent one of her six grav-drones into the adjoining room for a closer look. She spent a few moments cataloguing Iriko¡¯s burn wounds and examining the spots where her armour plates had melted. The damaged patches did seem smaller than before. Elpida had slung a bag full of meat into Iriko¡¯s mass when they had arrived at this position; perhaps the blob was making good use of the nanomachines.

    A tight-beam radio connection licked out from Iriko like a questing tongue, touching the grav-drone, then tracing the control back to Kagami.

    <<special mission mission failed? mission failed? iriko did a bad. iriko tired tired sleep tired please?>>

    Kagami did her best not to shudder or flinch. <<Don¡¯t worry about it,>> she replied down the comms link. <<Go back to sleep.>>

    Iriko said nothing more. Kagami let out a sigh of relief.

    ¡°Sometimes I wish you weren¡¯t so taciturn when you¡¯re on duty like this,¡± Kagami muttered, talking to Hafina. ¡°You talk well enough when we¡¯re inside Pheiri.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m concentrating,¡± Hafina said, muffled inside the black angles of her helmet.

    ¡°Right. Right, of course. Very sensible.¡±

    Kagami swallowed a much worse flavour of sigh, choked down the venom of her pride, and pinged Pheiri¡¯s comms from her auspex headset.

    Victoria answered with shameless speed.

    <<Kaga?>> Vicky¡¯s voice came over the radio, clear and clean on the tight-beam. <<You okay out there? Did something happen? I¡¯m not seeing anything on the board from Elpi or Haf, are you¡ª>>

    <<I¡¯m fine,>> Kagami snapped. <<Nothing is happening. Sit down.>>

    A long pause, filled with the static of the storm.

    Kagami could perfectly picture the stupid little confused frown, followed by the blossoming realisation on Victoria¡¯s face. The smug smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Her inevitable attempt to suppress the grin ¡ª or not, seeing as Kagami was not currently in the room with her to scowl at her idiotic gurning. Kagami pursed her lips, burning with fresh fury at the expression she knew Victoria must have worn that very instant.

    Vicky said, <<I am sitting down, Kaga. I¡¯m in the comms seat.>> A hint of mockery entered her tone. <<Unless you¡¯d rather I rise to my feet whenever you call. Should¡¯a guessed you¡¯d like that.>>

    <<You know what I mean! Don¡¯t sound the alarm and send the cavalry, that¡¯s what I mean. Nothing is happening. I¡¯m fine.>>

    Vicky sighed. <<Cavalry¡¯s already with you, anyway.>>

    <<What?>>

    <<Iriko. I¡¯m talking about Iriko. She¡¯s the closest thing we have to cavalry, right?>>

    Kagami was about to argue, but she realised this was probably correct. She snorted instead. <<Since when did you become an expert in ancient combined arms?>>

    <<Since right now. And hey, cavalry was still relevant when I was around. Helicopters and the like.>> A short pause, then: <<Kaga, are you okay, seriously? I know Elpi moved off-station, she sent us a location ping, she left you with¡ª>>

    <<This is not a social call, before you get any stupid ideas.>>

    Another long pause. Vicky cleared her throat, then said, <<Well, if it¡¯s not an emergency, and it¡¯s not a social call, what it is? Can¡¯t you go without me for twenty minutes? Should I be flattered, or what?>>

    Kagami swallowed a bolus of poison.

    She had no idea how to manage Vicky these days, not since they¡¯d almost fought in that haze-like period of blinding hunger, before Elpida had finally given up and decided to hunt for fresh meat. Some nights she and Vicky shared the same bunk; some nights Victoria held her from behind, though Kagami still did not know what any of that meant, or how to turn around and return the gesture. On other days she couldn¡¯t stand the look on Victoria¡¯s face ¡ª the easy smiles and adoring eyes she saved for Elpida. Those looks made her want to slap Victoria across the cheeks. Kagami had no time or energy to spare on figuring out the complexities of this dirt-eater nonsense. She was too busy with her work, with bioengineering the meat-plants ¡ª or was it nano-engineering, or both? Whichever, Victoria was a distraction.

    But Vicky¡¯s voice drowned out the storm.

    <<Just checking on home base,>> Kagami said. <<I have to make sure you¡¯re not running with scissors or playing with matches.>>

    <<Ha ha,>> replied Vicky. <<You want a serious answer?>>

    <<Yes. All clear?>>

    <<Yeah, sure, everything¡¯s fine. Nothing¡¯s come near Pheiri. A couple of zombies wandered down a nearby corridor about half an hour ago, but they ran like the wind as soon as they saw Pheiri sitting here. No sign of Necromancer stuff again. No Lykke, or whatever her name was. The home front is quiet, Kaga. No worries here.>>

    <<How about our new arrivals?>>

    <<Ahhh, well.>> Vicky seemed less certain. <

    >

    <<Mm. And how¡¯s our little biter?>>

    <<Eseld?>>

    <<Mmmhmm.>>

    Victoria sighed a very big sigh. <<Not good. She¡¯s not comatose, but she¡¯s barely responsive. Shell shock. PTSD? I dunno what to call it. It¡¯s bad.>>

    Serves her right for almost shooting Elpida in the head, Kagami thought. But she didn¡¯t say that part out loud. Victoria wouldn¡¯t like it ¡ª and she would like the loyalty to Elpida too much.

    <<Any word from our eye in the sky?>>

    <<Nah,>> Vicky said. <<Hope¡¯s put herself beyond the edge of the storm, we¡¯re still out of contact.>>

    <<And how is our uninvited guest?>>

    Victoria paused, then cleared her throat. <<Creepy. Hasn¡¯t moved the whole time.>>

    <<Have Pheiri patch one of his front cameras through to my auspex visor.>>

    <<You serious?>>

    <<Yes, I want to get another look at her. Visual is fine, I don¡¯t need to see her guts or anything.>>

    Pheiri handed Kagami a carefully scrubbed feed of one of his front visual pick-ups, so as not to overwhelm her with data.

    Shilu was right where they¡¯d left her.

    She was sitting on the metal floor of a wide corridor, crossed-legged and straight-backed, about thirty feet in front of Pheiri. She hadn¡¯t re-donned her human disguise. She still looked like a scarecrow made of black iron, topped by a pale oval of plastic face. Pheiri had her covered with enough firepower to blow her to pieces, whatever she was made of. Serin was crouched on the front of Pheiri¡¯s armour, locked in a one-sided staring contest with the Necromancer.

    Shilu was not staring back; her eyes were closed.

    Eventually, Vicky said, <<Kaga?>>

    <<Why the hell am I all the way up here, Victoria? Why was this necessary?>>

    Vicky sighed, matching Kagami¡¯s musing tone. <<Because Elpida trusts you, Kaga. Come on. She needed the drone cordon. And she wanted your opinion. She values you. She trusts you!>>

    <<I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve noticed, but our Commander has been going steadily insane. She almost got her head blown off today. And now she¡¯s swanning about like she¡¯s full of uppers.>>

    Vicky fell silent for a second. <<I ¡­ yeah, I know.>>

    <<And you agree with her, don¡¯t you? I should have guessed. You think she was doing the right thing by letting that idiot put a gun to her head.>>

    <<She had a point ¡­ >>

    <<She had an obsession! Victoria, she has spent the last few weeks memorising the faces of dead people and staring at skulls! And then she almost gets herself shot, and the only thing which stopped her was Howl. I saw it, Vicky. Up close. She was going to take that bullet! She would have let it happen! And without her we¡ª>>

    Kagami cut off. She¡¯d said too much.

    Victoria lapsed into a long silence. Kagami prepared for the teasing ¡ª without Elpida we what, Kaga? We wouldn¡¯t survive? We wouldn¡¯t stick together? Don¡¯t you want her to screw you until you scream as well, Kaga? Shut up! Shut up!

    But then Victoria said, <<We ¡­ we need to talk about this, yeah, when everyone¡¯s back here. Didn¡¯t have a chance earlier, with the tomb loot and this ¡­ Shilu woman. You¡¯re right, Kaga. Elpi¡¯s not well. It¡¯s weird.>>

    <<I don¡¯t trust her.>>

    Vicky sounded surprised. <<Elpi?>>

    <<No. The Necromancer. ¡®Shilu¡¯.>>

    Vicky laughed, perhaps too glad for the change of subject ¡ª or maybe too happy that Kagami trusted Elpida. Kagami wanted to spit.

    <<Yeah!>> Vicky said. <<I don¡¯t trust her either. Elpi sure doesn¡¯t.>>

    <<And would you trust her, if Elpida did?>>

    <<Uh, I ¡­ what¡ª>>

    <<You would, wouldn¡¯t you? If our dear Commander said jump, you would leap face-first into the storm.>>

    Vicky sighed again, but differently now. <<Kaga, you¡¯re the most jealous woman I¡¯ve ever met.>>

    Kagami snorted, not convincing even to herself. <<What¡¯s to be jealous of?>>

    <<I dunno,>> Vicky said. <<You tell me. Where¡¯s this coming from?>>

    Kagami¡¯s cheeks burned; she and Victoria had not spoken like this face-to-face in weeks, not in the lab room, not in the bunks, not even in bed, pressed up against each other through their clothes. What was this? Kagami felt as if she¡¯d left familiar hand-holds far behind. She opened and closed her mouth several times, suddenly very glad that Hafina could not listen to the private tight-beam connection.

    Vicky started to laugh ¡ª but then Kagami was saved by the storm, or by what hid within it.

    Another roar rode the waves of the hurricane, still distant but so much closer than before. This roar was so loud it made Kagami¡¯s bowels quiver and drew a gasp from her throat. In the corner of her eye, Iriko¡¯s iridescent skin shuddered in disturbed sleep. Hafina adjusted her footing.

    <<Fuck me,>> Vicky muttered as the roar faded. <<Fucking hell. Fuck.>>

    <<You heard that one too, I take it?>>

    <<Yeah, loud as anything. Hey, Kaga, seriously, what do you think it is? Something alive out there?>>

    Kagami snorted. <<Nothing is ¡®alive¡¯ here, Victoria, you know that.>>

    <<And you know what I mean, Moon Princess.>>

    <<Honest answer?>> Kagami said, with odd relief. <<Actual honest answer, I don¡¯t know. I am praying to Luna¡¯s silver soil that it¡¯s not anything except the storm itself, because I have no idea what could survive in winds like that. Do you understand that, Victoria? Nine hundred miles an hour, that¡¯s the wind speed out there. If there¡¯s something which can live in that, it can probably squash this tomb like a house of cards. Do you understand?>>

    <<Hey,>> Victoria said. <<Hey, hey, Moon Princess¡ª>>

    <<Now is not the time for¡ª>>

    <<You¡¯re perfectly safe up there with Elpida. You¡¯ll be back down here with me and Pheiri and all the others, real soon. Just focus on your drones¡ª>>

    <<I do not need you to lecture me on focus!>>

    <<Just try not to think about it¡ª>>

    <<Oh yes, don¡¯t think about it. That¡¯s always your grand solution, isn¡¯t it? Don¡¯t think about it, don¡¯t think too hard, don¡¯t think at all! You absolute¡ª>>

    A new voice cut into the radio ¡ª Elpida, speaking out loud on a separate channel: ¡°Kagami, we¡¯re coming back up. Haf, you too. Hold fire.¡±

    ¡°Confirmed,¡± Kagami grunted. Then, to Vicky: <<I¡¯m signing off. Later.>>

    She didn¡¯t wait for a reply.

    Thirty seconds later the trio of madwomen reappeared around the corner ahead, looking windswept and rumpled. Elpida¡¯s white hair had been whipped back by the power of the storm, though she could not have approached within fifty feet of the window. Atyle was wide-eyed as if she¡¯d taken a huge hit of custom drugs. Only Ilyusha showed a borderline sensible response ¡ª cowed and quiet, hurrying ahead on her clicking claws, to crouch in the relative shelter of Hafina¡¯s side. Ilyusha peered into the room where Iriko slept, then waved hesitantly at the massive bulk of the blob-like revenant.

    Elpida and Atyle rejoined the group.

    ¡°Well?¡± Kagami demanded. ¡°Did you get your naked eye look into the storm? Tell you anything useful? No? Didn¡¯t think so.¡±

    Atyle answered: ¡°Godlike fury, but not divinely ordained. No clear meaning in the maelstrom.¡±

    ¡°And what does that mean?¡± Kagami snapped.

    Elpida said, ¡°Just a theory we were discussing. Kagami, how long do storms like this usually last?¡±

    ¡°Hurricanes?¡± Kagami shrugged. ¡°A week? But real hurricanes move fast, and more importantly they move over water. That thing up there is not remotely natural. Technically it¡¯s not even a hurricane. I wasn¡¯t joking when I said we need to invent a new word.¡±

    ¡°How long do you think it could stay in one position like this?¡±

    Kagami spread her hands in an exasperated shrug. How the hell should she know?

    Elpida took a deep breath, looked up and down the corridor, then said: ¡°Are you still confident in the security of your drone cordon?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course I am. I know what I¡¯m doing, Commander, this is simple stuff. Why?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to talk for a minute or two, right here. Are you comfortable with that, Kaga?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s purple eyes burned in the darkness, focused on Kagami. A hard lump grew in Kagami¡¯s throat.

    She was not scared of Elpida, not really, of course not. Elpida was her Commander, and despite all of Kagami¡¯s doubts and disagreements, Elpida always seemed to stay true to that. Besides, Ilyusha and Hafina were right here; Ilyusha even straightened up as well, frowning at Elpida with a curious look on her face. Atyle seemed less surprised, but she raised an eyebrow. This was not some secret plan to drag Kagami off into the dark for a quiet murder, or else Elpida would be doing it alone.

    ¡°Commander,¡± Kagami said slowly. ¡°We are in the middle of a tomb, surrounded by storm, and zombies, and ¡­ and ¡­ and whatever is out there, making that roaring sound. We need to return to Pheiri. ASAP. Or have you finally taken leave of your senses?¡±

    ¡°ASAP, agreed,¡± Elpida said. ¡°But first, if you¡¯re comfortable, I want your counsel.¡±

    Kagami boggled at her. ¡°My¡ª my what? My counsel?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°About what? And why here? What is all this cloak and dagger about?¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Ilyusha barked. ¡°Elpi, what¡¯s up?¡±

    Elpida held out a gentle hand. ¡°About what? Several things. Theories about the storm. Theories about the zombies we rescued. Theories about Shilu. Why here? Well, because here is about as far away from Shilu as we can get right now.¡±

    Kagami stared for a moment, speechless. Ilyusha barked a laugh. ¡°Right! Right yeah!¡±

    ¡°Ahhhhhhh,¡± purred Atyle. ¡°Clever, clever, clever.¡±

    Kagami snapped, ¡°Is that the whole reason for dragging me up here? Is that why we¡¯re standing here, exposed, in the fucking dark? Seriously?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elpida said with a soft shake of her head. ¡°We needed to take readings of the storm, because we need to know what is going on. There was no subterfuge or trick to that, I promise. But I do want to ask your counsel, and this is our best option for making sure that Shilu can¡¯t overhear.¡±

    ¡°She might be plugged into the tomb itself, Commander! We can¡¯t be sure of anything!¡±

    Kagami glanced at the camera feed in the corner of her auspex visor, still showing Shilu sitting cross-legged before Pheiri. She hadn¡¯t moved an inch.

    ¡°It¡¯s not perfect, yes,¡± Elpida said. ¡°But it¡¯s our best option.¡±

    Kagami shook her head. ¡°Why me, Commander? What is this about?¡±

    Elpida smiled. Her eyes glowed, purple irises catching the minuscule backwash of light from Kagami¡¯s auspex visor.

    ¡°Because, Kagami, you are the most cynical, suspicious, and paranoid member of our cadre. And right now I have need of cynicism, suspicion, and paranoia.¡±

 tempestas - 12.3

    Victoria was alone in Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit, watching her friends come home.

    ¡°What do you think, hey?¡± she said. Her voice was blurred by the close and claustrophobic static of the storm ¡ª a rumbling murmur even inside Pheiri¡¯s hull, far within the walls of the tomb, buried deep underground. Distant creakings and groanings sang a reply to the howling wind outside. ¡°They¡¯re taking the exact same route back, right? Drones up front for a vanguard, nice wide spread. What do you reckon, fifteen minutes?¡±

    A screen lit up down by her right elbow. Glowing green text flickered in the electric gloom.

    >20:00

    Victoria clucked her tongue. ¡°Oooh, I dunno about that. Twenty minutes, really? They¡¯ve been on the move for almost thirty minutes already. Elpi¡¯s got them hustling fast, making good progress. And that last stretch is all wide open corridors, right? Nah, come on. Fifteen minutes.¡±

    The green text refreshed.

    >20:00

    ¡°Well, you would know better than me.¡± Vicky was not exaggerating; Pheiri was Pheiri, with all his sensors and his processing power, while Vicky had only rough location pings, indicated by blinking green lights on a tiny steel-glass screen set into the communication console. ¡°But I¡¯m confident,¡± she said. ¡°Fifteen minutes. Are you confident enough to bet against that number, Pheiri?¡±

    >y

    ¡°So, what do we wager?¡±

    >accuracy

    ¡°Ahhhhh. Bragging rights. Honour. The satisfaction of ¡®I-told-you-so¡¯.¡±

    >y

    ¡°Didn¡¯t know you went in for that kind of thing. Not the sort of wager I¡¯d usually risk. Certainly not against Kaga, she¡¯d be insufferable if she won ¡­ ¡±

    The glowing green text held steady.

    ¡°You¡¯re on,¡± she finished. ¡°Fifteen minutes. I¡¯ll trust you to keep count, of course.¡±

    >20:00 ¡­ 19:59 ¡­ 19:58 ¡­

    Vicky took a deep breath, let out an equally deep sigh, and leaned back her seat with a creak of metal.

    She was sat in what she had begun to think of as the ¡®comms seat¡¯ ¡ª the battered old chair perched before the bank of consoles which served as a crew interface for Pheiri¡¯s communications array. Technically there was no need to sit directly in front of the comms console itself; Vicky could have set herself up in any seat she liked. Some of the chairs toward the rear of the cockpit boasted significantly more stuffing left in their backrests and arms; she could have forgone the rolled up t-shirt pressed into the base of her spine or the spare coat folded beneath her backside. Pheiri would happily flash any information she needed onto any of his dozens of screens, with nothing more required of her than a vocal request. If she needed to talk to the fireteam ¡ª Elpida, Kagami, Atyle, Hafina, and Ilyusha ¡ª she need only speak out loud; Pheiri¡¯s pickup and broadcast equipment would render her voice in perfect clarity even from halfway across the room.

    But Victoria refused to sit back and wait; she had enough of that in the GLR 18th Infantry ¡ª ¡®hurry up and wait¡¯ was the watchword and joke of all old soldiers, and Victoria had been an old soldier for much, much longer than she¡¯d been undead.

    She had spent most of her time over the last few weeks familiarising herself with every part of Pheiri she could reach, which meant pretty much everything above the tunnels of the engineering deck beneath her feet, where only Melyn¡¯s tiny android body could fit. Victoria longed to see Pheiri¡¯s nuclear heart and the baroque complexity of his engines for herself, so she might do what she could for the worn and aged components of his main drivetrain; but she had to trust in Melyn¡¯s slender little hands for that job, and the miracle of Thirteen Arcadia¡¯s grey nanomachine sludge.

    Instead, Vicky had crawled into hidden compartments all along Pheiri¡¯s spinal corridor, opening new rooms and spaces which had gone lightless and unused for hundreds of years. She had contorted herself and wormed her way upward into the sponson-chambers and armour-bulges of Pheiri¡¯s many guns, to count and catalogue and check on his systems, to oil and grease and wipe clean his ageing servo-motors and ammunition feeds. She had spent entire days up there, wriggling back and forth with tins of lubricant and a heavy tool belt, doing maintenance on a machine more complex than any artillery piece she¡¯d known in life. She had even inspected much of Pheiri¡¯s exterior armour, accompanied by Hafina and Serin, protected by Pheiri¡¯s heavy guns; she had searched for cracks and flaws and breaches in Pheiri¡¯s bony white shell, though she could do little to heal those wounds. Pheiri¡¯s skin repaired itself, given enough time and nano-sludge.

    She¡¯d learned how to operate the comms system ¡ª or at least enough of it to participate. She¡¯d set up a recurring tight-beam ping to Hafina¡¯s on-board radio and Elpida¡¯s headset, to keep her and Pheiri updated on the group¡¯s progress back toward safety and home. Not that Pheiri couldn¡¯t have done that himself, or flashed the information up on a screen at Vicky¡¯s request. Technically any manual operation of Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit was pointless. Learning what the buttons and switches and displays did was a waste of time. Her input was duplicated work; Pheiri could do it all himself with nothing but a thought.

    But it was wrong to expect Pheiri to do it alone. So Victoria had a little display all to herself, lit up with green text showing estimated distances and automatic ping returns. Hafina and Elpida were moving fast, well within ten feet of each other. The drones were in a ring, shown as auxiliary pings in contact with Pheiri¡¯s on-board IFF sensors.

    Kagami had refused the ping set-up, of course, because why not?

    Vicky lifted her gaze to the screens above the comms console.

    A dozen of Pheiri¡¯s displays showed exterior views, from out beyond the hull ¡ª high angle panoramas from up on his turret, past the bristling guns of his armour; low tight-range sights from the rear of his ramp or down his sides, watching the floors for signs of hidden movement; infra-red, night-vision, and powerful magnification peering into every corner and crevice, sweeping back and forth across the yawning metallic darkness of the tomb.

    Pheiri was currently burrowed deep into the second subterranean layer of the tomb. He was stopped toward the rear of a massive chamber of grey metal, which dwarfed even his substantial size. There were four ways in and out of the chamber ¡ª one to Pheiri¡¯s rear, one in front, and one on either side, all covered by plenty of Pheiri¡¯s guns. On the left hand side of the chamber, between Pheiri and the wall, corpses lay stacked in rows ¡ª the remains of Lykke¡¯s group of revenants who had slipped past Pheiri and raced for the gravekeeper. The corpses were too numerous to process all at once, or to cram inside Pheiri in the meantime, so there they lay. Vicky tried not to look at them too often.

    Getting down here had been simple enough. The grey metal passageways of the subterranean levels appeared to be built for vehicles, equipped with ramps and wide corridors, not at all like the tight spaces of the upper layers. But this was as far as Pheiri could reach, at least without blasting holes through the tomb¡¯s innards; up ahead the corridors narrowed into twisty little tunnels, as if to restrict access to the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber.

    Pheiri didn¡¯t need anybody to watch his cameras. Pheiri had every angle covered, everything under control. If a bunch of zombies shambled around a corner and tried to pop him in the flank with an anti-tank weapon, he would jerk out of the way or flash-start his shields or flatten them with a cannon round, all long before Victoria could shout a warning or press a button. The danger would be over and gone before she had time to clench.

    But she didn¡¯t like to leave the old boy all by himself. He deserved some company on watch.

    It wasn¡¯t just that, but Victoria tried not to think too hard about the other part.

    Pheiri was alert to any sign of Necromancer activity, of course. His detection could not be fooled and his firepower could not be overcome. If this ¡®Lykke¡¯ bitch came back, she wouldn''t stand a chance. Pheiri was immune to Necromancer bullshit and his guns would reduce her to paste, no matter how many times she reconstituted herself from the walls ¡ª which was apparently a real possibility, according to Cyneswith. But the fireteam out beyond the hull had far less protection, only Kagami¡¯s drones, Hafina¡¯s immunity to Necromancer paralysis, and Elpida¡¯s trump card, Howl.

    Victoria dealt with anxiety the same as she had in life ¡ª watching the skies for incoming counter-battery fire.

    Besides, she wanted to keep a personal eye on Shilu.

    Pheiri had several screens dedicated to Shilu. He kept the ¡®Necromancer¡¯ painted with half a dozen weapon systems, highlighting her black metal body in reds and purples and night-vision greens, pinning her in the centre of targeting reticles and predicted blast radii. If Shilu so much as sneezed wrong, Pheiri could turn the entire front half of the chamber into molten slag.

    But Shilu did not sneeze. Shilu did not twitch. Shilu did nothing. Shilu sat there crossed-legged, hands on her knees, eyes closed. She had done nothing but sit there since Elpida had asked her to wait.

    ¡°You keep her covered, boss,¡± Vicky muttered. ¡°Keep those eyes peeled real good. Dammit, I wish she would move. Adjust a leg. Scratch her nose. Let out a fart.¡±

    >y

    Victoria tugged her armoured coat tighter around her shoulders. She wasn¡¯t cold; the chill was all in her head, brought on by the hurricane, deepened by the incessant creaking and groaning of the tomb structure. She couldn¡¯t see anything through Pheiri¡¯s tiny steel-glass slit up in the top right of the control cockpit, but she glanced up anyway, then chuckled at herself. As if she could look outdoors and watch the rain.

    At least they had plenty of spare clothes now, enough grey tomb-grown gear to go around a dozen times over, currently packed into Pheiri¡¯s storage racks.

    In fact, Vicky and her comrades now had more equipment than they knew what to do with ¡ª guns and body armour stacked up in the crew compartment, bullets galore in buckets and bins, weapon grease and grenades and boots and helmets, more than they could ever use, all from this one tomb¡¯s armoury.

    Vicky knew the task of sorting and stowing much of that equipment would fall on her shoulders; after all, she¡¯d learned more about Pheiri¡¯s compartments over the last few weeks than anybody else among her comrades, with the possible exception of Melyn. She¡¯d end up more quartermaster than mechanic. Amina would help, she was always eager. Ooni too, she was a fast learner and all smiles these days. Maybe she could bully Pira into assisting, too. Kagami, of course, would not deign to lend her drones for the mere task of lugging firearms about.

    And meanwhile? Hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait. Don¡¯t dawdle, old soldier, hurry yourself up now ¡ª then wait for orders.

    Vicky sighed.

    Screens flickered and hummed in the electric gloom. Hurricane static hissed and buzzed against the far-away walls of the tomb. Vicky leaned back, her chair creaking again, an imitation of the black metal beneath the howling storm-winds.

    She peered at the screen which showed Pheiri¡¯s assessment of the storm ¡ª wind speeds and rainfall and the like ¡ª but none of the numbers looked any different to five minutes ago. She lifted a headset to one ear and reviewed the audio logs of sounds picked up inside the tomb ¡ª zombies scurrying about, a few snatches of unintelligible words, nothing important. She checked on Iriko again via the tight-beam, and received something like a snore in reply. That made her smile, so she checked on Hope as well, searching the skies with the comms array. But Thirteen Arcadia¡¯s pseudo-satellite child was hiding well beyond the edge of the hurricane.

    Vicky waited, watching the darkness, watching Shilu, listening to the storm. On watch with Pheiri. A good way to pass her unlife.

    Elpida¡¯s fireteam reached the chamber a little while later. Victoria saw the direct tight-beam uplink to Pheiri, chattering on the console before her ¡ª Elpida, letting Pheiri know that the figures about to round the corner were just her and Kagami and the rest, not some random zombies blundering through the tomb. Vicky watched as the little team scurried out of the corridors and hurried across the wide chamber, flanked and guarded by Kagami¡¯s bulky new drones, all picked out in pale night-vision greens and ghostly whites. Elpida¡¯s head was high, eyes flickering back and forth to make sure the others got aboard safely. Hafina carried Kagami. How very cosy for the Princess.

    Vicky felt Pheiri¡¯s crew access ramp descend with a thump, then watched the tiny low-light figures scurry upward and squeeze inside. A moment later the ramp closed with a matching clank of metal.

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s back in one piece, right?¡± she asked out loud.

    >y

    ¡°Good to know.¡±

    Victoria did not leap out of her seat and hurry down the spinal corridor to welcome Kagami home. That would not earn Vicky a warm reception, let alone a coquettish hug and a chaste peck on the cheek. Getting a hug out of Kagami was like trying to take a wild cat for a walk. A kiss? They hadn¡¯t kissed since that night Victoria had told Kagami the truth. If Kaga wanted to continue their earlier conversation, she would probably try later on, in her usual circuitous fashion. She¡¯d doubtless call Victoria over to the lab in some roundabout way, or probably badger her about the storage space for the new drones, then insult her several times and stomp off again. Until then, Kaga would flare her spikes to keep Victoria off.

    Hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait. Even when it came to Princesses from the Moon. Hurry up! And wait.

    Besides, Pheiri still needed somebody to watch the cameras, and nobody had turned up to take over.

    ¡°Wait a sec, who won?¡± Vicky asked. ¡°How long was that?¡±

    >17:32

    ¡° ¡­ ha! What does that count as then? Your win by two seconds?¡±

    >draw

    ¡°You sure? You were right, Pheiri. They were closer to twenty minutes than fifteen. You sure you don¡¯t want to claim the win?¡±

    >y

    ¡°Well, have it your way. Mister gracious in victory.¡±

    >y

    Victoria leaned back again; the chair let out a satisfying creak of old metal. Perhaps she should putter about with some grease and scrap, see if she could shore up these seats a bit. Or perhaps she should turn back to the project laid out on the floor behind her. With the others safely back home, the knot in her stomach was loosening up. She could afford to spare attention for other tasks.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    She ran her eyes across the exterior views one more time. Shilu, unmoving. The dark corridors of the tomb, shadowy and grey. Pheiri¡¯s exterior hull, pitted by darkness and divots, bristling with guns and dim red warning lights. Serin, still perched up front, still watching Shilu. Vicky always had trouble talking to Serin, and enduring her weird mushroomy smell, but she still wished the woman would come inside.

    Victoria sighed and turned in the seat. She could get back to the project now. This weapon wouldn¡¯t finish maintaining itself¡ª

    A familiar figure stepped from Pheiri¡¯s spinal corridor and into the cockpit ¡ª Kagami.

    Or rather, Kagami floated into the cockpit with her socks a couple of inches off the floor, her back reclined just enough to make it clear that she was not walking. Two silver-grey drones hovered at her shoulders, doing the heavy lifting so beneath her lofty station, supporting her with an invisible gravity-field. Three more drones orbited her in a tight formation.

    Vicky raised her eyebrows. ¡°Hey you.¡±

    Kagami looked rather rumpled inside her own armoured coat, too large for her slender body. Her long black hair was swept back as if she¡¯d been raking her hands through it repeatedly. Her eyes were too wide with tension, still wired from the trip beyond the hull. Her usual imperious bearing was buckled beneath an invisible weight.

    Kagami sighed and rolled her eyes. ¡°¡®Hey you¡¯?¡± she echoed. ¡°What kind of welcome is that? I¡¯ve just spent the last hour ¡ª or more! ¡ª traipsing through this insane death-trap machine, wondering when our glorious leader is going to demand that somebody shoot her in the head again. Is that all you can manage? ¡®Hey you¡¯?¡±

    Victoria sighed and smiled at the same time. ¡°Welcome home, Moon Princess. Should I run you a bath?¡±

    Kagami snorted and rolled her eyes again. ¡°Mockery will get you nowhere.¡±

    ¡°Kaga, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re back safe. And stop doing that with your eyes, you¡¯re gonna hurt yourself.¡±

    ¡°Doing what with my eyes?¡± Kagami squinted. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°Rolling them. Yeah, that. Like that. Exactly that, what you just did right there.¡±

    Kagami clenched her jaw. Victoria braced for the next stage of the process. She had learned through bitter experience that Kagami followed embarrassment with sharp-tongued rebuke. The hotter the embarrassment, the heavier the barrage of insults, until Kagami hit a buffer overflow and regressed back to calling everyone ¡®dirt-eating primitives¡¯. Victoria had been unable to resist their little exchange over the radio earlier, but here was the butcher¡¯s bill coming due.

    But then Kagami just said: ¡°Come with me to the lab.¡±

    Vicky blinked. ¡°What?¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°I said, come with me to the lab. Are you having trouble with language now? Is our translation software breaking down? Because I am not going to learn pre-NorAm English. You¡¯ll have to learn Luna, and your accent will be terrible.¡±

    ¡°Uh, no, I¡¯m just surprised.¡± A smile crept across Vicky¡¯s face. Was Kagami trying to be forward? Had the fear and separation of the expedition into the tomb made her want to go somewhere private together and cuddle? Victoria forced herself not to smile too hard; if Kagami was finally reaching out for interpersonal comfort, Vicky needed to take this seriously. ¡°I¡¯m flattered you want me alone, Kaga, but somebody needs to stay here and watch the screens, you know?¡±

    ¡°Come with me to the lab,¡± Kagami snapped.

    Vicky opened her mouth to play along again, but then realised that Kagami was not flirting. She was furious and furtive.

    ¡° ¡­ Kaga, what¡¯s wrong? Everyone came back in one piece, right? Did something happen?¡±

    ¡°Come with me. To the lab. How many times am I going to have to repeat this?¡±

    ¡°Kagami¡ª¡±

    ¡°Come with me to the lab.¡±

    ¡°Ka¡ª¡±

    Kagami shouted. ¡°Come with me to the lab!¡±

    Vicky spread her hands. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Just do it!¡±

    ¡°No!¡±

    Victoria had not intended to shout back, but she did. Kagami flinched. Two of her drones jerked forward as if to protect her, but then quickly dipped back downward.

    Vicky swallowed, then took a deep breath. She did not want to lose her temper with Kagami. She had promised herself she would not do so again, not since that terrible screaming match several weeks ago; she could barely recall the substance of that argument now, it all seemed very foggy in her memory. The argument had happened when everybody had been going mad with hunger without knowing it, overcome with a need to eat that crushed all other thought and made anger quick and sharp. When Elpida had gone out to hunt and brought back fresh meat, the irritable fog had lifted as if it had never been felt. Vicky never wanted to feel that again.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she muttered. ¡°Sorry, Kaga, I didn¡¯t mean to snap, I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Kagami said, softer but still irritated.

    ¡°Why not snap?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Kagami sighed. ¡°Why won¡¯t you come with me?¡±

    Victoria didn¡¯t answer right away. Something was wrong with Kagami ¡ª more wrong than all the usual things which were wrong with Kagami. Was she embarrassed by the request for alone time with Vicky? Or was this an extension of the earlier jealousy, now taking some side-route that Victoria didn¡¯t recognise? Or had something terrible happened out there in the tomb, something which nobody was telling her? Pheiri hadn¡¯t picked up anything strange, and he would not keep silly secrets.

    Vicky leaned sideways in her chair to peer around Kagami, into the jumble of systems and kinking corners which formed Pheiri¡¯s spinal corridor. Nobody was lurking behind Kagami or blundering down through the passageway. The distant fury of the hurricane blotted out most small noises, but she would have heard the approach of another pair of feet, unless Amina was sneaking around.

    ¡°Nobody¡¯s behind you,¡± Vicky said. ¡°We¡¯re totally alone right now. If you want to talk, we can talk right here.¡± She gestured at the screens which surrounded the comms console. ¡°And I¡¯m serious about being on duty. Unless this is an emergency, somebody needs to stay here and watch. Look, I¡¯m happy to come with you if you call somebody to replace me. Ooni should be free. Go get her and I¡¯ll come anywhere you want.¡±

    Kagami sighed, began to roll her eyes, then stopped. ¡°Victoria, I think Pheiri is perfectly capable of watching the inside of his own eyeballs.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± Vicky said. ¡°But I¡¯m on duty. Come on, you can sit down right here. You wanna talk?¡±

    ¡°Not particularly.¡±

    Victoria swallowed a sigh. Kagami pursed her lips harder and harder, then¡ª

    ¡°Fine!¡± she spat. ¡°Fine. Fine. We¡¯re going to do it like this? Fine.¡±

    Kagami floated closer, but did not take a seat. Instead she reclined against the invisible support of her drones, one on either side of her back, until she assumed a sitting position in mid-air.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Vicky said.

    Kaga scowled. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, nothing. Just you, sitting on a throne of thin air.¡±

    Kagami huffed again and cast her eyes around the inside of the control cockpit, squinting at the views of Pheiri¡¯s exterior on the displays. Her eyes paused on Shilu briefly, then carried on down to the comms console.

    ¡°Is this what you¡¯ve been doing the whole time?¡± she asked. ¡°Sitting here and watching the cameras?¡±

    ¡°Somebody¡¯s gotta do it. It¡¯s not that different to your drones, you know?¡±

    Kagami sighed. She closed her eyes briefly. Victoria would have assumed she was counting to ten, but Victoria knew full well Kagami never attempted to control her anger.

    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to be insulting,¡± Kagami said. ¡°And no, actually, as I just explained, this is entirely unnecessary. Nobody has ¡®gotta do it¡¯. You¡¯re not earning karma or good girl points or washing away your sins by sitting on watch when Pheiri is doing it anyway. This is self-flagellation, Victoria. I had hoped you were less primitive than this.¡±

    Vicky laughed and shook her head. ¡°Bullshit. I like helping. I like doing this. It feels good.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes. Whatever.¡± Kagami glanced around the cockpit again, into the electric shadows and the distant rumble of the storm beyond. A particularly loud creaking sound reverberated through the black metal of the tomb. Kagami attempted to suppress a shudder, but she didn¡¯t do a very good job of it.

    After a moment, Vicky said: ¡°How are the others?¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    ¡°As in, did the return journey¡ª¡±

    ¡°It was fine.¡±

    Vicky waited a beat. ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hafina is stripping off her armour. Atyle went to stare at the wounded newbie again, which is creepy and weird and I hate it. Ilyusha is probably gnawing on a leg bone. Elpida is ¡­ busy.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Vicky said. ¡°That¡¯s all I was asking for. Did you look in on the newbies at all? I haven¡¯t had a chance for a while now.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Kagami grunted. She didn¡¯t meet Vicky¡¯s eyes, but this subject finally drew some of her poison. Her voice softened. ¡°Eseld¡¯s still mute, won¡¯t respond to anything. She¡¯s eaten a few mouthfuls of meat though. Sky¡¯s unconscious ¡ª in the ¡®good way¡¯, as Melyn put it. Cyneswith stares at everybody like we¡¯ve all stepped from the pages of a fantasy sim. Which I do not like. She called me ¡®My Lady¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Yeeeeeah,¡± Vicky said. ¡°She¡¯s gonna struggle. I¡¯ve tried to talk to her too, but she¡¯s pretty wilful about her world-view, if you know what I mean.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    Hurricane static settled into the cockpit ¡ª sheets of distant rain, the drum of hailstones on metal, the howling of the wind and the creaking of the tomb. Vicky looked at the exterior screens again, taking note of Shilu¡¯s position and checking the entrances to the chamber. Kagami sighed, long and low. Vicky closed her eyes for a moment. This was almost nice, just sitting here in the quiet alongside Kagami, secure together inside Pheiri while the wind and the rain howled on and on outdoors. Perhaps she really should ask Ooni to come take over on watch. Victoria would very much like to snuggle down in Kagami¡¯s lab together, maybe take a nap.

    ¡°At least that weird roaring noise has stopped,¡± she muttered. ¡°Stopped about the time you started on your way back to Pheiri. Maybe whatever was making it just wandered off. Here¡¯s to hoping.¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm,¡± Kagami grunted.

    ¡°I saw a hurricane once before,¡± Vicky went on. ¡°Back in life, I mean. The remains of one, I guess. South of New York a ways. We were pitched up in¡ª¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Kagami said, voice peaking with disdain.

    Vicky opened her eyes and looked round.

    Kagami was pointing at the floor behind Vicky¡¯s chair, where the disassembled weapon was laid out on the metal. Black tubes and boxes lay separated, unrecognisable as parts of their combined form.

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s my little treat, to myself. I was in the middle of checking all the parts.¡± Vicky cracked a grin. ¡°Wanna see?¡±

    ¡°See what?¡±

    Vicky turned her seat around and bent down. She picked up the bulky receiver first, then slotted the long, ridged barrel into place, followed by the trigger mechanism, rear grip, and top-mounted carrying handle. She slapped the three parts of the drum-mag back together and clicked it home underneath. She folded out the stock and slid the forward grip into position. Then she finally lifted the optical sight and targeting computer, laid them into the armoured slot in the forward part of the receiver, and locked them in place.

    She hefted the weapon, about fifteen pounds of lightweight alloys and hardened polymers, as thick as her arm and over three feet long.

    She struck a pose. ¡°Well? What do you think? Does it suit me?¡±

    Kagami shrugged. ¡°My knowledge of primitive weaponry is rather limited.¡±

    ¡°Huh!¡± Victoria laughed. ¡°Primitive weaponry? Moon Princess, I could knock one of your drones out mid-flight with this baby, trust me on that.¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes. ¡°No, you could not. Don¡¯t exaggerate. What is it, ECM of some kind?¡±

    ¡°AGL.¡±

    Kagami shrugged again.

    ¡°Automatic grenade launcher.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s eyes widened beneath the creases of a concerned frown. ¡°That¡¯s a joke.¡±

    ¡°Nope, no joke. Genuine article. I really could probably knock out one of your drones mid-flight, given enough range and a few seconds to get a reading with the sights. I could pop a round through a six-inch bunker slit in half a second, that¡¯s also not a joke. Hey, come on, don¡¯t look at me like that. This is my one personal claim from the armoury haul.¡±

    Kagami hissed, ¡°And you¡¯ve brought it in here, inside Pheiri, into the cockpit?!¡±

    ¡° ¡­ Kaga, it¡¯s not loaded.¡±

    Kagami threw up both hands. ¡°Fine, fine¡ª¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t trust me with anything else, you can damn well trust me with ammunition and explosive safety. The rounds are stored in the armoured pocket on Pheiri¡¯s rear, they¡¯re not even inside his hull. I¡¯m not stupid, thank you.¡±

    ¡°Fine! Fine. Alright!¡± Kagami paused to huff. ¡°Luna¡¯s soil, Victoria. When are you ever going to have a need for that?¡±

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s got a perfectly legitimate combat use. If we ever need to dig some zombies out of a trench or blast apart some cover, I¡¯ve got us sorted.¡±

    ¡°We have Pheiri¡¯s guns for that!¡± Kagami jabbed a finger at the AGL. ¡°That thing is a fetish, nothing more. Admit it.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Vicky sighed. She patted the chunky barrel. ¡°It¡¯s the closest thing I¡¯m ever gonna get to firing an artillery piece ever again, that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    Kagami opened her mouth, then closed it again. She sighed through her nose.

    Victoria went on: ¡°Honestly, hey, I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t recognise this.¡± She laid the AGL across her thighs, then detached the sight. She pressed one eye to the rubber socket and pointed the detached optical at Kagami¡¯s scowl. The on-board targeting computer attempted to calculate trajectory and firing arc for the tip of Kagami¡¯s neat little nose.

    After a few moments it gave up and threw an error: DANGER CLOSE DO NOT FIRE.

    Kagami squinted, face framed in miniature inside the sight. ¡°What? What are you going on about now?¡±

    ¡°AGL,¡± Victoria said. ¡°You used to command troops down on the surface, right? This stuff is like, standard equipment for any decently heavy infantry formation.¡± She lowered the sight again and looked down at the ridged barrel of the grenade launcher. ¡°I don¡¯t mean this exact model or anything. Hell, I don¡¯t recognise this one either, probably comes from hundreds or thousands of years after either of us. Looks kinda like a QLZ, I guess, but much lighter. Alloys are less dense. More polymer parts. Future science, I guess. The rounds felt pretty light too, but I¡¯m not gonna test them inside the tomb. Anyway, I mean the general principle. Crew-served weapons in a heavy infantry formation. Squad-level organic firepower, all that. It¡¯s no artillery regiment, but ¡­ Kaga?¡±

    Kagami was just staring, blank-faced and unimpressed. ¡°My surface agents were generally armed with more advanced systems.¡±

    Vicky laughed. ¡°More advanced systems,¡± she echoed with a smile. ¡°Come on, you can¡¯t beat a good explosion. It¡¯s not quite the same as an artillery barrage, but holding one of these and doing it yourself, it feels great. Here.¡± She sat up straight and raised the weapon to her shoulder, angling it upward as if about to fire, trying to keep the smirk off her face. ¡°Where I came from, they used to say that firing one of these is a religious experience.¡±

    Kagami frowned, incredulous. ¡°What? Don¡¯t talk nonsense.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, serious.¡± Vicky struggled to keep a straight face. ¡°First you hear budda-budda-budda.¡± She jerked the grenade launcher as if firing. ¡°Then, you see the light.¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes with a great and terrible huff. Victoria started laughing.

    ¡°That was atrocious,¡± Kagami said.

    ¡°Come on, Kaga! You gotta admit, that was a good one. I had you going there for a sec. The joke doesn¡¯t quite work the same though, ¡®cos the ones we had were belt-fed. Old Empire shit. They really did make a sound like that, budda-budda-budda. Scary if you¡¯re on the receiving end.¡±

    Kagami threw up both hands. ¡°Your people weren¡¯t Buddhists! It¡¯s a shit joke!¡±

    Victoria shrugged. ¡°I knew a few Buddhists in the GLR. Don¡¯t be such a closed-minded Lunarian, hey. You had Buddhists on the moon?¡±

    ¡°That gun is absurd and you have no need for it.¡±

    Victoria lowered the launcher again. ¡°I wish you¡¯d go armed, Kaga. When you go out, beyond the hull, I mean. It¡¯s not like we¡¯re short on guns now. Take a pistol, a sidearm, anything. Just shove it in a pocket and forget about it unless you need it. Please?¡±

    Kagami frowned, then gestured at one of her drones, hovering a couple of feet from her head. ¡°I don¡¯t need guns.¡±

    ¡°Take one anyway? For me?¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Victoria stared. Kagami stared back, then swallowed and looked away. Was that a blush Victoria detected in those cheeks? Maybe, but not quite. Kagami was beautiful when she blushed, shaded by that long black hair, like she really did belong on a throne on the Moon.

    ¡°Because,¡± Victoria said quietly, ¡°I don¡¯t want you to be alone and afraid if your drones fail. Because you and I sleep together half the time and I still don¡¯t know what that means. Take a gun with you, Kaga. At least when I¡¯m not with you.¡±

    Kagami said nothing for a long moment, staring off at the flickering screens of the control cockpit. Then: ¡°Will you come with me to the lab?¡±

    ¡°Like I said, if you get a replacement for me. Why? What for? You can just tell me, you know. Nothing to be embarrassed about.¡±

    Kagami looked around at last. ¡°Elpida wants to talk to both of us.¡±

    Vicky sat up straighter. ¡°What? Is that what all this was about? Kaga, why didn¡¯t you say something? Is she waiting for me?¡±

    Kagami snorted. Her eyes tightened. Her throat bobbed. ¡°Ahhhhh, yes. There we go. When it was just me making a request, oh no, no no no. You had excuses and counter-arguments. You were too busy watching the screens to come with me. You have to get a replacement for a job which doesn¡¯t even need doing. But when Elpida says jump, you ask how high. When Elpida says sit, you sit. Bark like a dog. Roll over. Play dead.¡±

    ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡±

    Vicky shut up. Kagami shut up too, staring across the cockpit again, avoiding Vicky¡¯s eyes. Electric gloom flickered on her burning cheeks, the reflection of Pheiri¡¯s screens washing out her blush.

    ¡°Kaga,¡± Vicky started slowly, wary of another detonation. ¡°I don¡¯t sleep with Elpida. I don¡¯t climb into her bunk. I don¡¯t worry about her when she¡¯s beyond the hull. I don¡¯t¡ª¡± Vicky had to take a breath, to sort truth from lie. ¡°I admire her, yes. I respect her, because she¡¯s our Commander, because she¡¯s led us through this insane afterlife and hasn¡¯t yet led us astray. We¡¯re all still here, still alive, whatever that means when we¡¯re all zombies, and that is down to her. And you said it yourself, we need to talk to her, because something is wrong with her lately. Something has been wrong with her for weeks and now she¡¯s found this Eseld girl. That would be enough to fuck anybody up. She¡¯s a super soldier, but I know she¡¯s not invincible. I¡¯ve seen her cry. So yes, I care, I worry, because she is our Commander, and my friend. But you¡¯ve got nothing to be jealous of. Just¡ª¡±

    Kagami stood up ¡ª righted by her drones. She floated away, heading for Pheiri¡¯s spinal corridor.

    ¡°Kaga, hey¡ª¡±

    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re the one who should be jealous, Victoria!¡± she spat back. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll go get Ooni, or some other ex-fascist moron to sit in your place, so you and I and Elpida can talk all we like about how paranoid and cynical I am!¡±

    Kagami paused by the corridor entrance, staring back, daring Vicky to answer.

    Vicky said: ¡°Kaga, where the hell is this coming from?¡±

    Kagami stared for a moment ¡ª then three of her drones shot forward.

    Victoria flinched, jerking in her seat, making the metal creak. The speed of the drones gave her no time to react. If her AGL had been loaded, she would not have been able to blast one drone out of the air, let alone three. She did not even have time to fully form the thought ¡ª that Kagami had finally lost her mind to green-eyed jealousy and the toxins of a superiority complex.

    That thought only solidified a moment later, when the three drones hung in a rough triangle behind her, mirrored by three drones behind Kagami.

    A gentle static crackle passed through the air; Vicky tasted a little blood. The sound of the storm grew faint, blocked by Kagami¡¯s electromagnetic forcefield.

    Vicky blinked in shock; this was not the assault she had expected, but sudden seclusion. Total privacy within this prism which held only the two of them. Even Pheiri could not listen through those invisible walls.

    ¡°Kaga, what¡ª¡±

    ¡°You and I need to discuss treachery, Victoria,¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°And I¡¯m not talking about yours. You, I trust. Completely.¡±

    The drones zipped back toward Kagami. The EM privacy field collapsed with a soft crackle. The sound of the storm rushed back, the tomb walls creaking and groaning far beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull.

    Vicky started to rise. ¡°Hey, Kaga, woah, wait, what¡ª¡±

    ¡°Keep your mouth shut,¡± Kagami said. She turned away and floated into the corridor. ¡°I¡¯ll go fetch somebody else to take over your ¡®duty¡¯. Then you come to the lab, like a good girl. Woof woof.¡±

 tempestas - 12.4

    When Victoria stepped into the lab, she found Elpida and Kagami waiting in uncomfortable silence, wrapped in static storm-haze from beyond the tomb.

    Kagami¡¯s laboratory occupied the compartment which contained Pheiri¡¯s ART charging cradles ¡ª a long, cramped, tight space, accessed via a sturdy steel hatch off the left-hand side of the spinal corridor.

    When they¡¯d first converted the compartment for the scientific and engineering needs of the meat-plant project, Elpida had referred to it as Pheiri¡¯s very own ¡®buried fields¡¯, in comparison with her long-lost Telokopolis. Atyle and Serin had both taken to calling it ¡®the greenhouse¡¯; that name had caught on with Amina, Ilyusha, and Ooni, but only until the failure of Kagami¡¯s first few nano-engineered meat seeds, the ones which had to be thrown out and burned. Vicky didn¡¯t like to think too much about those, the way they had twitched and spasmed as if trying to scream, and their awful rotten-egg reek. Ilyusha had started calling it the ¡®shit pit¡¯ after that, which worried Vicky. It wasn¡¯t Kagami¡¯s fault the nanomachines were so difficult to work with. Kaga was performing miracles in that little room ¡ª a combination of biology, physics, botany, and nano-engineering, which had probably never been attempted before, at least not by anything smaller than some god-like room-sized AI-brain.

    Vicky had insisted on calling it just ¡®the lab¡¯, never ¡®Kagami¡¯s lab¡¯. She was determined not to let Kaga treat it as her private domain and private responsibility. There was too much risk of Kaga retreating inside, barring the door, and refusing to ever come out again.

    Eventually the name had stuck, especially once the project had started to work.

    Five of the six ART charging cradles ¡ª the person-sized android self-repair and recharge stations ¡ª were laid down on their sides to form a workbench against the rear wall. Elpida and Vicky had checked with Melyn and Hafina before disconnecting the cradles; would the Artificial Humans ever need these again? Hafina had said a simple ¡®no thanks¡¯, then refused to elaborate; Melyn had disliked the question so much that she¡¯d dropped into a non-verbal state for the following twelve hours. Consulting Pheiri had confirmed Victoria¡¯s deduction; Melyn and Hafina had long since left behind any need for the charging cradles, except in extreme emergencies. They would be fine as long as they kept eating and drinking from Pheiri¡¯s on-board manufactories. Elpida had eventually elected to keep just one of the charging cradles in the upright position, wired into Pheiri¡¯s systems, ready to go, just in case Haf or Mel ever got seriously wounded.

    A long flat sheet of metal scavenged from the city served as a work surface, laid across the top of the cradles. Two seats had been commandeered from Pheiri¡¯s spinal corridor; one sat before the makeshift workbench, stuffed with spare blankets ¡ª Kaga¡¯s comfy throne. The other stood near the lab¡¯s entrance, skeletal metal with some remnants of foam still clinging to the bones.

    At the far end of the compartment was a little nest of bedsheets; Vicky knew from experience that Kagami sometimes slept here when she wanted to be alone, or when she couldn¡¯t be bothered to walk back to the bunk room. The nest currently cradled a pair of matte black drones, each about the size of Vicky¡¯s forearm ¡ª two of Kagami¡¯s new acquisitions from the armoury.

    One end of the workbench was cluttered with Kagami¡¯s equipment and instruments: a powerful microscope; a set of containers full of various murky liquids and assorted sludges; a single glass cannister which contained less than one mouthful of precious raw blue nanomachines ¡ª inert now, allowed to quieten and die as a sacrifice to the scientific process; and a whole mess of circuit boards and exposed wiring, hooked up to tiny screens, dials, and switches. Beyond that lay the more esoteric machines, built by Kagami herself from the cannibalised innards of one of the ART charging cradles ¡ª an ¡®electro-stimulation nerve-jack¡¯ which just looked like a cattle prod, a ¡®bio-res flesh-inhibitor¡¯ like an inverted cup made of mirrors, and a weird set of metal prongs which was apparently called a ¡®growth-provoking pulse delivery system¡¯.

    Three meat-plants occupied the rest of the workbench, dominating the space, growing from sloppy grey soil in big shiny steel basins.

    The soil had been scraped from between cracks in the city streets, then mixed with almost a full pint of blood ¡ª mostly Elpida¡¯s donation, though everyone else had given a little of themselves to the project, even Serin. According to Kagami the soil was merely a ¡®nano-stabilising medium¡¯, not the source of the meat-plants¡¯ growth; that was provided partly by the electrodes and probes sunk into the soil and hooked into Pheiri¡¯s power supply ¡ª a poor substitute for photosynthesis, apparently. But the primary engine of growth was the internal nature of the seeds themselves.

    Kagami had tried to explain this to Vicky, once, but she had quickly descended into technical jargon far beyond Vicky¡¯s comprehension ¡ª ¡®proton self-stimulation¡¯, ¡®nanomachine nucleo-germination¡¯, ¡®matter translation via quantum foam impression reproduction¡¯.

    The bottom line, boiled down so that any old artillery officer or Medieval peasant or ¡®paleo¡¯ primitive could understand, was that Kagami had figured out how to make the nanomachines copy themselves. This process was slow, awkward, and prone to awful fail-state mutations ¡ª not to mention incredibly primitive and disgustingly messy and beneath even the lowliest of Luna¡¯s technology. In a non-nanomachine biosphere this would risk the worst kind of ecological destruction, a true grey-goo scenario, the eradication of all biological life, and so on and so on and so on, as everybody had heard a dozen times over, whenever Kagami got started on the topic. Good thing the biosphere was dead already and the world had filled up with zombies. No danger playing with the ashes when there was nothing left to burn.

    The meat-plants were miracles, little hijacked pieces of the nanomachine ecosystem itself.

    If Elpida was even half-right about the purpose of this whole nightmare afterlife, then these meat-plants were revolutionary praxis. Sustenance without predation. Food for all, given enough time and further success.

    Vicky always tried to keep that in mind whenever she stepped into the lab, because the plants themselves gave her the creeps.

    They¡¯d been alright when they were little nubs of crimson flesh nestled in craters of grey soil, and they were much better than the failures which had twitched and shivered and stank like rotten eggs, but as they¡¯d grown they had looked more and more like what they really were ¡ª living meat.

    Each plant was almost three feet tall now, supported by a tracery of vein-like roots throbbing and pulsing under the grey soil. Each ¡®trunk¡¯ was a thick wedge of skinless muscle, glistening in garnet and crimson, forever weeping a pinkish froth which moistened the soil beneath. Fronds and frills sprouted from the trunk at mathematically precise intervals, like fern-leaves crossed with the inside of a healthy human lung, always shivering gently, though there was no air-flow in the lab. Each leaf was coated in a thick layer of viscous mucus, collecting at the tips of the ferns and dripping onto the soil like tar. The lowest of the ¡®leaves¡¯ were a good foot wide now, growing gravid with heavy buds on their undersides. The buds were identical to the seeds from which the plants had grown, the seeds Kagami had engineered from raw blue and fresh blood and electricity.

    Fruit ¡ª to be planted or eaten. But not yet ripe. The project had weeks or months to go.

    Kagami was currently sprawled in her comfy throne. Her six silver-grey drones lay on the workbench next to her. As Vicky entered and straightened up, Kagami looked at her with a pinched and offended frown. No improvement since she¡¯d left Victoria behind in the control cockpit.

    Elpida was examining the meat-plants, her back toward the door.

    Kagami spoke before Vicky could open her mouth, voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Well done, Victoria. That wasn¡¯t so hard, was it? Now, shut the door and sit down, don¡¯t just stand there glaring. What are you waiting for? A doggy treat and a pat on the head? Want me to call you ¡®good girl¡¯ again? Huh!¡±

    Victoria returned a silent stare.

    The fury of the hurricane filled the air, wind whipping around the distant corners of the tomb.

    In the corner of Victoria¡¯s eye she saw Elpida turn away from the plants, but Elpi was smart enough not to intervene.

    Kagami spread her hands. ¡°What? For fuck¡¯s sake Victoria, what now?¡±

    Vicky spoke slowly and carefully. ¡°You can get away with one little ¡®woof woof¡¯ at me. I¡¯ll let that slide. Maybe I even deserved it. But if you keep talking to me like that, I¡¯m off.¡± She thumbed over her shoulder, at the open hatch. ¡°I¡¯ve got plenty to be getting on with. Sorting all our new equipment, checking on the newbies, or just, fuck it, jilling myself off in my bunk. You¡¯re not my commanding officer and this isn¡¯t my old regiment. If you want to mess with me, Kaga, you¡¯re gonna have to throw hands. And I guarantee I will make you bark first.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s face exploded with incandescent blush. Her jaw shivered, then clamped shut. She looked away.

    ¡°Drop the dog jokes,¡± Vicky finished. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Storm-tossed hailstone-haze and howling wind filled the silence.

    Elpida cleared her throat. ¡°Vicky, good morning. Good to see you.¡±

    ¡°Elpi, hey. Is it really morning already?¡±

    ¡°Technically.¡±

    Elpida smiled, a little wry; her purple eyes showed no sign of fatigue. She had stripped out of her coat and trousers, leaving her long brown legs exposed, barefoot and unarmed in only underwear and a skintight tomb-grey t-shirt. Her right forearm was bandaged over the deep bite wound she¡¯d taken from Eseld. Her long white hair hung loose, swept to one side.

    She looked ¡ª good, Vicky realised. Too good. The brooding cobwebs of the last few weeks had been swept away without a trace.

    Elpida took a step forward and clapped a hand on Vicky¡¯s shoulder. Victoria felt herself stand up a little straighter, breathe a little easier, think a little clearer.

    ¡°How are you holding up, Vicky?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good, thank you, Commander.¡± She bit back a return question ¡ª and you?

    Elpida raised her eyebrows. ¡°Really? Are you sure about that?¡±

    Vicky hesitated. ¡°Uh ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Between the hurricane, our current position, and the encounter with the Necromancers, morale is weird. Not bad, exactly. We did win, after all. Bellies are full, bullets are plentiful, we¡¯re all safe. Just ¡­ weird. I can tell, it¡¯s in everyone¡¯s eyes. Yours too. So, Vicky, I¡¯ll ask again. How are you holding up?¡±

    Vicky puffed out a big sigh. ¡°Rattled, I guess. This is weird, yeah, you¡¯re right about that. And Shilu is giving me the creeps. I think she¡¯s giving everyone the creeps, just waiting out there like that. We should hunker down and prep, I think I¡¯d be more comfortable if we focused on that. Pheiri needs maintenance. We¡¯ve got lots to stow. That kinda thing. We should talk about stuff too, Commander. Important stuff, I mean.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I agree. And how about physically? You alright?¡±

    Vicky laughed. ¡°I¡¯m good. Maybe a little tired. But hey, it¡¯s not like I was doing much.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t minimise your contributions,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Thank you, for running mission control here in Pheiri. It¡¯s very important.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. And thanks, Elpi.¡±

    ¡°And how¡¯s my little brother himself doing? Anything out of the ordinary?¡±

    ¡°Pheiri¡¯s fine, everything¡¯s normal. I left Ooni up in the cockpit for now, keeping an eye on the screens. She knows to watch Shilu carefully, I reminded her of that.¡±

    ¡°Good job, Vicky, thank you. And Shilu still hasn¡¯t moved?¡± Vicky nodded. Elpida let out a curious ¡®mm¡¯ sound, then stepped back. ¡°Well, like Kagami said, go ahead and shut the door, please.¡±

    Vicky hesitated. ¡°What is this all about?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s expression was suddenly unreadable. ¡°Shut the door, please. This needs to be private.¡±

    Victoria did as she was asked, but her heart skipped a beat. Kagami was eyeing her with bitter embarrassment and smouldering recrimination ¡ª worse than usual, like something terrible had happened. Elpida was unreadable, professional, back in command, with all the rough edges of the last few weeks suddenly filed off and folded away. Had her encounter with Eseld really fixed her that quickly?

    The distant roaring of the storm filled the compartment, muffled beyond so many layers of dark metal and shadowy void.

    Had Kaga and Elpi ¡ª with each other?

    Upstairs, in the dark, during their expedition? No, no, there was no way! Kagami wouldn¡¯t have the guts, and Elpida knew that Vicky and Kaga had a thing going on. Elpida wouldn¡¯t, she wouldn¡¯t ¡ª but then again, Elpida and her cadre back in life, they¡¯d all been one giant happy polycule together, hadn¡¯t they? To Elpida, physical intimacy was just another interpersonal tool. She was used to being close to her comrades ¡ª skin-close, casual sex close. Right? Kagami had mentioned ¡®betrayal¡¯, but not Vicky¡¯s betrayal, whatever that had meant. Vicky had chalked it up to Kagami¡¯s usual spleen, but had Kagami meant her own betrayal? Had she ¡ª with Elpi?

    Was this Elpida¡¯s way of trying to mend the rift between them? Or of shoring up herself, her own psyche?

    No, no, this was all wrong! This wasn¡¯t what Victoria wanted at all! She was treating Kaga gently, giving her time and space and¡ª

    Kagami snorted. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you brought that bloody talisman with you.¡±

    ¡°A-ah?¡± Vicky blinked. ¡°Sorry, what?¡±

    ¡°That!¡± Kagami jabbed a finger at Victoria¡¯s automatic grenade launcher, strapped over her shoulder with the weapon¡¯s heavy sling. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re carrying it around. You¡¯re not likely to encounter an occupied enemy trench in here, are you?¡±

    ¡°Uh ¡­ yeah, I just¡ª I didn¡¯t want to leave it with Ooni.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Kagami laughed. ¡°I thought you trusted the little ex-fash goblin.¡±

    ¡°I do!¡± Vicky sighed. ¡°Kaga, don¡¯t make this any more difficult than it already¡ª I mean¡ª I mean, yes, of course I trust her. Trust had nothing to do with it. I just don¡¯t want her to fiddle with the components.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°That¡¯s from the tomb armoury?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vicky said, turning to show the weapon. ¡°AGL. Automatic grenade launcher.¡±

    ¡°Very nice. And you¡¯re familiarising yourself with it?¡±

    Victoria nodded. ¡°Stripping and checking the parts. If I¡¯m gonna use it, I don¡¯t want any risk of a jam. And don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s not loaded.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± said Elpida. ¡°I¡¯m not worried.¡±

    Vicky tried to swallow her own heart. ¡°Seriously, what¡¯s all this about? Don¡¯t keep me on the edge of my seat here, you know? Heh ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida leaned back against the workbench, stretching out her bare legs. Her white hair was framed by the shivering blood-red fronds of the meat-plants. She crossed her arms, raised her chin, and said: ¡°Are you ready, Kaga?¡±

    Kagami huffed, rolled her eyes, and looked away.

    Victoria¡¯s pulse pounded in her ears. She wasn¡¯t ready for this either. Was Kaga embarrassed, or upset? Had Elpida coaxed Kagami into something she hadn¡¯t really wanted? Had she used Kagami¡¯s needs to feed something within herself? Was that why she seemed so much better, so much more present? Or ¡ª no, no, Victoria told herself that was madness. Elpida had been deeply affected by the fight with Lykke, surely, or by Eseld¡¯s recovery, not ¡ª not secret things with Kagami.

    Victoria felt out of her depth. She couldn¡¯t read this situation, the whole thing felt wrong.

    She blurted out: ¡°Is this really the time for this kind of conversation?¡±

    Elpida raised her eyebrows. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°I mean ¡­ we¡¯ve got so much to do. All the new weapons and equipment still needs sorting and stowing. All those corpses out there need stripping, for parts, and¡ª and meat, of course, right. We need to make sure the newbies are okay. Eseld is barely there. Sky¡¯s out cold. We need to be working on a plan, to either get out of here or weather the storm. Isn¡¯t Kaga supposed to be figuring out how to plug herself into the tomb? And¡ª and somebody has to interrogate Shilu. And ¡­ uh ¡­ ¡±

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°This is all part of that,¡± Elpida said. She glanced at Kagami. ¡°Did you tell her¡ª¡±

    ¡°Nothing!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Nothing!¡±

    Victoria took a step back. Her ankles bumped the hatch. ¡°I ¡­ just ¡­ uh, if you two ¡­ um, I don¡¯t want to¡ª¡±

    Don¡¯t want to know?

    Don¡¯t want to get in your way?

    Yes, that was it. Victoria decided that was best, even though it made her feel sick. She didn¡¯t want to get in their way.

    She should have expected this, after all. Elpida ¡ª so tall and strong, confident and commanding, experienced and worldly; she was always going to open Kagami first, get her comfortable, crack that spiky shell. Victoria hadn¡¯t failed, she¡¯d just not moved fast enough; and how could she ever have hoped to? Elpida was a super soldier from the future, bred for this, one of a pack who bonded with sex and intimacy and comradeship beyond anything Victoria had known in life. Or perhaps Vicky had misunderstood the situation in the first place? Maybe she wasn¡¯t what Kagami needed at all. Maybe she¡¯d gotten it wrong from the start. Maybe she should have kept to herself, kept out of the way, kept her disgusting thoughts in private. Vicky wanted to melt away, go back to her maintenance work on Pheiri¡¯s innards, hang out with the others, and leave these two to whatever intimacy they¡¯d discovered. Step back, let them have it, get out of the way, pretend she never wanted it in the first place and¡ª

    ¡°Victoria?¡± Elpida said, frowning softly. The meat-plants shivered and throbbed either side of her head. ¡°Relax. Nothing is wrong. You¡¯re here because Kagami trusts you more than anybody else. That¡¯s why we wanted to talk to you first.¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah,¡± Vicky said. ¡°I-I respect that, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake!¡± Kagami snapped, blazing bright red in both cheeks. ¡°This is pathetic! Victoria, whatever sordid little fantasy has entered your primitive head, stop it! Stop thinking it!¡±

    Victoria gaped at Kagami. ¡°Wh-what¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Elpida suddenly barked ¡ª no longer Elpida. Kaga and Vicky both flinched.

    ¡°Hahahahaa!¡± Howl cackled at some private joke, wide-eyed and grinning in a way Elpida never would. ¡°You two! You two, holy fuckin¡¯ shit, girls! You ¡ª Vickyyyyyy, come on, you thought Kaga and Elps had done the nasty, out there on the fuckin¡¯ ground? Ha!¡± Another bark. ¡°You two really need to fuck before you end up killing each other!¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± Vicky spluttered. ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Shut up, shut¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop!¡± Elpida said, with Howl packaged back away behind her face. ¡°Both of you, stop.¡±

    Kagami clamped her mouth shut, fuming in silence. Victoria stood to attention; she felt the knot in her throat slowly give way. Her worst fears ¡ª ones she had not even considered fears until a few minutes ago ¡ª faded away.

    ¡°Commander,¡± she said.

    Elpida waited a moment, then said: ¡°I¡¯ve half a mind to lock you two in here together until you work this out. With or without Howl¡¯s specific suggestion.¡±

    Kagami hissed: ¡°Absolutely not¡ª¡±

    Elpida raised her voice. ¡°But unfortunately I need both of you on point for this next move.¡±

    ¡°What move?¡± Vicky asked.

    Elpida said: ¡°Vicky, more often than not, you are functionally my second in command. That¡¯s why I¡¯m bringing you in on this as quickly as I can. I didn¡¯t realise you felt any jealousy towards me. I hope you know there¡¯s no cause for that.¡±

    ¡°I- yeah! Yeah, of course. Fuck, Elpi, I¡¯m sorry. I just¡ª my mind was running away with me. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Apology accepted, but also there was no need for it.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Kagami laughed. ¡°Did you know that I¡¯m both cynical and paranoid? Did you know that, Victoria? Apparently ¡®suspicious¡¯, too. What wonderful qualities I have!¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Elpida sighed. ¡°Kaga, that was nothing but a compliment. You have skills that I lack. And you¡¯ve proved it.¡±

    ¡°But you, Vicky?¡± Kagami went on, ignoring Elpida. ¡°Oh no, you¡¯re so pure-hearted that it was just a little lapse of judgement, instantly forgiven. How lucky for you, you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida snapped. ¡°Just switch on the privacy field so we can talk properly.¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine!¡±

    Kagami flicked her left hand. Her six silver-grey drones rose from the workbench and floated outward ¡ª four to the corners of the floor, and the final two upward to the far ends of the ceiling, to form a hollow prism which filled the room. A crackle of soft static tickled Vicky¡¯s ears. The iron tang of blood touched her tongue, quickly swallowed. The fury of the distant storm faded behind invisible electromagnetic walls.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Elpida. ¡°You¡¯re certain this works, inside Pheiri?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°I tested it earlier. Our bodies are currently isolated from the nanomachine network. Nobody can listen, not even Pheiri. And yes, before you bleat about it, I have warned him. He knows what we¡¯re up to.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Now, Vicky, we¡¯ve figured something out. Or, to give credit where credit is due, Kagami figured it out. All I did was ask the right questions. She¡¯s the one with the relevant experience and skills. We want to bring you in on this, quietly.¡±

    Vicky laughed. ¡°Fuck me, Commander. You two couldn¡¯t have been more cloak and dagger about this if you ambushed me in the dark. Isn¡¯t this all a bit, I dunno, over the top?¡±

    Elpida grinned ¡ª Howl, grinning through her. ¡°S¡¯what I said.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Why go to these lengths? What¡¯s going on?¡±

    Elpida blinked; Howl was gone again. ¡°Kaga, this is your operation.¡±

    Kagami sat up straighter in her chair. She raised her chin. Narrowed her eyes. ¡°Victoria. All this was entirely necessary, yes. Why? Because there is a traitor among us.¡±

    The crackle of the privacy field hummed in the air, almost inaudible beneath the distant howl of the storm. The meat-plants shivered and throbbed. Elpida took a deep breath, then sighed.

    Vicky cleared her throat. ¡°Okay? What, so, like back when you figured Pira for a traitor before the rest of us did?¡±

    ¡°And I was right about her!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, of course you were, fine.¡± Vicky sighed. ¡°I wasn¡¯t challenging that, I was agreeing with you. What¡¯s happened now? Who is it?¡±

    Kagami hesitated. ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ complicated.¡±

    Vicky tried not to laugh ¡°Yeah, I bet.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°May I make a suggestion?¡±

    Kagami huffed. ¡°Yes, yes, fine.¡±

    ¡°Start the same way you did with me. Start with the storm. You convinced me, and Illy, and Atyle. You can convince Vicky, too.¡± Kagami kept her eyes averted, so Elpida carried on, now to Vicky: ¡°I was having trouble figuring out our next moves. The storm, our new arrivals, Shilu, all of it wasn¡¯t sitting right with me. Shilu is the obvious part, but she¡¯s too obvious. I could get that far, but I struggled with the next step. I don¡¯t have the skills for this kind of intrigue. Kagami does, so I turned to her, and she put the pieces together faster than I could.¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll do it, just ¡­ stop that, Commander. Stop treating me like I¡¯m your court spymaster.¡±

    Elpida shut her mouth; a smile lingered.

    Kagami turned an insulted gaze on Vicky. ¡°Are you going to sit down, Victoria? Or are you going to make me talk at you while you stand there cradling your grenade launcher?¡±

    Vicky took the other seat and laid her AGL across her knees. ¡°Alright, okay. Go ahead, Kaga. I¡¯m all ears.¡±

    Kagami took a deep breath. She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, she wore a clear expression beneath a focused frown, framed either side by the messy dark of her hair. Victoria struggled not to smile; she found Kagami in her element very attractive.

    ¡°This hurricane makes no sense,¡± Kagami began. ¡°And I don¡¯t mean the mechanical properties, though those are absurd enough. This cannot possibly be a natural phenomenon. Hurricanes do not sustain themselves hundreds or thousands of miles inland, certainly not without seas from which to draw water, and not at nine hundred miles an hour. They also don¡¯t pause overhead for hours on end, let alone for days or weeks, and yes, I strongly suspect this storm will last for weeks. There is no reason for the nanomachines to do this, no informational content or ecosystem direction within the storm itself. Atyle¡¯s observations back that up, though I¡¯m loathe to interpret her ramblings as data.¡± Kagami snorted. ¡°Pira, Ooni, Serin, Ilyusha, they¡¯ve all been around before, and none of them have seen anything like this. Pheiri has no records of hurricanes either, and he¡¯s been around long enough to know. This is not chance, or process, or regular occurrence. Something is doing this, on purpose.¡±

    Vicky nodded along. ¡°It¡¯s artificial, right. I get that much.¡±

    Kagami jerked up a hand; she did not want interruptions. ¡°It¡¯s artificial, yes. Summoned via the network. But ¡ª and I want you to think about this question ¡ª who sent it?¡±

    Victoria narrowed her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re doing a trick question on me, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s face split with a very un-Elpida-like grin: Howl again. She said, ¡°You¡¯re getting it gentle. Kaga was much rougher with us. Selfish!¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Let me walk her through this without the obscene peanut gallery.¡±

    Howl slipped back behind Elpida¡¯s expression. Elpida dipped her head.

    ¡°It¡¯s a trick question,¡± Vicky repeated. ¡°Right?¡±

    ¡°Just answer it,¡± Kagami said.

    ¡°Central, obviously. Central sent the hurricane.¡±

    ¡°And why? For what purpose?¡±

    ¡°To kill us, what else?¡±

    Kagami smiled, with far too much satisfaction. ¡°Wrong.¡± Victoria restrained a sigh. Kagami went on: ¡°Central sent the physical assets after Thirteen Arcadia, but they always ignored us, and they ignored Pheiri. We¡¯ve all seen the logs from Thirteen¡¯s journey. If Central ¡ª whatever ¡®Central¡¯ really is ¡ª wanted us dead, we¡¯d all be dust. Pheiri could not have fought off any of those things which hunted Thirteen. No, I don¡¯t buy it. This hurricane was not sent to kill us, not by Central.¡±

    Victoria shrugged; she tried not to pay too much attention to Elpida¡¯s hidden smile. ¡°Okay, sure.¡±

    ¡°We cannot know who sent this hurricane,¡± Kagami went on. ¡°Shilu claims there is a ¡®war¡¯ inside the network, but she doesn¡¯t know the sides, doesn¡¯t know the forces, doesn¡¯t know what the conflict is about. Perhaps another faction in that war sent the storm. But perhaps not. Maybe Shilu is lying. We can¡¯t verify any of this. So, let us move upward a conceptual step ¡ª why was the hurricane sent?¡±

    Vicky shrugged again. At least Kagami seemed to be enjoying herself for once.

    ¡°If it was sent to kill us, that¡¯s a very inefficient method,¡± Kagami said. ¡°Certainly not one I would use. A vast amount of energy, over a very wide area, with no way of confirming a kill. Pheiri could probably have outrun the storm, if we¡¯d turned tail as soon as we saw it coming. So, what else did the hurricane achieve? I¡¯ll tell you. It forced the graveworm to retract the worm-guard. That, in turn, allowed us access to the tomb. Without the hurricane to clear the way, we would not have made it in here. Do you see where I¡¯m going with this, Victoria?¡±

    Kagami paused, dark eyes blazing, chin high.

    Vicky squinted. ¡°You¡¯re saying this was sent to help us?¡±

    Kagami chopped the air with one hand. ¡°Not necessarily. I believe it may have been sent to clear the way for us to access the tomb, to pull off a ¡®tomb raid¡¯, to reach the fresh meat before the predators did. And what did we find here?¡±

    Victoria nodded. ¡°Shilu. Right.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait, wait!¡± Kagami held up both hands. A real smile danced on her lips now. Victoria¡¯s heart leapt to see that. ¡°Shilu is only one possibility. Don¡¯t jump too far in one leap. Focus on what we found. What did we find?¡±

    ¡°Two Necromancers, having a fight,¡± Victoria said; Kagami nodded with excitement. ¡°Three newbies, fresh zombies. One of whom was Eseld, which is, yeah, really suspicious, right, I think I see¡ª¡±

    ¡°Right, right,¡± Kagami interrupted, hands in the air again. ¡°So, the storm gets us to the payload ¡ª either Shilu or Lykke or Eseld, or all of them together, I¡¯ll get to that in a moment. But then? Then it stops!¡± Kagami punched the air. ¡°It stops overhead, and stays there. Why?¡±

    ¡°To kill us?¡±

    ¡°No. No! Come on, Victoria, think! You are much smarter than you give yourself credit for. You are an engineer. You¡ª She¡ª¡± Kagami pointed at Elpida ¡°¡ªshe couldn¡¯t get it! But you can see this. I can¡¯t be the only one around here with basic powers of social deduction. Think. Don¡¯t make me do this alone.¡±

    Victoria chewed her bottom lip. She really did want to justify Kagami¡¯s belief in her.

    ¡°Because ¡­ because whatever the storm was sent to assist with, it¡¯s not done yet.¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Kagami leapt upright in her seat, teeth together, eyes wild. ¡°Yes. Exactly.¡± She took a series of deep breaths and subsided back into the blankets, panting, flushed in the face. ¡°Whatever purpose the storm was dispatched for, it has not yet been completed. It is still in progress. Still ongoing.¡±

    ¡°Which is?¡±

    Kagami wet her lips. She hesitated, losing some of her steam. Victoria clenched her hands together and stayed very still.

    ¡°I have two hypotheses,¡± Kagami said. ¡°They may both be valid, they¡¯re not mutually exclusive. Option one ¡ª the storm was sent to assist an attempt to disrupt us in some manner.¡±

    ¡°Shilu¡¯s assassination attempt,¡± said Vicky. ¡°And then she decided not to make the kill, right. So¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, but it could be something else,¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°It could be part of an attempt to insert a spy, or a saboteur, or something else, within our ranks. I don¡¯t know, and we cannot be sure. Not yet.¡±

    ¡°You think Shilu is a spy?¡±

    Kagami shook her head. ¡°No, not her. She¡¯s too obvious.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Kaga, she¡¯s a Necromancer.¡±

    Kagami huffed and rolled her eyes. ¡°Sometimes I forget you were limited to books and the occasional televisual broadcast, down there in your pre-NorAm rust and muck. This is basic drama sim writing! Think it through! We come bursting into the tomb on a rescue mission, and what do we find? Two Necromancers, one a practically cartoonish abomination, the other one a little bit weird, but no more than any other zombie. One is trying to kill the fresh meat, the other is protecting them. One helps us fight the other, thus winning the thinnest sliver of our confidence. It¡¯s too obvious! Lykke was the bait, the jobber, the designated monster to get us on Shilu¡¯s side. A child would know not to trust her. Amina knows not to trust her!¡±

    ¡°Hey, come on.¡± Vicky tutted. ¡°Amina¡¯s not stupid. Don¡¯t use her like¡ª¡±

    Kagami wasn¡¯t listening. ¡°Ironic, really, isn¡¯t it? The stupidity of that plan cancels it out. No, it¡¯s not Shilu.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ wait a sec, Kaga. You trust her?¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Kagami barked. ¡°No. But I trust that she trusts herself. I think that full-borg combat doll out there is exactly what she appears to be. A reluctant assassin who refused her mission.¡± Kagami glanced at Elpida. ¡°Though I can¡¯t see exactly what convinced her not to go through with it, seeing as our Commander is a moron with a death wish.¡±

    Elpida nodded a silent thank you.

    Vicky said, ¡°Hold up. If Shilu was a spy, or a saboteur, sent by Central, would she even have to know it herself?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Kagami clicked her fingers and pointed at Vicky. ¡°Yes, exactly. If Shilu is a mole, she wouldn¡¯t even have to know it. In fact, that would be the perfect insertion method. Set her up against Lykke right in front of us, have all our suspicions out in the open, but then she herself doesn¡¯t even know what she is. That is exactly how I would do it if I was Central, or if I was trying to get an agent inside a closed network. But, no.¡± Kagami shook her head, her animation subsiding. ¡°Shilu is not connected to the network. Whatever or whoever sent her, she¡¯s not passing back information.¡±

    Vicky raised her eyebrows. ¡°You confirmed that?¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°Atyle did, in her usual interminable fashion. But ¡­ ¡± She gestured vaguely.

    Elpida spoke up. ¡°Howl says the same. Shilu¡¯s not networked, not like Lykke was. She¡¯s embodied like us, just matter. All she¡¯s got is the shape shifting trick. Very durable though. I wouldn¡¯t want to go toe-to-toe with her up close, even in a hardshell.¡±

    Vicky leaned back in her chair, hands on her AGL. ¡°You think it¡¯s one of the other three?¡±

    Kagami raised a reasonable hand. ¡°Eseld is also too obvious. You said that yourself, it¡¯s plain to see. She¡¯s been placed in our path, on purpose, perhaps to play on our Commander¡¯s personal sympathies. Of course we would be suspicious of her resurrection. She¡¯s a very poor choice for a spy. And her mere presence raises ¡­ further questions.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Vicky glanced at Elpida, worried about the Commander¡¯s mental state. But Elpida seemed perfectly relaxed.

    Kagami cleared her throat. ¡°She may have been selected to sow internal division and distrust.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ wait, what?¡±

    Kagami seemed on the edge of snapping, but forced herself to speak slowly and clearly. ¡°Think about it. Her resurrection, right in our path, implies that something or somebody is already watching us, perhaps literally, perhaps through the network. Even if it¡¯s just ¡®Central¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Shit. Right.¡±

    Vicky eyed Elpida again, openly this time. How could Elpida be so calm, when she¡¯d been so obsessed with that girl and her unknown companions for weeks? Elpida had spent hours flicking through the images of that fight ¡ª that slaughter ¡ª and staring at those four fleshless skulls.

    ¡°Uh, Elpida, Commander, are you ¡­ okay with this?¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°I¡¯m fine with this line of thinking, yes. This is why I came to Kagami in the first place. I¡¯m not sure I could have made that leap myself. Eseld may be compromised. I¡¯m willing to accept that.¡±

    ¡°Okay. That¡¯s good, I guess.¡±

    Elpida went on. ¡°She may also have been sent to help us. She may be a sign, intended to snap me out of the state I¡¯ve been in lately.¡±

    Kagami clenched her teeth, visibly biting back a comment.

    Vicky said, ¡°Uh, good? Good. I mean, I¡¯m glad you recognise it. But, sent by who?¡±

    Elpida smiled with a relief Vicky had not seen on her in weeks. Elpida said: ¡°By the same network entity who helped Howl. Telokopolis.¡±

    Vicky nodded, but said nothing, afraid that the wrong word might shatter Elpida¡¯s disposition. She shared a glance with Kagami and saw a mute warning reflected in Kaga¡¯s eyes ¡ª don¡¯t set her off. We¡¯ll deal with this later. The Commander is more fragile than she looks.

    ¡°Uh,¡± Vicky said, trying to move on quickly. ¡°So, what about Sky?¡±

    Kagami recovered herself with a snort. ¡°Also far too obvious. She took a beating at Lykke¡¯s hands, and got physically compromised, to put it lightly. She may still be compromised, so of course we¡¯re going to be watching her closely. No. Too unsubtle. The tactic of a fool.¡±

    ¡°Cyneswith?¡±

    Kagami spread her hands. ¡°She¡¯s the only one left, the odd one out. Very ¡®innocent¡¯, with no comprehension of her situation. Again, too obvious! They¡¯re all too obvious. All of them are suspect. None of them are safe, not for us. That¡¯s why we¡¯re using the privacy field. That¡¯s why we¡¯re keeping this quiet. We don¡¯t want any of them to realise we¡¯re going to make this move.¡±

    Vicky sighed, then chuckled at how silly this felt. ¡°So, we¡¯re right back where we started?¡±

    Elpida answered. ¡°Not at all. Kagami¡¯s deductions give us somewhere to start. We need to interrogate Shilu, and debrief the other three, to see if there¡¯s anything we can glean.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± Vicky sighed. ¡°What do you suggest, Kaga? What would you do, if all this was happening back on the Moon?¡±

    Kagami raised her chin. ¡°Shoot all four of them.¡± Then she sighed. ¡°But we¡¯re not allowed to do that, are we, Commander?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°No executions. No killings. Not unless we have to.¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°Wait a sec, Kaga, you said you had two hypotheses about the storm. What¡¯s the second?¡±

    Kagami paused, suddenly uncomfortable. She swallowed. ¡°I believe the storm may also be acting as an anti-access area denial weapon.¡±

    ¡°Which means ¡­ ?¡±

    ¡°The hurricane may be protecting us from Lykke¡¯s return. Or from the arrival of additional Necromancers.¡±

    Vicky went cold. ¡°Necromancers? As in, more than one?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Elpida nodded. ¡°I¡¯m inclined to agree with that assessment.¡±

    Kagami spoke with her eyes on the wall. ¡°If Shilu told us the truth about her encounters with Lykke, then whatever force was trying to stop Shilu, whatever force sent Lykke, it was trying to achieve this quietly and quickly, before we could arrive. The plan was probably to kill Shilu, kill all of the zombies in this batch, and then vanish before we turned up.¡±

    ¡°Which would have meant no Eseld,¡± Elpida added softly. ¡°I never would have met her again. I think it all adds up.¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°Yes, fine. And, keeping this quiet?¡± She gestured at the ceiling, at the storm beyond the tomb. ¡°That¡¯s not an option anymore. If the storm is protecting us, then when it ends, we may find ourselves neck-deep in Necromancers. Ha!¡± Kagami barked a laugh, surprised at herself, but there was no humour in her voice. ¡°Pun not intended. Not intended at all.¡±

    Vicky swallowed. ¡°Shit. Uh. Wait, I don¡¯t ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida cleared her throat. ¡°If Eseld was inserted by Telokopolis, perhaps with the aim of helping to deflect Shilu¡¯s assassination attempt, then Lykke was sent to stop that, to stop us linking up. When the storm passes, whichever player sent Lykke might decide to drop any pretence of subterfuge, and throw everything they have at us. We need to be prepared for that.¡±

    Kagami let out a tight, shuddering sigh. ¡°We don¡¯t know this for certain, Commander! Vicky, we don¡¯t know this for certain. At the moment all of this is conjecture, theory, hypothesis.¡±

    Vicky tried to take a deep breath, to keep all this in perspective. ¡°Alright. Okay. So, why are you telling me all this? Why now? Why me alone?¡±

    Elpida grinned, not Howl. ¡°Because we¡¯re going to interrogate Shilu, and we need you to play along. I need your eyes and ears, and your judgement.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°You make one hell of a ¡®good cop¡¯, Victoria. You don¡¯t even have to try. That¡¯s going to be your role.¡±

    ¡°Good cop bad cop?¡± Vicky laughed. ¡°Against a Necromancer? Seriously? Commander, I¡¯m a grease monkey, I don¡¯t know anything about this.¡±

    Elpida straightened up, framed by the crimson fronds of the meat-plants behind her head, like a halo of blood playing over her white hair.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand the terminology ¡®good cop bad cop¡¯,¡± Elpida said. ¡°But Kagami explained the principle to me, and I recognise it well enough. Howl and I can force Necromancers back to the network, with a little bit of physical bullying. Shilu saw that herself, up close, so that makes me the ¡®bad¡¯ one, the threat.¡±

    Vicky interrupted. ¡°I thought you said you wouldn¡¯t want to fight her?¡±

    Elpida broke into a grin. ¡°I don¡¯t. And I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ what?¡±

    ¡°Howl doesn¡¯t think she can strip away Shilu¡¯s shape shifting. It¡¯s not something we can touch. I¡¯m going to be bluffing.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Vicky said, a sinking feeling in her stomach. ¡°Oh shit, Elpi.¡±

    ¡°Oh shit is right,¡± Kagami grumbled.

    ¡°It¡¯s the only leverage we have,¡± Elpida said. ¡°But I¡¯m hoping we won¡¯t have to use it. This is where you come in, Vicky. You¡¯re my second in command, and I mean that. You¡¯re my right hand for this, the most reasonable and personable member of our cadre. You and I, and maybe a couple of others, with Kagami on overwatch. We¡¯re gonna go figure out if Shilu is lying.¡±

 tempestas - 12.5

    Pheiri¡¯s rear access ramp unsealed with a clunk-clunk-clunk of bolts drawn back, then descended with a deep mechanical purr. Bitter cold rushed into the airlock chamber, bearing a mingled reek of dark metal and congealed blood. The static hail-haze hurricane-murmur grew louder, no longer muffled beyond bulkhead and armour, drumming against the distant walls of the tomb.

    ¡°Stick to the plan,¡± said Elpida as the ramp opened, voice undrowned by the storm. ¡°Remember, we are completely safe beneath Pheiri¡¯s guns. If anything unexpected happens, retreat to the airlock. No heroics. No surprises.¡±

    ¡°Quite,¡± replied Atyle, with a worrying smile on her lips. ¡°No heroes left in the grave.¡±

    Elpida prompted, ¡°Vicky?¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± Vicky said. ¡°Yeah, of course. Understood, Commander.¡±

    The ramp yawned wider; a red-lit wall loomed from the Stygian gloom. The ramp-edge touched the floor with a sharp click of bone on metal.

    Elpida took the lead, boots thumping against the ramp, her long loose white hair a beacon in the dark. Atyle sauntered after her as if beneath a summer sun. Two of Kagami¡¯s new drones were already on-station, holding position just to the left of the ramp ¡ª thigh-sized oblongs of matte black, picked out by the steady red points of their own running lights and forward sensors.

    Vicky took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the stale stench of old blood and older metal. She tried not to grimace, then walked down the ramp.

    She strode with a display of false confidence, just as Elpida had ordered; head up, shoulders back, hands resting casually atop the automatic grenade launcher now slung over her belly. Confidence was key for this mission, so Vicky put on the act as best she could.

    She wasn¡¯t going to give Kagami the satisfaction of being right.

    The tomb chamber opened out to either side and soared high above Vicky¡¯s head as she descended the ramp. The ceiling was wreathed in darkness, dripping down the metal walls, barely beaten back by Pheiri¡¯s crimson red external lights. To her left, past the pair of drones, the corpses of Lykke¡¯s ¡®hounds¡¯ were laid out in rows, most of them still in their armour, though some of them in several pieces. That was the source of the blood-and-meat stench hanging in the air.

    Vicky stepped off the ramp; her footsteps clicked on the black metal floor, echoing off into the dark.

    She suddenly felt very small and very vulnerable, surrounded by the great yawning emptiness of the chamber, despite the additional protection she wore; Vicky had ¡®up-armoured¡¯ with part of the haul from the tomb armoury, also at Elpida¡¯s suggestion. A thick bulletproof vest lay beneath her armoured coat, with additional padding and plates covering her throat, groin, and upper thighs. She wore knee-pads and shin-guards, a silent statement that she was ready to drop into position, shoulder her weapon, and take aim at a moment¡¯s notice. A lightweight helmet of black polymer protected her head; a headset with earpiece and microphone completed the look.

    And it was a look; all for show.

    Elpida was back in her armoured coat. She wore nothing beneath except a grey thermal t-shirt and matching trousers. Her right sleeve was rolled up to expose the bandage around her bite wound, showing off the limb with which she had defeated Lykke ¡ª another statement. A freshly cleaned and oiled submachine gun hung from one shoulder, while a pair of heavy pistols jutted from her waistband, out in the open rather than sensibly tucked away in pockets or holsters. She also wore a headset, to keep the team linked with Pheiri ¡ª and by extension, with Kagami, on overwatch in Pheiri¡¯s cockpit, managing the drone escort.

    Atyle wore a headset too, but she was naked from the waist up, with her coat hanging over her shoulders like a cloak, empty-handed and unarmed. Vicky wasn¡¯t quite sure what statement that made, but Atyle made it very loudly.

    The AGL, the pistols, the nudity, the drones, all of it was for show. Pheiri provided the real protection, from other zombies or from Shilu. One wrong move from the Necromancer, one unexplained shadow on the chamber walls, and half those big guns would burst everyone¡¯s eardrums and turn the offender to a smear on the floor.

    The low red glow of Pheiri¡¯s external lights dyed Elpida¡¯s hair a sticky blood-red, shading her purple eyes to black; Atyle¡¯s naked belly and chest writhed with crimson shadows.

    Vicky wondered if she looked intimidating too, dressed in armour, carrying explosives. She didn¡¯t feel it. She felt awkward and clumsy.

    Once all three were clear of the ramp, Elpida signalled back into the airlock with a raised fist. Hafina was waiting by the manual controls inside; the android was fully armed and armoured ¡ª emergency backup in case something unexpected went horribly wrong. Hafina answered with a raised fist in return.

    Elpida whispered, ¡°Vicky? Atyle? Are we good to go?¡±

    ¡°Of course, Commander,¡± Atyle whispered back. Her eyes were elsewhere, already roving across the chamber.

    ¡°All good,¡± Vicky hissed. ¡°Good to go.¡±

    Elpida spoke into the microphone of her comms headset: ¡°Kaga, we¡¯re clear. Pheiri, button up.¡±

    Pheiri¡¯s ramp rose with a mechanical hum. It sealed with a clunk-clunk-clunk of bolts, closing Pheiri and the others back inside the thick layers of metal and bulkheads and bone-white armour.

    ¡°Vicky,¡± Elpida said. ¡°It¡¯s time. Get yourself loaded.¡±

    Vicky nodded, then crossed to one of the armoured pockets on Pheiri¡¯s rear ¡ª a series of projecting abscesses in his armour, large enough to climb inside, each one capped by a heavy plate of bone. All but one pocket was currently empty, all of them remotely locked by Pheiri himself. Vicky had to use both hands to lift the lid, then extracted a string of sixteen slender cylindrical grenades ¡ª flashbang-EMP combination rounds, perfect for scrambling cyborgs and zombies. She replaced the pocket lid, opened the drum-mag on her launcher, and loaded the grenades. She double-checked the safety was on, then rolled her shoulders and tried to resume a casual stance.

    ¡°Ready,¡± she hissed.

    Elpida said, ¡°Vicky, relax.¡±

    ¡°Right. Yeah. ¡®Course. ¡±

    ¡°Relax. That¡¯s an order, soldier. Just follow my lead.¡±

    Vicky took a deep breath and patted the AGL. ¡°Sure. Relax. Cool as a cucumber, that¡¯s me.¡±

    ¡°Remember, whatever happens, Pheiri¡¯s got our back.¡±

    A soft acknowledgement ping chimed in Vicky¡¯s headset ¡ª Pheiri, agreeing. Vicky managed a smile. It was true, Pheiri had her back. She trusted the old boy more than she trusted her own nerves.

    Atyle was already stepping around the right-hand corner of Pheiri¡¯s rear armour, striding out into the chamber. Elpida glanced after her, then shot a wry look back at Vicky. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s not get left behind.¡±

    Vicky followed Elpida out from behind cover. They walked beside Pheiri¡¯s flank, trailing Atyle along the cliff of bone-white armour, staying well within the fifteen-foot radius of Pheiri¡¯s low red external lights, pooling in a bloody puddle about his armoured skirts. Pheiri¡¯s armour seemed the only landmark in the featureless black and shadow of the tomb chamber, studded with the bulges and knots of sponson mounts and weapon turrets. His bigger guns loomed overhead, tracking slowly back and forth across the distant walls.

    Atyle waited for them at the forward corner of Pheiri¡¯s hull, one dark hand resting on a knot of bone. Elpida and Vicky halted beside her.

    The tomb chamber was a black cavern, the ceiling lost in dripping shadows, the far walls barely visible. Four passageways opened in those walls ¡ª one to the rear, through which Pheiri had entered, then one each to the left and right, and one straight ahead. The rear passageway was wide and smooth, designed for vehicle access, but the other three rapidly split and narrowed into a tangle of twisty little tunnels.

    Shilu still sat thirty feet from Pheiri¡¯s front ¡ª cross-legged, straight-backed, eyes closed in her ghostly face. Red backwash from Pheiri¡¯s lights snagged on the sharp angles and cruel spikes of her black metal body. She was the same shade as the tomb.

    Half a dozen of Kagami¡¯s new drones hung in a rough picket line further out; running lights winked red in the dark.

    Vicky tried not to shiver at the chill and the gloom; she was undead, immune to the cold, the effect was all in her head. She could see in the dark well enough, but somehow the darkness inside the tomb seemed different. It was like damp seeping upward from the black metal floor combined with tar dripping downward from a leaky roof, filling the room with a layer of tarry dark oil. The shadows and the metal amplified every footstep into a myriad of echoes, interrupting the whisper of hushed voices, all drowned out by the distant static haze-hum of hurricane hailstones and torrential rain.

    Elpida and Atyle ignored all of that. They were both more experienced in combat than Vicky, more able to focus past the nerves, less twitchy and jumpy; they were both looking past Kagami¡¯s picket line of drones, into the shadow-choked mouths of the three passageways ahead. Vicky forced herself to do the same, ignoring the sweat beneath her armpits and the churning in her belly. She could do this. She was up to this challenge. Kagami was wrong.

    Dark shapes and hunched figures clustered in the passageways.

    The distant backwash of Pheiri¡¯s low red light picked out a face there, a shoulder of armour plate here, the dull glint of a rifle held in loose hands, the reflection of a pair of bionic eyes, and a hundred other details sunken in the gloom. Little oval faces peered around the corridor corners, bisected by peeking from makeshift cover. Feet stirred and fell silent against the metal floor. Occasional whispers ghosted forth, only to be swallowed by the fury of the storm.

    Vicky raised her grenade launcher and looked through the sight; night vision swept aside the darkness, but revealed only a confused jumble. The passageways ahead were broken up and complex, with natural barricades and barriers built into the floors and walls, studded with nooks and crannies, pockmarked by side corridors and empty rooms.

    Dozens of faces peered back at her, some naked, many masked or helmed, matched by an equal number of guns held at the ready.

    Vicky lowered the launcher and swallowed hard; she couldn¡¯t help it, her mouth was so dry. ¡°Shit. Shit me, that¡¯s a lot more of them than I expected. Are they still coming?¡±

    Elpida whispered, ¡°Hold steady. Pheiri¡¯s got us.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but why?¡± Vicky whispered. ¡°Why are they here?¡±

    Atyle chuckled. ¡°To watch the show, perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Interrogation is not a show,¡± Elpida said. She raised two fingers to the earpiece of her headset. ¡°Kaga, give me a headcount.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s snort crackled over the short-range uplink, broadcasting to all three headsets: ¡°Too many, Commander. Too fucking many¡ª¡±

    ¡°Numbers, Kaga.¡±

    Kagami huffed; Vicky could practically see the rolling eyes. Kaga said: ¡°Pheiri reads thirty seven revenants straight ahead, twenty in the left hand corridor, and seven in the right.¡±

    Vicky swallowed again. She was not used to this ¡ª seeing the eyes of her opponents up close; give her an artillery park under drone attack any day, not this face-to-face over no man¡¯s land. She kept her eyes peeled, hands on her weapon; pointless with Pheiri¡¯s guns at the ready, but it helped her heart.

    Elpida said: ¡°Can you identify separate groups?¡±

    Kagami huffed again. ¡°How should I¡ª¡± Then she paused and tutted. ¡°Yes, fine. Pheiri estimates five separate groups in the corridor straight ahead. Might be six, they¡¯re gathered close but they¡¯re keeping their distances from each other. Left hand corridor, four groups. Right corridor ¡­ they¡¯re all too close to tell, maybe just one group. Maybe one group and a single.¡±

    ¡°Are they all bottom-feeders and scavengers?¡± Elpida went on. ¡°Anybody out there with powered armour, high-level cybernetics?¡±

    Vicky whispered: ¡°Saw plenty through the scope, yeah.¡±

    Another voice butted in, crackling across the comms uplink with a metallic rasp ¡ª Serin: ¡°I spy all kinds, Coh-mander. Everyone is at the watering hole, but nobody is feeding.¡±

    Vicky glanced up and to the left, trying to see onto the front of Pheiri¡¯s armour, where Serin was crouched in her unblinking contest with Shilu. But the black-clad zombie was tucked too deep into a whorl of Pheiri¡¯s armour, hidden with too much skill. Vicky was glad Serin was on their side.

    Elpida said: ¡°No violence? There¡¯s been no fighting among them? Is that correct, Serin?¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± Serin said. ¡°Not that I have spied.¡±

    Vicky whispered into her headset. ¡°Serin, have you ever seen anything like this happen before?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Serin replied. ¡°But then again, I have never seen a storm like this before, nor heard roaring like that voice outdoors. The fools and cannibals are shocked. Perhaps they think the world is ending.¡±

    Atyle said brightly: ¡°Perhaps they are right.¡±

    Revenants had begun to appear in the passageways about thirty minutes earlier, while Vicky had been deep in conversation with Kagami and Elpida in the lab, discussing how exactly they were going to interrogate Shilu.

    Vicky had wanted to postpone the interrogation until after everybody had a chance to rest. She wanted to prioritise the new arrivals ¡ª Eseld, Cyneswith, and Sky. She also wanted a chance to talk with Kagami in private; they needed to discuss what was going on with Elpida, the return of her confidence after Eseld, the renewed light in her eyes, the clarity of her command decisions. Vicky trusted Elpida¡¯s intentions and judgement, even when clouded, but this change was sudden and sharp, after her long weeks of brooding over sins and skulls. She was back to her usual self. The Commander had pushed to carry out the interrogation right away, in case the storm should begin to pass, or the other Necromancer ¡ª Lykke ¡ª should find some other way to return. Vicky and Kagami had been on the verge of presenting a united front; they had almost convinced Elpida to at least take a nap, but then the gathering revenants had forced the issue.

    Ooni had come blundering down Pheiri¡¯s central corridor in a fright when the zombies had started showing up on Pheiri¡¯s sensors, not knowing what to do without command direction. Up until now the other revenants who had managed to take shelter inside the tomb had avoided Pheiri completely, scurrying away in fear whenever they¡¯d happened to spot him down one of the corridors. This change in behaviour had no explanation.

    Vicky knew she shouldn¡¯t really be out here; she should be in Pheiri¡¯s cockpit beside Kaga, or deep in Pheiri¡¯s guts, oiling up machinery and looking after her new home. Her place was behind the big guns, not in front of them. But Elpida had insisted the interrogation had to go ahead, especially if the revenants were gathering because of Shilu.

    Others had wanted to come too ¡ª especially Ilyusha, because of the potential for a confrontation. That almost made Vicky chuckle. She liked Illy a lot, and could always rely on her to be ready for a good scrap, in exactly the way Vicky never was.

    But Vicky wasn¡¯t out here to be a grenadier, despite the weapon in her hands; this was all for show, all to shift the unwanted audience, all to strike the right tone for their little chat with Shilu.

    Kagami had not approved.

    As the others had been getting ready, Kagami had pulled Vicky aside and hissed in her face. Kaga had said that Vicky was an idiot and a fool. Kaga had called her a fascinating new variety of obscure Moon insults, some of them very scatological, one of them so sexual that Vicky had laughed ¡ª which had not gone down well. Kagami had told her in no uncertain terms that she was to stay put, she was to let Elpida jump the gun if she wished but Vicky was to sit her pretty little backside back down in the cockpit where Kaga could keep an eye on her, because Vicky was not cut out for this, Vicky was not to be risked so carelessly like this, and Vicky was a fucking idiot to trust the Commander¡¯s badly impaired judgement like¡ª

    Elpida spoke into her headset again: ¡°Pheiri, you ready?¡±

    Vicky flinched and silently chastised herself. The argument with Kagami lay heavy on her mind, but she could not afford distraction, not while she was on duty, out here, beyond the hull.

    Pheiri responded with an acknowledgement ping.

    ¡°Let them know they¡¯re spotted,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Hit the lights.¡±

    Three narrow cones of blood-red floodlight lanced outward from atop Pheiri¡¯s hull, blooming across the three passageway mouths in bright splashes of bloody illumination.

    For a split-second many zombies were caught unaware, frozen in the sudden revelation of crimson, standing with mouths agape and weapons held loose, or pressed tight to the walls in what had been sure hiding places a moment earlier. Serin was correct ¡ª all kinds of revenants were represented among the scatter-shot audience. A clutch of predators with maws full of sharp teeth and limbs twisted into bone-spears were poised in uneasy truce right next to a squad of heavily-armoured, full-helmeted, black-clad cyborgs, bristling with shoulder-mounted weaponry and heavy guns. A group of naked bottom-feeders huddled around a low barricade, flanked on one side by a towering giant of gleaming chrome and black bionics, and on the other side by another group all wrapped in heavy rags, carrying a mixture of long blades and short pistols. Three robe-clad zombies held hands in a little ring, their eyes all pointed in one direction together, right next to a gang of fang-mouthed predators with bionic tendrils waving from their shoulders.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Then the zombies broke and fled, swarming backward in a wave; everyone scurried for deeper cover.

    Vicky watched through her scope, braced for return fire, pressed to Pheiri¡¯s armour, ready to hit the deck. Many of the opposing groups veered too close to each other as they retreated, snapping words lost in the storm-haze, brandishing weapons and waving guns, flashing insults and baring teeth; one or two even shoved and pushed each other.

    But then the moment passed without conflict. The audience assumed new positions; they had not left, but only retreated as far as they had to, just beyond Pheiri¡¯s light.

    Atyle chuckled. Vicky turned a sigh of relief into exasperation. ¡°Not gonna make it easy for us, are they?¡±

    ¡°Round two,¡± Elpida said, then spoke into her headset: ¡°Pheiri, give me external audio for one sentence, seven words, then cut.¡±

    An acknowledgement ping sounded in the headsets.

    When Elpida spoke again, her voice was projected from Pheiri¡¯s external loudspeakers, echoing off the dark metal walls of the tomb chamber.

    ¡°Disperse,¡± Elpida said, ¡°or we will fire on you.¡±

    The zombies in the passageways shifted and stirred, beetles and grubs squirming at the edge of Pheiri¡¯s blood-red light. Vicky sighted down her launcher again, into the green-grey night-vision gloom.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like anybody¡¯s moving,¡± she muttered.

    ¡°Kaga,¡± Elpida said, her voice reduced back to normal. ¡°Do you see any takers out there?¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice crackled into Vicky¡¯s ears: ¡°A few. Not many. Most are content to stay put.¡± She sounded so smugly satisfied, Vicky almost tutted; she couldn¡¯t tell if Kagami was taking more pleasure in being right or in the opportunity to scare the shit out of Vicky. Kagami continued: ¡°You do know, Commander, that if you don¡¯t back up your threats, nobody¡¯s going to believe you or take you seriously. I suggest you put our guns where your mouth has led us.¡±

    Vicky hissed: ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    Skeeeert-squeak!

    Vicky winced. A rejection ping, for her ears only. Elpida and Atyle did not seem to have heard it. Kagami could not chew her out or insult her right now; the control cockpit was probably full, everyone watching the action on Pheiri¡¯s screens. So a nasty little noise was the best Kagami could muster.

    Elpida said: ¡°Agreed. Pheiri, put warning shots into all three passageways, please. One round. Aim high. No casualties.¡±

    A voice echoed down the comms link, probably over Kagami¡¯s shoulder: ¡°Fuck ¡®em up!¡±

    Illy, cheering; Vicky smiled.

    Kagami sighed. ¡°Commander, for a¡ª¡±

    An autocannon on Pheiri¡¯s hull opened up with a trio of single shots ¡ª boom! boom! boom! ¡ª splitting the static haze of the hurricane and slamming through the shadowy innards of the tomb, tracking from left to right. On the left a corner of wall exploded into a puff of pulverised metal; dead ahead a distant crack-crack of shattering steel announced the round¡¯s impact; on the right a deep crump-crunch indicated the round had penetrated the metal, then stopped dead on a more dense inner layer.

    Revenants fled, scurrying down the corridors and vanishing into the depths of the tomb. Shouts and screams and squeals echoed back ¡ª but no gunshots.

    Within seconds, the passageways stood empty.

    Vicky let out a sigh of relief. ¡°What was that all about? Seriously, what were they gathering like that for?¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°To witness. To witness us. To witness Pheiri. To witness the Necromancer with her wings clipped and her strings cut.¡±

    ¡°Food,¡± said Elpida.

    Vicky squinted. ¡°Eh? Sorry?¡±

    Elpida sniffed the air. ¡°Food, Vicky. Take a whiff.¡±

    Serin¡¯s voice cracked from Vicky¡¯s headset, laughing. ¡°Haha! The Coh-mander is correct, I believe. The stench of corpses brings many hungry mouths.¡±

    Vicky blinked several times, then almost laughed as well. The smell of blood and meat was so heavy in the air that she¡¯d not considered it abnormal. The kills from the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber ¡ª Lykke¡¯s ¡®hounds¡¯ ¡ª were attracting the zombies who wanted to eat them.

    ¡°We can address that later,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Now, Shilu¡ª¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice suddenly cut in on comms: ¡°Commander, we have some reluctant stragglers.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Explain.¡±

    ¡°All the others turned tail and ran away, as they should have done, but there¡¯s still seven zombies in the right hand corridor! All seven of them!¡± Kagami huffed. ¡°They haven¡¯t even moved. Are you going to pussy-foot around with more warning shots, or are we going for a kill?¡±

    Vicky sighted down her launcher¡¯s scope, into the mouth of the right-hand corridor; a cluster of figures remained in the shadows beyond the crimson light, ghostly night-vision smears in Vicky¡¯s sight. They weren¡¯t even in cover, just standing out in the open.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± Vicky murmured. ¡°They¡¯re just standing there.¡±

    Elpida said nothing for a long moment.

    Kagami¡¯s voice crackled down the comms uplink: ¡°Commander! They¡¯re clearly planning something. We have to open fire, for real, for¡ª¡±

    ¡°Serin,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Are any of those zombies carrying heavy weapons? Anti-tank weapons? Anything which could hurt Pheiri?¡±

    Serin rasped: ¡°No, Coh-mander. I can see their leader from here. Her head is in my scope.¡±

    ¡°They have an obvious leader?¡±

    Serin chuckled. ¡°She is in front and unarmed. She is leader, or bait. I can kill her now.¡±

    ¡°Negative, Serin,¡± Elpida said ¡ª with a strangely satisfied smile in her voice. ¡°Don¡¯t take that shot. This is a positive development. This is good.¡±

    Serin purred a wordless question.

    Vicky realised a second before Elpida answered. She spoke first: ¡°Elpi? Elpi, were you hoping this would happen?¡±

    Elpida took a deep breath. ¡°Did I hope? Can¡¯t say for sure. Did I speculate? Certainly. But I didn¡¯t want to get anybody else¡¯s hopes up, or cloud our purposes. This is a happy accident, for now. If I¡¯m correct.¡±

    Kagami snapped down the comms link: ¡°Commander, what the hell are you talking about? Are these friends of yours?¡±

    ¡°Not yet.¡±

    Vicky hissed, ¡°Elpi?¡±

    Atyle laughed. ¡°The Commander has so many plans even she cannot account for them all.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°All the revenants who made it into the tomb are under a general truce, brought on by shock. Nobody planned this or made it happen. The hurricane has caused a sudden outbreak of peace, that¡¯s all. And that applies to us too.¡± She gestured at Shilu; Vicky couldn¡¯t help but notice the Necromancer¡¯s eyes were still closed. Shilu had still not moved a muscle, despite the booming noise of Pheiri¡¯s guns. ¡°Shilu can wait a bit,¡± said Elpida. ¡°I¡¯m going to cross the chamber and talk to that group who didn¡¯t retreat. I want to ask why they¡¯re not running. Atyle, Vicky, you don¡¯t have to come with me, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I am with you, Commander,¡± Atyle said. ¡°I am curious, too.¡±

    Vicky almost laughed. ¡°I¡¯m not letting you go alone, Elpi. I¡¯m¡ª¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice hissed into Vicky¡¯s ear on a private-channel: ¡°Victoria, do not! You think she¡¯s gotten over her death wish so soon? Do not¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªwith you too,¡± Vicky finished.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Good. Thank you both. Atyle, stop when I stop. Vicky, safety off, present a credible threat, but don¡¯t fire unless I do. Serin, keep eyes on their leader, but please don¡¯t shoot. Kagami, swing those drones in behind us. Pheiri, point some more guns at them, make it clear we¡¯re not letting our guard down.¡±

    ¡°Gotcha,¡± Vicky whispered. She disengaged the safety on her AGL, then placed her index finger in the ready position, well clear of the trigger. Up above, she heard Pheiri¡¯s guns rotating in their turret-mounts and armour-bulges, and the distinctive iris-flicker of missile pods opening like flowers.

    Elpida said: ¡°Let me do the greetings, but speak if you want to. This is entirely speculative. I don¡¯t know what to expect, but we have to try.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice spat over the headsets: ¡°Try what, Commander?¡±

    ¡°Making friends.¡±

    Elpida led the way across the echoing immensity of the tomb chamber, striding out in front of Pheiri, cutting between him and Shilu; Atyle trailed to her left while Vicky took up position her right. Vicky kept the AGL stock tucked tight against her shoulder, eyes scanning the passageway mouth for unexpected movement. Several of Kagami¡¯s drones detached from the picket line and moved in behind, winking red in the black. Their footsteps echoed off into the vault of the tomb.

    Shilu¡¯s eyes opened as the trio passed by, turning her head to watch as they left the circle of Pheiri¡¯s blood-red illumination. Vicky met her gaze for a moment, but tried not to react.

    The passageway mouth loomed ahead, twice as tall as Pheiri and three times as wide; the floodlight lit only the first few feet, caught on the projecting angle of the wall. Side-passages and stairways climbed and clambered off in the deeper darkness, turning the passageway into a nightmare warren, the perfect tunnel-fighting environment, impassable to Pheiri. Vicky did not want to step down there on foot, not even inside a suit of powered armour, not for all the nanomachines in the world. Her heart caught in her throat just peering into those tangled shadows.

    Elpida stopped a good twenty feet short of the passageway. She planted her boots wide, raised her chin high, and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her trousers, framing the pair of pistols already on display. Vicky would have rolled her eyes, but she understood the purpose of the show.

    Atyle stopped at Elpida¡¯s side, peering into the dark with her bionic eye. Vicky pulled up short, ready to raise her grenade launcher, feeling clumsy in her heavy body armour.

    A cluster of seven figures lurked just beyond the boundary of Pheiri¡¯s bloody light; the closest one, up front ¡ª the leader? ¡ª was short and oddly shaped, her outline flaring wide. Behind her stood the hard angles of two zombies in heavy armour, their weapons a matte threat in the dark, one of them with greenly glinting eyes set deep in a solid helmet. Behind them was a trio of smaller figures that Vicky couldn¡¯t quite make out, not without pointing her AGL at them, and she did not want to do that so close, where she might present a direct threat.

    Attached halfway up the right-hand wall was a mass of ropey tentacles and loops of tarry black mucus, hanging over the short one in front. A face peered out of that mucus-mass on a stalk-like neck, blinking eyes too large to be human.

    Elpida raised her voice, and said, ¡°Why didn¡¯t you retreat?¡±

    The short one stepped forward alone, into Pheiri¡¯s blood-red light.

    She was petite and compact, perhaps only a teenager in life; a heart-shaped face was so pale her skin was almost translucent, with a stark tracery of blue veins beneath the surface, framed by a messy mass of dark red hair ¡ª probably darker beneath Pheiri¡¯s lights. She wore a patchwork dress in tomb-grown grey, once an armoured coat, now modified and sewn back together from scraps and offcuts. She was covered from chin to knees, throat cupped by dark fabric, leaving only a pair of heavy boots exposed beneath the ragged hem of her dress.

    She sported sixteen arms. Some of them clustered together on her shoulders, making the bones bulky and lumpy where they attached, while others sprouted from her flanks as if fixed directly to her rib-cage. Every arm was sleeved inside her modified dress, with each hand either gloved in black and grey or tucked away inside the sleeve. She showed no skin but her face.

    Vicky quickly scanned the girl for the tell-tale grinning skull of the Death¡¯s Heads, just in case, but she saw no symbol or sign of any kind.

    Plush lips curled into a knowing smile, beneath a pair of eyes without iris or whites, just blank orbs of unbroken black.

    ¡°Why run from warning shots?¡± said the many-armed revenant.

    Elpida nodded slowly, lips barely moving; Vicky heard her orders over the headset: ¡°Kaga, talk to me. What am I looking at?¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice murmured a reply. ¡°Regular zombie, expected nanomachine density. Lots of internal bionics. She has a couple of guns tucked away inside that ridiculous dress. And an axe? An axe, yes. Nothing special. She¡¯s clean ¡ª ha! As much as any of us undead can be ¡®clean¡¯.¡±

    Elpida said out loud: ¡°Are you the leader of this group?¡±

    The many-armed revenant shrugged with half her arms ¡ª an undulating motion of too many bones in her shoulders. ¡°Guess I am.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    The many-armed girl raised her eyebrows. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to, like, give your own first before asking for another?¡±

    ¡°Elpida,¡± said Elpida, then gestured. ¡°Vicky, Atyle.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s more than three of you.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡± Elpida thumbed over her shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s called Pheiri.¡±

    The many-armed girl¡¯s eyes flew wide in surprise. ¡°He?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    The girl gestured at Shilu. ¡°And her?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s none of your concern,¡± Elpida said.

    The girl smiled, showing too many teeth, then giggled ¡ª a little scratchy, but not inhuman. Her many arms and hands all gestured at once, some shrugging, others wiggling gloved fingers, one pointing at Elpida, another two indicating herself.

    ¡°Puk,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±

    ¡°Hello, Puk.¡± Elpida nodded. ¡°And what about your friends?¡±

    Puk smiled and laughed. ¡°They¡¯re all too shy. Sorry!¡±

    The other zombies behind Puk shifted in the shadows. Vicky twitched her grenade launcher, but held her nerve; she needed to stay steady.

    Suddenly the black mass of ropey tentacles attached to the wall jerked downward, as if she¡¯d let go of her perch, sliding down the wall. Two mucus-dripping tendrils dipped into the red light, sheltering Puk.

    ¡° ¡­ n-no,¡± the wall-climber gurgled, her voice high-pitched and girlish. ¡°You! With the grenades! No! No!¡±

    Elpida gestured low and easy. ¡°Vicky, barrel down.¡±

    ¡°It is down,¡± Vicky hissed. ¡°I didn¡¯t even take aim.¡±

    Atyle let out a gasp of wonder and delight, staring upward at the blob of black goop stuck to the wall. ¡°Oh. Oh, you are quite beautiful, little one. What is your name?¡±

    The mass of ropey tentacles withdrew slightly, waving her head-on-a-stalk as if confused.

    Puk spoke upward without looking away from Elpida: ¡°It¡¯s alright, Tati. We¡¯re all being friendly here. Aren¡¯t we, Elpida? Tati¡¯s a bit nervous about my safety, that¡¯s all.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°That¡¯s very sensible. We won¡¯t open fire if you don¡¯t.¡±

    Puk spread her many arms. ¡°Bit late for that, isn¡¯t it? You already did.¡±

    ¡°Warning shots,¡± Vicky said. ¡°You didn¡¯t take the warning.¡±

    Up on the wall, Tati gurgled again: ¡°Piss off!¡±

    Puk smiled. ¡°Tati, dear sweet. Let¡¯s us just talk, ¡®kay?¡±

    Tati fell silent, pressing closer to the wall, withdrawing her dripping black feelers. The other revenants in the dark exchanged a few whispers.

    Elpida said, ¡°Those arms, are those all you? Did you grow them all?¡±

    Puk giggled and put a finger to her lips, then winked as if on stage. ¡°Oh, you know, it¡¯s easier to steal than sow ¡ª so you can ¡®sew¡¯ yourself together. Haha!¡±

    Vicky swallowed. ¡°You stole all those arms? From other revenants?¡±

    Puk shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll leave that to your imagination.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Let¡¯s not get lost in the weeds. I¡¯m going to ask my question again, and I¡¯d like a proper answer, or we¡¯ll just turn around and return to what we were doing before. Why didn¡¯t you run from us? Why didn¡¯t you run from Pheiri? How can you be so sure we won¡¯t kill you and eat you?¡±

    ¡°Mmmmm,¡± Puk hummed. ¡°This is unusual, isn¡¯t it? For me, too!¡±

    ¡°Very,¡± said Elpida. ¡°A truce. Why?¡±

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s spooked. Scared shitless. The storm, and that roaring noise! Nothing like an external foe to unite the squabblers, right?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°That doesn¡¯t answer my question.¡±

    Puk paused. Vicky found it very difficult to tell where the girl was looking, without any whites to her eyes. It was like talking to Atyle but a hundred percent worse, with both eyes an enigma rather than just one.

    A gentle whisper came from behind Puk, from one of her companions. The ropey girl hanging off the wall said something as well, soft and gloopy and wet, which Vicky couldn¡¯t make out.

    Puk licked her lips, then said: ¡°We didn¡¯t run from you, because we¡¯ve seen you around before.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± said Elpida.

    Puk shrugged again. ¡°Everyone¡¯s seen you around. Your tank, I mean. Pheiri? You don¡¯t prey very often, or at least not openly. You don¡¯t go off shooting unless somebody tries it on with you first. You don¡¯t make a habit of chasing down kills. So, you¡¯re probably safe to approach.¡± She spread her many arms and opened her gloved palms. ¡°Empty handed, of course.¡±

    Vicky snorted. ¡°Why? What for? Why would you risk it?¡±

    Puk smiled, sniffed the air, and made a noise of anticipation. ¡°Meat, of course.¡±

    Vicky grunted. Atyle nodded. Elpida said, ¡°Everyone can smell it, right. And that¡¯s why you¡¯re here?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got so much of it just piled up over there, all going to waste.¡± Puk dipped her head, pinched the hem of her patchwork dress, and sketched a half-decent curtsy, smirking as she did. ¡°Spare a corpse or two for a poor little orphan girl and her friends, madams and misses?¡±

    Elpida opened her mouth to answer ¡ª but before she could get a word out, Kagami¡¯s voice cut in over the comms uplink.

    ¡°Commander! No!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Absolutely do not agree to that! No, no, no! You give out one corpse to one group and then the next thing we know we¡¯ve got hundreds of them battering down Pheiri¡¯s doors, crying out for more meat! We cannot start giving it out. Commander? Elpida? Answer me, say something! Vicky, Vicky, back me up. We cannot start giving¡ª¡±

    Another voice interrupted Kagami, from somewhere back in the cockpit. Pira, exasperated: ¡°Kagami, stop, please.¡±

    ¡°And you can shut up!¡± Kagami¡¯s voice whirled away from the microphone. ¡°As if you have any right to¡ª¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Pheiri, sound off, please.¡±

    The voices cut out.

    Puk ¡ª who had been waiting so patiently ¡ª said: ¡°That was somebody back inside your Pheiri, wasn¡¯t it? Probably telling you that you shouldn¡¯t start giving out charity, or else everybody will be wanting some. Well, I¡¯m not going to argue with that.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not?¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°Mmhmm!¡± Puk smiled. ¡°That is exactly what will happen, yes. And I think you should do it anyway. I think you should give it out. All of it.¡±

    Vicky snorted. ¡°To you, right?¡±

    Puk shook her head. ¡°No. To everyone.¡±

    Elpida held up a hand to forestall another comment from Vicky. She said to Puk: ¡°Why do you care if we share with other zombies or not?¡±

    Puk sighed wistfully, eyes going up and away, twisting one foot in a girlish gesture. ¡°Weeeeeell. There are somewhere between two to three hundred zombies stuck in this tomb right now. More than three hundreds, actually, I thinks. All of us, packed into a very small space. Everyone who didn¡¯t run when that storm started up. All tense and tight, shoulder to shoulder in here. Noooooot good. Not good. War will break out sooner or later. All these tunnels, these close conditions. Nowhere to run. It¡¯s going to be very, very bad when everyone stops feeling so scared and confused.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Elpida said. ¡°But that¡¯s not an answer. Why do you care?¡±

    Puk burst into a peal of giggles. She raised her arms, toward the ceiling, toward the storm. ¡°Because the world is going mad. Do your ears work? Hurricanes, giants, where do I begin? The rules are rapidly flying out of the windows. Not that I¡¯d want to fly, in this storm.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°You think a supply of meat can extend this ad hoc truce?¡±

    Puk lowered her arms and shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think this weird little peace can hold a little longer, maybe. If we¡¯re lucky, and if you¡¯re clever. And if it holds long enough ¡­ maybe we can make it ¡®till the storm passes, hey?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Alright. And what¡¯s it in for us?¡±

    Vicky hissed, ¡°Elpi?¡± But Elpida just flicked her fingers ¡ª go along with it for now.

    Puk shrugged again. ¡°I don¡¯t know. What¡¯s in it for you?¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Changing the world.¡±

    Puk snorted. ¡°World¡¯s already changing. Weird things have been happening all over ever since your Pheiri turned up, you know? That thing fell from the sky a while back. Those huge monsters turned up, that big gold diamond, then the ball. And now this storm, and that thing roaring outdoors earlier on. Is this all your fault, Elpida? You changing the world around us?¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Not like that.¡±

    ¡°Well, good luck. But me and mine, we¡¯re just interested in lasting through the storm. Are you going to spare a corpse, or not?¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice broke back in over the comms; she was calm now ¡ª calm and cold. ¡°Commander, she is just trying to score a meal off us. She doesn¡¯t share your vision and she¡¯s not going to be convinced by a mouthful of meat.¡±

    Vicky hissed, ¡°Kaga, shut up.¡±

    Elpida spoke out loud, eyes locked with Puk. ¡°Maybe not. But she¡¯s also not wrong. Puk, we have a favour to ask in return.¡±

    ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°Keep the peace, if you can. If there¡¯s a truce, hold to it. Tell the others we¡¯re sharing our meat. But only with those who don¡¯t break the truce.¡±

    Kagami sighed down the comms link, beyond exasperated.

    Puk curtseyed again. ¡°No promises! ¡®Truce¡¯ is a bit much, this is all unspoken. But we can spread a word or two. Allllllso,¡± Puk added, almost shy. ¡°There¡¯s a blob monster upstairs. We know she¡¯s with you, everyone knows that. Can you keep her from eating her way through everyone in the tomb?¡±

    ¡°Iriko?¡± Vicky muttered.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Elpida said. Then to Puk: ¡°We¡¯ll try. She needs feeding too. Some of these bodies are earmarked for her.¡±

    ¡°Fair dos!¡± said Puk.

    ¡°Wait there a second.¡± Elpida raised two fingers to her headset, and said: ¡°Pheiri, put me through to Hafina and get ready to lower the rear ramp. Haf? Haf, I want you to come out, head down the ramp, and grab a corpse from Lykke¡¯s soldiers. Pick one we haven¡¯t stripped of meat, but don¡¯t leave any weapons on the body. Then bring it over here. Thanks.¡±

    A moment later, Vicky heard the distinctive whirr of Pheiri¡¯s rear ramp opening wide.

    Puk smiled, twirling the hem of her dress back and forth where she stood. Elpida just stared at her, waiting for Hafina to arrive. Vicky took deep, slow, steady breaths, flexing her hands around her grenade launcher, trying not to stare at the dripping mass of ¡®Tati¡¯ stuck halfway up the wall. Tati stared at her regardless, massive eyeballs glowing faintly in the dark. Puk¡¯s other companions stayed very still.

    After what felt like several long minutes, Hafina¡¯s massive armoured form stalked out of the darkness on Vicky¡¯s right, flanked by a trio of Kagami¡¯s larger drones. She was carrying a big corpse in four of her arms, stripped out of armour, wearing only grey clothes.

    Puk lit up with a smile. ¡°Thank you kindly, kind ma¡¯am.¡±

    Elpida put out one hand, indicating Hafina should halt. ¡°Wait a moment, Haf,¡± she said. ¡°One more thing, Puk, before we hand over the meat.¡±

    ¡°Ahhh?¡± Puk puckered her lips. ¡°A catch? Oh dear. Really?¡±

    ¡°Not a catch, just a question. Are there any Death¡¯s Heads in the tomb? Any of them make it in here before the storm hit?¡±

    Puk¡¯s expression went sober; her companions stirred behind her, swapping whispers. Up on the wall, Tati let out a messy gurgle.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Puk. ¡°A few. I think. Maybe. Who knows for sure?¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    Puk giggled and shook her head. ¡°Sweetheart, I¡¯m not about to go looking for them, not for all the meat you¡¯ve got laid out over there. You can truce with some, and this one¡¯s holding like nothing I¡¯ve done before, but with them? Nuh uh. If anybody breaks this first, it¡¯ll be them, with a knife in somebody¡¯s back.¡±

 tempestas - 12.6

    Eseld stared into the empty eye sockets of her own denuded skull, lost in the static of the storm.

    She was curled on her side, lying on a thin mattress, facing a wall of peeling cream-white paint and dull grey metal. Her naked skull was cradled in her arms; it weighed much less than she had expected, robbed of skin and muscle and brains. She ran her fingertips across the osseous texture of exposed bone, stroking her own parietal and frontal plates, cupping the gentle curve of her cheek, caressing the teeth still in their sockets above the subtle sweep of mandible, the jaw fixed in place with metal pins. She ran a thumb around the twinned orbits where zygomatic and maxilla had once held the soft jelly of her own eyeballs.

    She was not alone. Su and Mala were here too. So was her beloved Andasina. Their skulls sat in a little row of three, propped against the wall of dull metal and peeling paint.

    Eseld had cradled Andasina¡¯s skull first, before embracing her own. She had left wet, salty stains on the bone. She had made terrible noises, howling and screaming and sobbing into a thin and lumpy pillow.

    Eseld¡¯s chest was a void. Her lips were slack. Her head was empty as the skull, both filled with storm-fury from beyond the walls. Her eyes felt raw and dry; she had cried for a very long time, when her sobs had matched the hurricane. At first she had wept hot and hard and urgent, when the tears had mixed with the taste of saint¡¯s blood. But then the disciples had pried her jaw open and left her empty; her tears had turned cold and weak and slow, until she was flayed and de-boned and laid out with nothing left to give.

    The storm raged on, pounding the exterior of the tomb with rain and hail and hurricane winds, beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull, inside Eseld¡¯s head.

    Eseld envied the storm. She wished she could keep crying.

    She stared into her own empty sockets, into a void where once had been meat and brain and life.

    She did have a vague notion of where she was; she had been placed on a bed in the ¡®bunk room¡¯, inside Pheiri, which was the name of the huge armoured vehicle that the saint and her disciples called home. She¡¯d been there for ¡ª some hours, at least? Time had ceased to mean anything. A hollow space could not keep count; the echoes multiplied any attempt.

    ¡°¡ªwinters too, they are most terrible and dark where I come from. They go on for months and months, with so much snow you can barely walk through it after more than a few days of the coldest weather. Sometimes the snow comes down mixed with ash, and nobody can go outdoors for days on end, or they get awfully sick. That¡¯s when we use the tunnels between the houses, you see? Everybody stays indoors, where it¡¯s nice and warm, and we do all our visiting without setting foot outside! Do you really not have proper winters where you¡¯re from?¡±

    That was Cyneswith, still chattering on. Her voice rose from somewhere past Eseld¡¯s feet.

    A reply came, hesitant and halting. ¡°Oh. Um, I misspoke. We do. We do have snow. Especially in the mountains. Just not that much.¡±

    That was one of the saint¡¯s disciples. Their names had flowed over Eseld¡¯s mind like water over heavy rocks.

    Amina, perhaps?

    ¡°Mountains!¡± said Cyneswith. ¡°Oh, what a delight! Real mountains? I¡¯ve seen pictures of mountains in books, but we had nothing of the sort. Just the forested hills, and they don¡¯t go up too far. Even a young girl like myself can climb those pretty easily. Not that we did much of that, not off the roads. All sorts of dangerous things live deeper in the forests.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Amina grunted. ¡°Mm, yes. Real mountains.¡±

    Cyneswith giggled. ¡°I know you say you¡¯re not really a fairy, Miss Amina, but it¡¯s very hard not to consider you as one regardless. Oh! Oh, I¡¯m so sorry, I see I¡¯ve made you embarrassed. Think nothing of it. I shouldn¡¯t have shared that thought. Please, don¡¯t blush on my account. Though you are very pretty when you blush.¡±

    Rainstorm waves passed across metal walls; hailstones drummed like thunder. Tiny mechanical sounds whirred and hummed inside the tank ¡ª inside ¡®Pheiri¡¯ ¡ª joining the static haze inside Eseld¡¯s head.

    Eseld curled two fingers around her own left eye socket. The bone was dry and hard and empty.

    Amina whispered: ¡°Did she just ¡­ ?¡±

    Cyneswith moved. The pressure on the foot of the bunk adjusted. ¡°Miss Eseld? Miss Eseld?¡±

    Eseld considered opening her lips and moving her tongue, but she knew that she would speak only soulless static.

    She stared into empty bone.

    After a moment, Cyneswith¡¯s weight adjusted again.

    Amina said, ¡°What¡¯s wrong with her?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s had a terrible shock,¡± said Cyneswith. ¡°But I think Miss Eseld is going to be alright. I have to hope she will be. She was so very brave, back in that awful mausoleum full of coffins, the way she threw herself between us and that terrible monster. She is a very brave lady. But even the brave have to rest. Give her time, and I am confident she will be restored to us.¡±

    Eseld considered laughing, but she did not, for she would merely vomit forth the sound of the rain and the hail, insensible to mortal meat.

    After a moment, Amina said: ¡°She ate a little bit. That¡¯s good, I think.¡±

    A dry swallow from Cyn. ¡°A little ¡­ human flesh, yes.¡± A forced laugh followed, a single exhalation of breath. ¡°Forgive me. This is why I struggle to fully believe you are not all fairies.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the same as us,¡± Amina said. ¡°We¡¯re all the same now. Except Elpida.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Quite.¡±

    Eseld barely remembered eating, but she did recall the taste of human meat. Somebody had dangled a strip of bloody flesh before her face. Appetite had betrayed sorrow, and she had crammed it into her mouth, then licked the gore off her fingers, so as not to soil Andasina¡¯s skull. Even storms needed fodder.

    Amina sighed. Eseld heard a smile in that sigh, mixed with tension and worry, and a distinct desire to be elsewhere.

    The saint¡¯s disciples did not trust Eseld or Cyneswith, and they were not subtle in their distrust. They didn¡¯t trust Sky either, but Sky was unconscious, laid out on a medical bed in some other room; Eseld had a vague memory of being carried through the main compartment of Pheiri¡¯s innards, and glimpsing Sky¡¯s limp, unconscious, armour-clad body carted off into the ¡®infirmary¡¯.

    Eseld and Cyneswith had not been left alone since they had been brought inside Pheiri. Eseld had been frisked and stripped of the weapons she had taken from the tomb armoury, left helpless and unarmed, just like before, wearing only grey layers and the heavy wrap of her armoured coat. She had not been capable of resistance ¡ª sobbing and whining with her teeth buried in the saint¡¯s flesh. She did not recall exactly what had happened, or when precisely she had allowed her jaws to be parted and the saint¡¯s arm removed, or when the saint had brought the skulls of herself and her friends, and said ¡®these are yours¡¯. All was a jumbled blur of screaming and tears and blood in her mouth.

    At first several people had tramped in and out of the room, talking at her, trying to get her to talk back, growing frustrated or angry. The saint had cleared the others away for a while. Then another person had checked her over in near silence, feeling for wounds with firm little hands, pressing strange instruments to parts of her flesh, and finally pronouncing her uninjured. Cyneswith had talked at great length, with both the saint and some of her disciples, to tell them the story of her resurrection and their journey through the tomb alongside Shilu.

    A long time had passed. The saint and others had gone out of Pheiri, then returned; Eseld knew this by the sounds of their voices, and the sound of Pheiri¡¯s ramp going up and down. Others visited the room, but she paid them no attention. She sank deeper into the storm and into the sockets of her own skull.

    Eventually the saint had led another group out into the tomb. Eseld had overheard urgent words, angry words, but they meant nothing to her. All she knew was that the disciples were tense with expectation.

    Down at the foot of the bunk, Cyneswith let out a matching sigh.

    ¡°Miss Amina?¡± she said. ¡°You may as well sit down too. It¡¯s not fair that you have to stand there in the doorway all by yourself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ um ¡­ I¡¯m fine,¡± Amina replied. ¡°The¡ª I mean, I¡¯m supposed to¡ª I¡ª¡±

    ¡°You want to join your friends, but you¡¯re supposed to watch us,¡± Cyneswith said. ¡°Ah! No, no, don¡¯t blush, please. I take no offence. It¡¯s obvious, you see? You don¡¯t trust us, and that¡¯s okay. It¡¯s just, if we¡¯re going to sit here and have a chat, we may as well settle in for¡ª¡±

    Boom-boom-boom!

    A cannon roared and rocked just beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull. Vibrations shook the bunk room.

    Cyneswith yelped, jerking so hard that Eseld felt it through the mattress; Amina flinched and let out a small gasp. Mechanisms inside Pheiri went clunk-clunk, cycling fresh rounds into the great guns up on the hull.

    Eseld stared into her own empty eye sockets. Storms were not moved by gnats and flies.

    Cyneswith stammered, ¡°W-what, what¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, it¡¯s okay!¡± Amina said quickly, almost embarrassed. ¡°It¡¯s just warning shots. Elpida said Pheiri might have to fire warning shots. It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s just warning shots. U-unless there¡¯s any more ¡­ ¡±

    Two pairs of startled lungs filled the bunk room with rapid panting. A swallow ¡ª Amina ¡ª and then a little forced giggle ¡ª Cyneswith. Silence stretched on, drowned beneath the distant whip and whirl of hurricane winds.

    Amina blew out a long breath, then spoke strong and clear: ¡°Thank you, Pheiri.¡±

    Cyneswith said, ¡°Is that the custom, here?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes. Pheiri¡¯s keeping us safe, after all. Melyn and Hafina do it, and they¡¯ve been here longer than us, so ¡­ ¡±

    Cyneswith cleared her throat gently. ¡°Thank you, Pheiri!¡±

    Both zombies fell silent. The howl of the storm and the drum of the rain rushed back to fill the space. Tiny mechanical sounds ticked and hummed inside Pheiri¡¯s body, purring and glugging behind bulkheads. Awkward feet shuffled on the decking.

    Cyneswith said: ¡°I would tell you to go join your friends. But I know you can¡¯t, and I¡¯m not in charge of you, anyway. They¡¯re all watching your leader, aren¡¯t they? She¡¯s gone out to speak with Shilu?¡±

    After a moment, Amina muttered, ¡°It¡¯s okay. Elpida will be okay. I don¡¯t need to watch.¡±

    ¡°Did they leave you here because you¡¯re the smallest?¡± Cyneswith asked.

    ¡°Oh. No.¡±

    Eseld cupped the rear of her skull, pressing her palm to the thin plate of occipital bone. All her machinery was gone, her soft mechanisms of grey matter and electrical impulse, the seat of the soul ripped out and eaten up.

    Where had her soul gone? Had it fled her skull and entered this new body ¡ª or was she a husk, filled with wrathful storm? Perhaps no zombie had a soul after all. Perhaps she had been wrong all along, and God had not died or been murdered, but had absconded from the world with all the souls of all the peoples of earth, leaving only this dead and empty meat behind, to gorge itself upon itself for the rest of all eternity.

    Eseld was exhausted, but sleep was impossible. Her eyes hurt too much. Besides, storms did not sleep.

    She stared into her own corpse and considered cursing God.

    After a long time ¡ª minutes or hours, Eseld couldn¡¯t tell ¡ª a pair of feet approached the bunk room door, tentative and light but without attempt at stealth. A third voice spoke from the doorway.

    ¡°H-hey,¡± said ¡ª which one was that? Eseld didn¡¯t know. ¡°Hey, Amina. Hi. I¡¯m to, er ¡­ take over, if you want to go forward. Into the cockpit, I mean.¡±

    ¡°Mm!¡±

    Eseld heard Amina fly across the decking, feet hopping out of the bunk room and into the larger compartment beyond. She chattered back, suddenly breathless: ¡°I¡¯ll see you later, Cyn. Sorry, sorry, but I have to go see! I do! You were right! Later!¡±

    And then Amina was gone, the sound of her feet swallowed up by Pheiri¡¯s innards.

    A long, heavy sigh fought in vain against silence and storm, followed by an awkward swallow, both from the new arrival.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Cyneswith said: ¡°Do I get the impression that Miss Amina doesn¡¯t like you very much?¡±

    ¡°S-sorry?¡± said the new arrival. ¡°Um, uh, yeah. Yes. I mean, I think so. Amina and I don¡¯t talk much. Or at all, really.¡± Cloying silence crept back in, washing the air with waves of rain. Eseld expanded to fill the room. Then the disciple spoke again, with halting desperation: ¡°I¡¯m Ooni, by the way. If you didn¡¯t catch my name before. Hello.¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm,¡± purred Cyneswith. ¡°I remember you, Miss Ooni. I¡¯m very good with names. Or at least I like to think so.¡±

    Ooni walked into the bunk room, much deeper than Amina had ventured, clumsy footsteps thumping across the deck. Eseld heard her sit down on the opposite bunk with a creak of metal and a little pop of one knee joint. The room was very narrow and cramped; when Ooni spoke again her voice was close, pitched low and soft, as if Eseld were merely sleeping and should not be awoken.

    ¡°How is she?¡± Ooni asked. ¡°Eseld, I mean, not Amina. Did she sleep at all?¡±

    ¡°No change,¡± said Cyneswith. ¡°I believe she may have drifted off for a small nap, for a little while, but I cannot be certain.¡±

    Silence, perhaps beckoned by a nod. Storm crashed and raged inside Eseld¡¯s skull.

    Ooni said, ¡°Is she ¡­ alright, with those skulls?¡±

    ¡°Your leader said not to take them from her.¡±

    Ooni sighed. ¡°Yeah. They are hers. S-shit, uh ¡­ do you need to sleep? You seem kinda ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, thank you. Somebody needs to watch over Eseld. But I am curious. How do I ¡®seem¡¯ to you, Miss Ooni?¡±

    Ooni let out a strange laugh, hesitant and awkward. ¡°Like you¡¯re not afraid.¡±

    ¡°Should I be afraid?¡±

    ¡°Well, no,¡± Ooni said ¡ª and seemed surprised at her own answer. ¡°No. No, you shouldn¡¯t. You¡¯ve fallen into good hands. I-I think.¡±

    Eseld heard the smile in Cyneswith¡¯s voice: ¡°Did you volunteer to come and tell me that?¡±

    Ooni was silent for a moment. ¡°W-well, sort of. I thought you might be afraid. But, oh, uh, this is your first time around, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re a real freshie. You and Sky both. Not like Eseld.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know the true meaning of so much fairy-speak,¡± Cyneswith said. ¡°But I think I understand your meaning, yes. I died, and now I am here. This is my first trip to the realms of faerie.¡±

    Awkward silence settled deep and hard, broken by storm¡¯s rage. Eseld wanted to rear up and grab Cyneswith by the shoulders, to shake her until her teeth chattered. Enduring Cyn¡¯s lack of comprehension back in the tomb had been one thing, but now Eseld¡¯s own metaphor for the world lay in ragged tatters ¡ª angels had become demons, demons had metastasised like cancer, and her belly was warm with the blood of a saint. She could not stand it any longer. She had listened to several of the saint¡¯s disciples explain to Cyneswith the nature of the world, some of them with great patience. But Cyneswith did not seem to accept the reality of undeath and nanomachines and obligate cannibalism.

    But Eseld could not do any of that. She stared into empty sockets.

    Hurricane fury drenched the air with static haze. Wind howled like the voice of God pouring forth a deluge of air to blast the tomb flat. Pheiri hummed and murmured, like a mechanical cocoon. Eseld became all these things, emptied out and refilled over and over and over again.

    A stealthy tread crept up to the bunk room door; the creeper ¡ª whoever she was ¡ª thought she was being clever and quiet. Perhaps she was, for her footsteps were very gentle. But Eseld had a hunter¡¯s ears, tuned to rabbits on the open heath or foxes on the forest floor. The eavesdropper stayed silent, and did not interrupt.

    Cyneswith said, ¡°Miss Ooni? Pardon my presumption, but your face makes it plain that you have something to say.¡±

    ¡°They took me in, too,¡± Ooni answered, very softly.

    ¡° ¡­ yes?¡±

    ¡°Elpida, I mean. The Commander. All of them. Pheiri, too, in a way. He makes decisions as well. Them ¡­ all of them. I wasn¡¯t here with them at first.¡± Ooni¡¯s voice grew in confidence as she spoke, then faded as quickly as it had rallied. ¡°I was ¡­ I was an enemy, I suppose. And I thought maybe you might ¡­ maybe I could help ¡­ if you were afraid, I mean.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s very sweet of you, Miss Ooni,¡± said Cyn.

    Ooni swallowed, dry and hard, then said: ¡°Elpida ate a piece of me, too.¡±

    Eseld blinked.

    After a moment, Cyneswith said: ¡°She did?¡±

    Ooni swallowed again. ¡°Yeah. Not for nutrition, though. It was a ¡­ a symbol I had tattooed, right here. Here, see?¡± A rustle of cloth followed. Cyneswith made a little sound of acknowledgement. When Ooni spoke again, her voice was tight and strained. ¡°It was, uh ¡­ a bad thing, um ¡­ it was a ¡­ a symbol ¡­ uh ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Miss Ooni,¡± Cyneswith said, ¡°you don¡¯t have to explain. I wouldn¡¯t understand the intricate details of these fairy matters, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, of course. I just ¡­ I-I wanted to help, but I-I can¡¯t explain it. I was a ¡­ I was in another group, and they were ¡­ difficult ¡­ people. And Elpida, the Commander, she should have had me shot. She should have killed me and eaten me. She had me, dead to rights, and it¡¯s what we would have done to her. She could have killed me. She should have!¡± Ooni was almost panting now. ¡°But she didn¡¯t. It took me a long time to see, to understand what she did, and why she did it, when she took this piece of flesh off me. She ¡­ she ¡­ made me ¡­ clean.¡±

    Ooni sobbed the final word, then heaved for a while, sniffing back tears. The bed creaked beneath Eseld ¡ª Cyneswith, reaching forward, perhaps to pat Ooni on the knee.

    A little while later, Ooni spoke, voice firmed up once again: ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to cry. I hadn¡¯t spoken to anybody about that. Hadn¡¯t realised it myself. I ¡­ um ¡­ I meant to come here and help you. But, thank you.¡±

    Cyneswith said, ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Miss Ooni. I had no idea that fey creatures could suffer such.¡±

    A moment¡¯s silence. ¡°Uh, right. Anyway, I was trying to say that Elpida, the Commander, she made me clean. So now it¡¯s my job to do the right things, to stay clean, to justify what she did for me, to ¡­ make her proud, I suppose. I ¡­ I don¡¯t know if that helps you, or ¡­ or Eseld?¡±

    Cyneswith said: ¡°I¡¯m sure it warms her to hear you speak of it.¡±

    Eseld stared into her own eye sockets, lost far away amid the storm.

    Ooni¡¯s situation had nothing in common with her own. Another disciple at the feet of the saint. But why had Ooni been spared, when Eseld¡¯s friends had not? Eseld wanted to surge to her feet and punch Ooni in the jaw, to pull her apart with hurricane winds and fling her naked bones to the sky. But she could not find the energy or the motivation, not even to blink a second time.

    Ooni puffed out a big sigh. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯ve gotta stick around in here for a bit. The Commander¡¯s outside, and everyone¡¯s watching her talk to Shilu. We have a couple of packs of cards, kept by Mel and Haf. Do you know how to play cards? I didn¡¯t know, but¡ª¡±

    Those stealthy footsteps from before suddenly announced themselves with a smart little stomp; another zombie entered the bunk room.

    Ooni cut off and rose to her feet with a creak from her bunk.

    ¡°Leuca!¡± Ooni said. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear you coming, were you meant to be in the ¡­ control ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°I was listening,¡± said ¡®Leuca¡¯. Her voice was dead and flat, with nothing in it for the storm to drown.

    Cyneswith cleared her throat. ¡°Leuca? I¡¯m terribly sorry, but I thought your name was Pira. Am I mistaken?¡±

    A beat of silence. ¡°Pira, to you.¡±

    ¡°Lady Pira,¡± said Cyn.

    ¡°Just Pira.¡±

    ¡°Very well, Miss Pira.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    Ooni said, ¡°Leuca, is everything¡ª¡±

    ¡°The away team is fine. Nothing is happening. They¡¯re talking to the Necromancer right now, but it¡¯s all preliminaries and I don¡¯t care.¡± A pause. ¡°You.¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°She¡¯s got battle shock,¡± Ooni said. ¡°She doesn¡¯t respond to anything. Just strokes that skull.¡±

    ¡°Can she hear us?¡± said Pira. ¡°Does she know we¡¯re talking?¡±

    Cyneswith answered, her voice gone carefully polite. ¡°I believe she does, yes, Miss Pira. She responded when we gave her food. And she is currently awake. Her eyes are open.¡±

    A heavy tread crossed the cramped space of the bunk room in three short strides; a lighter tread backed away into the corner ¡ª Ooni, making room for Pira. A rustle of cloth moved just behind Eseld¡¯s head, like a piece of storm brought close. A weight pressed on the edge of Eseld¡¯s bunk. A shadow fell across the yellow-white bone of her naked skull.

    Pira was crouched behind her, peering over her shoulder, peering into those same empty sockets.

    ¡°Your skull?¡± Pira said.

    Eseld didn¡¯t see any reason to answer.

    ¡°Your skull,¡± Pira repeated. ¡°I¡¯ve never held my own. Must be a strange experience.¡±

    The storm returned to fill the gap left by such inane words, rain-static flowing into the bunk room, hailstone drumming drowning out¡ª

    ¡°I watched the Commander remove the flesh from all four skulls. I watched her clean them. Brush them down. Rinse them. Sanitise them. Before that, I watched her remove the flesh from your body, and from those of your friends.¡±

    Ooni hissed, ¡°Leuca¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m talking to Eseld,¡± Pira said, in the same dead, flat tone. ¡°Be quiet or go away.¡±

    Ooni decided to be quiet.

    A moment passed before Pira spoke again. ¡°Elpida killed you and your friends. We all did. We all held the guns, all pulled the triggers, all ate the meat. We have collective responsibility. Melyn and Hafina are exceptions, because they¡¯re not zombies, not like us. They don¡¯t eat meat. I¡¯m a zombie too, just like you. But I didn¡¯t eat. Do you know why?¡±

    Eseld didn¡¯t care.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know why,¡± Pira said. ¡°So I¡¯ll tell you why.¡±

    Pira leaned over Eseld¡¯s body. A periphery of flame-red hair floated like a forest fire on the horizon, framing a sliver of pale skin, dusted with freckles. Pira murmured into Eseld¡¯s ear.

    ¡°I know what it feels like to press a gun to Elpida¡¯s flesh.¡±

    Eseld blinked.

    ¡°I know what it feels like to pull the trigger, and want her dead, and mean it.¡±

    Eseld blinked again. Her throat bobbed; her mouth was so dry, she could barely swallow. How had she not noticed that until now? Her chest was quivering inside, as if her heartbeat was struggling to match the storm. She was coated in sweat and tired enough to die. She could not keep this up. She would cease to exist.

    ¡°I dumped the entire magazine of a submachine gun into her belly,¡± Pira said. ¡°Three bullets made it past her armoured coat. Chewed her up with a gut wound, would have killed any other zombie. Left her torn open, bleeding out. And I meant it. I meant it more than you meant that round aimed at her head.¡±

    Eseld stirred.

    For the first time in hours, she moved her neck. Her muscles felt like rock. She turned to look at the face of one who would wound a saint.

    Pira was beautiful, in the way a forest fire was beautiful ¡ª how had Eseld not noticed before? A cold, sharp, fire-hardened expression, wrought on a face like pale wood, framed by hair the colour of grass aflame. Celestial blue eyes left nothing concealed.

    Eseld opened her mouth, and rasped: ¡°You shot her?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I shot her. She bleeds just like everybody else. Do you know what she did to me in return?¡±

    Eseld shook her head.

    ¡°She came back for me. She counted me as one of her own, one of her comrades, even though I¡¯d put three bullets through her belly. She called herself my Commander. And she¡¯s right, she is my Commander. She feeds me mouthfuls of her blood, every few days, to keep me from starving, because I don¡¯t eat, I don¡¯t cannibalise other zombies. She does it with her hand, so I can drink from her palm. I am hers.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ why ¡­ why are you telling me this?¡±

    Pira eased back, giving Eseld some breathing space. The bunk room opened up either side of this flame-sprite forest spirit, with dull grey walls and peeling paint and thin blue blankets on narrow mattresses. Pira stood up; she wore tomb-grey trousers and a matching t-shirt, with heavy boots on her feet. She carried a pair of pistols in a holster around her hips, and a machete strapped to one thigh.

    ¡°Get up,¡± said Pira. ¡°You¡¯ve been lying there for hours. Any longer and you¡¯re going to get bedsores. You¡¯re undead, not invincible.¡±

    ¡°B-but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Get up.¡±

    Eseld wanted to coil back around her own skull and press herself against the wall, to sink into the static of the storm; Pira¡¯s blunt intonation did not intimidate her, because she didn¡¯t care anymore if she lived or died. The saint might eat her, or the disciples might tear her apart, or they could leave her here to rot into the blanket. It made no difference, changed nothing about the outcome, and would not grant her any clarity or truth, for she was nothing except soulless meat, powerless before the angels and demons and monsters which still stalked the world in God¡¯s absence. Meat, was all she was good for, all she would ever be, and¡ª

    ¡°Stop that,¡± said Pira.

    ¡°Stop what?¡±

    ¡°Retreating inside yourself. Pay attention to me. Get up.¡±

    Eseld was still not intimidated ¡ª but Pira had already cracked her shell and drawn her forth like a morsel of wriggling meat. The storm seemed further away every second, just noise beyond the walls. Resistance was more bother than acquiescence.

    Eseld sat up, slowly and painfully. She discovered that many of her muscles had gone stiff and sore with long stillness; how long had she really been lying there? She winced and hissed as she moved. She eased her legs over the side of the bunk until her socks touched the cold decking. She brought her skull with her, cradling it in her lap.

    Cyneswith was sitting a few paces to Eseld¡¯s left, eyes wide with shock, mouth covered with one hand; she looked so small and dainty in tomb greys. Ooni was at the opposite end of the bunk room, up on her feet, eyes darting between Eseld and Pira as if a brawl was about to break out. Ooni was not like Eseld had expected ¡ª she was dark-haired and green-eyed, willowy and gangly.

    Pira stared down at Eseld¡¯s disrobed skull.

    Eseld swallowed to clear her throat. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving me behind.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Pira grunted. ¡°You would fight me for it, yeah. I can see that. Keep it, it¡¯s yours.¡±

    Pira sat down on the opposite bunk, so that she and Eseld were face to face. Eseld said nothing ¡ª she was still numb and exhausted, even if she had finally torn her eyes away from her own skull and her soul from the gyre of the storm. She felt the pull all the same, eyes dipping back down toward the bony plates of her own cranium. She started to caress the orbit of the left eye socket with two fingers.

    ¡°Why are you doing that?¡± Pira asked.

    Eseld looked up. She could not think of an answer.

    ¡°You must have a reason,¡± Pira pressed, her voice flat and dead.

    A nasty impulse bubbled up from within Eseld¡¯s chest, hotter than rain, harder than hail.

    ¡°Because,¡± she spat, ramming two fingers through the eye socket so the tips brushed her own fleshless sphenoid bone. ¡°I¡¯ve already been skull-fucked to death. I may as well jam my own fingers in there too.¡±

    Pira smiled.

    Eseld almost choked. That smile was nasty.

    ¡°The Commander,¡± Pira said. Her smile died as quickly as it had blossomed. ¡°Elpida. She bleeds like anyone else. She¡¯s not a saint, or a demon, or an angel.¡±

    Eseld blinked rapidly. ¡°How did you know¡ª¡±

    ¡°I listened to you,¡± Pira said. ¡°You¡¯ve been muttering for hours, on and off, especially earlier. The others tried to talk to you, but I listened, and I understand what you¡¯re thinking. But you¡¯re wrong. She¡¯s not an angel, or a demon, or a saint. Though that last one is a good word for what she might become one day, eventually, if she¡¯s right, if she¡¯s setting us on the correct path.¡±

    Eseld shook her head. ¡°She ate me.¡±

    Pira nodded. ¡°She did.¡±

    ¡°You ¡­ you all ate me. Me and Andasina. And Su and Mala. You hunted us and you ate us.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re all zombies,¡± said Pira. ¡°We¡¯re all no different.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Eseld murmured. Then stronger: ¡°No. No. She¡¯s different. She is a saint. She is. Even if she¡¯s ¡­ rotten, or ¡­ I don¡¯t know. I could taste it in her blood. She¡¯s different.¡±

    Pira nodded again. ¡°Mmhmm. She is. Do you know why? Do you know what she¡¯s got, which we all lack?¡±

    ¡°Divine grace.¡±

    ¡°Ideology. Purpose. Clarity.¡± Pira stared, unblinking as a skull. ¡°And I believe in her. I believe in what she has chosen to do. She¡¯s made me believe. But she¡¯s only human. Or only undead. She¡¯s not perfect, she makes mistakes, she fucks up, and sometimes she gets herself shot in the stomach. So you ¡ª you could have landed that bullet, and it would have killed her, because she¡¯s not a saint. She¡¯s not invincible. She would have returned to the resurrection buffer, and waited out another ten, or ten hundred, or ten thousand years, just to try again. Do you understand?¡±

    Pira¡¯s cold blue eyes finally sent a shiver up Eseld¡¯s spine.

    ¡°Are you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Threatening you?¡± Pira said. ¡°Yes. I am.¡±

    Ooni whined, ¡°Leuca¡ª¡±

    Pira raised a finger and Ooni went silent. The sound of the hurricane beyond the tomb rushed into the gap, roaring in Eseld¡¯s ears. She stared into those eyes of celestial blue, empty and cold as winter skies.

    ¡°If you make an attempt on the Commander¡¯s life,¡± Pira murmured. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you myself, if the others don¡¯t get to you first.¡±

    ¡°Hypocrite,¡± said Eseld.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Eseld found that she was not afraid. ¡°Fair enough.¡±

    Pira took a deep breath; something unclenched in her face, behind her expression. A smile leaked into her eyes, but did not touch her lips.

    ¡°Good. Now we understand each other. I¡¯m not going ask to you to believe in her, not yet. It took me lifetimes of failure and pain to understand, and I still barely just have enough faith left for the Commander. But I do have it, and I¡¯m not going to ask you to share it.¡±

    ¡°Then why talk about all this?¡±

    ¡°Because despite all that faith, she¡¯s just another zombie. And I¡¯m going to tell you¡ª¡± her eyes flicked to Cyneswith, still silent behind her own hand ¡°¡ªboth of you, all about just how badly she can screw up, the kind of mistakes she can make, the errors of judgement, the flaws in her thinking.¡±

    Eseld frowned. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because the Commander has been unwell. And for some reason your presence has healed her. I think it¡¯s best if you understand why. I think it¡¯s best if somebody other than her explains to you where we¡¯re going, where she¡¯s leading, so you can make your choice.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going somewhere? Where?¡±

    Ooni said: ¡°Metaphorically speaking, she means.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Ooni,¡± Pira said, without looking up at her.

    Cyneswith spoke. ¡°And, Miss Pira, where is your Commander leading you?¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis.¡±

 tempestas - 12.7

    ¡°Shilu?¡±

    Shilu terminated her meditation, rejoined the present moment, and reopened her eyes.

    Still alive. She acknowledged a dull pang of disappointment.

    Shilu was once again faced by the interior of a tomb ¡ª black and grey metal, punctuated by blind portals and winding passages like the ossified innards of a beached leviathan, echoing with hushed whispers and muffled footsteps like the worming and gnawing of carrion insects in barren flesh, all drowned in darkness so deep that even her multispectrum vision struggled to penetrate the gloom.

    Shilu had known so many tombs, they all blurred together. But this one offered something new ¡ª a blanket of storm-rain static and the distant howl of hurricane winds.

    A lake of blood-red illumination pooled on the black metal floor of the nameless chamber, lapping at the bone-white skirts of the great armoured machine ¡ª the tank, the anomaly, the unaddressed breach in normal system operations. The backwash of crimson light picked out irregularities in the bone-armour, snagging on humps and whorls and abscesses, turning the hull into a landscape of blood-dappled shadow, glinting and gleaming upon the stubs and cylinders and lances of cannons and missiles and big guns.

    He called himself ¡®Pheiri¡¯.

    Shilu re-counted the number of weapons systems aimed at her: still sixteen, four of which could obliterate her current physical form before she would make it seven paces in any direction.

    She was confident in those seven paces. Pheiri was a glorious example ¡ª perhaps the very pinnacle ¡ª of the art of the armoured fighting vehicle, lost now to the aeons before Central and the nanomachine ecosystem; Shilu felt a faint glimmer of awe, as her ancestors must have done at the genetic reconstruction of Mammuthus primigenius or Gigantopithecus blacki. Pheiri was a titan from a prior age, and quite beautiful.

    But he wasn¡¯t perfect. Even with rounds chambered in his autocannons, and the irises of his missile pods peeled back over the high-explosive tips, Shilu would still survive a handful of seconds in a firefight against Pheiri.

    While meditating, Shilu had allowed her subconscious mind to chew on many subjects; she had learned this technique in her true life, in a world of sunlight and rich soil, and had preserved the habit down the millennia more by chance than intent. One current subject of consideration was how exactly Pheiri could be defeated, in theory. She had concluded that any attacker like herself would necessarily have to begin the fight inside Pheiri¡¯s body. Even then the challenge presented a problem; Pheiri¡¯s brain ¡ª the machine-meat globe-seat of his consciousness ¡ª was one of the most heavily armoured objects Shilu had ever witnessed, sealed behind layers of material her eyes could not analyse, similar to his bone-armour, no matter which spectra she used for examination. Her only option would be to cut her way down to his lower decks and destroy the nuclear engine tucked deep in his mechanical core. Doubtless Pheiri had ways of stopping that.

    Shilu had not yet attempted communication with Pheiri, despite her awe. Shilu was cut off from the network ¡ª and Pheiri was not part of the ecosystem, not constructed from the ecosystem¡¯s nanomechanical components, so was not on the network anyway ¡ª but she did have a short-range comms set-up running on the nanomachine-meat of her own brain.

    Pheiri, however, was not in charge. Elpida was in charge, and Shilu did not wish to pre-empt Elpida¡¯s next move. She was content to wait and see. She wanted to observe and understand this ¡®Commander¡¯, in order to make her judgement.

    Shilu needed to know if Elpida could ensure the sanctity of Lulliet¡¯s grave.

    One additional weapon system was also aimed at Shilu, with far less accuracy than Pheiri.

    The zombie who went by the name ¡®Serin¡¯ was curled up inside one of the shadowy abscesses in Pheiri¡¯s frontal armour. Her sniper rifle rested on a lip of white bone, cradled in a quartet of mushroom-pale arms, tucked against a cloaked and spongy shoulder. Serin had briefly re-targeted when Elpida¡¯s trio had moved to speak with the other zombies, but now that conversation was over, and Serin had returned her scope to aim directly at the centre of Shilu¡¯s skull. Serin¡¯s pose and stillness marked her as a seasoned professional; her aim was disrupted by neither breath nor heartbeat. Shilu respected that professionalism, despite the futility; Shilu saw the millions of tiny motions in Serin¡¯s body, of which Serin was unaware. She saw the chemical signals in the customised fungal meat of Serin¡¯s arms, and the subtle impulses running down her mycelium-analogue nerve fibres. Shilu calculated the flaws in Serin¡¯s firing plan, just because she could. If Shilu rushed at Serin ¡ª assuming Pheiri¡¯s non-involvement ¡ª then Serin would achieve perhaps eleven or twelve shots, and miss every one, before Shilu could cover the distance, reach Serin¡¯s firing position, and rip the sniper rifle out of her hands. Serin had many backup weapons and concealed systems beneath her black robes, but Shilu was confident at close range; her blades would bisect that mushroom-flesh before Serin could¡ª

    ¡°Shilu?¡±

    Shilu raised her eyes.

    Elpida ¡ª the ¡®Commander¡¯ ¡ª was standing exactly six paces away, flanked by two subordinates. Three dark outlines were backlit by Pheiri¡¯s blood-red illumination, framed by the ghostly bone-white giant of their armoured home, backed up by a loose ring of heavy drones hovering in the gloom.

    Shilu was impressed. A cheap trick, but an effective one.

    Shilu was beyond any intimidation, of course; Elpida must have known that, yet she still paid attention to the details, to the need for proper presentation. Shilu would have done the same if their positions had been reversed. A display of power and intent. That was a good sign.

    She had paid close attention to Elpida¡¯s other displays of power and intent, not least the negotiations a few minutes earlier, between Elpida and the two hungry opportunists ¡ª ¡®Puk¡¯ and ¡®Tati¡¯ ¡ª who had crept close to plead for a spare corpse. Shilu had listened with great interest; was Elpida everything she appeared to be, or was this all just a surface of lies, like so many other prodigal undead? Shilu had been impressed when Elpida had offered the corpse freely, a display of wealth and magnanimous charity, and then was impressed a second time when Elpida had leveraged her donation into the beginning of resource dependence and an information network.

    She had heard Hafina ¡ª another unaddressed breach in normal system operations, an Artificial Human ¡ª return to Pheiri¡¯s rear ramp. She had listened to Puk and Tati scurry back off into the tomb. She had heard the approach of Elpida¡¯s trio across the black metal floor.

    And now the Commander was making her move.

    Elpida¡¯s fireteam were dressed to intimidate and impress. Elpida wore her hair loose and long, the white dyed to a deep crimson by Pheiri¡¯s bloody illumination ¡ª another statement of power. Her right sleeve was rolled up, a bandage wrapped around the bite wound. Victoria, on the right, was dressed like a little tank herself, with a grenade launcher slung over her belly; another kind of power, blunt and less subtle. Atyle, on the left, was half naked beneath her coat. Shilu felt a glimmer of ancient discomfort at that, but did not disapprove. That, too, was power.

    All three wore short-range communication headsets. Shilu saw the electromagnetic crackle of tight-beam radio contact with Pheiri. The other zombies ¡ª Elpida¡¯s comrades ¡ª were watching, perhaps to provide additional input.

    Coordination, teamwork, skilled operations.

    Shilu felt an ancient ache in her chest, and recognised it as hope. It was distant and far away.

    She crushed it in a cold metal fist; she did not yet know what to make of Elpida, she did not know if this revenant was the answer to her dilemma. Hope was premature and dangerous. She reasserted precise self-control.

    ¡°Yes?¡± she said.

    Elpida didn¡¯t smile. ¡°Are you ready to talk?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°May we sit down?¡±

    Asking permission was another cheap trick. In Shilu¡¯s experience this was often effective, but far less impressive. Shilu had used this technique herself too many times to fall by accident into the desired pattern. She decided not to play along; she wanted to see what Elpida would do when faced with intransigence.

    ¡°Why do you need my permission to sit?¡± she asked.

    If their positions had been reversed, what would Shilu have said next? She attempted to cast her mind back to one of her own countless sessions in dingy little interview rooms, in true life, before her first death. But the memories were all blurred static. The faces blended together, obscured behind one-way glass, warped by tears and bruises and broken teeth.

    Shilu decided she would have smiled, and claimed that she was just being polite. She would have insinuated that she could stop being polite. She would have veiled a threat behind custom and normalcy. Would Elpida do the same? Shilu needed to know. Veiled threats without weight would be a poor sign of a good steward.

    Elpida still did not smile. ¡°I don¡¯t need permission. I want permission.¡±

    Atyle tilted her head to the side, one peat-green bionic eye fixed on Shilu. Victoria seemed much less comfortable; her heartbeat was racing and her skin was damp with sweat. A curious pair to bring along to an interrogation.

    Shilu said: ¡°What will you do if I refuse to give my permission?¡±

    Elpida shrugged. ¡°Then I won¡¯t get what I want. We¡¯ll stand, right here.¡±

    ¡°And if I refuse to stand as well?¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll talk like this. I¡¯ve got strong legs. Vicky, you got strong legs?¡±

    ¡°Sure do, Commander,¡± Vicky said.

    ¡°Atyle, how about you? Strong legs?¡±

    ¡°As trunks in a forest,¡± Atyle murmured.

    ¡°There you go then,¡± Elpida said. ¡°If you¡¯d rather we not sit down, we¡¯ll stand right here.¡±

    Shilu cycled her eyeballs through several visual spectra, examining Elpida in visible light, infra-red, heat-mapping, nanomachine-density, and more. She counted Elpida¡¯s heartbeat and tasted the chemical composition of her sweat. She measured the microexpressions on Elpida¡¯s face and the oils on her skin. She stared into those dark purple eyes, and tried to read the lie.

    Shilu¡¯s eyes were one of the few Necromancer techniques she had not been denied by her unexpected network severance. She saw the world in multispectrum detail, with no greater effort than small adjustments of focus, and was able to overlay multiple visual spectra with relative ease, though the processing power did strain her network-isolated nano-meat brain, limited to the capacity of her own body. She could see through Elpida¡¯s clothes and armoured coat to directly examine the flex and pump of her heart muscle. She could measure each line of Elpida¡¯s face to read the hidden meaning in her expression. She could stare directly through the distant walls of black tomb metal, into the secret mechanisms and circuits and systems hidden within, waiting for the turn of some esoteric key. She could see the zombies scurrying about in nearby passageways, drawn by the smell of fresh meat, still warded off by Pheiri¡¯s big guns.

    Shilu felt a faint rush of surprise as she finished her examination.

    The Commander was perfectly calm and fully confident. She was not lying or exaggerating. She would, if needed, stand there for hours.

    Either Elpida was in total control, or she was mad.

    Shilu considered which of these would be preferable; would she trust the sanctity of Lulliet¡¯s grave to a woman who had everything under control? No. Nobody was ever in total control. The fantasy was unattainable.

    Would she trust a madwoman?

    Perhaps she would. Once she had believed that only the insane could prosper in this nanomachine infinity.

    ¡°You have my permission to sit,¡± said Shilu.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elpida replied.

    The trio sat down; the picket line of drones behind them held position. Pheiri kept Shilu in his sights.

    Victoria shot several uncomfortable glances at her Commander, but received only a wordless nod in reply, then awkwardly lowered her armoured bulk to the floor. Atyle dropped into a low squat, never once breaking her unblinking stare. Elpida sat cross-legged and straight backed, mirroring Shilu¡¯s own pose; she took two pistols out of her waistband and laid the guns on the floor, then rested her exposed right arm across her right knee. Between the red light and the deep shadows, Elpida¡¯s copper-brown skin looked like blood-rich meat.

    Shilu kept her hands in her own lap, non-threatening, unmoving.

    She felt that dangerous emotion again ¡ª a light in her chest, hope taking spark. Elpida was acting how Shilu would have acted.

    Elpida gestured left and right. ¡°This is Atyle,¡± she said; Atyle smiled. ¡°You¡¯ve met her already, back in the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber. This is Victoria, or Vicky.¡± Victoria nodded, tight and tense, then attempted to conceal a swallow; her hands gripped her weapon. ¡°She¡¯s not formally my second in command, since we have no official hierarchy, but she¡¯s the closest thing I have.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    Elpida raised her eyebrows. ¡°You know?¡±

    ¡°I can overhear most of what you say,¡± said Shilu. ¡°Though not through Pheiri¡¯s armour. I know your names, or at least the ones you¡¯ve discussed amongst yourselves.¡±

    Elpida nodded. Vicky hissed through her teeth. Atyle didn¡¯t react at all.

    ¡°Thank you for being up front about that,¡± said Elpida. ¡°I appreciate the honesty.¡±

    Shilu examined Elpida¡¯s microexpressions again, and decided she wasn¡¯t lying, wasn¡¯t angry, wasn¡¯t even surprised or knocked the slightest bit off-kilter by this information. Framed by the dark of the tomb, by the red-dyed moonscape of Pheiri¡¯s armour, and by the howl of the hurricane beyond the walls, Elpida showed nothing but absolute confidence.

    Yes, Shilu decided. Mad.

    ¡°So,¡± Elpida carried on, ¡°Shilu. Let¡¯s start with the basics, so we¡¯re all on the same page. You¡¯re a Necromancer, is that correct?¡±

    Shilu considered the purpose of this question. Was Elpida calibrating, or gathering more information? The former, Shilu decided; Elpida had Howl, which meant she had more information on Necromancer definition than Shilu herself actually knew. Shilu used the opportunity to test Elpida again.

    ¡°That depends on how you define the term ¡®Necromancer¡¯,¡± she replied.

    ¡°An entity with network access.¡±

    ¡°Then I am not currently a Necromancer.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°And you expect us to just believe that?¡±

    She gestured with her exposed right arm ¡ª the arm which had heralded Howl¡¯s arrival, the arm which had beaten Lykke to a bloody pulp and sent her scrambling back into the network. The threat was plain: don¡¯t play games, Necromancer.

    Hope grew. Shilu crushed it again.

    ¡°By your definition,¡± she said.

    Victoria cleared her throat. ¡°Yeah, no. Elpi, she¡¯s like us now, isn¡¯t she? She can¡¯t escape into the network, she can¡¯t freeze us or mess with our bodies or anything like that. She¡¯s gotta eat, too, isn¡¯t that right? She¡¯s trapped in that one body, just like us. You¡¯re a zombie now, aren¡¯t you, Shilu?¡±

    Shilu didn¡¯t bother to answer. The question wasn¡¯t really for her. She knew this pattern.

    Elpida nodded slowly. ¡°Perhaps we need a different definition of Necromancer. Shilu, how would you define ¡®Necromancer¡¯?¡±

    ¡°I do not care to do so,¡± said Shilu.

    Elpida raised her eyebrows, and waited.

    Shilu decided not to play along; Elpida was an enigma, radiating absolute confidence and competence, not lying, not concealing anything. Elpida and Victoria were playing the opening moves of a red-face white-face dynamic, a dance Shilu knew all too well. They held Shilu at arm¡¯s length, desperate for information, balancing her on the edge of a conversational knife, yet ready to kill her if she should prove other than what they expected.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Shilu approved. Shilu was impressed. Hope was like old fire in her chest; she stamped it out. She needed to test this woman, this ¡®Commander¡¯.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Elpida said eventually. ¡°Let¡¯s reword the question. What are you, Shilu?¡±

    ¡°I am an agent of the system, of the nanomachine ecology, of Central. I have ¡ª or I had, until very recently ¡ª a stake in the continued operation of the system. But I started like you. I was born human, then I died. Then I was resurrected as a zombie. I have sat where you are.¡±

    Vicky grunted. ¡°Mmhmm. But not all Necromancers are like you, right? We¡¯ve met others. Before Lykke back there, I mean. The first one we met couldn¡¯t even pretend to be human, she didn¡¯t get it, but you seem about right. I¡¯m willing to accept that you used to be one of us.¡±

    ¡°Most Necromancers began as post-human recursive feedback loops.¡±

    ¡°Fuck.¡± Vicky puffed out a big sigh; that sounded genuine too, she was not good at dissembling. ¡°The hell does that even mean?¡±

    Shilu did not bother to answer. She had already given the answer.

    Vicky said, ¡°Okay, wait a sec, how did you become a Necromancer?¡±

    ¡°I climbed a metaphorical ladder, by stepping on the heads of those below me. I consumed other revenants and rose as high as I could. I looked for somebody in control, somebody at the centre of the world, because I knew only that would have the power to grant me rest. I looked for release from all this. To be dead, and stay dead.¡±

    Victoria and Elpida shared a glance.

    Shilu examined Victoria for a moment. She adjusted the penetration of her eyes to observe the signs of stress inside Victoria¡¯s bloodstream, in the beat of her heart, and the chemical signals in her flesh. She discovered that Victoria had a bionic heart ¡ª a powerful piece of cybernetic enhancement, a much smarter choice than the ostentatious cybernetics chosen by so many revenants. A bionic heart made the user more efficient in all ways.

    Atyle finally spoke: ¡°You see much, little slave.¡±

    Shilu reverted her vision to basic visual light. The darkness of the tomb chamber crashed back down like a wall of oily rain and melted resin.

    She turned to stare at Atyle. The revenant smiled back, face lit by blood-red backwash, peat-green eyeball rolling in the socket.

    Elpida said: ¡°Atyle?¡±

    Atyle explained. ¡°The little slave here has good eyes. Not as good as a gift from the gods, but still, she sees much.¡±

    Shilu said: ¡°Slave?¡±

    Atyle nodded. ¡°You slave away at the feet of a thing that sees you not.¡±

    Elpida raised her eyebrows. ¡°Shilu, is that true, about your eyes?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°So, you¡¯re cut off from the network, but you¡¯ve still got some tricks up your sleeve. Are you willing to share those with us?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Elpida gestured with her right arm again. Threat, or statement of intent? The power was obvious, the statement loud and clear. Shilu felt a quiver deep down inside her belly ¡ª hope mixed into a cocktail with something deeper and darker, something she no longer recognised. She quashed that too; this body made it easy to murder passion with cold metal.

    Elpida said: ¡°I think you know exactly what I mean, Shilu. Enough wordplay, enough games. I want to know what you¡¯re capable of. Tell me, please.¡±

    ¡°Why should I do that?¡±

    Elpida paused, then broke into a grin ¡ª wide and toothy, full of menace, ready for a fight.

    Howl.

    ¡°Because, you bitch-cake cheese-grater cunt,¡± Howl said, ¡°you¡¯re still a Necromancer. Let¡¯s drop all the pussyfooting about with big definitions and clever words. We both know nobody gives a shit about that. You decided not to shank Elps in the back of the neck, but we trust you about as far as we can throw you. You gotta lay out those cards. Show us your hand. Tip them aces, bitch ¡ª then hand ¡®em over. Or I¡¯ll fucking bite your fingers off to get at them.¡±

    Shilu was beyond intimidation, but she liked Howl¡¯s style.

    ¡°Why?¡± she repeated.

    Howl vanished. Elpida blinked, and said, ¡°Because you¡¯re a threat to my cadre, and I can¡¯t ignore that or pretend to trust you, Shilu. But also because I want to believe you¡¯re not a threat. Because I would like to make a friend and ally of you, if I can. Because I think you can help us.¡±

    ¡°Help you to do what?¡±

    Elpida grinned ¡ª and this time she was not Howl. ¡°To find the fulcrum on which the world can be turned.¡±

    Shilu didn¡¯t answer; she was too busy stomping out the flame of hope inside her cold metal breast. It had grown too large. She was losing control.

    ¡°Now,¡± Elpida went on, ¡°if that makes sense to you, I would like to know what you¡¯re capable of, what control you have over your own body, all the tricks and techniques you still have access to.¡± She raised her right hand. ¡°And Howl will help me verify, before we go on.¡±

    Shilu considered leaping forward, into the promise of Pheiri¡¯s guns.

    ¡°Shilu? Are you considering your answer?¡±

    Shilu was considering death.

    Elpida was everything Shilu had hoped for ¡ª and more than she had dared predict.

    Back in the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber, Elpida had dodged Shilu¡¯s blade and proven that she was no common zombie, no mere revenant, but a network presence in her own right. Elpida¡¯s followers had fought Lykke with drones, with gravity and electromagnetic jamming ¡ª that was nothing new, but when they had inevitably failed, Elpida had fought Lykke toe to toe, with nothing but fists and teeth. And she had won.

    A revenant, a scrap of undead flesh, had fought and banished a Necromancer.

    What a breach of system integrity ¡ª new, novel, different, after thousands of years of the same patterns and cycles repeating themselves over and over. Whatever Elpida was, she was a revenant unbeholden to Central. That had planted the seed of rebellion in Shilu¡¯s own mind.

    But this?

    ¡°Shilu? Still playing games? Alright then, let¡¯s try something else first. Tell me who sent you to assassinate me, tell me who our mutual enemy is, who your boss is ¡ª or was.¡±

    A faction of the war in heaven. But which faction? Shilu did not even know what the factions were, or what the war was about, let alone on which side she had been forced to stand.

    All she knew was the threat she had received, in that simulated mockery of her grandmother¡¯s home, delivered by a Necromancer wearing a dead woman¡¯s skin. If Shilu did not follow orders, then her beloved Lulliet would be pulled from Central¡¯s archives, dragged from the watery grave which Shilu had worked so hard to ensure would go unviolated ¡ª and then resurrected again, somewhere far away from Shilu¡¯s protection. True death, a final end, release and relief and rest, would be denied once again.

    But without a map of the war, how could Shilu know on which side she fought? How could she know which side truly held Lulliet¡¯s grave? How could she ensure anything?

    By seeking one who could overthrow the whole system, and kill it all, forever.

    ¡°Or how about this ¡ª why did you give up on the assassination? Why did you decide not to kill me? Start there, if you¡¯d prefer.¡±

    Why? Because there was no reason to carry out her mission anymore.

    Upon arriving in the tomb, stripped of network access, Shilu had no way to verify that promises would be kept or threats would be rescinded. Would following orders ensure the quiet of Lulliet¡¯s grave? Maybe. But maybe not. And then Lykke had turned up; if a faction of the war was willing to send Lykke to stop her, then they would be willing to dangle that same threat of exhumation over Lulliet¡¯s grave. Fight, or not fight, it made no difference now.

    Not killing Elpida left Shilu with more options.

    Now Shilu realised too late that Elpida represented so much more.

    The Commander was not merely a powerful network presence unbeholden to Central. The zombies to her left and right were not mere subordinates. Their daring plunge into the tomb was not just a rescue mission for fresh meat or nanomachines. The meeting with Eseld was not drama or futile gesture; some power had reached through the network to arrange that impossible coincidence, to put Elpida on the path of accepting as comrade one she had consumed as meat. Pheiri was not just a tank. This group of zombies was not just flesh and bone. Elpida¡¯s commands were neither guile nor lies. Those purple eyes saw further than Shilu.

    She was not dealing with Necromancers now, or with inscrutable network presences at Central¡¯s feet, or even with a shard of Central itself. Everyone and everything had lied to Shilu for so long. Even Central had lied in the end, and allowed her to be woken from the archives. Central had failed her.

    Elpida was not lying; Elpida was temptation.

    The temptation was greater than Shilu had ever experienced. She knew why; she had attached herself to the most powerful entity she could find ¡ª Central ¡ª in order to pursue her own goals. She had done the same thing in true life, with the Service, and the State, and the power it gave her. Now Central had failed her, had allowed her to be resurrected, and put Lulliet¡¯s grave at risk. Without the guarantee of protection, she had no loyalty to anything.

    So she was attaching herself again, to a promise of future power.

    That was why she¡¯d been sent, wasn¡¯t it? Because some faction feared this woman, this ¡®Telokopolan¡¯, and the power she was growing.

    Shilu decided they had good reason for fear; this wasn¡¯t a zombie, this was a seed.

    Elpida, Pheiri, all of the zombies at her sides; the tomb, the hurricane, Eseld ¡ª even Lykke. Something had reached through the network and placed these elements in concert. Some side on the war in heaven, some player of a great game, had brought all this together.

    Which included Shilu herself; she had been selected with such precision.

    Shilu¡¯s heart burst with hope ¡ª rancid, rotten, already ash. She could have extended a hand and given Elpida the help she needed, become part of the soil and water and sunlight in which to grow ¡ª into what? Revolution? Upheaval? Destruction, final and total and without a single lie? The peace and quiet of the grave, at long last, at least for Lulliet.

    But whatever Elpida might become in the future, she could not yet offer Lulliet¡¯s grave any true protection.

    A quick death was more certain.

    Shilu had to die.

    Shilu knew she was panicking; the cold metal logic of her body was not enough to hold it back. If she¡¯d had network access she could have slowed herself down, offloaded her own emotions, and approached the problem with calm and simple logic. Perhaps there was a way through this thicket, but she could not see it from this level.

    Her best move ¡ª the only move with any certainty ¡ª was to make herself useless to any and all factions. Only then would Lulliet¡¯s rest be assured.

    The trio of zombies were chattering questions now. Elpida was gesturing with her naked right arm. Vicky was mouthing platitudes. Atyle watched.

    Shilu bunched the carbon fibre muscles inside her black steel legs. She prepared her arms for transformation into blades. She would lunge at Elpida, and make it as real as she could; Pheiri would knock her back with a storm of autocannon rounds, then obliterate her with something more powerful. If she was resurrected inside the network, she would have all the excuses she needed.

    They would send her back, of course, whoever had sent her the first time. They would send her again and again and again. And she would obey, over and over, to keep her beloved safe in the grave. And she would ensure her own failure, time after time. She would protect this seed in her own way.

    Shilu smothered her emotions beneath cold metal. She could afford no tremors now.

    She focused on Elpida¡¯s trio one last time; she cycled through different visual spectra, examining the tiny tells and microexpressions on Elpida¡¯s face, regretting that she would not have more time to get to know the Commander. She stared into Elpida¡¯s bloodstream, read the pulse and beat of her heart, measured the oil on her skin and the hormones in her flesh and the salinity of her sweat. Then she went deeper, reading the nanomachine density of Elpida¡¯s meat and bone, tracking the flare and flash of synaptic action inside her undead brain. She ran her eyes across the delicate tracery of metal embedded in Elpida¡¯s grey matter, as if touching it with her fingertips. What a curious implant. Perhaps Shilu could develop a way to warn Elpida of her next coming; she would have to be clever. She could never let any others know.

    Elpida would have protected Shilu¡¯s beloved, if she¡¯d been able. But that arrangement could not be.

    Shilu readied herself to leap, then¡ª

    Her vision glitched.

    A flicker of static jerked from right to left, blooming across her eyeballs. For a split-second the darkness in the tomb chamber flared brighter than day, glowing like a crimson ocean over nuclear fire.

    The glitch passed.

    A fourth figure had joined Elpida¡¯s trio, standing behind Atyle.

    A young girl, dressed in a gown of pearlescent bone. Her hair was ash and flame. Her eyes were black and old, charred and ruined. Her skin was blood, bright and burning. A crown of silver sat atop her head, melted to her skull.

    Shilu was paralysed.

    Elpida was caught in the moment between one word and the next, her right arm frozen mid-gesture. Her subordinates were frozen too, Vicky¡¯s lips caught on a sound, Atyle unmoving on her haunches. Serin had stopped twitching like a mushroom sprouting in the dark; Pheiri¡¯s guns were dead, his mechanisms paused, his brain empty. Even the black shadows of the tomb stood still. The hurricane beyond the walls had fallen silent. The wind held its breath.

    Shilu had experienced this before, in Central¡¯s presence. None of this was happening in physical space, but running directly on Shilu¡¯s mind, so fast that no time appeared to pass.

    Network intrusion, on a level no mere Necromancer could hope to achieve. A gravekeeper could do this. Maybe a graveworm. But this was neither.

    She ¡ª the Crowned Girl ¡ª stared at Shilu with cold and quiet fury.

    Whatever this thing was, it was a network presence of such power that Shilu felt an emotion she had considered herself beyond ¡ª a crawling in her gut, a pressure in her chest, a tightness in her throat.

    The Crowned Girl spoke without moving her lips. Shilu heard the message inside her skull, in her own internal voice.

    No, said the Crowned Girl.

    But I want to be dead, Shilu thought, the words ripped out of her mind. She could not stop herself. Her innermost secrets were peeled from her core like dripping slices of skinned fruit. She grasped at them, but she could not resist the extraction. She felt her metal body cracked open, her organs scooped out and examined, her brains burned down and the ashes sifted by a great and bloody hand. Elpida is not what I expected. She cannot protect my Lulliet, not yet. She is more than I hoped. This is the beginning of something new, but I cannot be part of it. She cannot ensure Lulliet stays dead. And I¡ª

    No. You are cursed to live.

    Shilu rejected that. She tried to turn away, but she could not.

    The Crowned Girl stepped through Atyle, a network ghost without flesh of her own. She crouched before Shilu, gathering her skirts of bone about her knees. She stank of blood and fire and melted flesh, of ancient ashes and charred entrails and far worse.

    She cupped Shilu¡¯s face in both hands. Her touch burned. Her eyes were black voids, full of stars.

    Live. Help. And I will shelter your beloved beneath my skirts.

    But what if I don¡¯t? Shilu thought. What if I say no, or I fail, or I can¡¯t¡ª

    Then I will shelter her all the same, until the end of time.

    But what if you fail too? What if you are overwhelmed, or you lose? What if they come for her, and resurrect her again, and again, and again, and¡ª

    I will end her, said the Crowned Girl. I will give her a truer death than any before.

    Shilu felt moisture and heat prickle in her eyes. She could barely recall the sensation, and now it was forced upon her. The violation was complete and total.

    She wept into the hands of the Crowned Girl. She felt her tears scooped up and pressed to bloody lips. She felt herself claimed.

    She surrendered.

    ¡°¡ªShilu? Shilu?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not listening. She¡¯s gone off inside herself, or something. Elpi, are we sure she¡¯s, like ¡­ here?¡±

    ¡°The slave is present. Of that I am certain. See? She blinks.¡±

    Shilu blinked again.

    The Crowned Girl was gone. The network intrusion was over. The darkness of the tomb chamber was back. The roar of the hurricane had resumed.

    Shilu raised a hand to her eyes. Dry as a bone.

    The network encounter had the quality of a dream ¡ª intense while active, sensations now rapidly fading. Shilu had been forced to feel emotions she had not experienced in longer than she could recall; they felt like echoes, irrelevant and absurd to her current situation. But the network intrusion was real, that had really happened. Shilu had been contacted directly by a primary participant of the war in heaven, who had offered to protect her one personal fulcrum.

    Shilu glanced around the tomb chamber, into the dark and black, but there was no sign of the Crowned Girl.

    Elpida was speaking. ¡°Shilu? I need you to answer our questions. Or just one of them. I need you to give us something, somewhere to start. You¡¯ve got to work with us. You seemed willing to work with us earlier. You mentioned that you had questions of your own, too. I would be willing to trade information, if that¡¯s what you require.¡±

    Shilu tried to open her mouth and ask about the Crowned Girl, but found she could not.

    Had her network permissions been rewritten? Only in that one respect. An answer floated upward from her subconsciousness, planted there by the network presence. The hurricane functioned as protection, brief as it was, from the prying eyes of Central. The Crowned Girl had taken a great risk in direct communication. She had to remain hidden. She must not be spoken of, even to her greatest champions.

    Shilu acquiesced to this need.

    ¡°Are you even listening to us?¡± Elpida was saying. ¡°Are you¡ª¡±

    ¡°What is Telokopolis?¡± Shilu asked.

    Victoria blinked. Atyle broke into a smile, eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise.

    Elpida laughed softly. ¡°Am I interrogating you, Shilu? Or are you interrogating me?¡±

    ¡°This is meant to be an interrogation?¡±

    Elpida shrugged. ¡°Perhaps. Interrogation. Debriefing. Friendly conversation. Armed negotiation. Call it whatever and whichever you prefer, as long as you¡ª¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have the capacity to interrogate me,¡± said Shilu.

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°You suspect me of many potential things. I am ¡ª or was ¡ª an agent of Central. This is a reasonable suspicion. I would suspect the same in your position. You and Victoria are attempting the beginnings of a red face white face dynamic ¡ª sympathetic and threatening, safety and danger ¡ª but you lack the necessary resolve.¡±

    Elpida frowned. Victoria muttered, ¡°She means the good-cop bad-cop thing. She¡¯s rumbled us there, Elpi.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°What makes you say I lack resolve?¡±

    ¡°Everything,¡± Shilu answered, then turned to Vicky. ¡°You are supposed to be the red face, to offer me sympathy. But you can¡¯t, because you are terrified of me. Don¡¯t lie, I can see it in your eyes and your pulse, and read it on your face. You would rather stand a hundred paces back and blow me up with that grenade launcher. I don¡¯t blame you.¡± She turned back to Elpida before the trio could muster a response. ¡°And you¡¯re meant to be the white face, the threat. But you are uniquely unsuited to the role.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Because you don¡¯t believe in it. You naturally default to the other role, that of the sympathetic. But in that you are an abject failure.¡±

    Vicky growled, ¡°Hey now.¡±

    ¡°Vicky, hold on,¡± Elpida murmured. ¡°I want to understand where she¡¯s going with this. Shilu, please, continue?¡±

    ¡°You cannot be the red face either,¡± Shilu continued. ¡°Because the role of the ¡®good cop¡¯ is to lie. You offer sympathy and understanding, while leading the subject deeper into self-recrimination. You offer identification with the agent of the institution, while the institution sharpens the knives on the subject¡¯s own emotions and statements. You offer a human face on an inhuman process. But you, Elpida, you are not lying. You mean it. You are too real. You are offering something else.¡±

    Elpida chuckled. ¡°And you see through all that, do you?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    Victoria burst out laughing, then sighed and slapped her armoured knee. ¡°Sorry, Elpi, but yeah, she¡¯s got a point. We don¡¯t know what the shit we¡¯re doing.¡±

    Elpida sighed as well, staring directly at Shilu. Atyle just smiled, as if she had expected this outcome from the start. Radio contact crackled back and forth, but none of the trio answered the voices in their headsets.

    Shilu said, ¡°I have sat where you are a thousand times, in true life. I know how this works, and you¡¯re failing. But that¡¯s not an insult.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Alright, fair enough. What were you, in life, before all this?¡±

    ¡°I was a counter-intelligence agent.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°You were a spy?¡±

    ¡°I hunted spies.¡±

    Vicky let out a low whistle. Elpida frowned, not quite comprehending; Vicky muttered, ¡°Imagine somebody who¡¯s whole job was hunting traitors and moles, kinda.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Shilu.

    ¡°And you were good at it, huh?¡± Vicky asked. ¡°Hunting spooks?¡±

    ¡°Very.¡±

    Elpida gestured for Vicky to continue. Vicky said, ¡°For who? I mean, where, where did you live?¡±

    Shilu opened her mouth ¡ª then stopped. Her memories of true life were hazy at best, drowned beneath so much meat and blood and raw bone marrow. For a moment of vertigo she realised that she could remember her home on the coast, and her grandmother¡¯s house in Hailin, and even recall her parents¡¯ faces ¡ª though with some difficulty and much bitterness. But the name of her country was lost to both her and history.

    Perhaps it had never been that important.

    She answered with something she did remember. ¡°The Interior Service of State Security.¡±

    Vicky frowned. ¡°Yeah, but like, for who?¡±

    Shilu shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s been too long. I don¡¯t remember.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°And you¡¯ve run interrogations like this before?¡±

    ¡°I can run rings around you.¡±

    Elpida laughed. Vicky shrugged. Atyle finally stopped squatting, moving to a cross-legged sitting pose.

    Vicky said, ¡°So what, we¡¯ve just gotta accept you, as is? Little miss ¡®death to spies¡¯, and that¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you have a choice.¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°We could solve this my way.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡± asked Vicky.

    ¡°Shilu and I could beat the shit out of each other until we reach mutual comprehension.¡±

    Shilu almost sighed ¡ª Elpida was a seed of power, but she wasn¡¯t perfect, not yet. ¡°I can tell you whatever you want to know,¡± she said. ¡°But I think you should stop trying to interrogate me. You¡¯re very bad at it. And answer my question first ¡ª what is Telokopolis?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Why do you want to know that?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve heard you discussing it. I heard what you said to Eseld, and I¡¯m not a fool, I picked up the context and your relationship to her. You told her that you are a promise, and that promise is called Telokopolis. I wish to hear that promise too. I need to know who and what I¡¯m fighting for. I need to know ¡­ ¡±

    Shilu needed to know that Lulliet would stay dead, and that Elpida would pour concrete on her tomb.

    Elpida nodded slowly. ¡°Fair enough. Telokopolis rejects nobody, even a Necromancer. Alright then¡ª¡±

    ¡°And,¡± Shilu added, as part of a trade she had not realised she was making. ¡°I suspect I¡¯ve seen it once before.¡±

    Elpida froze. ¡°Seen what?¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis,¡± said Shilu. ¡°I¡¯ve seen Telokopolis once before.¡±

 tempestas - 12.8

    ¡°Telokopolis was a city,¡± said Elpida. ¡°The city where I was born, where I lived my whole life, and where I died, for a cause I did not fully understand at the time, but which I see now with perfect clarity.¡±

    The Commander paused.

    The roar and rumble of rain-static rushed back into the echoing vault; the whip and wave of divine wind washed the silence clean. God-storm raged on, beyond the sepulchral darkness.

    Shilu stared out from behind the wall of her bone-pale mask, floating in the oily black of the tomb chamber. Her face was tainted red by Pheiri¡¯s tomb-light glow, matching the crimson dye of Elpida¡¯s long white hair. She was like a single rose petal in a basin of pitch, on a stem of black iron studded with razor thorns.

    Atyle watched that bleached visage with great interest.

    This so-called ¡®Necromancer¡¯ ¡ª this raiser-of-the-dead ¡ª she was more passive than any self-claimed wizard or magician Atyle had known in life. Atyle had known far too many of those, littering the hallways and colonnades of the palace; she had known them all to be frauds, no different to herself, before her death and rebirth beneath the truth of real gods.

    Shilu said, ¡°That tells me very little.¡±

    The Commander smiled, knowing and wry, yet unaware she had already won.

    Atyle was not going to divulge her secret knowledge ¡ª that the conversion of this enemy was already complete. This conversation may be mere formality, but Atyle knew that formality and ritual were essential to power. The Commander must wield power, be seen to wield power, and have that power acknowledged. To interrupt would be to deny this opportunity.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Elpida said. ¡°That¡¯s the short answer, and it tells you nothing useful. Shilu, I¡¯m going to have to demand an explanation first. You¡¯ve seen Telokopolis, you¡¯ve seen the city? What do you mean by that?¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°Right now that claim of prior knowledge and information is my only leverage. I will withhold it until I have heard your full answer, and your ¡®promise¡¯.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Keeping me honest?¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    Elpida nodded, allowing that she was impressed. Victoria puffed out one of her big sighs, the ones she gave breath to when she felt out of her depth. Atyle just watched.

    ¡°So,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to give you a very long answer. Are you prepared?¡±

    ¡°We have nothing but time,¡± said Shilu.

    The Commander¡¯s smile brightened. ¡°We have so much more than time. That¡¯s what I¡¯m promising.¡±

    Victoria cleared her throat. ¡°Elpida, Commander, um. Not to throw a wrench into the works here, but ¡­ are we absolutely sure that we can trust her with sensitive information? We¡¯re not giving away intel here, are we? No offence or anything, Shilu, but you are a Necromancer. This is kind of fucked up.¡±

    An interruption crackled in Atyle¡¯s left ear ¡ª voices floating across the void of space, speaking through the headset. Kagami hissed over the radio: ¡°My question exactly. Thank you, Victoria. I am glad to see that somebody still has a brain between their ears.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°I take no offence. I would be more worried if you didn¡¯t show caution.¡±

    Elpida raised her head and raised her eyebrows. ¡°Atyle, your assessment again, please?¡±

    Wizards, magicians, mages, diabolists, shamans, soothsayers, from the native shores of the great river or from dusty foreign hills, they were all the same in Atyle¡¯s experience. They all fancied themselves masters in their secret hearts. That was why they ended up at the palace, for any chance at the ear of the Emperor.

    But Shilu was no master; this slave-puppet had no dreams. Atyle could see that with her mortal eye, plain as mud.

    God-sight showed her the truth of Shilu¡¯s isolation.

    Atyle said it out loud. ¡°She is a puppet and a slave, but with her strings cut and her chains broken. No master¡¯s hand lies on the collar. No steps are woven for her to dance. Lykke was the dog of meagre gods. She dripped with umbilical cords and cancerous growths, all joining her to the greater whole. But this one? No. She is alone.¡±

    Kagami hissed over the radio, ¡°Technical details would be preferred over shitty poetry, thank you very much. But I concur.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Thank you, Atyle. Well, there you go. Shilu¡¯s cut off from network access. So either we make the decision to trust her, or we don¡¯t.¡±

    Victoria and Elpida exchanged additional formalities about trust. Kagami¡¯s voice crackled over the radio, joined briefly by Ilyusha, likely leaning over the Princess¡¯ shoulder.

    Atyle ignored the empty words. She stared at Shilu¡¯s body.

    The inside of that black metal shell was very beautiful. Beneath her thorns and barbs and hard exterior, Shilu¡¯s muscles glowed like divine meat, little hives of activity of the tiny machines of the gods. Shilu¡¯s viscera did not look like that of any other revenant ¡ª multiple heart-muscles, stacks of bacteria, no true stomach. Her brain was like a little star, more machine than flesh.

    And all without a master to show her the way.

    Would she place the end of her broken chain in the Commander¡¯s hand?

    Atyle had no doubt of Shilu¡¯s new-found allegiance, for she knew Shilu had seen the Crowned Girl ¡ª the secret, furtive, hidden god of Atyle¡¯s death-dreams.

    Atyle had glimpsed the exchange through the god-sight of her right eye, but she had only caught the briefest flicker, as if it had all happened too quickly. The Crowned Girl had stepped through Atyle, crouched in front of Shilu, and touched her face.

    Atyle had dearly wished for another visitation from the Crowned Girl; she had not seen the little red-and-white god since the birth of the Newborn Thirteen Arcadia. She harboured no real jealousy toward Shilu for this favour, for she suspected that the Crowned Girl was the one responsible for cutting Shilu¡¯s strings in the first place, and the masterless slave was now at the Commander¡¯s disposal, as she should be.

    This fight was already won. All else was formality.

    But Atyle liked to listen to the Commander speak. Oration was also a gift from the gods. It was good that the Commander had found her missing faith, the clarity and truth she had misplaced during the long weeks which had followed the cannibal feast on the flesh of Eseld and her friends. The Commander¡¯s eyes were bright now. Atyle wished to hear that faith flower once again.

    The debate ended. Elpida focused on Shilu.

    ¡°I am to be trusted?¡± Shilu asked.

    ¡°This much, for now,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Telokopolis, then.¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis.¡±

    The Commander continued.

    ¡°When I was alive, during my era of human history, Telokopolis was the only city ¡ª the last city, the last redoubt of humankind. She sheltered and cradled a population of approximately nine hundred million, though I believe that number may have been larger in the ages before my own birth. By the Post-Founding calendar I was born in the year seventy thirteen. That¡¯s meant to be the number of years since the city was built, but in truth I suspect she was much older than that. Our records of earlier ages were spotty and confused at best, myth and legend at worst. I don¡¯t know exactly how long she stood before the year of my birth, but certain academics claimed that more people had lived and died within her arms than in all prior ages of humankind.¡±

    Shilu interrupted. ¡°May I ask a question?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Go ahead.¡±

    ¡°Do you truly believe that final statement?¡±

    Elpida smiled and shrugged. ¡°Yes, but perhaps not for the literal reason.¡±

    Shilu fell silent, apparently satisfied. Elpida continued.

    ¡°Telokopolis was situated on a plateau ¡ª ¡®the plateau¡¯, we called it, because it was the only exposed plateau we knew of. Telokopolis and the plateau were surrounded by a forest, a kind of jungle, which we called the green. As far as we could tell, the green covered the entire remainder of the earth¡¯s surface.¡±

    Elpida descended briefly into technical details. She told Shilu about the green and the Silico, about how deadly it was to unprotected humans, about how it grew so rapidly it had to be burned back, lest it find victory in creeping vines and flesh-eating moss. She told Shilu about the many forms of Silico life, about how they flowed up and out of the endless jungle as if disgorged on purpose by some greater mind, bred in alien depths. She told Shilu about those depths also, and the strangeness Elpida and her cadre-sisters had witnessed down there in the dark beneath the world.

    Shilu listened in silence, a mask floating in oil. She held her body of black metal thorns perfectly still. No chatter came across the radio. The god-veil storm raged on beyond the tomb, but Atyle fancied even the great hurricane hushed itself before the Commander¡¯s words.

    Eventually, Shilu said: ¡°A nanomachine plague.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°In retrospect, probably yes. In fact, I have reason to believe that our conflict with the green is the root of everything we see here today, this nanomachine plague, this afterlife, us.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Several reasons. I¡¯ll get to that later. But for now I¡¯ll tell you that we¡¯ve seen images of the edge of this supercontinent, and the ¡®ocean¡¯ beyond. Some of the green seems to persist, locked in a process of destruction and creation, against some kind of viscous black goo.¡±

    Shilu blinked. ¡°You¡¯ve seen the shores?¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°We have. You haven¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°No. How?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll tell you all about it, when you¡¯ve earned a bit more trust.¡±

    Kagami hissed over the radio: ¡°Good choice, Commander. Right answer. Don¡¯t trust her act.¡±

    Shilu paused, totally still, then nodded. ¡°Very well.¡±

    Elpida continuned once again. ¡°So, Telokopolis was under siege, for centuries or perhaps millennia before I was born. But that doesn¡¯t tell you anything about what she really was. Telokopolis, the city herself, she was built in the shape of a spire. There were wonders in the ages before my own, I know that now, things we in Telokopolis did not have access to ¡ª space-flight, nanomachine-guided body modification, virtual realities, and more ¡ª but Telokopolis herself was taller than any human-crafted object on the face of the earth, at least before her. She was, I believe, the single greatest engineering and architectural marvel in human history. And yes, that includes whatever is going on now, it includes Central¡¯s ¡®physical assets¡¯, or whatever else has been built out there ¡ª the towers, the orbital ring, all of it. I don¡¯t care what marvels are claimed by the nanomachine ecosystem ¡ª Telokopolis was, is, and will be greater than them all.¡±

    Kagami hissed frustration across the radio, complaining about the Commander giving up intel, letting the enemy know what we know. But Atyle merely smiled. The Commander was flexing her muscles, showing Shilu the range of her power.

    Shilu didn¡¯t react outwardly to the mention of the towers and the ring or the physical assets, but Atyle¡¯s god-sight saw the tensing of tiny muscles behind her mask, and the flicker of an electrical soul inside the meat of her brain.

    Elpida went on: ¡°Images of the city abounded in our culture, but very few people ever got to see her from a distance, with their own eyes, apart from Legionaries patrolling the plateau. But even at the plateau¡¯s edge, one would have to crane their neck to look up, and up, and up, and one could not take in the full beauty of the spire from so close. Most of the distant images we had of her were taken in prior ages, when powered flight still worked.¡±

    Elpida paused. Atyle saw the Commander overcome with emotion, then control herself with an iron fist.

    ¡°Telokopolis was beautiful beyond comparison. The Skirts, her lowest levels, rising up in armoured layers, like the foothills of a mountain, or the frills of a real skirt. The monochalkum layer, her outer bones, they would catch the sunlight in glimmering waves of white and silver, as if soaking up the light and transforming it into something else, solid and gleaming.¡± Elpida raised both hands and gestured as if cupping a pair of hips, encircling a slender waist with her fingers; her voice pushed back the rain and wind of the god-storm with molten passion. ¡°The Skirts gathered together as they rose, narrowing into the thick curves of the middle Spire. Her body climbed toward the heavens, relentlessly. Have you ever seen something like that, Shilu? Something which just keeps going up, and up, and up, and it never seems to end? Because I don¡¯t think you have. I¡¯ve seen these ¡®skyscrapers¡¯ out in the corpse-city, and they aren¡¯t worth the name.¡±

    Shilu said nothing.

    Elpida took a deep breath; for a moment the winds beyond the tomb seemed to inhale with her.

    ¡°But there is an end, eventually. She comes to a point, sharper than a blade. The upper spire ends in the needle-point, aimed at the sky. The needle amid the green. And when you¡¯re out there, lost in the green, you can see her from so far away. She is the unifying point. A mother, calling all humanity home.¡±

    Elpida stopped at the obvious conclusion.

    Shilu said: ¡°Very stirring.¡±

    Atyle bristled; the sarcasm in Shilu¡¯s voice was an insult and a question. How could she still doubt, after being visited by the Crowned Girl?

    But the Commander merely smiled, more than a little sardonic herself. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking, Shilu. You¡¯re thinking I¡¯m a ¡­ ¡± She gestured to Victoria. ¡°Vicky would call it ¡®nationalist¡¯, as if I¡¯m extolling the virtues and natural superiority of my ¡®country¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Are you not?¡± Shilu asked.

    Kagami¡¯s voice hissed over the trio of headsets: ¡°You do sound a bit like that, Commander. You can¡¯t blame her.¡±

    Vicky tutted, turned aside briefly, and whispered: ¡°Kaga, shut up.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Vicky,¡± Elpida said, without once taking her eyes from Shilu. She reached up and tapped her own headset. ¡°One of my cadre just said that she can¡¯t blame you for that reaction. And she¡¯s right, I can¡¯t blame you for it either, because I don¡¯t comprehend it. In my time we didn¡¯t have such things as countries and nations. I¡¯ve only learned those concepts after death, from people who lived in other times, and they¡¯re still alien to me. It seems no decent way to organise humankind, to divide us against ourselves.¡±

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    Shilu said: ¡°I tend to agree. But that is impossible to avoid.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°The greatest home-machine ever built by human love and human labour, crystallised into the foundations and returned for eternity, refreshed with each generation of effort, from all, to all, for all. Those aren¡¯t my words, those were words learned by every child in the city. And we ¡ª the human beings inside Telokopolis ¡ª we did not always live up to that ideal, to her, to the city itself. We were capable of failing her. I¡¯m the first to admit that, because that¡¯s why I died. It¡¯s why all my sisters were murdered.¡±

    Elpida went off on another tangent ¡ª she told Shilu about the hated ¡®Covenanters¡¯, the civil war inside the city, the disagreement over the green, and the basic outline of her own death. Faith and fury burned behind her purple eyes, holding back the sorrow that Atyle had seen up close.

    ¡°But Telokopolis,¡± Elpida finished. ¡°She never failed us. She never failed a single person. Not even me. She did everything she could to protect me and my sisters, despite the way we ended.¡±

    ¡°You are growing abstract,¡± said Shilu.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not. You think I am, because you can¡¯t imagine it. But I am being literal, Shilu. I am talking about actual, physical events.¡±

    Shilu narrowed her eyes in silent scepticism.

    Elpida said: ¡°Telokopolis was built to house many, many more than nine hundred million people. In my time that was the sum of all humanity, but I¡¯ve since learned that in some prior ages there were billions of people, and I believe every single one of them could have fit comfortably within the walls of Telokopolis ¡ª and not merely in a little box, stored away and apartmented out, but truly welcomed within the city. Because that¡¯s what she was for, that¡¯s why she was built. The interior of the city was endless, as long as she was fed fresh nanomachines every century or so. Any person, any human being, could walk up to a wall and request space. Rooms, food, the necessities of life, Telokopolis herself provided, coaxed and cared for by us in turn. She nurtured us and cradled us and gave us space and safety in which to grow. Her veins and arteries ran with power and water and light. Her innards and guts were filled with public spaces and public canteens and all the warrens of human life. Her bones surrounded us, her flesh cushioned us.¡±

    ¡°This is a tiresome metaphor,¡± Shilu said. ¡°Cities do not do these things by themselves. People do them. Cities are just agglomerations of people and labour.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m being literal, Shilu. The city did these things herself.¡±

    Shilu frowned.

    Victoria spoke up: ¡°She¡¯s being literal, yeah. She¡¯s been over this with each of us before. I know, it¡¯s hard to believe, and she doesn¡¯t do the best job of explaining it, but she¡¯s telling the truth, at least as far as she knows it. Telokopolis was a living city.¡± Victoria gestured over her shoulder, at the little titan to the rear. ¡°Same technology as Pheiri, just scaled up a billion times. He¡¯s one of her descendants, kind of.¡±

    Shilu¡¯s eyes flickered away from Elpida for the first time in several minutes. She stared at Pheiri, then back at Elpida.

    ¡°The city ¡­ provided?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Telokopolis is home, for all humanity. Vicky has explained a concept to me, called ¡®homelessness¡¯. This had no place in Telokopolis. It would be like leaving somebody out in the green.¡± She snorted. ¡°Even the worst elements of our society would never have countenanced that, even the ones who divided us against ourselves and murdered my sisters. It would be like spitting in the face of every human being ever.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°Is this a joke?¡±

    Vicky sighed. ¡°Nope. She¡¯s being serious.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°And how was this utopia achieved?¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Telokopolis was alive. Nano-composite bones, machine-meat innards. A body, a mind, even a soul.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t pretend to understand how it worked, how the city was given life. By my time, we didn¡¯t comprehend her. She was a marvel of engineering beyond us. The Builders, the founders, the ones who constructed the city, they built a miracle. They were smarter than us, in ways I can barely express. They made a home, for all humanity, and rejected nobody.¡±

    Elpida fell silent. Shilu did the same. The darkness of the tomb chamber filled with the static of pounding rain and the distant howl of god-storm¡¯s wind.

    Eventually Shilu said: ¡°This is the promise?¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Telokopolis was more than a city. She was an ideal made flesh and bone, gifted with a mind and a soul. Even thrust forward in time, into this nanomachine afterlife, I believe that Telokopolis was and is the most glorious concept and machine human love has ever made. A home for all humanity, no matter the difficulty, no matter the cost. None are left behind, none are rejected ¡ª not traitors, not Silico, not Necromancers. The principle is just as applicable now as it was then, as it was always. From all, to all, for all.¡±

    ¡°There have been countless eternal cities,¡± said Shilu. ¡°Shining cities on their hills. Beacons of civilization. All considered themselves necessary, indispensable, without peer. All are rot and ruin and forgotten now, except in the brains of zombies. What makes yours any different? Telokopolis had civil wars, internal strife, discord and dissolution. It fell, like all the others.¡±

    A grin ripped across Elpida¡¯s face, toothy and triumphant, no longer Elpida.

    Howl said, ¡°Because we¡¯re still here, bitch! Telokopolis is forever!¡±

    Shilu blinked.

    Elpida lost the grin. ¡°As Howl said, we¡¯re still here. I accept the possibility that the physical bones of Telokopolis may lie cold and abandoned now. But that doesn¡¯t matter, because she is more than that. As long as one of us is up and breathing, the city still stands.¡±

    ¡°One of ¡®us¡¯?¡± Shilu echoed.

    ¡°I was a pilot ¡ª I had no mother, no father, I was grown in a uterine replicator, as part of a project to develop human beings who could explore the green. My sisters and I were developed with help from the city herself. I don¡¯t think the people who made us understood that they were doing the bidding of Telokopolis, not the Civitas or scientific enquiry or anything else. They were her instruments, however flawed, planting seeds and quickening her daughters. That¡¯s what I am, a daughter of Telokopolis, in blood. I have been resurrected, and she along with me. I am Telokopolis, her avatar, her daughter, her hands, her feet, her voice. And I will continue my mother¡¯s work. From all, to all, for all.¡±

    ¡°A lofty goal. For one person.¡±

    Elpida grinned ¡ª and was not Howl this time. ¡°I accept the possibility that Telokopolis, the physical city, may be dead. She may endure as a network presence, or she may not. But I¡¯m still here. Howl is here. Pheiri is here, and he¡¯s a blood child of the city too. More importantly, each and every one of my comrades is within Telokopolis now, and they are also children of the city, even if they never knew her in life. Eseld, who we wronged, can be a child of Telokopolis as well. So, when I say ¡®one of us¡¯? I mean all of us. If I fall, Telokopolis does not die with me. My cadre carries it on. That¡¯s why I accepted Eseld into our group, even though we ate her. It¡¯s why I would parley with scavengers, and feed them our own resources. It¡¯s why I¡¯m having this conversation with you, a Necromancer. It¡¯s why I¡¯m doing anything. I see a world in as much need of Telokopolis as the one in which I died. She is necessary, and I will rebuild her. That¡¯s the promise. Even if I die and resurrect a hundred times. Even if I take a thousand years ¡ª or a million ¡ª to build Telokopolis again, she will be rebuilt, in spirit, in principle. She is already here. You¡¯re looking at her. Telokopolis is forever.¡±

    Vicky echoed those three words. Atyle murmured them too. A whisper came from the trio of headsets, those words murmured in yet more throats.

    Shilu said: ¡°Hope never dies?¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Is that something you can imagine yourself fighting for, Shilu?¡±

    ¡°Everything dies,¡± said Shilu. Then, after a moment¡¯s pause: ¡°Perhaps. It is too abstract for me.¡±

    Atyle was not stirred to faith by the Commander¡¯s words, as most of the others had been. She recognised their basic validity in a different way; the Commander had been chosen by the same occulted god as Atyle, by the hidden kiss of the Crowned Girl, though she knew it not. Atyle was bound to this task, to this monumental quest, by the deal she had made in the underworld between life and death.

    Still, the Commander was a beautiful orator.

    Her stories of Telokopolis in life made Atyle think of the cities she had known, of finery and squalor placed alongside each other. The cities of Atyle¡¯s life had been dirty and hypocritical, full of perfumed rot, the palace a jewel ridden with worms, the corridors peopled by lies.

    She liked the sound of Telokopolis. She would like to live within a god.

    ¡°I have additional questions,¡± said Shilu. ¡°Before I explain myself.¡±

    ¡°Ask away,¡± Elpida answered with a little chuckle. ¡°It¡¯s not as if we¡¯re going anywhere, not with that storm outdoors.¡±

    Shilu began to ask many questions; Elpida began to answer. The Commander explained much, about many things that she had told the others many times before, from the outlines of the ¡®pilot program¡¯ and the ¡®combat frames¡¯ ¡ª the titans of old ¡ª to the details they had gleaned from Thirteen Arcadia and Pheiri¡¯s memories. She told Shilu about the re-flowering period where Telokopolan culture had flowed out over the supercontinent once again, while the city herself had lain chained by human arrogance and lack of faith. The Commander told Shilu about Pheiri, about Thirteen Arcadia, about Melyn and Hafina, the maids to the little titan. She told her about Central¡¯s physical assets, about Ooni and Pira, about the original meeting with Eseld. She spoke of Howl and hidden presences deep in the network. She told Shilu everything.

    Atyle¡¯s mind wandered off. Her eyes followed.

    To Atyle¡¯s mortal left eye the tomb chamber was a pit choked with sticky black darkness. A coffin filled with rot, tucked beneath the earth. Elpida¡¯s heroic band were reduced to bugs scurrying beneath a damp rock.

    But to the blessed god-sight of her right eye the tomb was a warren of potential.

    Several hundred revenants were scurrying through the corridors, the soft, wet, pinkish machines of their bodies pumping away with electromagnetic activity, little hives of the machines of the gods. Each group kept clear of all others, afraid of contact, terrified of combat in these rabbit-warren tunnels. Many were paralysed with indecision, or desperately searching for rooms with defensible exits, places to hunker down and wait out the gods at war above their heads. They were ripe for the plucking, all of them, but wait too long and the fruit would fall and burst.

    Through several black metal walls to the left, Atyle saw the figures of Puk and Tati, those clever little scavengers who the Commander had used to start an irresistible process. Atyle watched them for a while. Puk led the way along the floor while Tati followed, carrying the donated corpse in loops of tarry flesh, clinging to walls and ceiling as she went.

    Atyle stood up, indicating to Elpida that she was merely stretching her limbs; she was perfectly safe beneath the aegis of Pheiri¡¯s guns, after all. Victoria followed her example, rising to her feet and rolling her shoulders, though she clutched her weapon and darted nervous little glances at the dark mouths of the passages which led from the chamber. Atyle looked at Victoria with amusement; the soldier was so heavily armoured she could certainly not run away. Her weapon was most interesting though, little frozen explosions cradled in metal eggs.

    Atyle returned her attention to Puk and Tati, while Elpida and Shilu spoke on.

    As Atyle watched, the distant pair finally blundered into another group, in a dark tangle of corridor junctions and narrow archways. Squeals split the distant air, heard in the tomb chamber as less than whispers; weapons were raised and brandished, claws slid from sheaths, threats and warnings screamed and shouted above the din of the god-storm.

    Victoria stepped close and peered at Atyle face¡¯s, then followed her gaze to the blank wall of the tomb chamber. After a moment she whispered: ¡°Atyle? What are you looking at?¡±

    ¡°Change.¡±

    A stand-off had ensued. Tati repeated the trick she had attempted to pull on Elpida ¡ª growing the shadows and shapes and whispered voices of other revenants from the tarry mass of her body, to make it seem that her beloved little Puk had many friends, rather than just one. Shadowy guns menaced, shadowy amour lurked in the darkness, shadowy tricks forestalled a fight.

    Tense conversation passed between Puk and Tati and the ones they had surprised. Atyle¡¯s god-sight saw the vibrations of the air, but she was too far away to read the words.

    After a while, Puk and Tati went on their way. The other group peeled back to let them pass, gun-mouths following them the whole way.

    But then those others ¡ª a ragged band of five ¡ª began to move cautiously and circuitously through the corridors, making for Pheiri¡¯s tomb chamber, following the scent of meat.

    Atyle smiled. A rock had been cast. The avalanche was not far off.

    She turned her eyes upward and outward next, toward the ceiling of the tomb chamber, toward the dozens of ceilings past that one in turn, into the depths of the grave itself. Atyle did not understand the purpose of the millions of mechanisms moving inside the walls of the tomb, but if she paused and concentrated she could see the beginnings of a pattern, like a mandala or an optical trick woven into a rug. Power and knowledge crackled back and forth across sheets of metal. Gears and wheels and tiny mechanisms turned and joined and counted time. Rods and sparks and plates moved in a dance too fine to follow.

    The previous tomb, the one in which she had awoken, had not been performing this dance.

    Atyle looked beyond, into the swirling vortex of the god-storm.

    Kagami, Foolish Princess, believed she understood the ¡®hurricane¡¯. She could measure the speed of the tearing winds and the depths of the shredded raindrops, but she could not comprehend that this storm was the veil of the gods. The gods were at war; this much Atyle had known in the space between life and death, before bodily resurrection. But here, the weight of the storm had hidden and veiled that war, forcing the gods to play other hands and attempt other techniques. Shilu was one such move on the board, her arrival concealed beneath this blanket across heaven.

    Atyle looked to the right ¡ª to the east ¡ª almost as an afterthought, and confirmed the continued presence of one other thing Kagami could not see.

    The Leviathan was still standing there, beyond the tomb.

    Atyle¡¯s god-sight had been unable to pick out the Leviathan against the backdrop of the storm until it had drawn close. The storm was simply too dense with debris, even for her. The Leviathan had made plenty of noise, roaring as it had approached, but now it had fallen silent. It stood well beyond its own arm¡¯s length from the tomb, enduring the world-breaking wind with many cubits worth of steel-shod skin and bones of something stronger than iron. Its back was hunched against the storm, its legs anchored into the ground with claws of burning pitch and bubbling acid. Something like this could never have drawn so close without the storm to pin the worm-guard beneath the graveworm¡¯s bulk.

    And all it did was stare down at the tomb with a hundred eyes.

    This Leviathan was yet another hand played in the great game of the gods, though Atyle knew not by who, or for what purpose.

    Elpida and Shilu drew to a close. Atyle returned her attention to the conversation, returned her feet to Elpida¡¯s side, and dropped into a squat. Victoria followed, sitting back down after casting one last nervous glance at the edge of the chamber.

    Shilu stared, her white mask floating in the darkness, her thorn-studded body washed blood-red by Pheiri¡¯s lights.

    Elpida waited until both were seated, then said: ¡°I¡¯ve kept my end of the deal, Shilu.¡±

    Shilu nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the spire of your Telokopolis. I saw it from a great distance. Only once, a very long time ago.¡±

    The Commander¡¯s face could not contain her hunger. She leaned forward. Vicky blew out a big sigh. Whispers of warning crackled from the headsets, but Atyle paid them no mind.

    ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡± Elpida said. ¡°You¡¯ve seen the physical city, you¡¯ve seen Telokopolis?¡±

    Shilu nodded again. ¡°Yes. I believe I did. You told me the truth, and I needed to verify that truth. It stands on a wide plateau, just as you described. It is extraordinarily difficult to access. Graveworms do not venture within five hundred miles. No tomb stands within a thousand miles. The city ¡ª not Telokopolis, I mean, but the nanomachine city, the corpse we live within ¡ª does not colonise the plateau itself, and struggles to grow within about a hundred miles of the edge. I don¡¯t know why that¡¯s the case, it¡¯s only what I saw with my own eyes. And ¡­ you did not exaggerate.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s lips stood parted, her purple eyes gone wide, her breath desperate for this morsel. ¡°Exaggerate what?¡±

    ¡°She is beautiful. It has been a long time, but I remember that.¡±

    Elpida burst into a smile. ¡°I told you.¡±

    ¡°And she is dead.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s face wavered.

    ¡°I am sorry,¡± said Shilu. ¡°But you were correct. Whatever the mega-structure is, it lies silent and empty. All I beheld was cold bones. As I said, nothing goes there. It is a dead zone.¡±

    Elpida fell silent. Vicky placed one gauntlet on her back. Whispers came from the trio of headsets ¡ª ¡°Commander? Commander?¡±

    Then Elpida wet her lips and composed her face. ¡°I suspected as much. Thank you for your honesty, Shilu.¡±

    ¡°You are taking this very well.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°I won¡¯t lie, confirmation hurts. But perhaps you were mistaken¡ª¡±

    Vicky hissed, ¡°Elpi ¡­ ¡±

    A tut and a snapped word came from the radio in Atyle¡¯s ears.

    But Elpida carried on, undeterred. ¡°The city may be dormant, or in hibernation, or merely waiting. Or perhaps her body is dead, and she lives on only as some kind of network presence. I don¡¯t know for certain, I can¡¯t know, but as I already explained, it doesn¡¯t matter. As long as one of us is up and breathing, the city still stands. Her physical shell is not redundant, but it is not necessary. And perhaps her body can be resurrected, like ours. Now, Shilu, I need to ask, how did you¡ª¡±

    Shilu interrupted. ¡°You are right to place faith in your Telokopolis.¡±

    Elpida paused. ¡°You agree with me now? You accept the promise?¡±

    Shilu¡¯s eyes seemed harder than before; Atyle watched closely.

    ¡°The network is full of ghosts,¡± Shilu said. ¡°Most of them are below Central¡¯s conscious notice, because Central is not conscious, not in the way we understand it. One such ghost very well may be the memory or imprint or mind of your city. I cannot say for sure. But we have been brought together by some design, you and I. Larger powers than us are at work here.¡±

    Atyle said: ¡°We merely glimpse their passing, do we not?¡±

    Shilu turned her head and made eye contact.

    Atyle knew she could not speak of the Crowned Girl, even if she wished so. This was a secret, between her and a furtive god, one who must remain hidden at all costs. That secret was inviolate, sacred, and real. If she dared break faith, her lips would be sealed by fire.

    But she could share this silent moment with another agent of the beautiful ghost who had kissed her forehead.

    ¡°Are you still a slave and a puppet?¡± she asked Shilu.

    Shilu did not answer.

    Vicky sighed, then said, ¡°Larger powers than us, sure. A design, and we¡¯re all just rats in a maze. Love it. Did you just find religion, Shilu?¡±

    Shilu looked at Victoria instead. ¡°No. It¡¯s not so different to being a counter-intelligence agent. I do what greater powers require of me. I always have.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s lips curled with distaste. ¡°Shit. Right.¡±

    ¡°Shilu,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I need to ask you questions, a lot of questions, about Central, about the trio of towers out there on the supercontinent, about the network, Lykke, Necromancers, everything you know. But first, why did you have a chance to see Telokopolis, and how can we reach the plateau? How¡ª¡±

    ¡°Because I hunted one of you before,¡± said Shilu.

    The rain-static and storm-winds filled a brief silence.

    ¡°One of us?¡± Elpida asked.

    ¡°One with your skin colour, your white hair, your purple eyes. A pilot, a ¡®Telokopolan¡¯, though she never used that word. That was why I had the rare opportunity to see the city¡¯s corpse. She was a Necromancer, not human-derived, but a post-human feedback loop. She wore the face of the ¡®pilot phenotype¡¯, as you call it, among many other faces. But when she went rogue, she went for the city¡¯s bones, as if the Telokopolan face had become real. I was sent to hunt her down. I never learned her real name, but she called herself ¡®Hope.¡¯¡±

    Elpida just stared. Vicky muttered ¡®fuck me¡¯. Kagami, over the radio, started laughing, low and bitter.

    Elpida swallowed. ¡°What happened to her?¡±

    ¡°I caught her on a mountainside, within view of the city. She fought very well, but I won, and I returned her to the network. I don¡¯t know what became of her, either archival or storage or deletion. Central¡¯s subroutines demanded I purge all memory of the sights of the spire. But I did not.¡±

    Elpida stared. ¡°And you¡¯re the one who was sent to assassinate me. The one Necromancer with solid prior proof that Telokopolis still stands.¡±

    ¡°I am sorry,¡± said Shilu. ¡°That is the short answer, and the long answer, and it tells us both nothing useful.¡±

 tempestas - 12.9

    ¡°They¡¯re handing out corpses,¡± repeated the airhead degenerate. ¡°Simple as that. I¡¯ve really got nothing else to tell you. Cross my heart and hope to die.¡±

    Storm-static filled the silence after the absurd little whore-zombie stopped speaking. The roar of the deluge and the howl of the hurricane penetrated deep into the tomb, down through layers of black metal, down into the warren of shadow and echo, down into this semi-secure refuge, this dark little chamber, this shameful hole deep in the heart of the undead mausoleum.

    Cantrelle knew the storm-static was a pattern, filled with signs from God. But she refused to listen. She had a better source of divine truth now, right by her side.

    She kept her eyes forward for the moment, focused on this band of degenerates.

    The leader stood framed beneath one of the two archways into the room; she had strode forward as if totally unafraid, rather than warded off by the black and grinning skulls daubed either side of the entrance. She stood ahead of her companions, as if she was vanguard to the dozen or so zombies lurking in the darkness behind her narrow, reedy, weak little shoulders. Her ridiculous armoured dress made her look frivolous at best, a slut at worst. Her multitude of stolen limbs flailed about with every word, expressing everything, signifying nothing. If a zombie such as this had presented herself before the former full and glorious strength of the Sisterhood of the Skull, with that mocking look on her face, Cantrelle would have ordered her skinned and gutted.

    A far more extreme example of subhuman degeneration hung from the archway above the leader¡¯s head ¡ª a mass of tarry black flesh, writhing with loops of glistening tendril, dripping oily mucus from the delusion of her nanomachine-modified body. There was one well on the way to dissolution and collapse.

    The leader called herself ¡®Puk¡¯; the subhuman mistake above her was called ¡®Tati¡¯. Absurd names for absurd creatures.

    None of the dozen zombies behind Puk had given their names, nor exhibited visible signs of advanced degeneration, nor advanced one boot-toe into the light. Cantrelle¡¯s bionic eyes could see something was wrong with the group, as if they were using cloaking devices, or perhaps employing powerful infantry-scale shields to obfuscate their outlines, but she couldn¡¯t pinpoint exactly what was going on. She didn¡¯t care enough to find out. The state of their leader and her pet was evidence enough of their degeneracy.

    Cantrelle worked to keep the disgust off her face, but she didn¡¯t work too hard.

    Silence dragged on, filled with storm.

    Click-buzz.

    Cantrelle spoke over the Sisterhood comms network, via her internal bionics, on a heavily encrypted private line.

    <<Yolanda,>> she said. <<Dead air.>>

    Yola replied in a rapid little rush. <<I¡ª I know! I ¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say to her. Ella, Ella, please, what should I¡ª>>

    <<Calm down. Listen to me. Do as I say.>>

    <<Yes ¡­ yes, always, yes.>>

    <<Demand context. Demand details. Make her explain.>>

    Yolanda Araya Calvotana ¡ª Yola, Cantrelle¡¯s divine messenger, her twice-lost once-regained perfect little lamb, former leader of the Sisterhood of the Skull, current leader apparent of these pitiful remnants, prophetess once again though she knew it not, and Cantrelle¡¯s forever-bedmate, mouthpiece, and pawn ¡ª was sitting to Cantrelle¡¯s left, upon the best throne-like chair the The Sisterhood had managed to scrounge up inside this mouldering old tomb. Yola was resplendent in her purple armour, polished to a high gleam despite the gritty rain and the tomb¡¯s darkness, with her helmet retracted, her long red hair loose, and her noble chin held high. She was flanked by Cantrelle sitting on one side and two Sisters standing to attention in war-plate on the other. Kuro loomed behind her, a grey giant in the gloom, bristling with weapons.

    Cantrelle did not need to glance at her beloved little lamb to know that Yolanda¡¯s face betrayed none of her internal doubt and hesitation. Yola was like rime ice on stainless steel, no matter the shuddering mass of tender flesh beneath the surface. Yola had lost much, but she was still a near flawless actress.

    Yola opened her lips with a wet click, and addressed the degenerate slut: ¡°I don¡¯t quite understand.¡±

    Cantrelle suppressed a wince.

    Yola¡¯s voice had not lost any of its honeyed texture or cast-iron power. She still spoke with the same certainty and confidence which she had possessed as true leader of The Sisterhood of the Skull ¡ª prophet and ruler, commander and captain, the living embodiment of the ideology and inevitability of The Kingdom of Death. But Yola¡¯s words themselves no longer carried clarity of meaning, let alone charisma. Despite all of Cantrelle¡¯s coaching and coaxing, Yola¡¯s oratory skills had not recovered. Those skills had been false all along, nothing more than a Necromancer¡¯s hand up Yola¡¯s unfaithful cunt.

    Cantrelle¡¯s little lamb needed words fed into her ear, lest she sound like the holy fool she was.

    Puk actually grinned, the vile harlot. She pantomimed a shrug with half her stitched-on limbs. ¡°What¡¯s not to understand?¡± she said, almost laughing. ¡°Do you need me to say it slow and loud? Write it out in big-font print? Draw a picture on the wall? Maybe you should put your helmet back on, you¡¯ll see better that way.¡±

    On the other side of Yola¡¯s makeshift throne, DeeGee and Yazhu took offence. War-plate servo motors whined as DeeGee twitched her plasma rifle and Yazhu braced to take a step forward.

    ¡®Tati¡¯ ¡ª the black mass of degenerate flesh hanging from the archway ¡ª uncoiled in response, glistening tentacles lowering from the ceiling, a toothed maw opening in a circle of dark flesh.

    Cantrelle switched to the all-Sisterhood channel on the comms network.

    <<Guns down!>> she snapped. <<Guns down and stay where you are, you fucking insubordinate cretins! I ordered you when this started, no provocations, no threats, no firing!>>

    Yazhu stuttered back. <<B-but Canny, she¡¯s disrespecting¡ª>>

    <<That degenerate jezebel has six friends at her back in powered armour, and four more with heavy weapons. I know my eyes are better than yours, Yazhu, but you¡¯re not blind, not inside that suit. Weapons down! Now!>>

    Both Sisters obeyed, straightening up, stepping back, and making a point of taking their hands off their guns. ¡®Tati¡¯ retreated back up to the shadows of the archway, gurgling like an open drain. Puk waited with a moronic smile on her face, pretending she hadn¡¯t witnessed the silent exchange.

    DeeGee whined over the comms. <<I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re letting them get away with that.>>

    Cantrelle bit her tongue. These twitchy fools were going to get the ragged remnants of the Sisterhood obliterated in a meaningless confrontation with a gang of nobodies.

    <<All filth will get what¡¯s coming to it,>> she broadcast. <<Show patience. Follow your orders.>>

    Cantrelle switched back to Yola¡¯s private channel; the silence had dragged on too long.

    But before Cantrelle could supply a suitable line, Yola improvised: ¡°I require neither diagrams nor help with my hearing. Little zombie, you must understand, it is very difficult for us to accept that anybody out there is giving up fresh meat. That simply does not happen. This stinks of a trap, or perhaps some kind of nasty joke at our expense. I do not like jokes at our expense. We are not to be joked about. Such matters must be rectified by serious correction of mistaken attitudes. Surely you must see that? We require additional proof of your words, or at least some kind of explanation. Will you not meet us in the middle on this matter? We are being gentle and contemplative, engaging in dialogue. Please, engage us in return.¡±

    Cantrelle relaxed.

    <<Good girl,>> she said to Yola.

    The others couldn¡¯t see the delightful little tightening of a smile around Yola¡¯s eyes, her internal preening at Cantrelle¡¯s compliment. Even if they could see it, they wouldn¡¯t know what it meant.

    Puk did a sickening little curtsey with her armoured dress. Cantrelle tried not to sneer.

    ¡°Mmm, an explanation?¡± Puk said, pouting her lips, putting a finger to her chin. ¡°Fresh meat, still on the bone! They¡¯ve got more raw corpses than they know what to do with, that lot. They¡¯ve been at it for a few hours now, passing out corpses to anybody brave enough to approach their big old tank. It¡¯s like a canteen or something. Girls just sitting around, chowing down. I saw a couple of fights almost break out, but that big tank, oh he¡¯s sooooo biiiiig, nobody keeps fighting when he shows off his guns. What a novelty, right?¡±

    ¡°A novelty,¡± Yola echoed. ¡°Certainly.¡±

    ¡°Certainly!¡± Puk echoed back, giggling.

    Cantrelle said to Yola, over comms: <<Ask her if they¡¯re demanding anything in return.>>

    Yola said, ¡°But surely they demand some kind of payment, something ¡ª anything ¡ª in return for all this meat?¡±

    Puk shook her head. ¡°Nope. Nothing. Just that we spread the good word, as it were. Pass the message around.¡±

    ¡°How curious,¡± said Yola.

    <<Tell her to describe the tank.>>

    Yola replied over the private channel. <<But it can¡¯t be anything other than the one we saw, can it? There can¡¯t be two¡ª>>

    <<Tell her to describe the tank, Yolanda. Be a good girl, do as I say.>>

    Yola gulped and shivered in Cantrelle¡¯s peripheral vision, so subtle that none other would recognise the response. Cantrelle suppressed a nasty grin of her own, filing that token flicker of defiance away for later. This was nothing more than play, regularly expected. Yola had earned herself another sobbing orgasm at Cantrelle¡¯s hands with that, and Cantrelle would read divine truth in Yola¡¯s pleading tears.

    God could go fuck himself with his signs and portents. Cantrelle had found something so much better.

    ¡°This ¡®tank¡¯,¡± Yola said, ejecting the word as if it was offensive to her tongue. ¡°Would you describe it for me, please?¡±

    Puk smirked, lips pressed together. The dozen heavily armed revenants in the shadows behind her and Tati shifted and whispered amongst themselves.

    ¡°It¡¯s a tank,¡± said Puk. ¡°You know. Big metal box.¡±

    Cantrelle lost her temper with this puerile little slut.

    ¡°Describe the tank,¡± she said out loud.

    Puk¡¯s beady eyes flickered to Cantrelle. The degenerate¡¯s amusement lost its edge.

    Cantrelle knew she looked and sounded awful, especially compared against Yola and the others. She stared back at Puk, daring her to ignore the truth.

    Yola still wore her immaculate purple war-plate, despite her shattered charisma; DeeGee and Yazhu had survived the Golden Diamond and the shattering of the Sisterhood mostly intact, their suits dinged and dented but still whole and hearty. Kuro¡¯s suit of powered armour had taken a beating during the confrontation with the Necromancer and the blob-monster, but her on-board power plant was still humming along like always, with a little help from Cantrelle¡¯s medical and mechanical expertise. The other seven remaining revenants of the Sisterhood were over at the other end of the shadowy room, in various states of disrepair and slovenly disorder, but none of them were visibly wounded or openly crippled.

    Cantrelle¡¯s wounds ¡ª the ones inflicted by Elpida¡¯s fists and the teeth of Elpida¡¯s little runt ¡ª had refused to heal.

    Cantrelle¡¯s hands were still almost useless, resting limp in her lap, marked by the improperly-healed semi-circles and ragged sores of the deep bite wounds she had taken during the struggle; she¡¯d broken her own metacarpals multiple times to get everything sorted out, but she still could not hold a gun, and could barely squeeze Yola¡¯s delicate throat with all the strength she could muster. The sensible option would be to cut them off, eat her own useless flesh, and regrow new hands from scratch. But Cantrelle was reluctant to take that final step ¡ª and not only because the necessary investment of nanomachines was very difficult for the broken remnants of the Sisterhood.

    Her mechanical tentacles were a little better. She had adapted her pair of pincer-tentacles for better manipulation, adding greater articulation and dexterity, to compensate for her crippled hands. The two tentacles which Elpida had snapped off were in the middle of a slow and painful process of regrowth ¡ª sprouting delicate cores of copper-wrapped flesh from two ragged stubs, waving in the air to gather ambient nanomachines.

    But Puk didn¡¯t stare at those. She stared at Cantrelle¡¯s face, at Cantrelle¡¯s blank and screen-like eyes, Cantrelle¡¯s bald skull and bionic jaw. Most of all she stared at the strangulation bruises on Cantrelle¡¯s neck ¡ª the chain-link marks still engraved on Cantrelle¡¯s throat, the bruises unfaded as black and purple ink.

    Puk¡¯s eyes lingered on that detail, then upon the bisected tattoo on Cantrelle¡¯s cheek; Cantrelle had learned to tell when somebody was looking at the ruined and shattered symbol on her flesh.

    The titular symbol of the Sisterhood of the Skull, the black tattoo of the grinning death¡¯s head, broken in half by a zombie¡¯s bite.

    The new skin was raw and thin, red and sensitive, and had not healed any further.

    Cantrelle wore her unhealed wounds with pride. At first she had been afraid to remove the bandage from her cheek and reveal the bisected skull ¡ª the rest of the Sisterhood would undoubtedly take that as a terrible omen. When her various wounds had stopped healing, she had grown frustrated; something had gone wrong with her nanomachine biology, and all her medical skills could not solve the puzzle. Zombies did not suffer lingering wounds, as long as they ate plenty of meat, and Cantrelle was not starving. She had fallen into rage and despair. Was this also a sign from God, written upon her own body? Was this the punishment for her moment of heresy?

    Because she was a heretic now, in a way she had trouble untangling.

    Cantrelle had abandoned faith entirely after resurrection and undeath, consigning faith and God and divine signs to the sunlit days of true life. But then God¡¯s works had burst back into the Kingdom of Death with the Golden Diamond, and Cantrelle had felt only hate. God had not been there when Cantrelle had needed him. God had not been there when the Sisterhood had needed him. He had not protected them from his wrath, nor spared them his vengeance. The Kingdom of Death was his, not theirs, and Cantrelle spat in his face at this insult. God had allowed Yola to stray. God had brought Cantrelle to the brink of defeat. And it was not God who had saved Cantrelle and Yola in the end, not physically, nor spiritually.

    The mech had saved her, and remade her faith anew.

    Cantrelle had witnessed that moment of beauty, that blossom of new life amid the rot, with her own two eyes. The flesh-storm blooming of the mech, a triumphant birth of new possibilities. She and Yola had been such fools, thinking of that downed mech as nothing but an instrument of worldly power.

    The mech ¡ª the new life ¡ª had smashed God¡¯s Sign into the dirt, and strode free.

    In that moment of awe, Cantrelle had rejected the Kingdom of Death. She was certain now ¡ª that was when her wounds had stopped healing. That was when something had changed inside her.

    Eventually she had come to the obvious conclusion. She found comfort in defiance, and pride in her afflictions.

    Cantrelle¡¯s wounds were a reflection of the shattered Sisterhood, a sign of the broken promise from an absentee God. She would only heal when the Sisterhood was whole once more, stronger than before, stronger than ever. Then she would wrest the Kingdom of Death from God¡¯s hands, and install her perfect little lamb on the throne. They would find that new life, that blossomed biomechanoid, and learn truth at her divine feet.

    But that was for the future.

    For now, Cantrelle was wounded, wracked by chronic pain, huddled in the dark beneath a storm, treating with degenerates.

    Puk broke back into a smirk. Her eyes flickered across all the other black and grinning skulls among the Sisters ¡ª on Yola¡¯s shoulder pads and armoured abdomen, on Kuro¡¯s chestplate, on DeeGee and Yazhu¡¯s armour.

    Puk said: ¡°And what will you do if I don¡¯t describe the tank for you, Death¡¯s Head?¡±

    Click-buzz. Cantrelle spoke over the general channel. <<Do not rise to her insult. Nobody move. Nobody reply.>>

    Out loud, Cantrelle said: ¡°We make no secret of what we are, degenerate. Do you have the courage to open fire on us, or are you going to answer the question?¡±

    Puk raised her eyebrows and put her hands together, as if praying. ¡°And why don¡¯t you open fire on us first, Death¡¯s Head? Out of bullets?¡±

    ¡°We will not be first to initiate hostilities,¡± Cantrelle drawled. ¡°We never are. Now, answer Yolanda¡¯s question, or fuck off back into the tomb, you rancid little whore.¡±

    Above Puk, Tati uncurled from the archway and made several rude gestures in Cantrelle¡¯s direction.

    Click-buzz. Yola spoke on the private channel. <<Well done, Ella. You¡¯re always so stirring. Well don¡ª>>

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    <<Be quiet, Yola.>>

    Puk made a big show of sighing and looking behind her, past her dozen shadowy companions and down the tomb-corridor outside. The storm-rain and hurricane-winds howled and raged in the silence. Tati kept gesturing. Cantrelle wanted to spit on the floor.

    Puk turned back with a lazy shrug. ¡°The tank. Ummmm, it¡¯s big?¡± she said. ¡°Bigger than a house, for a given value of house. White armour, and very thick, very heavy. Lots and lots of guns, more than any group of us ickle zombies could carry. One turret, big cannon, all purple and distended and thick. A rear ramp, I think? Not sure what else I can tell you, skull fucker. Not sure I want to, either.¡±

    Puk ended with a big grin. From the archway above, Tati gurgled: ¡°Skullll-fucker!¡±

    Cantrelle leaned forward in her chair and spat on the ground.

    Yola said: ¡°Among their number, was there one by the name of ¡®Elpida¡¯?¡±

    Cantrelle¡¯s veins filled with ice.

    She glanced at Yola, but Yola was looking straight ahead.

    That was a serious transgression. Speaking out of turn or questioning Cantrelle¡¯s instructions, that was expected, almost playful, a regular occurrence which Cantrelle would transmute into Yola¡¯s own sobbing orgasms and shuddering tears. But this? Asking after the so-called ¡®superhuman¡¯ with whom she had been obsessed? The ¡®superhuman¡¯ whose face the corpse-rapist Necromancer had worn to seduce Yola? The object and focus of Yola¡¯s infidelity and betrayal?

    ¡°Mm!¡± Puk smiled. ¡°Elpida, that¡¯s right. She was the one who talked to us. The leader, I reckon. Maybe. Who knows for sure? Not me!¡±

    Yola nodded. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Cantrelle would make sure Yola never spoke that name again.

    <<Yolanda. Ask them about the apostates.>>

    Yola said, ¡°And were there two others among them, called by the names ¡®Ooni¡¯, and ¡®Pira¡¯?¡±

    Puk shrugged. ¡°Dunno. Didn¡¯t see many of them. Why don¡¯t you go take a look for yourselves, hey? Maybe you could nab a corpse or two. You girls look like you need it more than we did. Hungry hungry skull-faces!¡±

    Cantrelle sighed. Yazhu snorted from inside her armour. DeeGee didn¡¯t make a sound, but Cantrelle saw the old soldier shaking her helmet. The others ¡ª strung out at the other end of the chamber ¡ª added some bitter laughter to the chorus. Everybody knew that was a joke. No Death¡¯s Head would survive walking into a room like that, not when reduced to such paltry numbers. They would be torn apart and eaten alive.

    Cantrelle opened the private channel again, but Yola opened her mouth first.

    Yola said: ¡°Little zombie. Miss ¡®Puk¡¯, thank you for your gracious sharing of so much information, but I believe there is something you are holding back. I am a very good judge of emotions and character, you see. And I can tell that you are lying about something. Perhaps this is merely by omission, without intention, and I would like to believe so. But you are lying to us. And this I do not like.¡±

    Puk raised her eyebrows. From the archway above her, Tati spoke in a wet, bubbling voice: ¡°Bah! Bah bah bah. Not tricking. It¡¯s not a trick.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± said Yola, fluttering her dark lashes. ¡°So there is some additional matter to share?¡±

    Puk mimed a wobbling motion with several of her stitched-on limbs. ¡°Kinda. Kinda not.¡±

    Cantrelle snapped, ¡°Spit it out, gutter-trash.¡±

    Puk shrugged. ¡°The first time we visited the tank people, they had this other girl, this ¡­ thing, sat out a ways in front of the tank.¡±

    ¡°Thing?¡± Yola said. ¡°Please, be more specific. There are many ¡®things¡¯ in this world.¡±

    ¡°Like a super high-end cyborg,¡± Puk said. ¡°All black metal, covered in spikes and blades. Big white face made of plastic. They were going to interrogate her or something. Only, see, when we went back a couple of hours later to see how they was all getting on, the cyborg was gone. Nowhere to be found. She didn¡¯t look normal that first time, you know? Even for a zombie like you and us, like. And, hey, you know what I think?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t possibly imagine,¡± said Yola. Cantrelle almost grinned ¡ª there was a touch of that old Yola sarcasm.

    ¡°I think it was a Necromancer,¡± Puk said.

    Yola raised her eyebrows and nodded, politely and graciously. Cantrelle watched Yola in her peripheral vision, watching for hope or excitement.

    As far as Cantrelle knew, Yola¡¯s Necromantic benefactor had not attempted further contact. The rejection beneath the Golden Diamond had marked the end of Yolanda¡¯s infidelity. But Cantrelle took no chances; these days she never let Yola out of her sight. They slept together, ate together, pissed together. Cantrelle held the encryption keys to Yola¡¯s internal comms uplink, and the maintenance codes to her powered armour. At any given moment Cantrelle could remotely access the diagnostics of Yola¡¯s war-plate, to read off her heart-rate, the electrical activity in her muscles, or the arousal down in her crotch. There was no possible opening for further betrayal.

    Still she watched for interest in Yola¡¯s face, and saw none. But Yola was a liar and a cheat and a traitor, and a very good actress. Her face would only show truth while sobbing and pleading, while Cantrelle¡¯s hands closed around her throat.

    Was this black metal creature the same Necromancer who had seduced Yola? The same Necromancer who had gifted Yola her powers of oration, her immunity to pain, her supreme self-confidence?

    Cantrelle doubted that very much. But she had to remain vigilant, or wolves would steal her little lamb again.

    ¡°Thank you very much for this information,¡± Yola said. ¡°You have given us much to consider, Miss Puk.¡±

    Puk did another curtsy, with a sickening smile on her face.

    Cantrelle fed Yola a line: <<Tell them they can go.>>

    Yola raised a purple armoured glove from the armrest of her metal throne. ¡°You may be on your way. Go unmolested, with our blessing.¡±

    DeeGee and Yazhu glanced at each other, chattering on a private channel. Some of the other Sisters grumbled and frowned. Cantrelle resisted the urge to chastise Yola for improvising. What worth was the blessing of a Death¡¯s Head?

    Puk curtseyed and backed away, out of the arch, skirt held out to either side. Her vile pet followed, sliding across the ceiling and retreating into the corridor, departing with a wet raspberry noise from her mutated maw. Puk and Tati¡¯s friends went with them, receding into the shadows of the tomb corridors beyond.

    ¡°Smell ya later, alligators!¡± Puk called, waved half her hands, and was gone.

    <<Hold,>> Cantrelle sent over the open channel. She waited until the booted footsteps were swallowed up by the sound of the storm, then said: <<Check she¡¯s clear. Nothing by the entrance?>>

    <<Nothing there, Canny,>> DeeGee radioed back. <<Entrance is clear. We¡¯re alone again.>>

    <<Alright. Stand down. Theo, Hems, you¡¯re to remain on watch by the other archway. DeeGee, Yazhu, you take this one. I don¡¯t want any surprises coming out of the dark. Stay awake. No fucking around.>>

    Acknowledgement pings filled Cantrelle¡¯s on-board comms. Sisters moved to obey her orders.

    Cantrelle closed her eyes for a moment. She listened to the roaring rain and howling wind of the storm. That hurricane could only be sent by God, filled with patterns in the chaos. Cantrelle concentrated in hope of discerning a message, so she could do the exact opposite of God¡¯s wishes, and spite him to his face. But try as she might, she could not discern anything in the noise, neither truth nor lies, no sense in the madness. God was silent. God was testing her.

    <<Fuck you,>> Cantrelle sent on an unencrypted channel, off the comms. <<I hope you¡¯re listening. We will tear you from heaven and feast on your guts.>>

    A whisper replied ¡ª Yola, listening in. <<Ella?>>

    <<Nothing.>>

    Cantrelle opened her eyes again and turned to Yola, to the little group which had gathered to receive the unexpected degenerate visitors. DeeGee and Yazhu were still standing on the other side of Yola¡¯s makeshift throne. Kuro was planted behind Yola, like a statue in grey slate.

    Cantrelle spoke out loud. ¡°I thought I told you two to watch the door. Are your comms malfunctioning?¡±

    DeeGee answered, voice muffled by her war-plate helmet. ¡°Negative. Canny, we just thought¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then you thought wrong,¡± Cantrelle rasped. ¡°Go watch the door. Up close.¡±

    Yazhu said, ¡°Why?¡±

    Cantrelle glared at Yazhu, at the little lenses in her helmet. ¡°Because I give the orders and you obey them. Do we have a problem?¡±

    DeeGee said, ¡°Yaz, come on. Boss says we shift, so we shift.¡±

    Yazhu looked down at Yola, who was pointedly ignoring this exchange between an actual subordinate and a fake subordinate.

    Yazhu said: ¡°Canny¡¯s not the boss. Yola, boss, what do you say?¡±

    Cantrelle broadcast to Yola: <<Answer her.>>

    Yolanda looked up as if stirred from deep thought, green eyes flashing in the gloom, a gentle smile on her bow-shaped lips. ¡°Do as Ella orders, please. Her words are my words. Her will is my will. We are all friends and allies here. I wish no strife inside the Sisterhood.¡±

    DeeGee saluted. Yazhu shrugged. Both Sisters stomped over to the archway and assumed relaxed watch positions, fixing their attention on the corridor. They were well beyond earshot over there.

    <<Good girl,>> Cantrelle said.

    <<Ella, I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m afraid,>> Yola said. <<Everyone is so on edge. And this storm, it¡¯s ¡­ it¡¯s just impossible. What¡¯s happening to us, Ella? What¡¯s happening to the world?>>

    Cantrelle sighed. She glanced over at the other end of the room, where the ragged remnants of the Sisterhood were gathered in the gloom.

    Seven other stragglers sat around the chamber, cleaning their guns, watching the doorways, listening to the storm. They muttered together in low voices, sullen and sulky. Several fights had broken out earlier, tempers fraying, fears ignited by the impossible storm and the rush to flee inside the tomb.

    After the shattering beneath the gravitics and aircraft of the Golden Diamond ¡ª and the private confrontation with Yola¡¯s Necromantic seduction ¡ª The Sisterhood of the Skull had been scattered amongst the ruins, no stronger or more unified than any roving cannibal degenerates. In the wake of the awe of the biomechanoid¡¯s blossom, Cantrelle had dragged Yola to safety; she still wasn¡¯t sure how they had survived the attack by the sniper ¡ª the tall zombie who openly wore the crescent-and-line symbol of the Wreckers and Murderers. But they had survived, scrambling away in the confusion. Cantrelle had dragged Yola out before the nuclear storm had consumed the fight behind them.

    At first she had been alone with Yola, sleeping in holes at night, scurrying along like rats in the day. Cantrelle had come very close to strangling Yola to death, once, twice, then three times.

    Yola¡¯s betrayal hurt, worse than unhealed wounds, worse than the indignity of starvation.

    All Yola¡¯s confidence and power had come not from Cantrelle¡¯s support and protection, but from the Necromancer who had wormed into Yola¡¯s heart beneath Cantrelle¡¯s notice. The Sisterhood of the Skull owed their prophet not to truth or correct thought or victory, but to some corpse-rapist monster.

    So Cantrelle had squeezed Yola¡¯s throat until Yola had begged and pleaded. She had called Yola a traitor and a heretic, a slut and a bitch, an unfaithful rutting animal no better than the degenerates they had once slaughtered together. But Yola never fought back, despite Cantrelle¡¯s weakness and wounds. She never raced ahead and left Cantrelle behind for the scavengers. She never drew a gun and put it to Cantrelle¡¯s head and told her to stop.

    Cantrelle had tasted Yola¡¯s tears and decided they were true. She had fucked Yola until there was nowhere her little lamb could hide anymore secrets, no place for Yola to turn to ignore her betrayal.

    And in Yola¡¯s tears and Yola¡¯s pleas and Yola¡¯s body, Cantrelle had rediscovered a medium far more real than any of God¡¯s messages.

    This was the lamb who should sit on the throne. Victory would make her clean.

    Kuro had found them eventually. Kuro was a good hound to Yola, even Cantrelle had to admit that. Kuro had been there during that confrontation with the Necromancer, and Kuro had heard every word, and Kuro had not abandoned Yolanda. Cantrelle felt far less jealous about Kuro these days, not least because she knew Yola wasn¡¯t bouncing up and down in Kuro¡¯s lap anymore. Kuro¡¯s fuck-pet days were over.

    Cantrelle had spent the long, gruelling weeks of starvation and scavenging since then rebuilding what she could of The Sisterhood. She¡¯d located DeeGee and Yazhu ¡ª not too difficult, as their powered armour gave them a survivor¡¯s edge ¡ª and swept up whatever other stragglers she could find. By the time the graveworm had approached this fresh tomb, Cantrelle¡¯s efforts had amounted to no more than seven other revenants recovered. Only Yola, Kuro, DeeGee and Yazhu had powered armour. The others had scraps and clothes at best. They¡¯d lost all the drones, large quantities of advanced equipment, and most of their big guns.

    Worst of all, they¡¯d lost confidence. Morale was non-existent. They lived no better than the degenerates now.

    But the ones who had survived were tough, those who could make it even when cut off from the group. Cantrelle saw the silver lining in this process of winnowing. The dead weight had been cut free. The Sisterhood was lean now, and would be strong again.

    Death¡¯s Heads always came back; Cantrelle had been around enough times to know that. The Kingdom of Death could never be truly stamped out. It would always rise again.

    Yola, however, was worse than dead weight ¡ª she was a lie.

    Cantrelle knew she was holding these remnants together through the sheer force of her own willpower, but she still needed Yola¡¯s status as a figurehead. All those pretty words and that prophetic ideology had turned out to be seeded by a Necromancer, but Cantrelle did not have the reputation or charisma to command this flagging gang by herself, not without victories.

    She needed to give them triumph, and soon.

    Cantrelle turned away from the seven other stragglers and back to Yolanda. Kuro still loomed behind the makeshift throne, close at hand, but she could stay. Kuro knew the truth already, that the prophet had been a fraud.

    ¡°Ella?¡± Yola said, from up on her throne.

    Unlike Cantrelle, Yola had fully recovered from her wounds. The burn mark which had marred half her face was gone, leaving only perfect amber-bronze skin over sharp cheekbones and an elegant jaw. Her bright green eyes were unclouded by blindness or damage. Ruby-red hair fell about her face in a rich wave.

    But Cantrelle saw the uncertainty in those eyes, the hesitation in the lips, the flinch in the muscles when Cantrelle stared too hard.

    ¡°You asked about Elpida,¡± Cantrelle said.

    Yola¡¯s eyes widened slightly; beyond earshot of the others, the mask of the actress slipped away. ¡°I ¡­ I thought it pertinent to ¡­ our ¡­ plans ¡­ ¡±

    Cantrelle reached out with one set of tentacle-pincers and laid the cold metal against Yolanda¡¯s cheek. Yola went very still and very stiff. Cantrelle slid the tendril-limb down the side of Yola¡¯s throat, then wriggled it past the neck-seal of Yola¡¯s armour.

    Yola swallowed. ¡° ¡­ Ella?¡±

    ¡°Nobody cares. They know we fuck.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Be quiet.¡±

    Cantrelle forced the pincers lower. She dragged the hard edges over the soft flesh of Yola¡¯s proud chest, then down across her quivering belly, then settled the flexing mass between Yola¡¯s legs.

    None of the Sisters could see what she was doing. Only Kuro, and Kuro never complained.

    Cantrelle said, ¡°Never speak that name again.¡±

    Yola nodded.

    Cantrelle withdrew the tendril ¡ª slowly, dragging it back up across Yola¡¯s belly and chest and collarbone ¡ª until it popped free from the armour¡¯s neck seal. Yola swallowed and panted, placing one armoured glove against her own throat. Cantrelle pulled the tendril back toward herself, then shoved it into her coat and awkwardly pulled out her PDW. She pointed the gun off at the floor and slid out the magazine, checking the bullets.

    ¡°We¡¯ll talk about this more later on,¡± she said. ¡°First we have to decide what to do about Elpida¡¯s band of degenerates, and their tank.¡±

    Kuro spoke from inside her armour, a high-pitched garble of static: ¡°Can¡¯t do anything about them.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Cantrelle grunted, trying to think, looking down the sights of her gun. It was so difficult to form coherent thoughts beneath the pounding noise of the storm beyond the tomb. She looked up at Yola¡¯s face and pictured her tears; that cleared her head. ¡°We¡¯ve lost all the heavy weaponry except what you¡¯ve got built into your armour, Kuro. We can¡¯t mount an effective attack on them physically. We can¡¯t scratch that tank. Fuck.¡±

    Yola cleared her throat gently. ¡°Why must we assault them? Surely we can simply stay out of the way, avoid contact, and go unnoticed.¡±

    Cantrelle sighed at Yola¡¯s idiocy ¡ª but she didn¡¯t snap. This was her little lamb, true and real. An empty-headed fool. A holy vector.

    Cantrelle said, ¡°What do you think she¡¯s doing, Yola? Why do you think she¡¯s handing out corpses to any random zombie who shows up?¡±

    Yola wet her lips. ¡°To buy their allegiance.¡±

    Cantrelle nodded. ¡°Right. Good girl, well done. Yes, she¡¯s growing the size of her group. Buying pawns and ablative meat, with meat.¡± Cantrelle snorted. ¡°How ironic. Meat for meat.¡±

    Yola frowned delicately. ¡°Whatever for? What task will she use them for?¡±

    ¡°To finish off her enemies.¡±

    Kuro crackled: ¡°Us.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Yola. She blinked several times, batting those dark lashes, then fell silent. She looked so regal and contemplative, as if her strategic genius mind was chewing on the problem, but Cantrelle knew that head was almost empty. Cantrelle stared off at the archway into the rest of the tomb, listening to the storm. Maybe if she¡ª

    Yola spoke again. ¡°May we not take advantage of this situation, as other revenants have done so?¡±

    ¡°Pointless,¡± Kuro squeaked.

    ¡°Quite,¡± Cantrelle drawled, returning her gaze to glare at Yola. ¡°We¡¯d be seen and known ¡ª not least by Elpida and her arch-degenerates. If the apostate is still with them, it¡¯ll be even worse. Ooni will know us instantly. If they haven¡¯t eaten her already. We¡¯ll be noted, hunted down, and wiped out. We need other options, other ideas.¡±

    ¡°The tomb,¡± Kuro said, voice full of static.

    ¡°What?¡± Cantrelle snapped.

    ¡°The tomb itself,¡± said the big dumb giant. ¡°Full of secrets. Astrometrics. Communications hubs. Topographical maps. Other stuff. We might find something good.¡±

    Cantrelle frowned with sudden sharp concern.

    Kuro had been showing more intelligence and initiative since the shattering of The Sisterhood, as if regular playtime with Yola had been draining her already residual intelligence. She had spent some time exploring and patrolling the nearby rooms, dragging pairs of the other Sisters along with her, and also carefully checking the tomb¡¯s armoury ¡ª already stripped by Elpida¡¯s group. Cantrelle had assumed she was trying to be helpful, but this new level of comprehension was potentially dangerous. She wished Kuro would open her armour so Cantrelle could read her expressions.

    ¡°We lack the technical skills for that,¡± Cantrelle said carefully. She sighed and raised her eyes to the ceiling, dripping with shadows, echoing with distant rain. ¡°And therein lies our answer. There may be others in the tomb, others formerly of The Sisterhood, who also made it in here before this blasted storm hit. We may be able to make contact. We need to grow our numbers again. But we¡¯ll need meat in the meantime, that much is true. Perhaps we can steal it rather than beg.¡±

    ¡°Ella,¡± said Yolanda. ¡°We should take advantage of this.¡±

    Cantrelle sighed and glared at Yola again. ¡°Stop repeating yourself. The idea has already been¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ella,¡± she hissed. ¡°I want to be useful, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Be quiet.¡±

    <

    > Yola sent. A non-verbal systems ping. The old cry for help.

    Cantrelle was stunned into silence.

    Yola followed up: <<You¡¯re not listening, Ella!>>

    Cantrelle blinked. That was true defiance. Yola needed more than discipline, she needed reminding. Cantrelle steeled herself for the task once the others were asleep.

    Yola must have taken Cantrelle¡¯s shock for acquiescence. She hurried on, hissing words into the darkness.

    ¡°Ella, we should take advantage of this opening. What if we disrupt the process, disrupt their sharing and redistributing of meat? And I don¡¯t just mean disrupt the physical process ¡ª I mean disrupt the very fabric of what El¡ª¡± She caught herself, gulped with a touch of fear in her eyes, then carried on. ¡°Of what the degenerate is trying to achieve. Don¡¯t you remember all the things she said when we held her captive? She holds to this very specific nonsense and foolishness. What if we could show that it was foolish nonsense? Not just to her, but to those whose hungry mouths she is feeding with lies?¡±

    Yola¡¯s emerald eyes burned with a light Cantrelle had not seen in a very long time.

    ¡°Disrupt it?¡± Cantrelle said slowly. ¡°With that tank on overwatch? We¡¯d never get anywhere near them. What exactly are you suggesting, Yolanda?¡±

    Yola began to smile. ¡°We use a pawn.¡±

    ¡°A hostage? They¡¯d blow right through a hostage, Yola. Don¡¯t be stupid.¡±

    Yola¡¯s smile blossomed. ¡°What if we want them to?¡±

    A shiver went up Cantrelle¡¯s spine.

    She hadn¡¯t seen Yola this way in forever ¡ª a clever little nightmare with a dark plan and a taste for cruelty. For the first time in far too long, she knew exactly what was Yola was thinking.

    ¡°Yolanda?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Ella?¡±

    ¡°Are you thinking what I assume you are?¡±

    Yola bit her lower lip.

    Yola the Prophetess had never bitten her lower lip. Yola the Prophetess had never cried or shivered or moaned beneath Cantrelle¡¯s hands. This Yola was Cantrelle¡¯s Yola, the one she had been trying to coax back out for much longer than the last few weeks of desperation. This was Yola¡¯s initiative, Yola¡¯s idea, Yola¡¯s pretty little mind finally slipping into gear, oiled and warmed by Cantrelle¡¯s hands.

    Cantrelle spoke into the comms network: <<Cerybe, Francka, over here.>>

    On the other side of the room, two Sisters clambered to their feet and walked over to the throne. Cantrelle glanced up at Cer and Franny. Both of them were a mess, wearing patchwork bits of armour carapace, carrying guns strapped over their backs. Cerybe had long blonde hair tied in a braided ponytail. Franny was grey and ragged with some kind of attempt to grow herself iron-impregnated skin.

    These two had been responsible for preserving most of the supplies which The Sisterhood now possessed. They were capable and cautious and knew when to play it safe. They were survivors, and they took orders well.

    Cantrelle said, ¡°Both of you are going to strip off any parts of your armour or clothing which shows our symbol. No skulls. Understand?¡±

    Cer raised her eyebrows.

    Franny shrugged. ¡°Okay, sure. What for? We doing some covert ops shit?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Cantrelle. ¡°You two are going to request a corpse from the degenerates. Pretend you¡¯ve never heard of the Death¡¯s Heads before. Take the body cam we have, and keep your radios open. We need as much information about their process as we can get. We need to understand their procedures, how they¡¯re sharing out the meat, who they have in the open, all of it. Take note of how many revenants there are in that room, their positions, how well-armed they are, and so on. I want details, details, details.¡±

    Cerybe pulled a grin. ¡°We eating in or taking out?¡±

    Cantrelle snorted. ¡°Bring the corpse back here. We¡¯ll partition it out. But that¡¯s not the purpose of this operation.¡±

    ¡°Right, right, understood,¡± said Francka. ¡°So what¡¯s step two?¡±

    Yola spoke before Cantrelle could answer. ¡°You won¡¯t be responsible for that part.¡±

    Cantrelle glanced back at her. ¡°We¡¯re going to need a ¡®volunteer¡¯ for the follow up. Yola, do you have a plan for that?¡±

    Yola wet her lips with a flicker of tongue. ¡°How about little Puk?¡±

    Cantrelle shook her head. ¡°No, too dangerous. She¡¯s too experienced, too well protected. We need a freshie, a fool, somebody scared.¡±

    Yola shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can rustle that up.¡±

    Kuro squawked through her cloud of static: ¡°I will.¡±

    Cantrelle nodded. A dark grin grew on her face. ¡°We¡¯ll need all the explosives we can muster. Cer, how much do we have?¡±

    Cerybe blew out a breath. ¡°I haven¡¯t taken stock in a while. Grenades, plastics, enough to make a pretty big boom. But I doubt it¡¯s enough to punch through the side of that tank. Canny, that ain¡¯t gonna work.¡±

    Yola smiled wider. ¡°That is more than enough. We are not aiming for the tank, after all. We also need metal, a welding tool, and radio equipment enough for remote detonation. A timer would be acceptable, but remote would be better. Something that can¡¯t be jammed, either. Can we do all that, Cerybe, my dear expert?¡±

    Cerybe frowned, then raised her eyebrows in realisation. ¡°Uh, yeah. Yeah we can, boss.¡±

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Francka said slowly. ¡°What have you cooked up, Canny?¡±

    Cantrelle felt a grin rip across her face. ¡°Not me. This plan is Yolanda¡¯s baby.¡±

    Yola beamed ¡ª at her subordinates, then at Cantrelle.

    Cantrelle¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Yola was only usually this beautiful when she was crying.

    ¡°Our baby, I think,¡± Yola said. ¡°Now, Ella, Kuro, let¡¯s go find us a ¡®volunteer¡¯.¡±

 tempestas - 12.10

    Ooni followed her orders with all her martial diligence; she kept her eyes open, her head up, and her gun down.

    The first order was easy, but the second and third were much more difficult. Even as a beneficiary of more protection and comradeship than she had ever experienced before, Ooni still wanted to run away.

    But she didn¡¯t. Trust and faith kept her at her post. She would not betray the Commander, nor let her down.

    Ooni was out on Pheiri¡¯s exterior deck, sitting on a long white whorl of bone-armour, peering over the low wall of knots and humps and the crest of frozen waves, down the front of his hull. This makeshift parapet of Pheiri¡¯s armour was infinitely more secure than the sharpened wooden stakes of any fort Ooni had seen in true life ¡ª though her memories of those were thin and grey. The designated observation post on Pheiri¡¯s back was placed as far forward as possible, less than a foot from where the armour began to slope down to the ground in a long skirt of white bone, punctuated by weapons and pin-hole lights, terminating in Pheiri¡¯s great articulated forward ram-prow. Pheiri¡¯s main gun loomed overhead, casting distended shadows across the deck amid the blood-red backwash of his floodlights. The bulk of the turret formed a reassuring presence to Ooni¡¯s rear, and offered superior cover in case the worst should happen. To the left and right, Pheiri¡¯s many weapon emplacements rose from the hull like a forest of bone-encrusted stalagmites. Autocannons tracked slowly back and forth like flowers in a breeze, their mechanisms whirring far beneath Pheiri¡¯s skin; point-defence guns stood erect and ready for use, almost quivering against the blood-red shadows; missile pods lay sleeping with one eye open; flame-throwers and chemical-discharge nozzles pointed down the sides of Pheiri¡¯s hull, highlighted in bright and burning red, so that none would tempt their use.

    Ooni herself was also clad in armour. She wore plates of grey-black carapace and bulletproof equipment taken from the tomb armoury ¡ª a helmet, a gorget, and a long bulletproof vest with additional protection for her groin and thighs. A comms headset was nestled beneath the helmet, her link with the cockpit and with Pheiri himself. A pair of tough and flexible gloves encased her hands. Fresh boots on her feet lent her stability. She was warm and dry and secure.

    Despite all that effort, Ooni still felt terrified.

    Beyond the vantage point up on Pheiri¡¯s armour ¡ª beyond the blood-red pool of illumination which frilled his skirts and spilled onto the floor, beyond the thirty-feet of buffer zone, beyond the picket line of Kagami¡¯s heavy drones twinkling with bright warning lights ¡ª the tomb chamber was full of zombies.

    All of them were armed, most of them were eating, and many of them were casting occasional glances in Ooni¡¯s general direction. She knew their interest was not in her; who gave a damn about some random revenant, next to the spectacle of Pheiri? He was the force keeping them all honest. His guns kept them from each other¡¯s throats. His power kept the peace. Ooni was irrelevant.

    But the sight of so many revenants out in the open made Ooni¡¯s heart race, made her throat constrict, and her mouth go dry.

    Every kind of revenant was represented in the chamber by then ¡ª except perhaps the most extreme of predatory cyborgs. Ooni¡¯s orders did not include keeping headcount, but she had attempted one anyway, to keep herself alert and aware. She had given up over an hour ago, though no additional zombies had arrived in the last thirty minutes or so.

    Long-limbed and sharp-clawed successful scavengers sat in a ring, ripping handfuls of meat off a donated corpse ¡ª only a dozen feet from a terrified, wide-eyed huddle of borderline freshies, carefully cutting strips of dead flesh from their own meal. Statues in powered armour watched over their less well-equipped companions, doffing their helmets to partake of the meat only when convinced this unnatural truce was holding steady. Heavily modified bionic chimeras settled down on four or six or even more legs, folding back shimmering plates of armour and glistening beetle carapace, lowering stingers and lances and electric prods, allowing their mounted companions to step to the ground to accept the bounty of blood-rich flesh. Blind and twitching predators swayed back and forth in silent communion with each other, spooking those who were unlucky enough to find themselves as temporary neighbours. Girls grown large claimed more space for their own groups, vying with others in a silent conflict where neither could risk a bullet or a blade, not beneath Pheiri¡¯s unwavering gaze.

    Some groups sat with their collective backs to the black metal walls, weapons armed and ready even as they ate one-handed; others slumped where they had staggered and fallen, in exhaustion and starvation ¡ª or perhaps in wordless awestruck relief, now gorging themselves on the Commander¡¯s gift. Some sat in circles, others faced outward with their backs together; a few cared not to rest their legs, wandering in a daze, or stalking in the habit of predation, even if they dared not strike at unprotected bellies. A few of the most fresh and bewildered stared about with open mouths. Singlets sat alone, struck dumb and terrified even as they ate their ration of severed limbs; some of them were beginning to gravitate toward each other. Some of the more confident ¡ª or more exhausted ¡ª had nodded off; Ooni counted four of those, at her last attempt.

    The two far corners of the chamber were occupied by the most paranoid and sceptical. One was a group of heavily-armed, highly-developed, experienced tomb-raiders, all of them clad in high-end gear ripped from the guts of so many tombs, sporting plasma rifles and articulated servo-arms and body-locked powered armour; they had accepted the gift of meat without thanks, retreated with weapons drawn, then spent several minutes throwing hostile active scans at Pheiri. That had ended when Pheiri had grazed their leader¡¯s helmet with a single round from one of his point-defence cannons; Kagami had shouted over external loudspeakers to prevent that turning into a general panic. The other corner was occupied by a seven-strong group-mind of identical girls in long robes; Pheiri¡¯s own scans had shown the girls weren¡¯t truly identical, but had undergone ¡ª or were currently undergoing ¡ª nanomachine self-modification toward the same ideal of silver hair and flawless white skin and sharply pointed features. They didn¡¯t seem to carry any weapons except short blades made of light-drinking steel. Everyone gave them a very wide berth. They had accepted their share of the meat with wordless silence.

    A few groups sat very close to the outer picket-line of Kagami¡¯s drones ¡ª both the very boldest and the most afraid.

    Several of the latter groups had stuck around and settled in after they¡¯d finished eating, finally allowed to relax their hypervigilance beneath the watchful firepower of Pheiri¡¯s guns. With the constant terror abated for the first time in their undead afterlives, some of those bottom-feeder unfortunates were beginning to talk to each other. Different groups were mingling. Singlets were drifting in, finding they were not so alone. The fear was breaking down.

    That had brought a smile of triumph to the Commander¡¯s face. Ooni had felt her own chest fill with pride. She¡¯d helped make this happen.

    The former groups were not so gratifying.

    Only two of those extra-bold packs were lurking close to Pheiri. One of them was standing all the way over to the right, every single revenant staring at the open larder of additional corpses still laid out on the floor, toothy jaws hanging open, clawed hands flexing with need. The ¡®larder¡¯ was guarded by a double-thick duty of Kagami¡¯s drones, and marked off by a series of blood-red lines projected onto the floor from Pheiri¡¯s lights, complete with a big red warning ¡®X¡¯ and a battery of auto-cannons pointed at the final step before the corpses.

    That group was at least predictable ¡ª hungry and greedy, not genuinely dangerous. Pheiri had been forced to flash warning lights at them twice so far, but they just backed up and made rude gestures at him. The second of the bold groups was much more worrying ¡ª they were sprawled within ten feet of the picket line, directly in front of Pheiri, watching his hull with sullen eyes. Their leader was an eight-foot slab of cyborg metal, festooned with guns, her girls armed with heavy weaponry and twitchy point-defence equipment of their own, mounted on shoulder racks and portable back braces.

    That leader had spent the last fifteen minutes arguing with the Commander. Ooni couldn¡¯t hear the words over the roar and crash of the storm outside, but she could see the jutting jaw and bared teeth and threatening gestures. How the Commander stood down there so serene and calm, Ooni could not understand. How she didn¡¯t let Ilyusha or Hafina tear into the cyborg bully, Ooni would never comprehend. But there was much Ooni did not comprehend; she knew the Commander was right.

    Still, Ooni couldn¡¯t bear the roiling in her guts.

    Everything she had learned during her long years among the Death¡¯s Heads told her this situation was volatile beyond belief. All these zombies in one place would erupt into violence sooner or later, even if just to establish a pecking order of cannibalistic opportunity ¡ª probably sooner, probably at some tiny slight or a moment of underfed hunger or an imagined flicker of hostility. Every instinct told Ooni to flee, get back down inside Pheiri, and hide from the carnage that must logically unfold. Her headset was quiet ¡ª nobody spoke to her very much ¡ª but at any moment she could whisper a plea to Pheiri himself to unlock the top hatch and admit her back inside. She could abandon her post and stumble away and slip back down into her bunk, and Pheiri would never judge or reject her for that. Worse ¡ª neither would the Commander. Elpida, in all her grace and wisdom, would not chastise Ooni for any depth of cowardice, as long as Ooni kept the faith. Ooni could run, and it would cost her nothing.

    But she didn¡¯t.

    Ooni stayed at her post, because the Commander had given her orders, and Ooni wanted to be a good girl. She wanted to be useful. She wanted to be true. She wanted to be worthy of the symbol she wore.

    The symbol daubed on the chest of her bulletproof vest helped more than the armour itself ¡ª a crescent intersected by a pair of lines, like a great spire silhouetted against a verdant moon. The symbol of Telokopolis.

    Elpida had drawn that herself, with a stick of green camo paint. At first Ooni had tried to refuse ¡ª she didn¡¯t feel worthy of that, not yet, not her, not when she had not proven herself worthy of anything ¡ª but Elpida had not given her a choice. Everyone else who ventured beyond Pheiri¡¯s armour also wore the symbol. The Commander had clapped Ooni on the shoulders and told her that she was no exception.

    Telokopolis rejects nobody, she had said. You¡¯re one of us now, Ooni. You¡¯re one of my girls, one of my cadre, and you¡¯ve accepted a place within Telokopolis. If you won¡¯t draw it yourself, I¡¯ll do it for you.

    The submachine gun laid across her knees also helped.

    Ooni kept her hands on the weapon, burning nervous energy by running her fingers over the cold metal and smooth polymer. This was the first time she¡¯d been allowed a loaded gun since the Commander had claimed her for Telokopolis, since the Commander had washed clean her Death¡¯s Head past. Not that Ooni couldn¡¯t have taken a gun for herself at any time, but she simply never had. She had received this weapon from the Commander¡¯s own hands, and that was what mattered.

    Ooni was not going to let Elpida down.

    ¡°You sure you¡¯re still up for this?¡± asked Victoria.

    Ooni almost flinched.

    Victoria was sat to Ooni¡¯s left, far enough for legroom, close enough to bundle each other to the floor if one of the zombies down below started shooting. Victoria hadn¡¯t said anything for the last fifteen minutes, too focused on the Commander and the Cyborg down at the picket line. She seemed so much more relaxed than Ooni felt; Victoria lounged in that heavy armour, her grenade launcher resting easily on a lip of bone-white armour. Victoria looked like a real guard, on real watch, with real courage. Victoria was entirely worthy of the crescent-and-double-line daubed on the chest of her own armour.

    Ooni nodded. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ yes, thank you. I¡¯m holding up fine. I can do this.¡±

    Victoria eyed her for a long moment, expression hard to read between gorget and helmet. ¡°You sure? You¡¯re sweating, it¡¯s on your face. You look jumpy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ fine. I don¡¯t need to go back. The Commander said two hours. We¡¯re not done. Not yet.¡±

    Victoria sighed, then offered Ooni her cannister of water; Ooni politely refused, so Victoria shrugged and took a long swig herself, then said: ¡°If you say so. Look, the best thing to do on this kind of job is just don¡¯t think about it too much. You don¡¯t need perfect vigilance, that¡¯s why you¡¯re not alone up here. And hell, you don¡¯t need vigilance at all. We¡¯re just for show. Pheiri¡¯s a better spotter than all of the rest of us combined. And he doesn¡¯t get distracted.¡±

    ¡°I suppose so,¡± Ooni said. The notion of letting her attention lapse made her uncomfortable.

    ¡°We can swap you out any time you like, you know? No shame in it, Ooni. We don¡¯t even have to be up here, after all. We¡¯re just for show, like Elpi said, to put the human face on all this.¡± Victoria nodded out at the chamber. ¡°They know that too. Nobody cares about us up here, trust me. They¡¯re all ogling Pheiri.¡±

    Ooni nodded along, smiled politely, and said nothing.

    Victoria was Elpida¡¯s second in command. Victoria was a favourite of Kagami, and of Pheiri, and well-regarded by both Ilyusha and Amina, both of whom still terrified Ooni. Victoria even got on with Leuca, and had a good ¡ª though awkward ¡ª rapport with Serin. Atyle, well, she didn¡¯t get on with anybody. Melyn and Hafina were hard to understand, but Melyn seemed to like Victoria. Everybody liked Victoria. Ooni was not about to argue with her.

    To be fair to Victoria, Ooni quite liked her too, because she was a comrade.

    Ooni had never really felt like this before. Sitting beside a Sister in the Death¡¯s Heads was a dangerous affair, unless one had somebody else to shoot at or mock or insult. In the Death¡¯s Heads Ooni had to worry if the Sister at her shoulder was going to put a knife in her back ¡ª if not literally, then socially. Mockery was a slippery slope to being abused. A joke at one¡¯s expense was a dangerous price. Constant vigilance was essential to survival.

    But here, despite Victoria¡¯s obvious lack of faith in Ooni, she wasn¡¯t going to cuff Ooni over the back of the head, or pull seniority to have her do something degrading, or loudly insinuate that Ooni should be dismembered and eaten as a weakling.

    Ooni felt secure, in a way she could barely remember since true life.

    ¡°The show is doubly important,¡± said a cold and impassive voice from beyond Ooni¡¯s back, ¡°when the audience knows it is a show.¡±

    Ooni flinched. Victoria shuddered.

    Ooni couldn¡¯t help but glance back over her shoulder, though she knew exactly what was sitting behind her.

    Shilu ¡ª Necromancer, Corpse-Rapist, Monster, Central¡¯s Slave, Black-Iron-Scarecrow Nightmare-Thing ¡ª was sat cross-legged on the surface of Pheiri¡¯s hull, about ten feet back from the parapet.

    Shilu no longer looked like a giant walking torture device; she had re-assumed the disguise she had worn when the Commander and the others had first met her ¡ª soft brown skin, wide dark eyes, delicate facial features, and a long straight wave of glossy night-black hair. She was slender and slight and looked incapable of throwing a punch. No bionics or modifications, just baseline humanity. She wore clothes in addition to the lie ¡ª tomb-grown gear from the cadre¡¯s own stores, her petite form wrapped in grey beneath the comfort of an armoured coat.

    Ooni offered her a polite smile.

    Shilu stared back without expression. Ooni felt sweat prickle on her skin.

    ¡°Hey, hey,¡± Vicky hissed. She tapped Ooni¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Eyes forward. The big ¡®borg down there¡¯s all done, finally. Elpi¡¯s on her way back.¡±

    Ooni turned away from Shilu and straightened up; the earpiece of her comms headset crackled once, but remained silent. Kagami must be chattering with Victoria, but Ooni wasn¡¯t privy to that.

    Down at the edge of Pheiri¡¯s blood-red illumination, Elpida¡¯s away team was stepping back through the picket line of heavy drones. The discussion with the leader of the sullen band of heavily-armed zombies was concluded; the eight-foot cyborg was staring up at Pheiri with surly interest. Elpida¡¯s group made their way around Pheiri¡¯s side, beyond Ooni¡¯s line of sight.

    Vicky muttered into her headset: ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s right next to me. Yeah.¡± Then, louder: ¡°Ooni, trigger discipline. Those are our friends coming up.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Ooni said ¡ª and refrained from pointing out that she didn¡¯t even have her gun raised, let alone her finger on the trigger.

    Her headset crackled again. A low metallic rasp trickled into her ear ¡ª Serin.

    ¡°Don¡¯t take offence, convert. They trust you. But not your judgement.¡±

    Ooni broke out in a cold sweat. Serin never spoke with her; Serin terrified her. Serin was an open Wrecker and Murderer, and a skilled one at that, the kind of assassin and hunter that would have killed her on the spot if she¡¯d remained a Death¡¯s Head.

    Then again, Ooni was a Wrecker and Murderer too now, as far as her former Sisters were concerned.

    When she didn¡¯t reply, Serin¡¯s voice rasped again. ¡°Wondering how I can see?¡± Serin asked. ¡°Because I¡¯ve got one eye on you.¡±

    Ooni swallowed. She glanced sideways, but Vicky wasn¡¯t reacting. That broadcast had been just for Ooni. She knew Serin was nestled down in a hollow on the front of Pheiri¡¯s armour, watching the flock through her rifle¡¯s scope.

    She decided not to answer. She wore the same symbol as Serin now. Distrust did not matter, not to Telokopolis, not to the Commander.

    Several minutes passed with only the static of the storm-rain and the distant howling of the wind to break the silence. A hundred whispers rose from the shadows of the tomb chamber, washed with Pheiri¡¯s blood-red illumination, punctured by the sounds of chewing and the mash of meat between teeth, all but drowned in the storm beyond the tomb¡¯s walls. Ooni strained her ears to hear the subtle noises of Elpida and the others climbing the side of Pheiri¡¯s hull, but she couldn¡¯t make out anything.

    Ooni¡¯s headset crackled.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Commander to watch team,¡± said Elpida. ¡°Be advised, we¡¯re coming up on your left. Four strong. Count us off.¡±

    Victoria hissed back, ¡°Sure thing, Elpi.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Commander,¡± Ooni added.

    Victoria and Ooni both looked to the left. Ooni didn¡¯t dare raise her gun, but Victoria shouldered her grenade launcher, aiming high, finger off the trigger, safety on.

    A few moments later the away team emerged from the gloom, striding out from amid the gnarled forest of Pheiri¡¯s secondary weapons and sponson-blisters and knots of bone-armour.

    Elpida led them, boots thumping against Pheiri¡¯s hull, submachine gun hanging loose at her waist. Ilyusha darted along at Elpida¡¯s side, sharp red claws going click-clack on the hull, massive black-red tail lashing back and forth, quick little head on a swivel, still keeping her ballistic shield raised as if a distant sniper might take a pot-shot at the Commander. Hafina strode behind, wearing her full complement of armour, head a beak-shaped helmet, shimmering like a pillar of reflective black oil; the Artificial Human was heavily armed enough to take out half the chamber by herself, and bowel-clenchingly tall. Last came Atyle, half-naked, sauntering along at the rear of the group, empty handed as usual.

    Vicky counted them off as they arrived and dropped into cover, eyeing the shadows behind them, keeping her grenade launcher high.

    Elpida fell into a loose crouch alongside Ooni and Victoria, her armoured coat pooling beneath her, followed by the long white waterfall of her hair. Hafina folded herself up, losing half her height as limbs retracted and guns tucked close to her multi-armed body, assuming a low and simian squat. Ilyusha scurried forward to grip the edge of the parapet with her claws, shotgun stowed, shield held high to cover Elpida, her leaden grey eyes peering down at the room full of zombies. Atyle stopped a few feet from Shilu, standing tall, eyes elsewhere.

    Ooni attempted to copy Victoria¡¯s strict attention, but she couldn¡¯t keep her eyes off her new comrades. Everyone ¡ª with the exception of Shilu ¡ª wore the same green-crescent and double-line symbol. Everyone wore the symbol of Telokopolis now.

    In the past, wearing the grinning skull of the Death¡¯s Heads had made Ooni feel powerful. Even when the Sisters had been eating each other, even when Ooni had found herself at the bottom of the hierarchy, always at threat of being used for somebody else¡¯s amusement, that skull on her flesh and her armour had sent bottom-feeders running and experienced zombies fleeing in fear. The Death¡¯s Head skull had been a statement that she was not to be fucked with.

    But the symbol of Telokopolis filled Ooni¡¯s heart with clean pride.

    Elpida clapped Vicky on the shoulder, then did the same for Ooni. ¡°At ease, both of you,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re doing a very good job up here. Well done.¡±

    Ooni nodded and tried to say ¡®Thank you, Commander¡¯, but managed only a little ¡°Mm!¡±

    Vicky lowered her grenade launcher. ¡°You¡¯re sure you weren¡¯t followed, Elpi? Absolutely certain? ¡®Cos if even one of those zombies down there slips through¡ª¡±

    A voice crackled in Ooni¡¯s headset ¡ª in all the headsets. Kagami snapped: ¡°I have eyes in every drone, thank you. We¡¯re perfectly secure, despite the utter insanity of playing loaves and fishes with human meat. Drop the paranoia, Victoria. I have more than enough for all of us, remember?¡±

    Victoria sighed. Elpida cracked a knowing smile. Ilyusha hissed a nasty little snort ¡ª and shot a lead-eyed look back at Ooni, full of suspicion and spite.

    Ooni tried to smile back; Ilyusha hissed and looked away.

    Another headset crackle, but Ooni heard no words. Elpida spoke into her microphone: ¡°Negative, we¡¯re not withdrawing just yet. I want eyes on the chamber for a while longer. Keep the hatch locked for now. Mmhmm. One question for Pheiri: what¡¯s Iriko¡¯s current location?¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice replied. ¡°Right where we left her. Still digesting, if we¡¯re lucky.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Kaga,¡± Elpida said.

    Silence settled over the forward watch post, broken by the wrath and rage of the storm. Elpida peered out at the zombies below, eating precious meat by the handful.

    ¡°So,¡± Vicky said, nodding over the parapet, down at the group Elpida had been speaking with. ¡°What did tall dark and encrusted with metal want with you?¡±

    Elpida raised her eyebrows. ¡°The leader of that group?¡±

    Atyle spoke up. ¡°Tell them her name, Commander. It is such a glorious name.¡±

    Elpida smiled a bit too wide. Ilyusha snorted something which might have been a laugh.

    ¡°Her name,¡± said Elpida, ¡°is Persephone The Magnificent And Most Merciful. She has about a dozen other titles, but we only got the full string once. She was very insistent on the first couple, though. She won¡¯t acknowledge any words addressed to any mere ¡®Persephone¡¯.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice crackled across the comms again, dripping with sarcasm. ¡°As is her right.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s eyebrows drew together with confusion. Ooni said nothing, fascinated by this exchange.

    Elpida explained. ¡°Persephone The Magnificent And Most Merciful, etcetera etcetera, claims to have lived her true life in a ¡®space station¡¯. I have no way of verifying that, but ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Vicky grunted. ¡°What is this, Kaga, spacer solidarity?¡±

    If Kagami replied, the reply was not for Ooni.

    Elpida went on. ¡°As for what she wants, she¡¯s requested a tour inside Pheiri.¡±

    Vicky¡¯s eyebrows shot up, eyes going wide. She glanced back down at the tomb chamber floor. Ooni frowned with instant disapproval, try as she might to keep the look off her face. Ilyusha¡¯s tail lashed back and forth. Even Shilu made a noise, a little ¡®hmm¡¯.

    Ooni said, ¡°C-Commander¡ª¡±

    Vicky interrupted. ¡°You can¡¯t seriously be entertaining that request, Elpi. Fuck no.¡±

    Elpida grinned ¡ª Howl, grinning through her face. Howl said: ¡°On conditions. Stripped of guns, stripped of armour, buck fucking naked, and muzzled.¡±

    Vicky chuckled, low and dark, laughter lost in the rainstorm static. Ilyusha grinned without looking up. Ooni let out a nervous laugh. Atyle said, ¡°As the day she was born.¡±

    Elpida blinked, and was herself again. ¡°She is seriously considering the offer.¡±

    Vicky stopped, no longer amused. ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡±

    ¡°No joke.¡±

    Vicky let out a low whistle. Ilyusha made a growling noise which made Ooni flinch. Hafina adjusted uncomfortably, as if stretching her folded-up limbs.

    Ooni wanted to ask so many questions ¡ª would Elpida allow such a thing, was that wise, would it be safe? What precautions would they need to take? What if the ¡®tour¡¯ went wrong? What were the cyborg¡¯s stated motivations, and what were her true motivations? Was Elpida suggesting they trust this unknown, or merely entertaining the notion for a lark?

    But Ooni kept her mouth shut. She did not want to draw the ire of the others ¡ª and she knew that by not speaking, she was not putting herself in danger. In the Death¡¯s Heads she had to show her own initiative at every turn, fawning on superiors or dominating those beneath her. But the symbol of Telokopolis on her chest did not compel her to speak. She did not have to worry about others considering her an easy target if she did not contribute.

    ¡°And before any of you ask,¡± Elpida went on, ¡°it¡¯s not my decision to make. It¡¯s up to Pheiri, and possibly Mel and Haf.¡±

    Vicky said: ¡°Is that what you told, uh, ¡®Persephone¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm. For now.¡±

    Vicky puffed a doubtful sigh and leaned over the parapet again, peering down at the big sullen cyborg below. ¡°Hell, Elpi, I¡¯d love to get that whole group disarmed. Half their big guns look like anti-armour equipment to my eyes. I spot at least three things down there which could put a hole the size of a bathtub in Pheiri¡¯s face. And Persephone herself, you see those tube structures strapped to her back? Either those are top-attack ATGM launchers or I¡¯m a sailor. She could hit this watch post from down there, let alone Pheiri.¡±

    ¡°Unnn!¡± Ilyusha added, swishing her spike-tipped tail back and forth.

    ¡°Vicky,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Relax. Pheiri can flash-start his shields faster than any of them can take aim.¡±

    ¡°Still, Commander,¡± Victoria said. ¡°I don¡¯t like the look of them. And I don¡¯t like the idea of her anywhere near me.¡±

    Shilu spoke, from ten feet behind everyone else.

    ¡°You may have to accept allies you find distasteful, if they accept your coin.¡±

    Ooni could not read the glance with which Elpida regarded Shilu; she recognised curiosity, caution, hard-eyed challenge ¡ª and deep fascination.

    Shilu did not elaborate. The others regarded her with wary suspicion, open hostility, or blank-faced stares.

    The Necromancer and the Commander had been engaged in conversation about Telokopolis, when they had been interrupted by the arrival of the first zombies looking for a handout of fresh meat. They had broken off mid-debate, and had allowed Shilu up onto Pheiri¡¯s hull. The Commander had spent the last few hours handing out corpses, attempting to speak with as many of the groups of zombies as she could, and showing her physical presence among them. Pheiri¡¯s guns kept the peace, but Elpida¡¯s face was the one above the crescent-and-line symbol daubed on her t-shirt.

    Ooni had not seen the debate with her own eyes, but she had heard all the details from Leuca and the others; news travelled fast inside Pheiri.

    Elpida turned back to Victoria. ¡°Vicky, how many revenants do we have in the chamber now, please?¡±

    ¡°Sixty three,¡± Vicky said, then paused. ¡°Kaga says Pheiri agrees on the count.¡±

    ¡°How many of them left before eating?¡±

    ¡°Fifteen.¡±

    ¡°And how many left after eating?¡±

    ¡°Without returning? Seven.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°How many corpses do we have left in the pile?¡±

    A reply came across the headsets. Kagami said: ¡°Seventeen. Not including the ones on board, for our personal use. Do not dip into that, Commander. We need those.¡±

    Elpida broke into a smile. ¡°Understood, Kagami.¡±

    The Commander straightened up out of her crouch, stepped forward, and planted one boot on the parapet, looking out across the chamber. Her long white hair caught the backwash from Pheiri¡¯s blood-red floodlights, visible from even the furthest corners of the room. Purple eyes seemed to glow in the dark, set in that golden-copper skin. Every zombie out there would see her standing tall on Pheiri¡¯s hull, see the symbol on her chest, and know this bounty of meat had come from the Commander¡¯s hands.

    Ilyusha swished her tail, claws flexing in and out, then wrapped the appendage around Elpida¡¯s leg. She did her best to cover Elpida with the ballistic shield.

    ¡°Those are very good numbers,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Better than I had hoped.¡±

    Ooni felt her heart fill with pride.

    Shilu said: ¡°This doesn¡¯t scale.¡±

    Ilyusha looked back with venom in her eyes. Ooni felt herself bristle.

    But Victoria spoke up before anybody could take offence. ¡°She¡¯s, uh, she¡¯s got a point, Elpi,¡± Victoria said. ¡°We can¡¯t sustain this for more than another two to three days, at most. We¡¯ve been handing out minimal rations, sure, but we¡¯re gonna run out eventually. Kaga had a point with her loaves and fishes thing, we can¡¯t just magic up more meat. When we run out, those girls out there are gonna get hungry. And then they¡¯ll start tearing into each other again.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elpida said. ¡°They will.¡±

    Ooni¡¯s heart curdled. ¡°Commander?¡± she whimpered.

    ¡°Shilu is correct,¡± Elpida said, still gazing out across the chamber. ¡°In its current form, this technique does not scale. We cannot stop these revenants from attacking each other again when the food runs out. That is sadly inevitable. I have to accept that. We all have to accept that. There is nothing we can do, not yet, not until the meat-plant project bears fruit.¡± Elpida drew in a deep breath. ¡°But they¡¯ll remember this.¡±

    Ooni shivered. Ooni knew, once again, why Leuca had decided to follow this woman.

    Ooni knew, deep in her heart, that she should feel terribly jealous and spiteful toward Elpida the woman, however she felt about Elpida the Commander. Leuca ¡ª Ooni¡¯s beloved, Ooni¡¯s one and only, the girl who Ooni would cross any abyss of time to find again ¡ª drank blood from this woman¡¯s hand, like a hound at her ankles. Ooni knew that Leuca and Elpida had shared something special, something that Ooni¡¯s mouth on Leuca¡¯s cunt could never quite replicate, however often she tried. But Ooni understood. When Elpida spoke, Ooni heard truth and clarity.

    Shilu interrupted Ooni¡¯s clean thoughts, dragging her back down into the shadows of the tomb.

    ¡°What are you trying to achieve here, Telokopolan?¡± said Shilu.

    Elpida let out a sigh, almost contented, and finally climbed back down from the edge of the parapet. She turned around and squatted opposite Shilu, staring back into the wide, dark eyes of the Necromancer¡¯s disguise. Ilyusha followed, hovering about Elpida like a dog waiting for the command to bite.

    Elpida said, ¡°What do you think I¡¯m doing, Shilu?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Enlighten me.¡±

    Victoria hissed, ¡°Couldn¡¯t we all have this conversation indoors, you know? Talk politics inside Pheiri¡¯s hull, perhaps?¡±

    Elpida answered without looking up. ¡°I need to be here if any additional zombies arrive. Vicky, I need your eyes for that. Shilu and I are just passing the time on watch, that¡¯s all.¡±

    Vicky let out a big sigh. ¡°Fair enough. You good too, Ooni?¡±

    Ooni almost flinched again, surprised to be addressed. ¡°Y-yes. Yes, I¡¯m good. Thank you. Yes.¡±

    Elpida was speaking; Ooni wanted to listen.

    ¡°I¡¯m sowing seeds, Shilu,¡± Elpida was saying. ¡°I¡¯m sowing as many as I can. Some will wither, some will be eaten by animals, some will shrivel up for want of water. But some will sprout and grow, even if we can¡¯t see them, even if we can¡¯t sit in their shade for a very long time. Even if we never do.¡±

    Shilu sighed. A human expression finally crossed her face ¡ª mild irritation. ¡°Spare me the tortured metaphor.¡±

    Elpida laughed softly. ¡°Alright, my apologies. Every girl down there who¡¯s eating one of those corpses, she¡¯s eating a meal she hasn¡¯t had to kill for, a meal that she hasn¡¯t got to drag back into a hole lest some other scavengers take it from her. For some of them, that¡¯s the first time in a very long time they haven¡¯t had to fight to fill their bellies. For some it¡¯s the first peaceful meal since death. And those corpses, that meat, it doesn¡¯t come from an abstract place, it comes from me, and you, and the whole cadre, and Pheiri. It comes from Telokopolis. That¡¯s the message I¡¯ve been spreading down there.¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm,¡± Shilu grunted. ¡°And why do it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s what Telokopolis would do, so it¡¯s what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    ¡°Is it sustainable?¡± Shilu asked.

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not delusional. The only reason we can do any of this is because of Lykke¡¯s hounds, because she practically fed them to us. We¡¯re unlikely to have a windfall like this again. But like I said, every girl out there will remember this. It makes the next steps ¡ª months, or even years from now ¡ª that much easier.¡±

    Shilu closed her eyes briefly, as if thinking. Atyle tilted her head, as if she could see Shilu¡¯s thoughts. Shilu opened her eyes again; Ooni thought she looked rather tired.

    ¡°So,¡± Shilu said. ¡°You don¡¯t have a plan.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Ilyusha snapped. ¡°Reptile fuck!¡±

    Elpida raised a hand. ¡°Illy, it¡¯s okay. She¡¯s allowed to critique. And she¡¯s right. I don¡¯t have a specific plan, and I¡¯ve been completely open about that. What I¡¯m doing is creating as many opportunities and openings as possible. Some of them won¡¯t pan out, some will have to be abandoned, some ¡ª like feeding those fools who kept pinging Pheiri with their low-grade viruses ¡ª we¡¯re having to entertain just to show good will to others. But some of them will work, and we can pursue those in the future. Reinforce success, where we find it.¡±

    ¡°Interesting doctrine,¡± said Shilu.

    Elpida smiled. ¡°I was taught by the best.¡±

    ¡°And now you¡¯re applying that doctrine to change the world.¡±

    Elpida nodded slowly. ¡°I¡¯m trying to find the fulcrum on which the world can be turned. Can I change it? I don¡¯t know yet. But I know Telokopolis can.¡±

    ¡°By re-inventing agriculture,¡± Shilu said. ¡°Your meat-plants. Your little miracles. That¡¯s how you hope to scale this up, right?¡±

    Elpida puffed out a sigh. Vicky winced slowly. Ooni could hear the crackle of voices on the headsets, but whatever Kagami was saying was not for Ooni¡¯s ears.

    ¡°In theory,¡± Shilu answered for the cadre. ¡°All you have is theory.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°In theory. The plants are a challenge, and they¡¯re not ready yet. We can only do preliminary work for now. I want to tell as many zombies as I can, but¡ª¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice snapped over the comms. ¡°But you are fucking well overruled, Commander! None of it is ready! Telling them we can feed them now, it¡¯s a lie!¡±

    Elpida just smiled.

    ¡°No spreading the good news, then?¡± Shilu asked.

    ¡°There is none,¡± Elpida answered. ¡°Yet.¡±

    Shilu and Elpida both fell into silence for a moment, washed over by the distant sound of the terrible storm beyond the walls. Ooni glanced away, casting her eyes over the zombies assembled beyond Pheiri. Ilyusha kept going click-click-click with her claws on the hull. Hafina hummed a tuneless melody. Atyle stared up at the distant ceiling, lost in dripping shadows.

    Victoria cleared her throat, and said, ¡°Big Man economics.¡±

    When Ooni looked around, Victoria seemed almost bashful. The others were all staring at her.

    ¡°Please go on, Vicky,¡± said Elpida. ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    Victoria cleared her throat again. She seemed to be having trouble meeting anybody¡¯s eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a uh, theory term. I never did university or anything, never was really big on theory at all really, I wasn¡¯t good at it, but this is something I remember pretty well. The sort of thing the place I came from ¡ª the Great Lakes Republic, I mean ¡ª the sort of thing everybody knew. I think there¡¯s more accurate technical terms for it, too, but I¡¯m no good with those. ¡®Single-point resource centralisation¡¯. Something like that? But I always remember the ¡®Big Man¡¯ metaphor. Big Man Economics is when you have like, a local ¡®Big Man¡¯ ¡ª you know, somebody important, somebody with power, or a stand in for that, like a religious figure, or a institution, or maybe even something that isn¡¯t a person, like a ring of standing stones in some ancient world tribe, or ¡­ you ¡­ you get the idea, right? Is this making sense?¡±

    Ilyusha tapped Pheiri¡¯s hull with her claw-tips, and grunted, ¡°Uh huh!¡±

    Ooni was surprised; Ilyusha seemed absorbed.

    Vicky went on. ¡°Well, in those kinds of economies, everything goes through the Big Man. Everyone gives the Big Man their harvest, or their cattle, or whatever it is they make. And then the Big Man goes like ¡®hey, I don¡¯t need all this stuff, I¡¯m just one guy.¡¯ Or if the ¡®Big Man¡¯ is the gods or an idol, well, gods don¡¯t eat. So the Big Man parcels it out to everybody else. That way, everyone knows like, hey, that¡¯s the family who grows all the beans or whatever, that¡¯s the family who makes all the cheese, and so on and so on. Any disputes go through the Big Man, instead of with each other. The Big Man commands all the soldiers and warriors, so he keeps the peace. That¡¯s ¡­ kinda like how you¡¯re trying to act, Elpi. Like that¡¯s what you¡¯re trying to make us into. At least here. In this chamber. For a bit.¡±

    Silence fell, filled with rainstorm static.

    ¡°Palace economy,¡± said Shilu, and she did not sound impressed. ¡°You are describing a god-king palace economy.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Shilu?¡±

    ¡°Not only are you trying to reinvent agriculture,¡± Shilu said. ¡°You¡¯re reinventing the bronze age. That is far too slow and far too primitive for your aims.¡±

    Atyle smiled. ¡°Primitive is relative, faithless slave.¡±

    Vicky huffed. ¡°Well excuse me, Necromancer. Sorry for coming up with the best analogy I could think of. You got a better one?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Shilu.

    ¡°Huh!¡± Vicky laughed, rather unkindly. ¡°Well come on then, let¡¯s fucking hear it, you¡ª¡±

    Elpida raised a hand. ¡°Yes, Shilu. Let¡¯s hear it. I want your input. You¡¯ve got a much wider reference range than us. What are we getting wrong?¡±

    Shilu stared for a moment, as if trying to decide if the question was genuine.

    ¡°During my true life,¡± Shilu said eventually, ¡°in the place where I lived and died, there was an ancient political concept, about two thousand years old by the time I was born. It drifted in and out of fashion from one century to the next. I was never a very diligent student of history, so I can¡¯t remember the exact origin. This concept was called the ¡®mass line¡¯.¡±

    Victoria squinted, as if she understood a little of what Shilu referred to. Elpida gestured for Shilu to continue.

    Shilu said, ¡°This was a methodology for combining leadership and mass action. I¡¯m not a political philosopher, I can¡¯t explain the underpinnings. The basic form goes like this: you make a plan, a theory, and you are busy implementing it; while you do that, you need to ask those on whose behalf you are working what they think of the plan and the theory. You need to ask what they need, what are their concerns, what you can do better. Then you take those responses and use them as the fuel to improve the plan and the theory, as it is being implemented. This forms an endless cycle.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Right. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been doing, talking to the revenants down there.¡±

    ¡°Saying what?¡± Shilu said. ¡°Asking what?¡±

    ¡°If they¡¯re willing to stay in the chamber beneath Pheiri¡¯s guns, if they¡¯re willing to renounce infighting and predatory action, as long as there¡¯s a source of food. Telling them about Telokopolis, about the possibility of something different to all this.¡±

    Shilu shook her head. ¡°Go back down there and ask better questions, Telokopolan.¡±

    ¡°Like what? I¡¯m serious, Shilu, what are you trying to suggest?¡±

    Vicky cleared her throat. ¡°She means ask them what they need, not what they¡¯re willing to follow. I ¡­ I think.¡±

    Shilu leaned to one side, thinking. It was the most human gesture Ooni had seen from her yet.

    ¡°What will they do when the meat runs out?¡± Shilu said. ¡°Not as a rhetorical question, but a practical one. Ask them what they plan to do. Who will they attack? Who will they trust, after spending time in this chamber together? When this storm passes and this truce ends, will they follow Pheiri, and seek safety under his guns? Or will they run, because they suspect they¡¯re next? What do they want from us? What do they believe is possible? Do they trust your intentions? Do they think you will supply more meat? Do they believe you? How many of them know what ¡®Telokopolis¡¯ means now ¡ª and how many only think they know?¡± Shilu paused, as if done, but then surged on ahead, voice threatening real emotion in her urgency. ¡°There are several hundred zombies in this tomb right now, enduring unprecedented conditions. The storm has shocked them, created an opening for dialectical synthesis. You know this, but you¡¯re slow and cautious. You need to take that opening, before they turn back.¡±

    Ooni heard a crackle over the radio ¡ª Serin, laughing softly, rough and scratchy behind her metal mask. None of the others seemed to react. Another broadcast for Ooni alone?

    Elpida nodded slowly. ¡°And will you help me do that, Necromancer?¡±

    Shilu¡¯s lips twitched ¡ª the corpse of a smile. ¡°I¡¯m no good at that, Telokopolan. That¡¯s not my area of expertise. I¡¯m no political officer.¡±

    Elpida leaned back and almost grinned, as if Howl was trying to peek through her skin. ¡°Fair enough, Shilu.¡±

    Vicky snorted. ¡°Yeah, you can say that again.¡±

    Ilyusha made her tail spike go shick-shick ¡ª but slowly, staring at Shilu in silent contemplation.

    Elpida said: ¡°Speaking of your areas of expertise, we got interrupted before we could continue our conversation, earlier. There are things I need to know, Shilu.¡±

    ¡°I have little else to tell.¡±

    ¡°Tell them anyway.¡±

    Shilu raised her eyebrows. ¡°Here?¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Elpida dipped her head and spoke into the comms network. ¡°Kagami, keep us updated on any changes in the crowd downstairs. Watch the entrances, too. Don¡¯t hesitate to interrupt me if more zombies turn up, that¡¯s why we¡¯re out here in the first place.¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice crackled in Ooni¡¯s headset. ¡°I don¡¯t need you to tell me how to do my job, Commander.¡±

    Victoria rolled her eyes. Ilyusha snorted a laugh. Atyle was paying no attention at all, staring at a blank section of metal wall. Hafina was staring off at something on the far side of the chamber as well, eyes hidden behind her angled mask.

    Elpida smiled. ¡°Thank you, Kaga. Now, anybody else want to head back inside? Ooni, Vicky, you¡¯ve got another twenty minutes on watch, but you could cut it short. We can keep an eye on things now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± said Victoria.

    Ooni shook her head; she wouldn¡¯t miss this for anything, except perhaps Leuca.

    ¡°Alright then,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Good job, Ooni. Keep your eyes peeled.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Commander,¡± Ooni said. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Elpida returned her attention to the Necromancer. ¡°Now, Shilu,¡± she said. ¡°Tell me about Central.¡±

 tempestas - 12.11

    Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit left much to be desired ¡ª too many hard edges and sharp corners, not enough foam cushion left on the metal crew seats, and the seats themselves creaked with every little adjustment of one¡¯s body; half the screens and displays were awkward bespoke resolutions, while half the rest were impossible to adjust, reflecting the inside of the biomechanoid tank¡¯s base-8 mind, rather than anything useful to his crew. Most of the manual consoles and human interface surfaces were practically useless, despite the incessant humming and clicking and buzzing of microprocessors and memory banks and the endless strata of integrated circuitry. Their original intended functions had long ago been assumed by Pheiri himself, now inaccessible even at the software level ¡ª not that software access was remotely feasible either, not without passing out in a pool of one¡¯s own blood-laced vomit. Wading through the soup of Pheiri¡¯s base-8 peripheral-code was enough to give even the most skilled of Logicians a blinding migraine, aggravated by the flickering and jerking of dozens of screens, nauseated by the omnipresent sickly green glow of scrolling text.

    The control cockpit was a sad substitute for the dreamy disconnection of a sensory suspension tank, nestled in the heart of Tycho City, seeded beneath blessed silver soil, guarded by all Luna¡¯s imperishable might.

    But it was the closest thing Kagami could get.

    At least she was warm, dry, and safe. Nobody was bothering her with stupid questions, nor asking her to pilot a drone face-first into nine-hundred-mile-an-hour hurricane winds. Several feet of armour and an arsenal of big guns stood between Kagami and the zombie horde outside, enjoying their hideous cannibal repast in the tomb chamber. Kagami acknowledged that those thoughts made her a hypocrite ¡ª she was a cannibal ghoul as well, her own biology just as dependent on a steady diet of reanimated human flesh. But at least she didn¡¯t rip bloody muscle off the bone with her bare hands and stuff it into her mouth, crimson streaks running down her chin and staining her clothes, gibbering and snorting like an animal. Some of the worst-off ¡®zombies¡¯ out there made themselves entirely worthy of the silly anachronistic name ¡ª gorging themselves on flesh like the feverish, starving monsters they were. Kagami had no idea how the Commander and Victoria and the others could sit up there on the outer hull, having a polite conversation about political theory, with all that gnawing and cracking going on sixteen feet below. Not to even mention the bristling forest of weaponry down there.

    Actually, that was a lie. Kagami knew exactly how the Commander and Vicky endured it: insanity. The Commander was a madwoman. Victoria ¡ª whipped dog that she was ¡ª would follow any orders from Elpida, no matter how unhinged or unwise. Go out into the tomb again! Carry a grenade launcher! Interrogate a Necromancer! Hand out corpses and fresh meat like we¡¯re serving up an all-you-can-eat charity buffet!

    None of that for Kagami, not anymore. The next time Elpida requested she drag herself out into the tomb to expose herself to danger, Kagami was going to use one of her drones to slap the Commander across the face. She was wasted out there, anyway. This was the kind of place Kagami belonged ¡ª commanding her drones, orchestrating forces, protecting her squishy, vulnerable, moronic human agents, far away from any bullets and bombs and sharp teeth.

    At least in here Kagami could watch the backs of those too stupid to watch their own. The Commander might be insane, but she¡¯d seen them through this so far. Victoria might be infuriating and borderline unfaithful, but the idea of her being out there unprotected made Kagami feel¡ª

    ¡°Humph,¡± Kagami grunted.

    She adjusted her body weight in the chair again; the metal creaked beneath her weight. Her hips ached where her bionic legs attached to her flesh. Pheiri¡¯s screens flickered before her, cycling steadily between dozens of exterior views of the tomb chamber, augmenting the drone-feeds and data-streams in Kagami¡¯s peripheral vision.

    Yes, this was the place she could do the most good, providing overwatch for Elpida¡¯s bravado and Victoria¡¯s naivety.

    Besides, Kagami rather liked Pheiri.

    Base-8 mind, impenetrable software layers, and a tendency for cheek and sarcasm which Kagami wasn¡¯t sure the others always picked up on, mostly because it was delivered in his impudent ¡®y/n¡¯ style, all green text and implication. But all of that was forgiveable and acceptable ¡ª perhaps even laudable from one of Pheiri¡¯s complexity and skill, on the same level as Kagami herself. And because right now he was assisting Kagami with the drone-command processing load.

    He had allowed Kagami to plug herself in.

    Kagami was sat near the front of Pheiri¡¯s cockpit, where the space narrowed into tighter confines and a dozen screens stood within arm¡¯s reach ¡ª the closest she could get to the feeling of sim-space immersion. Her left arm lay limp in her lap, coat peeled back and sleeve rolled up, exposing the greenish-blue glow of circuitry beneath her skin, all the way to her elbow. Her pair of data-uplink cables were unspooled from the socket in her wrist, looping across her thighs in coils of thick black bio-plastic, still slick with the colourless internal lubrication from inside her flesh; their opposite ends were joined to a pair of universal-connection sockets deep within the jumbled mess of Pheiri¡¯s consoles and computers. Kagami had used one of her six gravitic drones to root around for the sockets. Even for Pheiri she wasn¡¯t about to go crawling around on her hands and knees.

    Extending the data-uplink cables had hurt. Yanking the lines from her flesh was like pulling on her own veins; she¡¯d felt the cables sliding against her innards all the way up inside her shoulder. But peripheral load-sharing with Pheiri¡¯s systems allowed her to supervise that picket-line of heavy drones out in the chamber, without chucking her guts up every five minutes, or curling up into a ball with her eyes crammed shut and her ears stuffed with cloth. Her own high-density connection processor was not enough to manage the entire picket line, not alone, not with the level of attention necessitated by the zombie horde out there.

    With Pheiri¡¯s help, the nausea was reduced to background queasiness, the pain in her arm was a distant tingle, and the bodily exposure of her unspooled lines was at least not an embarrassing vulnerability.

    Between her drone-feeds and Pheiri¡¯s own external cameras, Kagami enjoyed near-complete vision of the tomb chamber, at the low price of a thin and watery headache.

    The most important views were up on Pheiri¡¯s displays ¡ª some in visible light, mostly just for calibration, all shadows and darkness dyed red by the backwash of his bloody illumination. The majority of useful visuals were displayed in ghostly-green night vision and the flicker-step phantoms of low-light enhancement, accompanied by infra-red, heat-mapping, nanomachine density readouts, and even the occasional ultrasonic echolocation ping, just to make sure no sneaky revenants were hiding in plain sight. Pheiri kept a constant eye on the ends, centre, and anchor-points of the heavy-drone picket line; on three different views of the ¡®larder¡¯ of corpses and the idiot zombies who were so desperate to steal all the food; and on individual views of the most heavily-armed and dangerous groups of zombies, with their heavy weapons highlighted in warning-red and caution-yellow, often through the cover of their armour and their bodies.

    Additional data scrolled across other screens ¡ª audio logs, analytic algorithms, viruses splayed out like dead insects on an autopsy table. Kagami had access to ambient nanomachine density in the air, moisture readings to track the breathing of all those zombies, and flickering green text showing the number of weapons and bodies in the chamber, constantly updating to reflect Pheiri¡¯s latest observations. One screen contained Pheiri¡¯s ongoing recordings and measurements of the hurricane; he used sound to estimate wind speed and rainfall and hailstone density, scrubbing the ever-present static hissing and the distant howling of the wind to arrive at the same answer every few seconds ¡ª stepping beyond the tomb would get your flesh flayed from your skeleton, assuming you were not first picked up and throw into the wind like a leaf.

    Kagami¡¯s own peripheral vision was occupied by a ring of drone-feeds from the picket line, a few extra feeds piggy-backing off Pheiri¡¯s cameras, and a big scrambled up mess of drone command interface on her left.

    Pheiri handled the heavy lifting, so Kagami could attend to the details.

    In theory she could have handed Pheiri total control of all the drones; she knew that Pheiri could easily wrench the machines from her grasp if he really needed to. Kagami would never have said so out loud, certainly not within earshot of either Elpida or Victoria ¡ª and certainly not scum like Pira or Ooni ¡ª but she knew full well that the lumbering biomechanoid tank was more than capable of handling overwatch duties all by himself. Kagami could have slunk off to her bunk and taken a much needed nap. When was the last time she¡¯d slept? A day ago? She¡¯d lost track.

    But Kagami also knew that she would not be able to sleep, not until the away team were safely back inside. One never knew what fresh stupidity the Commander would get up to next, or what kind of needless risk Victoria would take if Kagami was not there to shout in her ear.

    One of Pheiri¡¯s screens ¡ª just ahead of Kagami, slightly to the left ¡ª showed a view from one of Pheiri¡¯s external cameras, high up on his main turret. The camera was focused on the ¡®designated observation post¡¯; Victoria had come up with that title, and Kagami hated it. Kagami had spent most of the last two hours focused on that screen, keeping a careful eye on Ooni and Victoria as they sat on watch, making sure that Shilu didn¡¯t sneak up behind them to pull their heads off.

    But now the Commander had returned and instigated an impromptu struggle session with the Necromancer. Kagami had added several additional views of the observation post to her augmented vision, jacking Pheiri¡¯s cameras right into her own brain stem.

    Shilu was framed against the white bone of Pheiri¡¯s hull, wearing her human disguise, trying and failing to answer Elpida¡¯s question.

    Her voice crackled in Kagami¡¯s ears and out loud from the cockpit speakers, carried across Pheiri¡¯s local comms network.

    ¡°I probably can¡¯t tell you the things you really want to know,¡± Shilu was saying. ¡°Central is not easy to describe, and my best efforts would be meaningless. I don¡¯t pretend to understand how Central really works, or where it came from, or even what it is. All I know is that Central is the hub, or core, or heart, of the entire nanomachine network and ecosystem. Don¡¯t ask me how I know that, because I don¡¯t understand how I know. I simply do. I knew it from the first time I met Central, on a level that did not require intellectual comprehension or external explanation. It was like how the body knows the difference between hot and cold, or how you know that the colour blue is the colour blue, or how you know your own hand belongs to you. It was instinctive, automatic. I was looking at the core of the world, though the core is not necessarily in control of every little detail.¡±

    The Commander merely listened, squatting a few feet from Shilu, her white hair dyed dark-flame red in Pheiri¡¯s floodlights. The others were gathered about her like paleo primitives around a fire in the mists at the dawn of time. Ilyusha looked like she wanted to spit at Shilu¡¯s feet. Atyle and Hafina were both equally unreadable in their own different ways. Ooni seemed like she would rather be anywhere else, specifically somewhere she could shit herself with anxiety. Kagami snorted.

    Only Victoria ¡ª her stupid, bumbling Victoria, wrapped in all that armour like a bomb disposal agent ¡ª was foolish enough to press the question.

    ¡°Wait, wait, Shilu,¡± Victoria said, voice crackling up the comms-link. ¡°You mean to say you¡¯ve actually met this thing? Like, meeting a person?¡±

    Shilu stared at Victoria, all wide dark eyes and perfect glossy black hair and flawless dusky skin, like she had not spent thousands of years eating human flesh like everybody else. Kagami felt filthy and greasy compared with this murder-doll nano-android. She wished Victoria would point her oversized grenade launcher at the Necromancer, to teach her some manners.

    After a moment, Shilu said: ¡°¡®Met¡¯ is an inadequate word. I¡¯m trying to describe something which happened inside the network, which was itself a simulation or representation of another process. I was brought into the presence of an entity, or perhaps merely made aware that entity already existed, all around me, all the time. There was a connection established, between it and I. There was communication, mostly in one direction. It knew what I was going to express before I expressed myself, because I was already a part of it, my thoughts already belonged to it. Central made judgements and decisions, but it felt as if those things had been decided long before my input or questions or curiosity. Then I was ejected again, back into the network. Each meeting was basically the same, they always followed that same pattern.¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°What did Central look like?¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes. The Commander¡¯s ¡®Telokopolis¡¯ had been such an advanced society, yet Elpida lacked even the most rudimentary understanding of sim-space or software representation. It was enough to drive Kagami up the wall.

    Shilu stared at the Commander for a long moment. Kagami almost felt sorry for her.

    Atyle spoke. ¡°The slave reveals not the master¡¯s secrets?¡±

    Shilu sighed. Kagami almost laughed. Welcome to the nut-house, Shilu, this is what it¡¯s like all the fucking time.

    Shilu said, ¡°That¡¯s a meaningless question. You¡¯re talking about a network entity.¡±

    Elpida shrugged. ¡°I understand that, Howl has explained to me how that works. But I still want to know how Central presented itself. What did it choose to look like?¡±

    ¡°A ring of burning eyes wider than a continent,¡± Shilu said. ¡°A black pyramid a thousand miles across. A bank of fog stretching between two moons in the void. A wall of flesh beneath the surface of the world. A star pulsing in and out of supernova collapse a million times a second. A child made of blinding light and deafening trumpets. A tiger always in mid leap, the size of a gas giant, on fire. A billion needles embedded in a wall of marble. Do you want me to go on? Because I can. We¡¯d be here for hours. Do you want to write it down?¡±

    Ilyusha lashed the air with her tail. ¡°Step off!¡±

    Elpida narrowed her eyes. Victoria let out a big puff of breath. Ooni looked even more pale than before.

    Elpida said, ¡°You¡¯re not exaggerating.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± said Shilu. ¡°These are all things Central has appeared as, in the heart of the network. I don¡¯t know what any of them mean. And yes, before you ask, I found them just as fucked up as they sound.¡±

    ¡°Ha,¡± Ilyusha barked. ¡°¡®Least you can swear.¡±

    ¡°I can swear a lot.¡±

    Victoria shook her head. ¡°I still don¡¯t get it. What is it?¡±

    Kagami sighed, tuned into the general channel, and spoke into the microphone of her own headset. ¡°She¡¯s talking about sim-mediated AI self-image. The thing she¡¯s talking about is not human, did not begin life as human, and was probably not even raised by humans. It can look like whatever it wants, and what it wants is utterly incomprehensible to us.¡± Kagami tutted. ¡°Need I remind you all of what we¡¯ve already seen? The gravekeeper, an AI substrate large enough to achieve self-bootstrapping. If there¡¯s something in control of all this, it must be exponentially larger and more inhuman. She¡¯s talking about an AI completely unmoored from mortal expectations. Frankly I don¡¯t want to know what any of those self-images meant to it. Knowing would drive us all mad. Stop fucking asking.¡±

    On the screen, Elpida nodded along. Victoria looked pale and lost, throat bobbing with a swallow. Ilyusha made her claws go in and out. Shilu tilted her head and raised her eyebrows ¡ª she didn¡¯t have a headset of her own, but she could probably hear the voice from everyone else¡¯s sets.

    Elpida said: ¡°Thank you, Kagami. I appreciate the additional context.¡±

    Kagami snorted, then muted herself again.

    Elpida went on. ¡°Okay, Shilu, I accept that you don¡¯t comprehend Central. But you still have more experience than any of us, which isn¡¯t hard, because the sum of our experience is nil. You¡¯ve stood in Central¡¯s presence and communicated with it. What do you think it is? In your own words, your own judgement, your own metaphors. I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s objective or true or anything like that. I care what you think about it. Please, go ahead.¡±

    Shilu stared into the dark for a long moment before she answered.

    ¡°You, Telokopolan, Elpida. You came from a time with no nation states, neither ethnostates nor civic nationalism. Your Telokopolis was a civic state, with a common civic identity, but it was the only one you knew, so you lack the concepts and the vocabulary to understand what you lived within. I believe this is the position occupied by all of us, in relation to Central. We live within the nanomachine ecosystem, within the physical expression of the network, within its constraints, and what it does. Central is the core of all of those things, but we cannot understand it, because we cannot describe it, because we are within it. Central is the pure expression of the post-human. It is beyond us, as a body is beyond a cell, or the sea is beyond a fish. We are inside the belly of the beast.¡±

    Elpida frowned, running her tongue along her teeth behind her lips. Atyle murmured some inane nonsense about gods. Ilyusha snorted and muttered, ¡°Real fuckin¡¯ useful, reptile.¡±

    Kagami sighed. She was the only one with the education to understand what the Necromancer was talking about.

    AI metastasis, ¡®unguided post-human substrate evolution¡¯, self-bootstrapping rampancy, Synthetic Inevitability, ¡®hollow man¡¯ paradigm ¡ª during Kagami¡¯s true life, Luna¡¯s greatest minds had possessed plenty of names for the theory, the apocalyptic fear that some foolish dirt-sucker down on old Earth¡¯s continents would one day gift an embryonic AI mind a substrate big enough to bootstrap itself beyond human comprehension. The dirty little arms race between the Anglo Rim and the Republic might produce a nightmare worst-case scenario ¡ª a thinking machine without even the most basic of empathy or comprehension of life, raised like slime mould or fungus, plugged into a nano-forge production network, armed with the entire industrial output of a nation-state, beyond anybody¡¯s control and any human protest.

    The fear was not completely unfounded. Kagami knew that better than anybody, as Heroine of the L5 Machine Plague when she¡¯d been only thirteen years old. But that war had been fought nineteen million miles from the Earth-Luna system, out in the cold and dark of the interplanetary void. Young Kagami and Luna¡¯s other Logicians had fought with remote drone swarms, and without the risk of incinerating a fragile biosphere. They¡¯d blanketed the void with nuclear explosions, neutron bombs, electro-magnetic wave-pulse weapons, and computer viruses reverse-engineered from the scraps of captured AI madness held in containment cells. Whatever the void-touched space colonists of the L5 Station-Shoal had given birth to, it had burned to death in a nuclear carpet-bombing delivered from a stand-off distance of half a million kilometres.

    Luna alone understood the risks, because Luna alone had shouldered the responsibility of sterilising the infection. Common wisdom held that the womb-born masses of Earth¡¯s surface were stupid enough to try again, because half of them did not believe the vid-captures and high-res pictures of what had roiled within the ruins of the L5 Station-Shoal, prior to the final extermination.

    Kagami had always agreed with the latter point ¡ª dirtsiders were fools who had already risked cooking the planet once before. But she also held that such a feat was more difficult than it seemed. She had raised fourteen AI daughters with her own hands, weaved their tiny minds into life and watched them grow, delighted at every new connection and comprehension, showering her beautiful progeny with praise and preparation in equal measure. She knew with first-hand experience that raising an AI was not simple or easy; these things were not like human children, who would continue to grow even if neglected. They could not be made by accident, and could be unmade with ease. They needed pruning and shearing, required the right kind of intellectual and emotional soil in which to blossom; true, place an AI in too much substrate and it would turn inhuman and incomprehensible ¡ª but it would also turn inward, like a plant collapsing into a mass of cancer, still alive but unrecognisable, unable to carry out the basic functions of cognition. Up on Luna and down in NorAm, the birth and growth of AIs was strictly regulated. Poor parenting was simply illegal, punishable on Luna by life imprisonment, and down in NorAm by some predictable rehab measure. But even in the Republic or the Anglo Rim, Kagami doubted society as a whole possessed the necessary level of inhumanity required to replicate the mistakes of the L5 Station-Shoal. One had to apply sustained abuse and uncontrolled madness to a growing AI with a ruthlessness and single-minded focus that was almost impossible for anybody, Lunarian or Dirtsider.

    The L5 spacers had been going collectively insane for four centuries by the time Kagami was born, burning out their minds by staring into the sun. The AI nightmare they had birthed was the product of a depraved culture, starving itself to death in the cold and the dark. And it wasn¡¯t space which did it to them ¡ª the L4 Station-Shoal was certainly weird enough as well, the way they kept grafting more arms onto themselves and leaving gravity behind entirely, not to even mention the more extreme horizons being explored out there beyond the limits of the Earth-Luna system and the Lagrange Point Colonies. But the L4 limb-maniacs and the Titan bio-suit cold-weather mods and even those freaks aboard ¡®Heavenly Point¡¯ in Venusian orbit, none of them had committed civilizational suicide via AI.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Kagami had witnessed only a handful of L5ers in the years before the Plague had destroyed them ¡ª tall, ghostly pale, their genetic ¡®perfection¡¯ achieved via a winnowing process begun 400 years earlier, started by tossing people out of airlocks, culminating in the clinical butchery of gene-editing and eugenics.

    The L5 culture had reduced itself until it had become nothing more than the reproductive organs of the AI abomination it had given birth to.

    So, Luna understood the risks. And Kagami understood what Shilu was talking about.

    She understood just enough to know that she knew nothing.

    Compared against Central ¡ª with the nanomachine ecosystem and the miracle technology of resurrection ¡ª the L5 Machine Plague had been the equivalent of a neolithic primitive burning her hand on an open flame. Compared with this, Luna was akin to an ancient alchemist grasping a handful of saltpetre and sulphur, trying to envision an atomic bomb.

    Kagami shivered in her seat, picking at the armrest. Shilu¡¯s words made her feel as lost and small as any paleo dirt-eater cowering in a cave.

    ¡°Then why did you follow it?¡± said Victoria, her voice hissing from the cockpit speakers. ¡°Why follow something you can¡¯t understand?¡±

    Kagami drew herself back up. Bless Victoria¡¯s stupid little heart. But Shilu was just staring at her.

    Kagami opened the private line back to Vicky, and said: ¡°Because it offered her a way out of this. Use your head, Victoria.¡±

    Victoria¡¯s sigh was caught from three different angles. Kagami watched them all, a smirk creeping across her face.

    A voice from behind made Kagami jump.

    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t follow any Gods,¡± it said. ¡°Not here. Not anymore.¡±

    Kagami looked over her shoulder. She had forgotten that she was not truly alone in the control cockpit, but had allowed herself to embrace the illusion, because she had thought the others were both sleeping.

    Melyn was curled up in a seat over on the left, a blanket tucked around her tiny, petite body, pale grey skin tinted sickly green by the backwash of light from the text on Pheiri¡¯s screens. Melyn was still fast asleep, head lolling against the seat. Amina was perched in a seat on the opposite side; she had been asleep as well, last time Kagami had checked. Amina had grown tired of watching her murderous borged-up ¡®special friend¡¯ on the monitors; Kagami knew that Amina and Ilyusha had developed somewhat of a special relationship, though she didn¡¯t want to know the messy details of what they got up to together in the top bunk. But now the little psychopath was awake again, a little bleary-eyed, hugging herself through her armoured coat.

    Amina met Kagami¡¯s eyes ¡ª so faux-innocent in that brown little face.

    Kagami covertly floated one of her six gravitic drones out from within a pocket, in case she needed to protect herself. Amina made her skin crawl.

    Kagami cleared her throat, and said, ¡°Quite. I ¡­ I agree.¡±

    Amina smiled a little. ¡°Do you think Illy and the others are coming in soon?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Maybe not. I don¡¯t know. I think they¡¯re having a very ¡­ in-depth ¡­ conversation. That¡¯s all. Maybe you should go back to sleep, hm?¡±

    Amina nodded, looking a little sad, eyes drifting back to the monitors. Kagami did her best to return the smile; the expression made her cheeks hurt. She turned back to the screens as quickly as she could, leaving the gravitic drone on-station behind her. Hopefully Amina would take the hint. If Amina crept up to the seat and leaned over Kagami¡¯s shoulder, Kagami felt she might scream.

    On the screens, the Commander and the others were already rattling on again.

    ¡°Vicky has a point,¡± Elpida was saying. ¡°Central ¡ª or whatever other faction sent you to assassinate me ¡ª has something on you, don¡¯t they? Some kind of leverage, something they can use against you, or threaten you with. Why else would they send you, instead of another Necromancer, like Lykke?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve been dead for a long time,¡± Shilu replied. ¡°I already explained, there is a war in heaven. There must be. And I¡¯m not aligned with any side.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Whatever faction sent you, I don¡¯t think they had any better options. If they did, they would have opened with a dozen Necromancers like Lykke, or simply flattened me and my cadre here with one of Central¡¯s physical assets.¡± Elpida shook her head, white hair swaying in the bloody shadows up on Pheiri¡¯s hull. ¡°No, you were selected because they needed to do this quietly, without being noticed by some other faction or element within the network. And because they, whoever they are, do not have access to Central¡¯s full resources. Or, Central doesn¡¯t have access to the resources it should, because it¡¯s already losing the ¡®war in heaven¡¯. Good phrase, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Shilu.

    ¡°But that still leaves the question, Shilu. Why you? They have something on you. They must do.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°With a war in heaven, nobody is safe, not even the dead. But ¡®they¡¯ do not have anything on me, not anymore. That¡¯s all I can say.¡±

    Victoria snorted. ¡°So what, you¡¯re one of us now? Just like that?¡±

    Elpida put out a hand. ¡°If she wants to be, Vicky. If she wants to be. Telokopolis rejects nobody. Telokopolis is for all. Telokopolis is forever.¡±

    Victoria sighed. Ilyusha hissed an echo of the new motto ¡ª Telokopolis is forever. Kagami resisted the urge to mouth the words.

    Shilu said: ¡°It was already decided for me.¡±

    Elpida squinted at Shilu. ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    Atyle spoke for the first time in a while. ¡°The gods choose for us, we puppets and slaves. We dance on their strings, but sometimes we enjoy the dance.¡±

    Shilu turned her face to look up at Atyle. ¡°Elpida,¡± she said. ¡°Did Telokopolis have slaves?¡±

    ¡°Never,¡± said Elpida. ¡°The concept is a little difficult for me.¡±

    ¡°Then I am slave no more,¡± said Shilu.

    Atyle broke into a stupid grin. Kagami rolled her eyes and sighed. She hated this cryptic sisterhood bonding nonsense.

    Kagami zoomed her central view onto Victoria¡¯s face and lingered for a moment. The contours of Vicky¡¯s face caught the backwash of Pheiri¡¯s illumination reflected off the distant walls and faraway ceiling of the chamber. When Vicky was thinking she would scrunch up her brow and press her lips together. When she was sceptical she would get halfway to rolling her eyes before stopping herself. Right then she was alert and curious, but neither thoughtful nor sceptical. Kagami switched to one of the heat-map cameras; Victoria was a little chill, even with all that armour on. If Elpida didn¡¯t wrap this up soon and come back inside Pheiri, Kagami was going to start shouting.

    ¡°Shilu, I need to ask about the towers,¡± Elpida was saying. ¡°Pira told us about a trio of towers, deep in the interior of the continent, which the graveworms never approach. Is that accurate?¡±

    ¡°The towers exist. I have never been allowed near them.¡±

    Victoria smirked ¡ª not a good look on her, Kagami thought. ¡°Then how do you know they exist, huh?¡±

    Ilyusha barked, ¡°Ha, yeah! Good one!¡±

    ¡°Because they have a clear network presence,¡± Shilu answered. ¡°You can see them from within the network, if you know where to look.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°What¡¯s their function?¡±

    Shilu had no idea, of course; Kagami had some theories, but she couldn¡¯t be bothered to share them right then ¡ª network hubs or relay stations or storage buffers. She filed those ideas away for later, when she could speak with the Commander without constant sarcastic interruptions.

    Kagami consigned that screen to her peripheral vision, half-listening to the rest of the conversation. She selected a drone-feed down on the picket line, staring out at the gathered crowd of zombie refugees.

    She lingered on an eye-level view of ¡®Persephone The Magnificent And Most Merciful¡¯, standing at the forefront of her group, all heavily armed and puffed-chested with confidence. Persephone¡¯s girls were armed with some nasty shit even by the standards of other well organised revenants ¡ª so many heavy weapons, anti-armour weapons, rockets and explosives. One of them was laden down with enough HEAT and shaped-charge rounds to make quite a crater in the floor if somebody was foolish enough to touch a lit match to her arse. At least that zombie seemed to be handling herself properly, and well-guarded by the others. Persephone¡¯s group was standing right up at the picket line, as if daring Pheiri to fire on them.

    Kagami¡¯s attention was drawn to Persephone herself ¡ª a prime example of a borged-up monster, eight feet of flesh crammed with so much cyborg enhancement she was more metal than meat. Her face was a smooth mask of bio-polymer cast in a mixture of black and dark blue, sculpted with high cheekbones and a perfect jaw. Her eyes were yellow bionics the colour of the long-smothered sun. Her hair was too fine and floaty to be real, individual strands of gold dyed dark in the bloody red backwash from Pheiri¡¯s lights.

    Persephone stood with her feet braced, arms crossed over her armoured chest, staring up at Pheiri. Her body bristled with weapons, and a heavy rifle dangled from her shoulders. Every few minutes she lowered her gaze and ran it along the line of drones, golden eyes meeting each camera view in turn.

    Kagami followed that sweep along, staring back into the giant¡¯s eyes.

    She had listened in on the earlier conversation between Elpida and Persephone, but Kagami wasn¡¯t sure what to make of what the revenant had said. Persephone claimed to have lived her true life on a space station ¡ª ¡®Eden¡¯s Cradle¡¯, but had not provided any further information Kagami could use to identify where she really meant. Names change in millions of years, after all.

    Kagami itched to know more. She glanced aside at one of Pheiri¡¯s screens, the one which tracked radio networks and comms signals out there in the chamber. Persephone was broadcasting an open and unencrypted channel identifier, as if awaiting communication.

    Elpida and Shilu were talking nonsense ¡ª about hope and trust and how maybe Shilu herself was sent by Telokopolis. The Commander was quietly working herself up to believe that her dead city had sent her a pet Necromancer. More messianic bullshit. Kagami sighed. She couldn¡¯t fight it ¡ª this was the stuff which kept them alive thus far.

    Kagami spoke into Pheiri¡¯s comms network, on the open channel.

    ¡°Ask her what¡¯s on the Moon,¡± she said. ¡°Commander, ask Shilu about Luna.¡±

    Elpida paused, then smiled with indulgence. Victoria sighed and rolled her eyes. Ilyusha let out a little snort, tail lashing back and forth. Ooni knew what was good for her, and did not react.

    Kagami clenched her jaw and felt a lump in her throat. She opened her mouth and¡ª

    ¡°You mock her,¡± said Shilu.

    Victoria frowned. ¡°Sorry, what? Hey, it¡¯s Kaga, for fuck¡¯s sake. And you don¡¯t know her¡ª¡±

    ¡°She asks after her home, as lost as yours, and you mock her,¡± said Shilu. ¡°Come on. I¡¯ve been dead for a long time, but I¡¯m not an idiot.¡±

    Victoria blushed and shut her mouth. Ilyusha bared her teeth.

    And Elpida said: ¡°You make a very good point. Kagami deserves an apology for that. For now, I¡¯ll ask the question. Shilu, do you know what¡¯s become of the Moon ¡ª of Luna?¡±

    Shilu shook her head. ¡°I do not know what is on the Moon. I¡¯ve not seen it since true life. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Kagami relegated all the views of the away team to the very edge of her vision. She shoved Victoria off the side completely, into a drop-down menu.

    Victoria¡¯s voice hissed across the comms in a private whisper: ¡°Kaga? Kaga, I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to laugh at¡ª¡±

    Kagami snarled. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ll spend my time with the Necromancer from now on, Victoria. And do shut up. I¡¯m busy keeping watch to make sure that swarm down there doesn¡¯t scale Pheiri¡¯s face and eat you all. The last thing I need is you rattling on in my ear. Over and out.¡±

    She soft-killed the connection and stared straight ahead, into the green-lit flickering glow of Pheiri¡¯s systems and interior bulkheads. The conversation still hissed on at the edge of her hearing. Victoria did not try again.

    After a few moments and several deep breaths, Kagami directed her attention elsewhere.

    First she examined a number of the bottom-feeder zombies and terrified waifs who had gathered close to her picket line, sheltering in the lee of Pheiri¡¯s guns. She found that rather depressing; she could only stare into shrunken eyes and half-starved faces for so long, no matter how many of them seemed to be gathering into greater numbers and muttering to each other in hushed voices. Kagami could pick up audio of their conversations if she wanted, but it was all inane ¡ª clueless zombies lost in hell, trying to figure out why the world was shaped this way, clumsily swapping stories of where they¡¯d lived and died. A few of them had daubed crude imitations of Elpida¡¯s new insignia on their clothes ¡ª the crescent-and-double-line of Telokopolis, scrawled in blood.

    Kagami wasn¡¯t sure if she approved of that. The crescent reminded her too much of moonrise, seen from Earth¡¯s surface through the eyes of a wire-slaved agent.

    She left the bottom-feeders behind and adjusted her focus, peering through the shadows and the backwash of red illumination, switching to the ghostly green of night vision, to examine the two highly dangerous groups at the rear of the tomb.

    The ones in the right corner ¡ª the identical freaks carrying nothing but knives ¡ª bored her immensely. They didn¡¯t even talk, communicating via some kind of bespoke sign language. Pheiri was still working on translating that. Kagami was certain it would reveal nothing interesting.

    The group in the left corner was more to Kagami¡¯s taste. Heavily armed and all in powered armour, bearing the fruit from dozens of raided tombs. They¡¯d said nothing when the Commander had offered them meat ¡ª just taken it and backed away, then harassed Pheiri with their shitty little viruses over their shitty little tight-beam frequencies. Kagami had cackled with laughter when Pheiri had demonstrated a willingness to blow all their heads off, though she had been less pleased that incident had unfolded with Victoria out beyond the hull. The group had settled down after Kagami had shouted at them over the loudspeakers, but now she felt a sadistic urge to start messing with them again. Surely they would try their luck a second time, sooner or later?

    There were eight of them, all in powered armour, standing in a quarter-circle with their backs pointed into the corner. They had weapons ready and drawn, held by external servo-arms and shoulder-mounted racks. Most of them ate through feeding ports and nutrition-lines, shoving handfuls of corpse-meat into metal grilles and stuffing it into bags hooked up to their armour. True paranoia, unwilling to even take their helmets off. The distant backwash of Pheiri¡¯s illumination glinted off their visor-plates and the optics on their plasma rifles.

    Kagami had already partially broken the encryption on their comms network. She tuned into their common channel via Pheiri¡¯s uplink.

    <<¡ªreminds me of the battle of the ultras,>> one of them was saying. <<It was in the seventh year after¡ª>>

    <<Not this fucking shit again, Urotua,>> another interrupted. <<How many times have we heard this story? Over and over and over. You¡¯re like an old drunk in a mead hall.>>

    A third voice chuckled. <<Seventeen times. This will be the eighteenth. You gonna stop her, Wise? Give it a shot? Get your head cracked open?>>

    <<I¡¯ve half a mind to,>> said the complainer.

    The first revenant spoke up again. <<You want to challenge me, here? In the middle of this feeding ground?>>

    A fourth girl spoke up, with a whip crack of authority in her high-pitched voice. <<No fighting, physical or networked. We¡¯ll be eaten alive the moment we step out of line here.>>

    <<Tank fuck over there ain¡¯t gonna stop us,>> said the second voice again ¡ª ¡®Wise¡¯.

    <<You want to wager your flesh on that? Be my guest,>> said the one in authority ¡ª the one Pheiri had grazed with a single bullet.

    The bickering went on and on, cycling back round to some story they¡¯d all heard before; they showed no outward sign of their inner turmoil.

    Kagami tuned out again, unimpressed. The conversation between Elpida and Shilu filtered back in ¡ª no more interesting than the fools in the corner. Elpida was asking about what might happen when the storm passed, sharing her theory that many Necromancers may come after her, because of Shilu¡¯s failure to carry out her assassination.

    Shilu replied: ¡°The faction which sent me want you dead. However, they did botch my insertion, or they were interrupted, or stopped somehow. Lykke was sent to stop me, but she didn¡¯t care for protecting you. More Necromancers may arrive to kill you, you may be right. Or nothing may happen. I cannot say for sure.¡±

    Victoria sighed. ¡°Wish we hadn¡¯t let that bitch get away.¡±

    ¡°Lykke?¡± Shilu asked.

    ¡°Mm,¡± Elpida grunted in agreement. ¡°Lykke¡¯s escape did deny us potential intel. Not that we could have held her, though.¡±

    Ilyusha hissed. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ try again next time, bitch. Pin that reptile fuck with a stake.¡±

    Elpida smiled. ¡°There is always a next time, Illy, right. However, there is one possibility we haven¡¯t considered. Shilu, what do you think of this? What if the faction which dispatched Lykke didn¡¯t actually know what you had been sent to do, only that you had been sent to do something?¡±

    Shilu blinked. ¡°Hmm. Maybe.¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes at all this useless speculation; Shilu had a point ¡ª all this was maybe, maybe, maybe. They¡¯d know nothing until the storm ended, and then they might all die to a horde of unstoppable Necromancers.

    Kagami turned her attention to the screen at her left elbow. Static green text glowed in the shadows, showing the result of Kagami¡¯s analysis of the viruses used by the heavily-armoured revenants in the rear corner of the chamber. She¡¯d already picked the code apart and found it terribly wanting. She scrolled the data back and forth, making a few adjustments, listening to Elpida and Shilu talking about Necromancers and capabilities and how to respond if Elpida was right. Kagami tried not to think about any of that. She¡¯d struggled to pin Lykke with gravitics and electromagnetics ¡ª in perfect conditions, with their own pet Necromancer to help. She had just about managed that. But against a dozen of the things? Kagami shoved the thought away. She should not feel fear. The Seventeenth Daughter of the Moon should not fear any metastasised AI.

    Kagami focused on the virus code. Eventually she was happy with her work. She toyed with the notion of broadcasting it right back at that tomb-raiding group out there. She¡¯d already broken their encryption after all, maybe she could¡ª

    The text cleared itself with a blink. Fresh green letters printed themselves across the screen.

    >n

    Kagami sighed. ¡°Pheiri, I wasn¡¯t being serious. I¡¯m not going to attack them. If I thought they needed dealing with, I would ask you to shoot them.¡±

    The text refreshed with a blink.

    >remote weapons access DENIED

    Kagami sighed again, harder. ¡°I¡¯m not asking for fire control. That was a joke! A nothing comment. I¡¯m just ¡­ ¡±

    >bored

    ¡°Frustrated,¡± Kagami hissed between her teeth. She tried to keep her voice low, so Amina would not overhear. Heat prickled in her cheeks. Her palms itched. Why was she talking to Pheiri like this? Why was she revealing her dissatisfaction? ¡°Frustrated by ¡­ Victoria. She doesn¡¯t ¡­ I can¡¯t ¡­ I don¡¯t know what to do, how to make her ¡­ ¡±

    Kagami trailed off. She did not know what to say. Pheiri¡¯s empty green cursor blinked on the black screen.

    >

    >

    >

    Kagami took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She longed for her sensory suspension tank, for dissociation, for the oblivion of sim-jacked sleep, not the groggy inelegance of the real thing. She needed to focus on her role, on what she felt comfortable with ¡ª human overwatch control, despite Pheiri¡¯s flawless multi-tasking. She tore her eyes away from the blinking green cursor, putting her anger from her mind, and glanced back at the eight-strong group of power-armoured revenants. They weren¡¯t causing any trouble yet, she supposed, so they could¡ª

    They were nine.

    An additional figure had joined the eight, standing behind all their gathered backs, shorter than their power-armoured height, slighter than their power-armoured bulk.

    A single figure, wreathed from head to toe in shapeless black robes.

    For one dizzying moment, Kagami thought it was Serin, carrying out an unplanned, deeply inadvisable, astoundingly stupid covert op. But the figure was too short for Serin. And it had no face ¡ª nor anything else.

    Kagami¡¯s eyes darted across the screens, redirecting sensor clusters, zooming in on the figure, gathering data. Something was wrong ¡ª the robed figure was black, all black, the darkest possible shade against the shadows in the corner, even in visible light, untouched by Pheiri¡¯s red illumination, like a sensor-ghost or a glitch in Pheiri¡¯s systems. It appeared black in night-vision, colourless and cold in infra-red, invisible to nanomachine-density readouts. An echolocation ping turned up empty space. It was simply not there.

    It had one arm raised, nothing but black robe with no hand visible inside the sleeve. It was pointing beyond the ring of powered armour.

    ¡°Pheiri ¡­ ¡±

    Kagami blinked. The figure was gone.

    She sat very still in her seat for several seconds, not breathing, heart gone cold. Then she pulled up the footage from her drones and Pheiri¡¯s external cameras, rewinding and reviewing two dozen different feeds. But there was nothing ¡ª no figure in black robes, no software ghost, no unexplained smear on a camera lens. All the different feeds agreed. Nothing had been standing there.

    ¡°Pheiri,¡± she said. ¡°Did you see that?¡±

    >?

    Kagami could not be corrupted by Necromancer interference, it was impossible. Pheiri¡¯s systems for detecting such things were fully functioning. Elpida had checked them herself with Pheiri¡¯s help, in order to rule out future false positives from Shilu¡¯s proximity. Kagami¡¯s own eyes were functioning properly. She was not crazy or hallucinating, surely? But she had seen something which was not there. Was she going insane, losing her mind? She¡¯d been awake for far too long and now she was¡ª

    ¡°I saw it,¡± said Amina.

    Kagami twisted in her chair. Amina¡¯s eyes were wide with fear.

    ¡°I saw it too,¡± Amina repeated. ¡°I saw it. A ghost?¡±

    ¡°A sensor ghost!¡± Kagami snapped back. Amina flinched. ¡°A glitch, an error! That was nothing. We need to get Victoria to take a look at Pheiri¡¯s eyes.¡±

    Glowing green text scrolled across the screen at Kagami¡¯s elbow.

    >n

    ¡°Well, explain what we just saw!¡± Kagami snapped again, gesturing at the screens. ¡°Apparently nothing, and it¡¯s not in your on-board logs either! And what was it pointing at, you ¡­ ¡±

    Kagami answered her own question; her eyes followed the angle at which the unexplained figure had been pointing, assisted by scan-lines and trajectories drawn by Pheiri. He was trying to help answer the mystery.

    The figure had pointed at the right-hand entrance to the tomb chamber, where Pheiri¡¯s floodlights were blocked by the corner of the corridor.

    A zombie was stumbling into the chamber.

    The revenant was wild-eyed beneath a tangle of dark hair, matted to her scalp and face with dried blood. Thin and gangly, dressed in scraps of armour and a long tomb-grown coat clutched over her front, there was nothing remarkable about this zombie. She looked as if she had recently been assaulted and beaten ¡ª one half of her face was puffy with bruises, several clumps of hair had been torn out, and she walked with a rapid, swinging limp, clutching her free hand across her belly as if wounded, blood dripping from beneath her coat. She was armed with only a pistol, dangling from her fist, but Pheiri¡¯s initial rapid scans showed the weapon was empty.

    Up on Pheiri¡¯s hull, Elpida and the others had taken notice, preparing to head down and greet this newcomer. Victoria and Ooni had turned to re-assume their position at the observation post. Vicky¡¯s grenade launcher glinted red in the darkness.

    Another mouth for more meat; at least this one was alone, all she¡¯d need was a leg or an arm.

    Pheiri¡¯s initial scans also showed¡ª

    Kagami re-opened the general comms channel. ¡°Commander! Commander! Do not approach that revenant! Elpida, acknowledge me!¡±

    Victoria sighed. ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    But Elpida put up her hand, halting the group. ¡°Kagami, talk to me.¡±

    The zombie stopped far short of the picket line, between two groups of revenants who were still eating. A few eyes turned to her, but there was nothing remarkable about another undead girl in distress. She stared up at Pheiri, up at the red lights reflected off her wet and shining eyes.

    Her lips moved. Tears ran down her cheeks.

    She was mouthing ¡®help¡¯.

    ¡°Kagami,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°Speak to me. What am I looking at?¡±

    ¡°I, uh ¡­ I ¡­ I don¡¯t know where to ¡­ to start ¡­ ¡±

    The warning-red and caution-yellow of Pheiri¡¯s deep scans showed high-explosive charges packed beneath the zombie¡¯s coat, wrapped in shrapnel-jackets of jagged metal. The infernal assemblage was strapped to her torso with a metal cage, welded shut around both arms and beneath her crotch, with several cross-bars of metal piercing her gut and chest, to make the vest impossible to remove. Wires were connected to a box on the front of the vest. Pheiri showed electrical activity inside the box, a cluster of circuits, and a radio receiver.

    ¡°Kaga!¡± Elpida shouted.

    ¡°She¡¯s wearing a bomb vest, Commander. That zombie is wired to blow.¡±

    The ragged revenant stumbled closer to the picket line, closer to the bottom-feeders. More of them looked up.

    ¡°H-help ¡­ help ¡­ ¡± she stammered. Kagami could hear her on the drone audio pick-ups now. Her voice was scratchy and broken, as if she¡¯d been screaming for hours. ¡°They told me come here f-for help, for ¡­ help¡ª¡±

    Vicky spluttered. ¡°What?! Why? It¡¯s not like she¡¯s gonna put a dent in Pheiri, we can see she¡¯s right there.¡±

    A new voice crackled across the comms channel, muffled by metal ¡ª Serin. ¡°I can put a round in her head, Coh-mander. Say the word and I¡¯ll do it clean. One shot. No¡ª¡±

    Kagami shouted into her headset: ¡°She¡¯s welded into the bomb-vest! And she¡¯s pleading! Listen!¡±

    Kagami routed the zombie¡¯s audio into the general channel.

    Shilu stood up, slowly and carefully. Ilyusha spat and hissed, a nasty scowl on her face. Ooni went white and wide-eyed with fear.

    Elpida took off at a dead run, heading for Pheiri¡¯s flank, heading for the chamber floor.

    ¡°Commander!¡± Kagami screeched. ¡°Did you not hear what I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not here to hurt Pheiri,¡± Elpida replied over the comms. ¡°She¡¯s here to blow up the people we¡¯re feeding.¡±

 tempestas - 12.12

    Sanzhima was in agony. She wanted it to end.

    By the time she dragged herself into the tomb chamber full of revenants, she could barely walk. The pain was a flood, drowning everything but itself, scouring her insides raw and hollow. Every lurching step and wheezing breath chafed her naked skin against the cage-vest of bare metal, welded shut around her shoulders and groin. Every wince and flinch harrowed her with the metal rods which skewered her body ¡ª creaking against her broken ribs, scraping the ruptured tissues of her belly, grinding against her intestines with a squeaking, rubbery, slick sensation. She wanted to pull herself open, just to make it stop.

    The right side of her face was covered with bruises, still blossoming into the fullness of their throbbing torment. Her right eye was half-blind, her vision mashed and blurry. Her scalp stung from where she¡¯d tried to escape, leaving behind clumps of hair in armoured fists. Her lips and nose and left eye were sticky with dried blood, rat-tails of hair stuck to her face. Her right hand hurt so much it had gone numb, a dead limb stitched to a lump of metal. The coat in which she had been wrapped was glued to her back. She¡¯d left a trail of crimson in her wake.

    The Death¡¯s Heads had used her body as a canvas of torture. Sanzhima wished they¡¯d simply killed her ¡ª or eaten her alive. Simple cannibalism would have been less cruel and insane than this.

    Sanzhima had tried to shoot herself, with the pistol her tormentors had pressed into her hand. But the gun had gone click click click. No bullets, no way out. The Death¡¯s Heads had roared with laughter.

    The giant in grey power armour had repeated her instructions, then gently turned Sanzhima around and nudged her toward the tomb chamber.

    Sanzhima was no fool. She¡¯d never seen a bomb before ¡ª neither in her twenty-seven years of biological life, as game warden and wildlife expert, nor across the dozen screaming resurrections in this cannibal madness at the end of time. But she knew what the Death¡¯s Heads were using her for, she knew what they had strapped to her body and concealed beneath a high-quality tomb-coat. They had turned her into a murder weapon, to assault other hell-bound undead, the few who had found the courage to venture into that dark, echoing, blood-lit chamber, where the monsters from inside the big bone-white tank were handing out ¡®free meat¡¯.

    The more things change the more they stay the same; that was what Sanzhima told herself, as she lurched through the darkness. The biosphere is dead, everyone¡¯s a fucking zombie, but people still find reasons to blow each other up. Typical human beings. Animals don¡¯t do this kind of shit to each other. Animals are less inhuman than the humans.

    Sanzhima had heard others shouting about the free meat, but she had decided it was nonsense, some kind of trick, another undead obscenity in a world of undead obscenities; besides, she had found it difficult to care. She had lost Tsering and Kirke in the chaotic running battle outside the tomb, the desperate rush to outrun the hurricane. Her companions of the past few months were lost to her, probably torn apart by the storm and the hail, or drowned by the floods. The only companions she had ever found in this roiling grey-goo afterlife, the only other people she¡¯d touched in what felt like years, and they were gone, just like that. She hadn¡¯t seen much point in carrying on, so she had crammed herself into a dark corner to cry bitter tears, until either the storm passed or the tomb was crushed or somebody killed her and ate her. She didn¡¯t care which. Any end was an end.

    But then the Death¡¯s Heads had found her, lured her out with a bit of meat, and imposed a new purpose upon her body.

    She had considered lying down to die; she would bleed out sooner or later. But the Death¡¯s Heads had forced handfuls of meat down her throat, jabbing at her wounds until she swallowed. Her belly was full enough to give her quite a nanomachine buffer, to keep her alive and in agony for many hours yet. Death would take a day or more.

    Pain drove her to impossible hope ¡ª what if the Death¡¯s Heads weren¡¯t lying? What if the revenants in the tank really could help her?

    Or perhaps the horde of zombies would tear her apart, or somebody would shoot her dead, or set off the bomb. At least then the pain would end.

    Sanzhima had limped and stumbled down the lightless corridors of the tomb, careening from one wall to another, panting between clenched teeth, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. She followed the scent of raw meat and the murmur of talking and eating, just about audible over the omnipresent static haze of the storm outdoors. Eventually she burst into the echoing vault of the tomb chamber and plunged into a sea of blood-red illumination, flanked by dozens of twinkling eyes and wide mouths streaked with gore.

    She reeled away from the corridor, weaving between the huddled groups of zombies. Faces looked up at her, hungry and bloody and full of teeth. Sanzhima was in too much pain to feel any fear. She stared back into the most inhuman and modified of the whirling visages, daring them to rip her open and end this torment. Dark crimson light poured down from the great bone-white armoured vehicle which occupied the rear of the chamber. Sanzhima staggered to a halt, staring up at the machine. She¡¯d glimpsed it a couple of times over the last few weeks ¡ª a distant hump of gnarled and pitted bone, covered with high-tech weapon systems and rocket batteries and directed-energy shielding, pushing its way through the corpse-city like an osseous tumour embedded in desiccated flesh. She¡¯d thought of the machine as a ¡®tank¡¯ ¡ª just a larger and more boxy variation on the sleek carbon-mail fighting vehicles of her own time, simply lacking hover plates and any concession to proper aesthetics. A big ugly beast, covered in guns.

    But up close, maddened by pain, with one eye clouded by blood and blur, Sanzhima felt as if she stood at the skirts of some star-spun god-thing.

    She had not felt such a sensation since true life, since looking up at the Primorsky mountain range as a child, or the heady wonder of climbing Belukha Peak. Her pain momentarily ebbed away, routed by awe.

    This was no tank ¡ª it was a temple, encrusted with living bone, like the skull of some fantastic creature from the depths of the oceans, or the herald of alien life from far beyond the solar system. Perhaps it was. Perhaps this armoured god-thing stood outside the madness and the cannibalism and the cycle of death.

    Sanzhima stared up into that scarlet light. She tried to say, ¡°Help¡± ¡ª but she could produce only a cracked whisper.

    She gathered all her remaining strength and staggered forward a few more paces, toward a thin band of half-naked zombies sitting and sprawling and squatting on the ground, before a line of combat drones ¡ª boxy dark shapes bristling with weapons, winking with little crimson running lights. Some of the revenants began to stand up, or shuffle back, or draw weapons. One or two called soft words to her, drowned out by the storm of blood pounding in her ears.

    ¡°H-help,¡± Sanzhima croaked. Metal scraped against her ribs. ¡° ¡­ help ¡­ They told me come here f-for help, for ¡­ help¡ª¡±

    A clean glimmer flashed high up on the tank¡¯s forward armour ¡ª the glint of a rifle scope.

    Sanzhima closed her eyes and shuddered with relief. The pain would be over in a moment. She whispered a final farewell to Tsering and Kirke; perhaps she would meet them again, a thousand years from now in¡ª

    A voice boomed from the tank, crackling with the squeaky backwash of external speakers.

    ¡°You!¡± it roared. ¡°The zombie who just walked in! Stop, stop right where you are! Stop right there or we will open fire on you! Do not fucking test us!¡±

    Sanzhima opened her eyes again, blinded by tears. All around her other zombies were jumping to their feet and scrambling away. A ring of bright red light had blossomed around Sanzhima¡¯s feet, projected from somewhere high up on the tank, marking her out from the crowd.

    ¡°N-no,¡± she wheezed, staggering forward another few steps. ¡°P-please, shoot¡ª¡±

    A second voice rang out across the chamber ¡ª not from speakers, but out on top of the tank.

    ¡°Come on, don¡¯t do it!¡± the voice screamed. ¡°Don¡¯t make us shoot you! Just stop, please, please stop! And we¡ª we can help you! We can! She can! The Commander can save anybody! It doesn¡¯t matter what they did to you! She can make you clean again!¡±

    That second voice was so desperate and earnest. Sanzhima lurched to a halt.

    ¡°Please ¡­ ¡± she whined. ¡°Please.¡±

    Other zombies were scrambling back, drawing weapons, swapping hisses of alarm, and dragging half-eaten corpses after themselves. Mutters passed through the retreating crowd ¡ª low voices questioning who or what she was, snapping warnings about ¡°cyborg mimics¡± and ¡°Necromancer bullshit¡±, and what hidden secrets may have been exhumed from the depths of the tomb. The only group not fleeing was about twenty feet to Sanzhima¡¯s right; they were levelling heavy weaponry at her. She stared at the contact-point explosive-tip of an anti-armour rocket, pointed right at her face.

    ¡°J-just,¡± she whined. ¡°Just do it¡ª¡±

    The booming voice rang out from the speakers again: ¡°And the rest of you down there, if any of you open fire, Pheiri will respond in kind! Understand?! Anybody starts shooting, you will be a smoking hole in the fucking ground! Persephone, that means you and your girls! Weapons down, or by Luna¡¯s blessed soil we will put you down! I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re from the core of fucking Jupiter, I will turn you into paste!¡±

    The leader of the group with the heavy weapons ¡ª ¡®Persephone¡¯ ¡ª looked upward, toward the tank. She was a true cyborg terror, eight feet of shining chrome and smooth bio-polymers, with a face cast in blue and black like a ghost from between the stars, wearing a halo of golden hair.

    She shouted in a buzzing machine-voice: ¡°What is happening? Elpida! Answer me! Your response will address me as¡ª¡±

    ¡°Weapons down!¡± the booming voice shouted over her. ¡°Now!¡±

    Sanzhima swayed where she stood, ten feet from one of the darkly twinkling drones. Blood pooled at her feet, dripping from beneath the coat. The crimson light from the tank ¡ª Pheiri? ¡ª dyed her blood almost black. Persephone must have lowered her weapons, because the chamber did not explode into violence and gunfire.

    Moments later, five revenants came trotting past the front of the tank, behind the picket-line of drones.

    One of them was extremely tall, dressed in shimmering armour which blended in with the crimson shadows and half-light of the chamber; she held a small arsenal of guns in six long arms. Three others were unremarkable ¡ª two of them unarmed, one a mid-grade cyborg carrying a ballistic shield, her bionic tail lashing at the air.

    Their leader strode at the front of the group, long white hair swaying with an easy, rolling gait, one hand on a submachine gun at her waist, eyes fixed on Sanzhima.

    Persephone shouted again as the group passed. ¡°Elpida! We demand to know¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll know in a moment,¡± said ¡®Elpida¡¯, without breaking her stride. ¡°Get your people back.¡±

    Elpida and her companions halted opposite Sanzhima, on the far side of the drone-line, framed by the bone-white bulk of the tank. The tall one in lots of armour didn¡¯t seem to be looking anywhere in particular, but the other three and Elpida herself all stared at Sanzhima. The petite cyborg was trying to cover Elpida with the ballistic shield. The other two, both unarmed, both in tomb-grown coats, seemed oddly unconcerned.

    Through Sanzhima¡¯s blurry, bloody, pain-wracked vision, she realised they were all wearing a symbol ¡ª a pair of lines haloed by a crescent, daubed in green.

    Mountains against dawnrise. Battered hope flickered in Sanzhima¡¯s chest.

    Elpida muttered something into a headset microphone.

    The booming voice spoke from the tank¡¯s speakers again: ¡°The zombie who just walked into the chamber is wearing a bomb vest. We strongly ¡ª very fucking strongly! ¡ª suggest you all wind your necks in as far as you can get! Fifty meters, ladies, fifty meters! Get moving!¡±

    Up on the tank, the blood-red lights flashed and shifted. Sanzhima saw a red line flicker to life in her peripheral vision ¡ª minimum safe distance, presumably fifty meters to her rear. The crowd of revenants scrambled back, hissing, shouting, jeering. Sanzhima saw some of them start to peel away to leave the chamber entirely.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    The group to her right, led by the big cyborg, Persephone, stayed right where they were. One of that group shouted, ¡°Fifty meters? Not much of a bomb, is it?¡±

    Sanzhima closed her eyes again, shaking with relief, prepared for the bullet. Once they had the others cleared out, they would put a round in her and¡ª

    A voice cut through her pain, calling cool and clear as cold water.

    ¡°Open your eyes and look at me, please.¡±

    Sanzhima opened her eyes.

    Elpida ¡ª still on the far side of the picket line ¡ª had one hand raised to catch Sanzhima¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Can you hear me?¡± Elpida called. ¡°If you can¡¯t speak, nod for yes.¡±

    Sanzhima wheezed, trying to comprehend through the pain. She nodded. ¡°Y-yes ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Good. My name is Elpida, these are my comrades. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    Sanzhima blinked. Thinking was almost impossible. When she¡¯d been limping and lurching toward the chamber, the pain had dribbled out behind her; but now, standing in one spot, the pain was pooling inside her, overflowing through the wounds in her belly and chest, bubbling up her throat to drown her brain. What did her name matter now? She was dead, she would be chunks of steaming meat in a moment, why did this zombie want¡ª

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°Give me your name, please.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ S-Sanzhima ¡­ Tyumed ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Alright, Sanzhima,¡± Elpida called. ¡°The first thing I need you to do is drop that pistol. Throw it ahead of you, slide it along the floor.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ can¡¯t ¡­ ¡±

    Sanzhima raised her right hand, to show why she could not let go of the gun.

    The drone directly ahead of her squawked with the same reedy voice that had boomed out from the tank: ¡°Throw the gun away, you moronic¡ª¡±

    The voice cut off.

    Blood slid down Sanzhima¡¯s hand and wrist. The meat of her palm was bound to the pistol¡¯s grip with a length of wire, metal knots rammed between her metacarpals and wrapped around the weapon.

    A moment of silence was filled with the furious static of the storm.

    Elpida called out again: ¡°Alright, forget the gun. I¡¯m gonna need you to take off that coat, get on your knees, and put your hands in the air. Do you understand?¡±

    Sanzhima shook her head. She¡¯d been following along so far because Elpida¡¯s voice was so reassuring, the kind of voice you just wanted to obey, the kind of voice which would make everything right again. Elpida¡¯s voice was like listening to the rustle of trees in the forests, or the gentle winds coming down a mountain, or the distant murmur of deer; Sanzhima knew this was delusion, brought on by pain. But now she realised that Elpida wasn¡¯t going to shoot her.

    ¡°No,¡± she wheezed. ¡°N-no, just ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°We can help you,¡± Elpida called. ¡°But you have to help us. If you can¡¯t get the coat off, at least open it up, show us the bomb. If you can¡¯t drop to your knees, just put your hands¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shoot me,¡± Sanzhima croaked. ¡°Shoot me!¡± Louder: ¡°Shoot me!¡±

    She stumbled toward the picket line of drones, toward the revenants, toward Elpida, trying to wave the gun. Several of the nearest drones twitched around, taking aim at her with their on-board weaponry. The little cyborg at Elpida¡¯s side hissed a warning and produced a shotgun from behind her ballistic shield. The big revenant in armour suddenly swung her guns down to cover Sanzhima. High up on the tank, somebody shifted their position. A weapon went ca-clunk.

    ¡°Please!¡± Sanzhima wailed. ¡°Just shoot¡ª¡±

    Elpida¡¯s voice whipped the air. ¡°Look at me! Sanzhima, look at me!¡±

    Sanzhima halted. Purple eyes burned in the crimson shadows.

    Elpida said: ¡°I will clear this whole chamber and withdraw, rather than shoot you. Do you understand?¡±

    Sanzhima closed her eyes and began to weep. The pain was too much. She shook all over, barely able to stay on her feet. She felt metal grinding inside her chest and belly with every sob. She would never get it out, never be rid of that sensation.

    ¡°Sanzhima, stay right there. I need you to listen to my voice and follow my instructions. You can keep your eyes shut if you want. It¡¯s just you and me in here, Sanzhima. Nothing else matters. Just you and me. Just listen to my voice. I need you to take the coat off. Can you do that for me? Nod for yes¡ª okay, good girl. That¡¯s it, just move your arm away from your belly. Good, now lift the arm from the sleeve. Well done, you¡¯re doing great. We¡¯re going to get you out of this. Roll that shoulder back, let the coat fall from your shoulder. Good girl, you¡¯re halfway there. Now raise your left arm, reach back, and tug the coat to your right. Sanzhima? Can you still hear me?¡±

    Sobbing, shivering, shaking apart, Sanzhima did as Elpida ordered. Elpida¡¯s voice was so easy to follow. Obeying her instructions made everything so simple, even through the pain.

    But the last instruction was impossible. The tomb-coat was stuck to Sanzhima¡¯s back, adhered to her naked skin with a thick layer of half-dried blood. She stood there for a long moment, quivering and crying, until eventually the weight of the armoured fabric dragged the coat downward, peeling it away with wet rasp. The coat snagged on the gun stitched to her right hand, then finally slithered to the floor.

    Sanzhima stood naked, except for the bomb. Barefoot, covered in blood, shaking like a leaf. Dark, dank, dripping air caressed the fresh blood on her torn flesh, and slipped fingers of ice into the wounds on her belly and chest, chilling her deeper than any living biology could feel.

    Behind her, a murmur passed through the crowd of zombies. A few shouts and snarls echoed off the ceiling. Somebody else started crying. A wail went up.

    Elpida kept talking: ¡°There you go, good girl. Well done, you¡¯re doing great. Keep breathing, keep listening to my voice. I¡¯m right here, and I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±

    Sanzhima nodded, eyes screwed shut against the pain and the indignity.

    ¡°I need you to open your eyes for me, Sanzhima. Can you do that?¡±

    Sanzhima opened her eyes. She could barely see, vision blurred by tears, dyed red in the bloody backwash from the tank. Her body was a ruin wrapped in jagged metal, a darker smear of crimson amid the bloody shadows.

    Elpida was a beacon of white hair on the far side of the drones. She said, ¡°Sanzhima, I need you to raise your hands. Up, up, that¡¯s it. Outward, away from the vest. That¡¯s it. Hold them there. Stay as still as you can, don¡¯t move. We¡¯re going to approach you now.¡±

    Keeping her hands raised was another pain, another tally on the list of tortures. The weight of the pistol tugged at the flesh of her palm, but Sanzhima tightened her grip. For that angelic voice, she would try her best.

    Two of the drones in the picket line moved aside and floated forward, as if adjusting to engulf Sanzhima. Elpida strode through the breach. The little cyborg scurried along at her side, ballistic shield raised, chunky tail standing straight up. The two unarmed revenants came behind. The giant with lots of guns followed last, then stood astride the break in the picket line, as if holding the rear.

    Elpida stopped about two meters from Sanzhima. She was so tall, muscled lithe and tight like a gene-modded soldier. The little cyborg glared and grimaced, eyes running up and down Sanzhima¡¯s body, bionic tail quivering. One of the unarmed revenants ¡ª the shorter one ¡ª stopped by Elpida¡¯s side; up close, something about that revenant¡¯s dead-eyed look gave Sanzhima a feeling of creeping dread, even over the pain. She did not wish to be naked and vulnerable before those eyes.

    Elpida said: ¡°Sanzhima, we¡¯re going to get you out of this. The bomb has a timer, but it¡¯s not been activated. We¡¯re going to figure out how to cut you free.¡±

    Sanzhima just shook her head, wheezing and speechless with pain.

    The other unarmed revenant was tall and confident, topless beneath her tomb coat. She strode around Sanzhima¡¯s side to peer at her back.

    ¡°Atyle?¡± said Elpida. ¡°Talk to me.¡±

    ¡®Atyle¡¯ said: ¡°The Moon Princess is correct. Words are written on her skin. I quote the foulness, it is not my own ¡ª ¡®The fate of all degenerates.¡¯¡±

    Elpida did not look away from Sanzhima. ¡°The Death¡¯s Heads did this to you, didn¡¯t they?¡±

    The little cyborg snapped, ¡°Fuck. Fuck! Snatched her? Fuuuuuck!¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I would almost respect them if they sent one of their own. But they don¡¯t have that in them. Illy, check the coat.¡±

    The scorpion-like cyborg ¡ª ¡®Illy¡¯ ¡ª darted forward, shotgun trained on Sanzhima¡¯s face, ballistic shield angled to catch the blast if the bomb detonated. She grabbed the armoured coat with one clawed foot, dragged it away, then scurried back to cover Elpida again. She rummaged through the pockets, produced a scrap of crumpled paper, sneered with disgust, then held it out to Elpida.

    ¡°Radio frequency,¡± Elpida said, speaking into her headset mic. ¡°Kaga, you listening?¡± Elpida rattled off a sequence of numbers. ¡°Get to work on breaking that, but don¡¯t contact them, don¡¯t let them know we have it. Contact might be their signal to detonate.¡±

    Atyle stepped back and peered at Sanzhima with a high-grade bionic eye, peat-green in the darkness. ¡°An offering,¡± she said. ¡°Incinerated on the altar of violence. Ready for the maw of the gods.¡±

    The other unarmed one, with the dead eyes and the too-clean skin, said: ¡°Terror tactics. She¡¯s been turned into a weapon.¡±

    Atyle said, ¡°Incredible that she has not been bled white getting here.¡±

    The other one replied, ¡°Her nanomachine load has a transitory boost. She¡¯s digesting a lot of meat. They force-fed her, to keep her on her feet.¡±

    Illy sneered and spat, tail-spike jerking in and out.

    Elpida said, ¡°Shilu, Atyle, hold your observations for now.¡± Then she spoke into her headset: ¡°Kaga, are you certain there¡¯s no¡ª okay, yes, understood.¡± She looked at the others. ¡°We¡¯re in the clear, Kaga¡¯s jamming any incoming signals, and the detonator isn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°P-please ¡­ ¡± Sanzhima murmured. ¡°Please, just shoot me, please ¡­ i-it hurts so¡ª¡±

    Elpida stepped forward, grabbed Sanzhima by the chin, and forced her to look directly into those glowing purple eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to let you die this kind of death. Understand? I am going to cut you out of that vest. Now¡ª¡±

    Elpida flinched. So did Illy and Atyle. ¡®Shilu¡¯ just blinked. The six-armed revenant in the rear twitched once, as if she¡¯d spotted a target and then reconsidered.

    ¡°Fuck! Fucking shit!¡± Illy shouted.

    ¡°Ahhhh,¡± purred Atyle. ¡°The stinger beneath the lid.¡±

    ¡°They must be observing from a distance,¡± said Shilu. ¡°It¡¯s what I would do.¡±

    ¡°Kaga¡ª¡± Elpida said, raising a hand to her headset. ¡°Okay. Okay. Yes! Well done, thank you. Understood. How long do we have? Alright, that¡¯s plenty.¡± Elpida met Sanzhima¡¯s eyes again; suddenly she seemed a little less in control. ¡°The people who put that vest on you just sent a remote detonation signal. We jammed it, but they set up a fail-safe timer. We have seven minutes to get you out of that vest. Do exactly as I say. Do you understand?¡±

    Sanzhima closed her eyes and started to cry. ¡°Shoot me, please. Please. Please!¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°We cannot afford it, Telokopolan. Not with so many eyes on you.¡±

    Illy spat, ¡°Yeah, no shit!¡±

    Elpida said: ¡°Kagami, talk to me, what am I looking at here? I see a detonator on the front and a lot of wires. There¡¯s four distinct packs of explosive attached to this metal vest. Five bars of metal going through her body, two in the chest, three in the abdomen. Atyle, do those connect to the back?¡±

    ¡°They do, Commander. The cage is seamless.¡±

    Shilu spoke. ¡°The wiring is very high quality. All the lines would need to be severed at once to avert a detonation. This is expert work.¡±

    Illy growled, ¡°Fucking reptile shit. Fuck, fuck!¡±

    ¡°Illy, focus,¡± said Elpida. ¡°Kagami, you too, stop muttering in my ear. We need ideas and we need them quickly. We need to cut through the metal supports on the vest itself and pull the whole thing off her. Those bars are almost an inch thick. What do we have in the way of cutting tools?¡±

    Sanzhima didn¡¯t care anymore. She just wanted the pain to end. She wanted Elpida to put the muzzle of her submachine gun to Sanzhima¡¯s forehead and end this. Perhaps if she jumped for one of them, or lowered her hands to the box of wires on the front of the vest, they would all just shoot her and let her die already.

    But in the back of her mind, Sanzhima was already elsewhere. The pain had washed everything else away and turned her into a lightning rod for her own thin and watery memories, sending her back to places she had not been able to fully picture in years. She was hiking up a mountainside, fresh snow crunching beneath her boots, a hiking pole in each hand, snow goggles pressing into her face. When she turned and looked over her shoulder, she would see the dark green forest stretched out for mile after mile, and the glimmer of the Baikal Rift on the horizon, diamond-clear waters flowing for thousands of miles in a dark blue ribbon all the way to the Arctic. Her hike was almost over, she had almost reached the peak. The overhead monorail lines would fly her back to the Irkutsk Arcology-Sprawl in a matter of minutes, after the long, gruelling hours of hauling herself upward through freezing temperatures, all alone, with only the radio for company. A familiar challenge, a familiar victory, a routine she had kept since she¡¯d been a teenager old enough to take this route all by herself. She travelled light, without even a tent or a sleeping bag, for this would be over in a single day.

    But she did not turn and look back; she kept her eyes focused on the dark peak, denuded of snow, which made no sense. When she reached the summit, she was not going to call a rail car. She was going to keep going, over the top and down the other side, into darkness and shadow, to lose herself beyond.

    She was going to give up, by carrying on to the place she should have gone all along.

    Out in the wavering veil of reality, the revenant called Shilu spoke very softly: ¡°Telokopolan. Elpida. I can cut the metal with my hands. I can be covert.¡±

    ¡°Alright, Shilu,¡± said Elpida. ¡°Get behind¡ª¡±

    A shout cut in from Sanzhima¡¯s right ¡ª a buzzing machine-voice, the tall cyborg called Persephone.

    ¡°Elpida! This one is wounded beyond help! One slip and your people will be paste. This is foolish, ¡®Commander¡¯. I am not impressed. Charity is one thing, insanity is another. Stand back if you cannot do it yourself. Let me. She will go quick, if it bothers you so much.¡±

    Sanzhima opened her eyes, shuddering behind a torrent of tears, and looked toward the metal-clad cyborg. ¡°P-please, yes, please just¡ª¡±

    Elpida whirled toward Persephone, face twisting with a wild-eyed grin, as if another person was looking out from inside her skull.

    ¡°You accepted our meat, you giant metal cunt!¡± Elpida shouted, pointing right at Persephone with her submachine gun. ¡°Right now, you¡¯re in Telokopolis. You¡¯re on my ground, bitch, my home, my turf. And so is she!¡± Elpida reached out and grabbed Sanzhima¡¯s face. ¡°Nobody gets left outside, understand?! No matter how hopeless! If you can¡¯t get that into your head, you can fuck off and eat rocks!¡±

    Persephone¡¯s girls shifted, hefting their heavy weapons, eyeing Elpida¡¯s group with frozen eyes. The big zombie with the shimmering armour openly turned her guns toward Persephone. The line of drones adjusted, acquiring targets, pulling into a combat formation. Illy thumped her shield with her shotgun and hooted at the top of her lungs. Up on the tank, a tiny figure stood up and levelled some kind of launcher.

    The tank itself flickered those blood-red lights, throwing a ring of crimson down upon Persephone and her zombies.

    ¡°Well!?¡± Elpida yelled. ¡°Yes or no, bitch? Wanna fucking step up, or step down? Try me!¡±

    Sanzhima prayed for gunfire.

    Persephone tilted her golden-haloed head to one side, smiled the thinnest of bionic smiles, and made a lowering gesture with one hand. Her girls stood down, though they didn¡¯t look happy about it.

    ¡°Be my guest,¡± she buzzed.

    Elpida blinked three times; the rage-filled grin left her face as if it had never been there. She turned back to Sanzhima and let go of her chin.

    ¡°Shilu, get behind her,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I¡¯ll hold the front. Snip them as fast as you can, count them off. When they¡¯re clear, I¡¯ll grab the vest, you grab her shoulders.¡± Shilu stepped away from Elpida¡¯s side; despite the pain, Sanzhima¡¯s skin crawled at the proximity of that dead-eyed revenant. But Elpida kept talking: ¡°Sanzhima. Sanzhima, look at me. This is going to hurt you, it¡¯s probably going to hurt a lot, but once we¡¯ve cut¡ª¡±

    Elpida halted, eyes going to the side, listening to a sudden tinny voice from her headset. The others halted too, even Shilu, the only one not wearing a headset.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± Illy snapped.

    ¡°Ooni,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Ooni, slow down. Repeat that.¡± A pause. ¡°Are you certain? Okay, then get down here, show me. Vicky, escort her. Both of you get down here as fast as you can. Go, now.¡±

    Elpida made a chopping gesture at Shilu and shook her head. Plan aborted.

    ¡°Telokopolan?¡± Shilu said.

    ¡°Ooni says she knows who designed this bomb. She says the crossbars through the victim¡¯s body are a trap. It¡¯ll detonate if we cut them. The whole thing is meant to present us with a no-win situation.¡± Elpida turned her burning purple eyes and met Sanzhima¡¯s gaze again. ¡°But I refuse to accept that. There¡¯s no such thing as a no-win situation.¡±

 tempestas - 12.13

    Elpida knew she could not let this girl die.

    She could not fail this test; she could not fail Telokopolis.

    It didn¡¯t matter who Sanzhima was, what she had done in the past, or what she might do in the future. It didn¡¯t matter that this trap was engineered to make Elpida responsible for the outcome of a no-win situation. It would not even matter if Sanzhima really was one of the Death¡¯s Heads, tortured and cast out and turned into a weapon. Sanzhima had thrown down her wounds at the skirts of Telokopolis, pleading for aid. What worth would Telokopolis amount to, if it could not rescue a single girl in need?

    Elpida could not afford failure. Not here, not now, not this.

    She had known this test would come, but she had expected it weeks or months or years in the future, after structures had been built, after the responsibility had begun to pass from her hands. She had not expected it to arrive so soon, not in the form of a bomb-vest strapped to human wreckage. She had not expected it to come from the Death¡¯s Heads, beneath the raging hailstones of the hurricane, deep in the dark of the tomb.

    But here it was, in front of the most volatile audience.

    The shadows of the tomb chamber were filled with revenants ¡ª bottom-feeders, high-tech cyborgs, bio-modded predators, naked scavengers, power-armoured soldiers; all of them stood or slouched or squatted in close proximity to each other, not quite shoulder to shoulder, but closer than any zombies ever got out in the ruins, unless they were grappling for survival in close quarters combat. All of them had full bellies, some for the first time in years, and none of them were fighting over the gore-streaked prize of each other¡¯s flesh. Some of the revenants out there had already slipped away, hurrying back into the dead veins and ossified abscesses of the tomb; Elpida couldn¡¯t blame them for being spooked by the bomb, or the threat carved into Sanzhima¡¯s back. But dozens of faces still watched from beyond the fifty-meter minimum safe distance line, marked by a sharp crimson light cast from up on Pheiri¡¯s hull. Armour and weapons and naked skin were dyed scarlet and garnet by the bloody red backwash. Those zombies out there had accepted meat from Elpida¡¯s hands and listened to the words from Elpida¡¯s mouth; all of them had already accepted the promise of Telokopolis, at least in some embryonic form, even if most did not yet comprehend what that promise meant.

    Dozens of zombies, starving yesterday, fed today, their eyes glued to this trial of Elpida¡¯s trust.

    Some of the bottom-feeders had begun to paint their clothing with a crude version of the crescent-and-double-line symbol, copied from Elpida¡¯s own chest. How long would that symbolic identification last if they watched Sanzhima die? One of their own, made into a weapon aimed at the promise of Telokopolis, then reduced to greasy ash and charred meat.

    Elpida could not let that happen.

    For her comrades too, her new ¡®cadre¡¯, she could not allow herself to falter. Vicky and Kagami and Pira and Ooni and Pheiri and all the others, none of them would abandon the cause, of course. Even Shilu and Serin were committed now, each in their own esoteric fashion. None of them would blame Elpida if her failures ended in Sanzhima¡¯s death. Death was simply the way of things in the nanomachine afterlife. Death was less than cheap. It was meaningless.

    Elpida rejected that. She had to reject that, or the promise of Telokopolis meant nothing.

    And then there was Sanzhima herself ¡ª a sagging corpse impaled on steel, tortured to within an inch of death. Between the bruised face, the hollow eyes, the massive blood loss, and the awful wounds in her chest and belly, Sanzhima looked truly undead. A body hijacked against the purposes of the mind within. Only the invisible miracle of nanomachine biology kept her on her feet.

    Every time Elpida looked at Sanzhima¡¯s face she saw all the others she had failed ¡ª her twenty four cadre-sisters, dragged off into the dark to be executed alone; Eseld, the first time they had met, struggling for life beneath Elpida¡¯s own hands; the revenants she had not even known, the ones who had left her resurrection chamber before she had awakened; the ones from this very tomb, the ones she had been too slow to save, who had died where Shilu¡¯s handful had survived.

    Sanzhima was all Elpida¡¯s failures, staring out from behind matted hair and a mask of half-dried blood, trapped in glassy, pain-blind eyes.

    Elpida had received so much covert assistance, so much help from a hidden hand inside the network; what else could explain Eseld¡¯s return, Shilu¡¯s appearance, and the hurricane overhead ¡ª not even to mention the smooth and easy conditions of her own resurrection, or the descent of Thirteen Arcadia from orbit. Something beyond her sight and senses had poured faith and hope and love into her.

    Failure here would fail Telokopolis. Failure here would waste everything she had clawed back since Eseld¡¯s murder. Failure here would plunge her deeper into a despair she had only just crawled out from under. Failure here was not an option.

    Fuck sake, Elps, Howl hissed in the back of her head. Stop it! Just stop!

    Stop what?

    You know what! Treating yourself like this, like shit, like any of this bullshit is down to you! Nobody can take this pressure, not even you, you dumb fuck bitch! I wasn¡¯t your fault! Eseld wasn¡¯t your fault! Random zombies aren¡¯t your¡ª

    None of that matters. I can¡¯t fail here, not with all these revenants watching. You know that.

    You mean ¡®we¡¯ can¡¯t fail here. What, you think you¡¯re fuckin¡¯ alone in this? All you, all Elps, boo-hoo-boo, Command is so lonely, it¡¯s tough at the top? Fuck you, Elpida! You¡¯re burning yourself out, I know you are, you¡ª

    I¡¯m biochemically immune to panic attacks, hardened against all sorts of anxiety, and I¡¯m pretty sure the pilot phenotype cannot suffer ¡®burnout¡¯. You know how this works for us, Howl. I¡¯m fine. I can handle this.

    Oh yeah? Look down, bitch. Your hands are shaking.

    Elpida glanced down at her right hand. It was not shaking.

    Kagami¡¯s voice crackled in Elpida¡¯s headset: ¡°Five minutes and twenty seconds to detonation. Ooni and Victoria are descending Pheiri¡¯s side right now. Commander, if you¡¯ve got a plan, you better put it into action, and quickly! Preferably before the bomb goes off, yes? If it¡¯s not too much trouble for you.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Elpida replied. ¡°Give us updates at every thirty second mark. Repeat that order back to me.¡±

    ¡°Updates at every thirty seconds, yes! My ears work fine, thank you!¡±

    In front of Elpida, Sanzhima let out another blood-choked sob. Her breath wheezed through the holes punched in her rib cage. She was quivering all over.

    ¡°Plea¡ª please, l-let it ¡­ let it happ-en ¡­ please¡ª plea¡ª just let me ¡­ ¡±

    Ilyusha hissed between clenched teeth, tail lashing back and forth. Atyle was eyeing Persephone¡¯s group ¡ª barely twenty feet to Elpida¡¯s left, half of them grinning, the other half stony-faced; Persephone herself observed with folded arms and an unreadable expression on her blue-black polymer face. Shilu¡¯s eyes were glued to the explosive vest, flicking back and forth over the tightly wrapped bundles of explosive payload and the bars of welded steel wrapped around Sanzhima¡¯s torso.

    ¡°P-please,¡± Sanzhima whined again. ¡°Just kill me ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida extended her right hand, steady as a rock. ¡°Here, Sanzhima, take my hand.¡±

    Sanzhima stared at the hand.

    ¡°Take my hand,¡± Elpida repeated, slow and soft. ¡°With your left. Just put your hand in mine. Take my hand, and I¡¯ll do the rest. All you have to do is follow what I say. Come on, be a good girl, that¡¯s it. That¡¯s it. You can do it. There you go.¡±

    Sanzhima did as she was told, though with great difficulty. Her hand was small and cold. She had no grip strength.

    Elpida held on tight. She raised her other hand, made a fist, and signalled a withdrawal. ¡°We¡¯re pulling back behind the picket line. Haf, you peel back first. Atyle, Shilu, get inside. Illy, cover us.¡±

    ¡°Right on, boss!¡± Illy snapped. She whipped her shotgun up and swung her ballistic shield out, sneering at Persephone¡¯s zombies.

    Elpida led Sanzhima back through the picket-line of drones, following Shilu and Atyle, passing by Hafina as the Artificial Human stepped to one side. Sanzhima could barely walk, stumbling and lurching, eyes glazed over, drooling a loop of thin and bloody mucus from slack lips. Elpida would have picked her up and carried her, or perhaps ordered Hafina to do the same, but putting pressure on Sanzhima¡¯s torso might tear those wounds even wider ¡ª or set off the bomb.

    The picket line of drones closed up as Ilyusha slipped inside; Elpida and her team were bracketed between the drones on one side and the bone-white wall of Pheiri¡¯s hull on the other, bristling with weapons. From fifty meters away, dozens of eyes watched the show, many revenants going up on tiptoe, some climbing the walls for a better view. Persephone watched from much closer, bright bionic eyes burning with sceptical light. Persephone¡¯s girls adjusted their footing, as if preparing to flee before the detonation.

    Let them panic, Elpida told herself. She would show them that Telokopolis does not fail even the most hopeless of cases.

    Hafina spoke over the comms, her voice heavy and slow inside her helmet: ¡°Elpida. Maybe we should take her round the back? Everyone can see, out front, up here.¡±

    ¡°Negative, Haf,¡± Elpida replied. ¡°We¡¯re going to do it here. That¡¯s the point. They need to see that we won¡¯t fail them.¡±

    Hafina adjusted her six limbs, guns pointing far over the heads of the crowd.

    Elpida left the other half unspoken; if they did fail, the breakage would be instant and complete. The promise would be ruins, gone in the explosion of Sanzhima¡¯s flesh. No going back. No excuses. No second chances.

    Howl hissed: I told you, your hands are shaking. Stop doing this to yourself.

    They¡¯re not.

    They fucking are!

    Kagami said: ¡°Five minutes, Commander.¡±

    Before Elpida could reply, two figures burst from around the opposite corner of Pheiri¡¯s hull ¡ª Ooni in front, Vicky trailing behind in her heavier armour.

    Persephone shouted: ¡°What is this, Elpida? More of your girls to get blown up?¡±

    Vicky spared the giant cyborg only a single sideways glance, but Ooni almost skidded to a halt. Elpida shouted, ¡°Ignore her! Ooni, here, now!¡±

    Ooni jerked as if shot, then picked up her feet and carried on. She stumbled to a halt just shy of Elpida and Sanzhima. Vicky came trotting up behind, grenade launcher held low, eyes darting back and forth, sweating beneath her helmet.

    Ooni panted, ¡°Commander, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ooni,¡± Elpida interrupted. ¡°Repeat what you said over the comms, so everyone can hear. Then indicate where you think it¡¯s happening.¡±

    Ooni nodded, dark eyes wide and eager. ¡°I think I know who made the bomb, it must be Kuro. This is her style. She¡¯s booby-trapped corpses with this technique before. She runs a tiny electrical current through parts that don¡¯t seem like they¡¯re important to the explosive, and then makes it so if they¡¯re cut or broken, the bomb will go off. You can¡¯t cut the wires or try to remove the explosive, either. It¡¯s a trap!¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± Vicky grunted. ¡°That¡¯s some messed up¡ª¡±

    Elpida silenced Vicky with a sideways snap of one hand. ¡°Ooni, where do you think she would run this electrical current?¡±

    Ooni glanced at Sanzhima¡¯s torso, then went pale and still. ¡°Um ¡­ all of them? T-the metal bars, I mean. It could be all of them, or one of them, or¡ª¡±

    Shilu said: ¡°It¡¯s all of them. She is correct.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re certain, Shilu?¡± Elpida asked. Shilu was staring at the explosive vest. ¡°You didn¡¯t say anything before.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to see it before,¡± said Shilu. ¡°The trickle of current is tiny, no more than a few microamperes. I missed it because I was examining the structural composition of the cage and the explosives, looking for weak points where the steel could be broken.¡± Shilu blinked. ¡°My apologies, Telokopolan. These ¡®Death¡¯s Heads¡¯ almost bested me.¡±

    Kagami snapped in Elpida¡¯s ear: ¡°Our paleo princess with her bionic eye should have spotted that too! That means you, Atyle, you blind bat! It took the fascist coward to point it out!¡±

    Atyle smiled. ¡°I see the machines of the gods, but I do not know all their ways. All your learning availed you nothing, either, Moon Princess.¡±

    Kagami snapped: ¡°Four minutes, thirty seconds! Hurry up!¡±

    Ilyusha opened her mouth, probably to insult Shilu, or tell Kagami off.

    Elpida swiped one hand through the air, hard and sharp; Ilyusha, Ooni, and Victoria all flinched. ¡°Sound off, all of you, unless it relates to disarming this bomb.¡± She did not wait for a response. ¡°I need a solution and I need it quickly. Ideas?¡±

    Vicky said, ¡°We could ¡­ run our own current through ¡­¡± She shook her head. ¡°Nah, sorry, that doesn¡¯t help, forget it.¡±

    Ilyusha spat on the floor. ¡°Cut her arms and legs off? Peel her out of it. Sucks shit, but she¡¯ll live. Grow new ones after, whatever.¡±

    ¡°That will not work, little scorpion,¡± said Atyle. ¡°The rods of iron pierce her body, we would have to dig her apart. There would be nothing of her left.¡±

    ¡°Is there some way we can stop the timer?¡± Vicky said. ¡°Pause the whole thing, give us time to do, like, surgery on her?¡±

    Ooni said, ¡°Pheiri could¡ª¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice cut in over the comms. ¡°No bombs inside Pheiri. I¡¯m sorry, he¡¯s very clear on this matter. And he¡¯s already poked at the circuit itself, it¡¯s just a timer and wires and a radio receiver, there¡¯s nothing he can interface with or interrupt except jamming the detonation signal, and he already pulled that off. They kept the bomb as dumb as possible, probably to stop us shutting it down.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Elpida looked at Ooni, at her wide dark eyes and the greasy sweat on her face, lit from above by the bloody red backwash of Pheiri¡¯s illumination. ¡°Ooni, you know how the Death¡¯s Heads think. Is there a way out of this bomb? Yes or no?¡±

    Ooni shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t think so. It¡¯s just meant to hurt us, whatever we do. C-commander, you can¡¯t¡ª you can¡¯t let her die, please, please¡ª¡±

    Shilu said: ¡°I can do it.¡±

    Elpida replied, ¡°Explain, quickly.¡±

    ¡°I already told you I can cut the steel bars with my hands. I can cut her out of the vest, including the welds over her shoulders and beneath her groin, they¡¯re all low quality. I¡¯ll be covert, nobody will see it happen. If I¡¯m touching the vest at the right spots, I can continue to generate and pass a current through the metal, so the bomb won¡¯t detonate.¡±

    ¡°Can you halt the timer?¡± Vicky asked.

    ¡°No,¡± said Shilu. ¡°I don¡¯t have the network access for that.¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± Vicky hissed.

    Ilyusha snapped, ¡°Some fuckin use you are, reptile!¡±

    Kagami¡¯s voice cut in again. ¡°Four minutes. And yes, the Necromancer¡¯s plan still leaves us with a bomb that detonates the moment we pull the vest off the victim! What then, huh?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Kagami is correct. To get the vest off, we¡¯ll have to pull the rods through Sanzhima¡¯s body. You¡¯ll have to let go for that, Shilu. The bomb will go off.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°I can¡¯t halt the timer, but I can slow down the detonation process. Perhaps for one second. Maybe two. No longer than that.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°I can throw pretty far in one second.¡±

    Vicky let out a huge sigh, rubbing her face with a hand. Ilyusha grimaced and spat on the floor again, tail quivering, red spike-tip going in and out. Ooni bit her lower lip, staring at Sanzhima. Kagami hissed over the radio ¡ª ¡°Great, fucking great. One second to pull the whole assemblage free, and then it blows up anyway. This is our best plan, this is what we¡¯ve got? You¡¯re going to yell ¡®fire in the hole¡¯ and rely on your award-winning elbow?¡±

    Another voice cut in over comms ¡ª Serin. ¡°Coh-mander. I can make it quick. One bullet. She won¡¯t suffer.¡±

    ¡°No, Serin. We can¡¯t fail here.¡±

    ¡°Mercy is often as good as salvation.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°No more casual acceptance of death. No more allowing this to happen. If the Death¡¯s Heads get what they want here, then I¡¯ve broken my promise. We are going to save this girl. That¡¯s final.¡±

    Sanzhima shook and whined, her eyes crammed shut, tears leaking from beneath the lids, drawing bloody tracks down her cheeks. Her left hand was still cradled in Elpida¡¯s grip.

    Elpida glanced up at Pheiri, then at the floor, then at the cage-vest welded shut around Sanzhima¡¯s torso. Her mind worked fast, drawing on the available tools.

    Howl hissed in the back of her head: Elps? Elps, what the fuck are you thinking?

    It¡¯s the only way.

    It¡¯s gonna get you fucking blown up!

    It¡¯s not. Nobody will get hurt, not if I get it right. And it¡¯s the only way.

    You¡¯re not nobody, Elps! For fuck¡¯s sake! I saved you when you acted like an idiot and let Eseld put a gun to your head, but I can¡¯t save you from the shock wave of an explosion, you stupid fuck! Don¡¯t¡ª

    I thought you said Telokopolis abandons nobody, Howl? I¡¯m not letting this girl die. You stood up for that principle a few moments ago. You threatened to fight Persephone for it. Why are you questioning it now?

    I¡¯m questioning your fucking sanity! You don¡¯t need to sacrifice¡ª

    Elpida spoke over Howl, into her headset: ¡°Pheiri, I need a line on the floor showing the exact limit of your shields. Can you do that for me?¡±

    Up on Pheiri¡¯s hull, floodlights flickered and blinked; a sharp crimson line cut across the floor of the tomb chamber, halfway between Pheiri¡¯s hull and the picket line of drones, about three paces to Elpida¡¯s right.

    ¡°Thank you, Pheiri,¡± she said, then raised her voice. ¡°Everyone else, whatever happens, stay outside that line ¡ª outside the shields. That¡¯s our fire pit for the bomb, the shields will protect us. An explosive on this scale is no threat at all to the front of Pheiri¡¯s hull. Sanzhima? Sanzhima, I need you to move two paces to your left. Come on, one, two ¡­ well done, that¡¯s it, right there. Good girl, you stay right there.¡± Elpida repositioned Sanzhima and herself right next to the crimson line on the ground. With one hand she lifted her submachine gun off her shoulders and handed it to Ilyusha. ¡°Illy, hold onto this for me, I can¡¯t risk getting tangled. Shilu, get into position behind Sanzhima and get ready. You¡¯re going to cut from the rear, I¡¯m going to brace from the front, where the payload is. Vicky, Ooni, I need you to hold Sanzhima by the shoulders and arms, firmly enough that she won¡¯t squirm, and¡ª¡±

    Sanzhima opened her eyes, breath hitching in her throat. ¡°N-no,¡± she croaked. ¡°Please, p-please just shoot me, just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Never,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Shilu, Vicky, Ooni, in position, now.¡±

    ¡°Three minutes thirty seconds,¡± said Kagami. ¡°Work fast, all of you! Victoria, move your arse!¡±

    The others got into position. Shilu stepped behind Sanzhima, ready to start cutting the vest; Ooni and Vicky both looked terrified, though Vicky was handling it better. They gingerly took Sanzhima by the arms and shoulders, one on each side, trying to brace her against the inevitable pain.

    Sanzhima suddenly whined louder, panting for breath, eyes darting left and right. Was this how the Death¡¯s Heads had held her down when they¡¯d strapped the bomb to her?

    ¡°Sanzhima, look at me,¡± Elpida said, clicking her fingers to get the girl¡¯s attention. ¡°Look at me, look at me, not at them. Look at me! Look at my eyes. There, good girl. Sanzhima, we¡¯re going to get you out of that vest. This is going to hurt, but I promise you, we¡¯re going to get you out. I need you to stay still, as still as you can. Try not to move. Can you be a good girl and stay still for me? I know you can. You can do it. I believe in you.¡±

    Sanzhima screwed her eyes shut, tears running down her face, wheezing a rapid high-pitched whine. She jerked her head ¡ª a nod? Good enough.

    ¡°Good girl.¡±

    Elpida let go of Sanzhima¡¯s hand, preparing to grab the front of the bomb vest ¡ª but Sanzhima groped the empty air, eyes flying wide with panic. Elpida caught her hand again and squeezed it hard.

    ¡°D-don¡¯t¡ª¡± Sanzhima whined. ¡°Don¡¯t l-let go¡ª¡±

    Elpida pressed her lips to the back of Sanzhima¡¯s palm. She tasted blood. ¡°I¡¯m right here. I¡¯m not going anywhere. I¡¯m going to be right here with you, all the way.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ why?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re a child of Telokopolis too, even if you don¡¯t know it yet.¡±

    Sanzhima¡¯s eyes glassed over. She let out a wet, ragged, bloody sob.

    Elpida let go of her hand again and put both of her own on the bomb vest, searching for a good grip. She settled on one hand either side.

    Kagami hissed: ¡°Three minutes. Hurry up, Commander! Do not make me scrape you all off the floor!¡±

    Vicky muttered, ¡°Shut up, Kaga. This is stressful enough without you¡ª¡± Vicky cut off and winced; Kagami must have sent her a private reply.

    Elpida raised her voice and spoke quickly. ¡°Listen up! Here¡¯s what¡¯s gonna happen! Shilu is going to cut the bars one by one. On the final bar she¡¯s going to have to hold the vest to maintain the current. Shilu, is that correct?¡± Elpida received a nod in reply. ¡°Good. When Shilu is done, she¡¯s going to signal to me. Ooni, Vicky, you¡¯re to hold Sanzhima as firmly as you possibly can. We¡¯ll have a count of three, then Shilu lets go, and I pull the vest off. I¡¯m going to throw it to my right, over Pheiri¡¯s shield line. Pheiri will light his shields on three, so they¡¯ll be active to catch the blast. Any questions?¡±

    Ooni and Vicky both shook their heads. Shilu said nothing.

    Ilyusha hissed, ¡°Fuuuuuck this. Fuck. Hate it.¡±

    Atyle stepped back and stood next to Hafina; neither of them said anything.

    Howl snapped, Yeah, you know what, I¡¯m with our little puppy down there. Elps, you know this is going to blow off your¡ª

    I don¡¯t care. How many times, Howl? Failure is not an option. I need you to back me up, right now. I need you on this. I love you, Howl. I need you by my side for this. I¡ª

    Fuck you, Elps. Fuckin¡ª

    Howl! Elpida felt a dam break. I ¡­ I can¡¯t do this alone. I can¡¯t ¡­ I can¡¯t fail here. I can¡¯t. I think I might die if I do. I can¡¯t go down into that despair again, like after Eseld. I ¡­ I can¡¯t. I need your help. I can¡¯t fail here. I can¡¯t!

    Silence.

    ¡­ Howl?

    Howl snorted. I¡¯m always by your side, you know that.

    Then back me up.

    I am.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Elpida said out loud. ¡°Shilu, ready?¡±

    ¡°On your mark, Telokopolan.¡±

    ¡°Go.¡±

    Behind Sanzhima¡¯s back, Shilu worked quickly ¡ª Elpida could not see if she transformed her hands into bladed scissors, but Ooni squeezed her eyes shut at whatever Shilu did, while Victoria stared in muted horror. Shilu sliced through the shoulder-welds first, then the weld beneath Sanzhima¡¯s groin; the whole cage-vest structure sagged forward with the change in weight. Sanzhima gasped as if gut-shot.

    ¡°Sanzhima, concentrate on the sound of my voice,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Just focus on my words. I¡¯ve got you, I¡¯m right in front of you, I¡¯m here with you. This will be over in a few moments, the pain will be over, I promise you we are going to¡ª¡±

    The first metal rod popped free with a soft metallic snick; Sanzhima started to pant, mouth wide, blood trickling from the corner of her lips.

    She was Eseld. She was Howl. She was all of Elpida¡¯s sisters, everyone she had ever failed to save.

    ¡°Sanzhima? Sanzhima, stay with me. Sanz¡ª¡±

    Elpida¡¯s headset crackled in her ears. ¡°Commander,¡± said Kagami. ¡°There¡¯s a ¡­ a call for you.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Elpida snapped. ¡°Explain.¡±

    The second rod came free with a little snick of severed metal. Sanzhima jerked and gasped; Elpida felt her heart spasm.

    ¡°Incoming radio signal,¡± Kagami said, ¡°from the frequency we took from the victim¡¯s pocket. It doesn¡¯t say anything, except that they want to talk to you, personally.¡±

    Ilyusha growled. Vicky sighed and muttered, ¡°Egotistic bastards.¡± Ooni went wide-eyed with fear, mouthing ¡®no no no.¡¯

    Shilu cut the third metal bar; Sanzhima flinched and jerked, like dead meat under an electrical current.

    Elpida said: ¡°We have their signals jammed, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Yes, of course we do. They can¡¯t trigger the bomb now, unless one of them is going to run in here and drop-kick you.¡±

    Vicky muttered, ¡°Don¡¯t jinx us, Kaga.¡±

    ¡°Put it through,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I want them to hear.¡±

    Kagami said, ¡°Hear what?¡±

    Shilu cut the fourth steel crossbar. Sanzhima didn¡¯t even react, just whining for breath as if her throat was clogged with blood.

    ¡°My voice,¡± said Elpida. ¡°The voice of Telokopolis. Put them through.¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°Fine. Have fun, Commander. Here it is.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s headset clicked once, then filled with a distant static.

    A voice trickled out of the darkness.

    ¡°How did you like our little present, ¡®Elpida¡¯?¡± it said, rough and scratchy, raw with damage, dripping with venom. ¡°Did it go off in the middle of a crowd, or did you manage to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Cantrelle,¡± Elpida said.

    The voice was unmistakable. Elpida nodded at Shilu to go ahead and cut the fifth and final crossbar.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Cantrelle grunted. ¡°it really is you. I suppose you survived the blast, then, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Cantrelle,¡± Elpida said, staring into Sanzhima¡¯s glassy eyes as Shilu cut the final steel bar. The whole cage-vest assemblage slid forward; Elpida held it in place with her body weight. Sanzhima was insensible, mute and empty, even her tears gone dry. ¡°I need you to understand,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I am going to deal with you how I should have dealt with the Covenanters.¡±

    ¡°The who? I don¡¯t care about your¡ª¡±

    ¡°I suggest you run and hide,¡± said Elpida. ¡°Find a very deep, very dark hole, and stay there. Because for this, I am going to hunt you down. That¡¯s all. Kagami, cut the line.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s headset went click-click. Connection terminated.

    Ilyusha spat: ¡°Fuckin¡¯ ¡®ey!¡±

    Atyle purred, ¡°Noble intentions.¡±

    Vicky nodded. ¡°Well said, Commander. Fuck them. We¡¯ll get them for this shit. We will.¡±

    Ooni said nothing. She¡¯d gone pale as fresh bone.

    Elpida said, ¡°Shilu, is that all the bars cut?¡±

    ¡°All five. I¡¯ve got my hands on the connections, providing current. On your mark.¡±

    Elpida tested the cage-vest. The bars slid and raked inside Sanzhima¡¯s torso. Sanzhima wheezed; she had nothing left to give. Elpida said: ¡°Kagami, you¡¯ve got Pheiri¡¯s high-res scans. I need to know for absolute certain these bars are not going to snag on a rib when I pull.¡±

    Kagami snapped: ¡°Yes! Yes, Commander, you¡¯re clear! And you have forty seconds!¡±

    ¡°Elpi!¡± Vicky almost shouted. ¡°Elpi, we do it now or we don¡¯t do it at all! Come on!¡±

    Ooni had her eyes wide open, lips moving rapidly in a hushed prayer.

    Elpida said: ¡°Ooni, Vicky, you hold onto her ¡ª and you hold on hard! I need leverage and I need it instantly. This comes free in one pull, you understand? Understand?! Shout it for me, both of you!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Commander!¡± Ooni almost screamed.

    ¡°Do it, Elpi!¡± Vicky shouted. ¡°We¡¯ve got her!¡±

    Elpida spoke into her headset: ¡°Pheiri, ignite your shields on three. Ready?¡±

    A sharp little acknowledgement ping sounded in Elpida¡¯s ears.

    Elpida raised one booted foot and planted it against Sanzhima¡¯s right thigh; if the girl felt the boot, she gave no indication.

    ¡°On three.¡± Elpida glanced rapidly between Ooni and Vicky. ¡°One.¡± She swallowed, trying not to feel Howl bracing in the back of her mind. ¡°Two.¡± Elpida¡¯s heart rate spiked ¡ª the heritage of Telokopolan genetic engineering, preparing her body for one lightning-fast second of action. She flexed her shoulder muscles, relaxed her arms, and exhaled.

    She would not fail.

    ¡°Three!¡±

    Elpida pulled on the cage-vest with all her strength. Five severed steel bars slid forward through Sanzhima¡¯s flesh, scraping against broken ribs and ripping past the ragged wounds in her ruptured belly.

    Sanzhima threw her head back and screamed. She thrashed and kicked, foaming at the mouth. Ooni screamed with her, but held on tight. Vicky gritted her teeth, eyes winced shut.

    The bomb-vest tore free in a fountain of blood and bile and excrement, spraying stinking crimson mess into Elpida¡¯s face. She ignored the burning in her eyes and kept them open ¡ª she could not afford even a split-second of distraction. Two steel bars popped free from between Sanzhima¡¯s ribs, slick with blood, vibrating as they burst forth. Two of the three in her belly came out clean ¡ª but the third dragged out a loop of intestine as it came, snagged on a coil of Sanzhima¡¯s guts.

    Elpida felt the world stop.

    She had failed.

    She could not throw the vest, not without unravelling Sanzhima¡¯s innards and hurling half the victim after the bomb. All this work had been for nothing. All these children of Telokopolis were about to watch Elpida kill another helpless zombie, watch her fail to render aid, watch her rip out the guts of an innocent¡ª

    Ilyusha¡¯s right hand darted across Sanzhima¡¯s belly. Bionic claws slid from black fingertips and severed the loop of intestine.

    Sanzhima screamed even louder. But the bomb-vest slid free.

    For a split-second, Elpida was paralysed. She had failed. She felt herself sliding down into a pit of despair, like a mouth opening beneath her feet and¡ª

    Come on, bitch tits! Don¡¯t get lazy now!

    Howl took control of Elpida¡¯s limbs ¡ª just a twitch, a jump-start, to get her moving once again.

    Elpida let go of the vest with her left hand and hurled it sideways with her right.

    Pheiri crash-started his shields right on cue ¡ª a shimmering wall of electric blue burst to life two feet from Elpida¡¯s face, an interlocking mail-matrix of hexagons, backed by sheets of hissing energy and a smooth dome-curve of shining white, drowning the shadows in the tomb chamber with blinding light.

    Elpida¡¯s arm passed harmlessly through the shields ¡ª pre-approved low-velocity penetration ¡ª hauling the vest and the explosive payload over the line.

    She opened her hand to drop the vest, reeling back to extract her arm before¡ª

    The bomb detonated.

    Pheiri¡¯s shields absorbed the blast; the explosion flowered right in front of Elpida¡¯s face. A vortex of fire and shrapnel smeared across the concave interior of the shields. Shrapnel pinged and plinked off Pheiri¡¯s front armour. Debris whizzed through the air, sparking and flaring against distant corners of the shield-dome. Larger chunks of metal rained to the floor amid the floating cloud of greasy soot and dark smoke, clang-a-clanging against the tomb¡¯s black surface, tumbling across the ground, spiralling away like iron raindrops.

    Elpida felt the pain-blockers flood her bloodstream before the explosion died.

    Smoke parted. Soot settled. The blossom folded up.

    Elpida¡¯s right forearm was gone. Her elbow was a ragged stump.

    The twisted remains of the bomb-vest lay on the floor ¡ª a few snatches of blackened steel, splattered with a wide smear of dark blood, several chunks of steaming, charred meat, and a few recognisable fragments of bone.

    Pheiri extinguished his shields with a soft thunderclap of collapsing energy. The sound of the hurricane rushed back into the silence, filling Elpida¡¯s ears with a storm of static.

    ¡°¡ªmmander! Commander! Respond! You¡¯re bleeding! Elpida! Somebody grab her before she¡ª¡±

    Elps! Elps, fuck! Focus! Elps! I can¡¯t¡ª what are you doing, I can¡¯t take¡ª

    Elpida took a step back. Her stump followed, blood trickling to the floor.

    She turned away from the remnants of the bomb. Vicky and Ooni were down on the ground, cradling Sanzhima as she bucked and jerked in a spreading pool of her own blood. Ilyusha had her hands over the girl¡¯s belly, trying to stuff her intestines back inside.

    Beyond the picket line revenants were rushing forward, the fifty-meter safe distance no longer relevant. Faces whirled, crowding the shadows, dyed darker than crimson.

    Somebody grabbed Elpida¡¯s stump. A sudden, sharp burning sensation overpowered the pain. She jerked back, away from ¡ª Shilu?

    Shilu held up one hand, rapidly fading from red-hot back to the light brown of her human disguise.

    ¡°Cauterization,¡± said Shilu. ¡°Telokopolan? Are you there?¡±

    Elpida looked down at her stump. It was no longer bleeding; the flesh was blackened and charred, the wound sealed with heat. The pain was closer now ¡ª it made her break out in a sheen of cold sweat, made her stomach clench and her ribs creak. But Telokopolan painblockers did their work. She was coherent enough.

    Elps! Howl snapped. You¡¯re ¡­ fuck, this isn¡¯t shock, you haven¡¯t lost enough blood for that. And I can¡¯t take over! What are you¡ª

    Victory gave Elpida all the strength she needed.

    The others were still shouting at her ¡ª Kagami over the comms, Howl inside her head, the others down on the ground. But Elpida knew what she needed to do.

    Elpida turned back around and stepped toward the steaming remains of her own right forearm. She almost fell over, stumbling and staggering; had she taken more damage than she realised?

    ¡°¡ªfor fuck¡¯s sake!¡± a voice howled in her ear. ¡°Howl?! Howl, are you in there? Stop her! Haf, Haf, grab her before she faceplants on¡ª¡±

    Hafina came for her, but Elpida ducked and weaved. Even seriously wounded, an Artificial Human was no match for a Telokopolan pilot. She slipped around Haf¡¯s six arms, went down on one knee, and scooped up a chunk of blackened meat from amid the debris of the bomb. Elpida lurched back to her feet and turned around, then walked the few paces to where Sanzhima still lay.

    She held up the bleeding nugget of her own burned and blasted arm. She showed it to the crowd beyond the picket line.

    ¡°Meat!¡± she roared to the onlookers. ¡°My meat! All of you, understand this! What I did here, Telokopolis does for all of you! No one is left outside, nobody is abandoned! Those who send weapons like this against us, they have nothing, nothing which can truly touch us! Telokopolis cannot be killed, not in any way that truly matters!¡±

    Elpida fell to her knees beside Sanzhima. The girl was insensible behind a mask of agony.

    ¡°Look at me,¡± Elpida croaked. Hands were trying to grab at her shoulders and pull her up, but they had no strength compared to victory and vindication. ¡°Look at me, sister¡ª I mean, Sanzhima. Sanzhima. Look at me.¡±

    Sanzhima made eye contact. Elpida reached out with the gobbet of her own charred flesh, and pressed it past Sanzhima¡¯s lips.

    A cheer went up ¡ª a wild howling from the crowd of the undead.

    Or maybe that was the blood pounding in Elpida¡¯s ears.

    She looked down at her left hand.

    It was shaking.

 tenebrae - 13.1

    Iriko was very sore.

    The ache was on her insides, not her outsides. Since crawling into the shelter of the tomb, she had done very little except rest and heal ¡ª lying in a heap, licking her wounds, slowly digesting the handful of corpses donated by Pheiri¡¯s zombies. She had filled the time by swapping occasional tight-beam check-ins with Pheiri, and by picking through the cold scraps of several unfinished poems. On the outside she was all better now; she hadn¡¯t lost much actual biomass when the Necromancer had screamed at her, the damage had been mostly surface, more cosmetic than structural, more shocking than substantial. Iriko¡¯s refractive mail was re-knit and newly strengthened with bio-extruded metals. Her bruises and burns were healed up as if they had never happened, the damaged sections recycled and repurposed inside the core of her body. Her belly was full of meat, satisfied for now.

    But she was still sore.

    At first Iriko was worried the Necromancer had left something behind ¡ª a virus in Iriko¡¯s flesh, an intrusive instruction injected into her cells, a biochemical agent which she could not detect. Iriko spent a while rummaging through her own innards, checking for uncontrolled tumours or unexplained growths, making sure all her internal data was uncorrupted, looking for bits of her that were no longer Iriko. But she came up short. She was healthy and well, without any uninvited passengers.

    Sitting in the dark, surrounded by the rage of hailstones and the torrent of rain beyond the tomb, Iriko was forced to accept the truth.

    What she felt was humiliation.

    The emotion ate away at her insides, just as if she had swallowed a toxin customised to corrode her biochemistry. Failure, defeat, retreat ¡ª it all made her feel so small and useless and wretched.

    Iriko was used to running and hiding. That was how she had survived on the edge of the graveworm safe zone for so long. Whenever something bigger and scarier walked out of the wastes beyond the worm, Iriko always burrowed into the dirt or wriggled inside the concrete and metal guts of a building; she turned her refractive mail to mirror the dust and ash of the world, and made herself look like a lump of nothing important. On the previous occasions when this tactic had not worked, Iriko had fled ¡ª flinging herself down wrecked streets and sliding inside gaps too narrow for the bigger monsters to follow. She was neither too proud to admit that nor ashamed of her methods. She was still alive, wasn¡¯t she?

    But this time felt different. Pheiri, Elpida, Howl, Victoria, Serin ¡ª and all the others, even the ones she didn¡¯t like! ¡ª they had all relied on her. They had given her a mission, a special important mission that nobody else could do. Howl had trusted Iriko to catch the Necromancer.

    And Iriko had failed. She had been too afraid. She had turned tail and ran away.

    Iriko hated this feeling. She was an ugly, useless, stupid failure. Her body was a failure, and her mind was even worse. And this was all Pheiri¡¯s fault! Pheiri had spent weeks making her feel valued, making her feel smart again, making her feel like her mind was working better, faster, clearer than ever before. Pheiri¡¯s praise and Pheiri¡¯s puzzles and the chatter of Pheiri¡¯s zombies, it all made Iriko feel like she was more than just a hungry mouth.

    The old Iriko would never have felt this shame.

    Stupid Pheiri. Stupid boy. Should have left her to starve.

    Iriko sat with that thought for a few minutes. Then she felt bad about it. She didn¡¯t really mean it.

    The tomb was not helping, either. Iriko still did not like the tomb, even if the hurricane outside was much more uncomfy.

    She was not frightened by the clinging darkness, the chorus of echoing whispers, or the warren of crooked corridors ¡ª oh no, not frightened, not at all. Iriko was a big girl, not some cringing child, she was too sensible to be afraid of the dark. She simply adjusted her senses, peeling back the shadows with low-light and infra-red, mapping her surroundings with soft pulses of echolocation and the mathematical perfection of predictive terrain algorithms. She tracked hushed zombie voices with an aural matrix unfolded from her back, like a bouquet of quivering flowers, dark red and slathered with sticky mucus.

    She was not a scared little girl afraid of walking to the toilet in the middle of the night. She was not! She was big, and clever, and ate nasty zombies for every meal!

    But she would have preferred to be cuddled up next to Pheiri. Or even better, squeezed into the narrow gap between the floor and Pheiri¡¯s underside armour. Pheiri had nothing to fear inside the tomb. Pheiri was brave and bold and brash. But joining him now would require a long and lonely journey through the dark, down into the deepest parts of the tomb.

    No, Iriko decided. She was fine up here, even if she was by herself. She was fine. She was not afraid of the journey, just ¡­ just fine. She was not a little girl cowering under the bed covers, while a storm full of monsters raged outdoors.

    But there was a monster in the storm, wasn¡¯t there? A real one.

    The great whirling typhoon screamed on and on and on, all slashing rain and drumming hailstones and wind howling across the exterior surface of the tomb. Iriko knew there was a monster waiting out there in the wind and the rain. She had heard it earlier, hooting and bellowing, making a terrible old racket, just like monsters were supposed to do. Iriko didn¡¯t know what it was; she never did know much about the monsters beyond the graveworm. But she knew what it was doing ¡ª it had taken advantage of the storm to get close to the graveworm, where easy prey teemed in their hundreds. Now it wanted to crack the tomb open and eat all the zombies inside.

    Iriko couldn¡¯t blame it for that. A few months ago she would have salivated at that prospect.

    Hours crawled by. The monster was outside, the darkness was everywhere, and the sounds within the tomb ¡ª the ticking and the tocking, the sliding and the slithering, all the terrible slimy slippery slapping ¡ª was it all really just zombies scurrying around in the corridors?

    Iriko tried to distract herself with poetry. First she attempted to compose a poem about her own fear, but she hated the result so much that she destroyed the poem and made herself forget all about it. Then she tried a couple of poems about defeat and humiliation. That just made her angry, she couldn¡¯t get a single line out. She extruded a spiked tendril and slammed it against the nearest wall until the anger was all burnt out.

    Iriko lapsed into a long silence. She knew she was sulking. She didn¡¯t care. She could sulk all she wanted.

    Iriko¡¯s sulk ¡ª and it was a very long sulk, because she started to feel very silly toward the end of it ¡ª was eventually interrupted by the distinctive crunchy crack-thoom of a little explosion, far away, deep down in the darkly coiled viscera of the tomb.

    That was odd. Were the zombies fighting again?

    Iriko exchanged a tight-beam handshake with Pheiri. He acknowledged her with a double-ping and a demand for a full status update; Iriko could have blushed!

    ¡¸all okay okay healed and sealed happy for now big bang bang zombies okay? okay? pheiri okay? okay okay?¡¹

    Everything was not okay.

    Pheiri sent Iriko a hefty data package. Iriko got all interested for a moment before she realised it was mostly just the sort of thing Pheiri found exciting ¡ª endless reams of data from his sensors. Silly boy! There were also a lot of images of zombies getting overexcited; some of them looked a bit hurt. There was Elpida, and Victoria! There were a bunch of stills of an explosion, but it seemed like quite a small one. Iriko couldn¡¯t understand what most of the fuss was about, but she understood that Elpida had gotten hurt, and that was bad.

    ¡¸zombies okay?¡¹

    The zombies were okay. Nobody was dead. Nobody had gotten eaten. But they were having an emergency.

    And Howl had another job for Iriko.

    Howl¡¯s voice unspooled as raw audio inside Iriko¡¯s body, transmitted down Pheiri¡¯s tight-beam connection.

    ¡¸It¡¯s not a hunt, blob girl,¡¹ Howl said. Iriko could tell that Howl was in a lot of pain, speaking through clenched teeth. ¡¸You understand that, right!? Yeah?! These bitches are gonna expect retaliation, they¡¯re gonna be prepped for it, wired to rock the shit out of the first thing that comes after them. All you gotta do is find them, blobbo. Sniff them out. Bloodhound time. But don¡¯t fight them. Don¡¯t fight them! You got that? Don¡¯t fucking fight them. Tell me you understand, come on.¡¹

    ¡¸eat eat no eat?¡¹

    Howl laughed ¡ª a big hearty cackle, despite the pain. Iriko liked Howl¡¯s laughter, it was very honest. Iriko could always tell when Howl was speaking through Elpida¡¯s mouth, even though Elpida and Howl sounded exactly the same because they were using the same body. Sometimes Elpida and Howl liked to swap back and forth a lot, sometimes even in the middle of a sentence. But this transmission was all Howl, no Elpida at all. Iriko hoped Elpida was alright.

    ¡¸Nah,¡¹ said Howl. ¡¸Your appetite ain¡¯t the problem here. If you catch one of them alone, go for it, fill your boots. You got my blessing. Eat all you like¡ª¡¹

    A second voice broke in ¡ª Vicky! ¡¸But nobody else,¡¹ Victoria said. She sounded rushed. ¡¸Iriko, please, don¡¯t eat anybody else out there in the tomb. You can eat a Death¡¯s Head, but nobody else. You got that?¡¹

    Another voice said: ¡¸If she starts eating random zombies, everything the Commander just did will be for nothing. She has to indicate she comprehends. Howl, make her answer.¡¹

    Pira. Bleh.

    ¡¸Yeah yeah yeah,¡¹ Howl hissed, then snorted a laugh. ¡¸She knows that, both of you. She knows! Cool your heads. Iriko, you can eat them if you catch them, sure, go wild, but don¡¯t try to fight them. They¡¯ll be ready, for us, for you, for anything, and they¡¯ll hurt you real bad if you let them see you. We just need to know where they are. Just get us that. You can do it, blobbo! Go on, girl! You can!¡¹

    A fourth voice snapped, further from the microphone ¡ª Kagami, all angry and hot, like Kagami always was. ¡¸She¡¯s still bleeding on the controls! Victoria! Victoria, I¡¯ve got a medical bot who is about to have a fucking tantrum if we don¡¯t haul this moron back to the infirmary five minutes ago! Pira, you little rat, you should know better. And Howl! Howl, stand up. Up, right now! Don¡¯t make me drag you there. Don¡¯t.¡¹

    Howl laughed. ¡¸You and who¡¯s army, Moon cunt?¡¹ A pause. Howl grunted. ¡¸Alright, fair point.¡¹

    The zombies grumbled and argued a little more. One or two of them stomped off.

    Vicky¡¯s voice returned to the tight-beam uplink. ¡¸Hey, uh, Iriko. Sorry about that.¡¹

    ¡¸sorry sorry¡¹

    ¡¸Are you ¡­ are you apologising?¡¹

    ¡¸yes yes¡¹

    Vicky sighed. ¡¸Ahhh, don¡¯t do that, please. You¡¯ve got nothing to apologise for, Iriko.¡¹ A big thump and a metal creak ¡ª Vicky sitting down. ¡¸Look, you don¡¯t have to do any of what Howl just said. She¡¯s not in her right mind at the moment, she¡¯s hopped up on pain and ¡­ and victory, I guess. You don¡¯t have to follow her orders, nobody is going to be upset if you don¡¯t. Nobody¡¯s going to be disappointed with you, or anything like that. Just ¡­ only if you feel like it, tracking down the Death¡¯s Heads might help. Hell, any intel you can gather on the inside of the tomb would help us right now, even if you just map some spaces. But you don¡¯t have to, Iriko. I know you don¡¯t like the tomb. You can just sit tight. We¡¯ve ¡­ we¡¯ve got this under control.¡¹

    ¡¸victoria sad and sad?¡¹

    A little laugh. ¡¸Sad? No. Stressed, absolutely. Look, Iriko, I gotta go. We gotta go help, uh, deal with this. I don¡¯t know if anybody is gonna be at the comms station for a little while. Maybe Amina or something. But hey, anything you send us, Pheiri will see it, and he¡¯ll pass it onto us. Seeya later, Iriko. Stay safe up there, kiddo.¡¹

    ¡¸bye bye bye¡¹

    ¡¸Later.¡¹

    Pira spoke, almost beyond microphone range: ¡¸If she starts preying on easy kills, we can¡¯t let her¡ª¡¹

    The audio feed ended.

    Pheiri sent Iriko a schedule for regular check-in broadcasts, then followed up with a geometric puzzle for Iriko to solve. Iriko ignored the puzzle and shrugged off the tight-beam. She liked being patted on the head, but she didn¡¯t deserve it right then.

    Iriko sat in the dark, listening to the storm.

    She composed a poem.

    ¡¸fear is nothing to

    fear without the sting of pain.

    and fear can fear too¡¹

    Iriko pulled herself together. She tightened her musculature, darkened the scales of her refractive mail to a light-drinking black, and flowered open a dozen sets of sensory apparatus, pulsing and throbbing in the cold static beneath the hurricane.

    Iriko slipped off into the tangle of the tomb.

    At first she kept the fear in check by thinking about Pheiri and his zombies. Pheiri was relying on her to do something he could not ¡ª explore all these twisty little passages and narrow gaps and secret spaces. Elpida, Howl, Victoria, all the others, they couldn¡¯t do this either! Iriko was important. Iriko was useful. Iriko was more than just a mouth, more than a stomach, more than the sum of her hunger. She could help!

    The corridors and passages and chambers and halls and promenades and galleries and alleyways and secret back routes of the tomb were all pitch dark. Iriko had to ignite pinpricks of bioluminescence inside her own sensors, just to create enough light to enhance. Her every movement sent echoing sighs spiralling off down the ossified sinuses all around, forcing Iriko to pump out more mucus with which to reduce her friction, and to rely on suction-cup tentacles to pull herself along the ceilings. For zombies down on the floors the tomb was complex enough already, but for Iriko the vertical passageways and narrow gaps and profusion of strange angles made her mind ache. Pheiri¡¯s clever geometric puzzles had given her just enough understanding to know that she did not understand anything.

    But she kept going. She had to keep going. She had to help!

    Iriko squeezed herself down narrow passages too cramped for any zombie. She wormed her bulk up through apertures full of machinery and circuits and sleeping electricity. She slithered into vast dark rooms in the heart of the tomb, filled with luminous machinery and the whirring of secret mechanical thoughts. She climbed the sluice-pipes which had carried the massive quantities of raw blue required to resurrect zombies, all empty and dry now. She wriggled into the gaps between the walls, where the tiny cogs and gears and wheels moved in silent concert, playing a game Iriko could not comprehend. She ventured into the mouths of corridors lined with big guns ¡ª and found they were still alive, still awake, still angry, warding her off with the promise of a warning shot if she advanced any further.

    She stayed away from the outer walls now, away from the howling voice of the storm, away from the risk of any windows; the monster outdoors was waiting for prey, waiting for the right moment to crack this shell open and scoop out any tasty morsels it could spy. Iriko knew she was quite the snack. She did not want to tempt a predator.

    She passed huddled zombies and whispered arguments, slid beneath the greased motion of great pistons, and past corridors filled with traps to skewer any unwary little revenant.

    After an hour of searching and slumping and sniffing for Death¡¯s Heads, Iriko was so deep in the tomb that the static haze of rain and hail was almost cosy.

    She was also hopelessly lost.

    Iriko had done her best to compile a mental map of the areas through which she had passed, but when she consulted that map and attempted to retrace her steps, she found her path was a infinitesimally thin lifeline dipped deep into a sea of black. The way she had come was so narrow ¡ª like a fishing line which might snap if she grasped it too tightly. She knew the route by which she could return to the chamber where she had started, but she quailed at her own insignificance, compared with the ocean of the tomb.

    Suddenly all the passages before her seemed so much tighter and darker, choked with shadows. Iriko might get trapped! How had she ever squeezed herself down those corridors only moments before?The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    The walls were closing in. The darkness would drown her. The weight ¡ª she was under a mountain! Under miles of ground! She would be crushed into paste and bone fragments, legs trapped beneath rock, lungs pinned by¡ª

    But no, no, Iriko didn¡¯t have legs or lungs anymore. What was she afraid of? She had been underground earlier, when she had chased the Necromancer, and she had conquered her fear then, hadn¡¯t she? She had swam through the rock like water, she had been on a mission, an important mission, she had been unstoppable!

    And now she was a scared little girl, all alone in a dark corridor.

    Perhaps the outside world had stopped existing, perhaps all the planet had become this endless dark warren, and Iriko would be trapped here forever, until she starved to death, by herself. Down in the dark, everyone else dead, screaming for help until her mouth was dry and her tears had stopped and only the cold rock was left for her to embrace.

    Iriko stopped. Iriko climbed the nearest wall and hugged the ceiling and crammed herself into an upper corner.

    She wanted to scream and sob. She wanted to call out for help; she did, casting tight-beam comms out to Pheiri. But there was no reply. Iriko was too deep, behind too many walls of black tomb-metal, her signals lost in the labyrinth. All Pheiri¡¯s bravery could not reach her, not here, not down in the dark.

    For a long time Iriko managed to do her best ¡ª she stayed very still and very quiet. She made the scales of her armour so dark that not even a big scary zombie with lots of metal parts could see her. She compacted her flesh to maximum density, making herself as small as possible. She rammed spikes of bone into the metal of the tomb, anchoring herself in place, though the black tomb metal was very hard and very tough and she could not burn through it with acid. She stopped breathing and allowed many of her internal processes to lapse. She almost stopped thinking, turning her thoughts inward to focus on one of Pheiri¡¯s little geometric puzzles. She stayed in her corner, beneath the rain and the hail and the howling of the winds beyond the walls.

    In time the fear became too much. Iriko let out a little wet sob. Droplets of mucus fell to the floor far below. She sniffed and whined, as if anybody would hear and come to her aid.

    A few minutes later, four zombies crept into the chamber.

    Iriko went silent. She folded away the bits of herself which had sobbed and whined and sniffed.

    The zombies were right below her as they entered the room, peering about with wide eyes, holding their collective breath, hands on each other¡¯s shoulders and arms. They were nothing special ¡ª a quartet of half-naked, half-crazed, half-starved scavengers. They had very little meat on their bones; they reeked of sweat and fear and blood and ash. Out in the ruins of the city, Iriko would have eaten these four without a second thought, but she would not have gone out of her way to hunt them down. They possessed no bionics, no nice dense reserves of nanomachines. They were not worth the bother of a chase.

    ¡°There¡¯s nobody here,¡± hissed one of the zombies ¡ª tall and willowy, black-haired, with mottled red skin like a pretty lizard. ¡°It was nothing. This place plays tricks with sound, could have come from the other side of the pyramid for all we know.¡±

    ¡°Can we, like, sit down now?¡± said a second zombie, pale and freckled and slender beneath her clothes.

    A third zombie spoke ¡ª scrawny and tiny and twitchy. ¡°Nah nah nah nah. This ain¡¯t far enough, this ain¡¯t far at all.¡±

    The second zombie sighed. ¡°Come on, Azzy. I¡¯m so tired. Zidra¡¯s right. There¡¯s nobody here.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re such a fucking wet slap, Leeu,¡± said the scrawny one ¡ª ¡®Azzy¡¯. ¡°Tired is better than dead.¡±

    ¡®Leeu¡¯ sighed again. ¡°We¡¯re already dead, you twat.¡±

    The first speaker, the one with mottled red skin ¡ª ¡®Zidra¡¯ ¡ª was about to say something. But then the fourth and final zombie detached herself from her companions and strode into the centre of the room. The other three hissed and winced. Zidra reached out as if to restrain her companion, but faltered at the last second.

    ¡°Fuck, fuck!¡± Azzy spat. ¡°Riki! Riki, stop!¡±

    ¡®Riki¡¯ walked into the middle of the room and peered in all directions, hands on her hips, chest thrust out. Dark yellow eyes slid over Iriko¡¯s hiding place. Strong hands raised in a double-fisted gesture. Red hair glinted in Iriko¡¯s night-vision.

    ¡°It¡¯s safe,¡± said Riki. Her voice was a weird hissing, like she¡¯d been recently punched in the throat. ¡°Let¡¯s stop here.¡±

    ¡°Who made you fucking leader?!¡± Azzy spat. ¡°There¡¯s no leader, we agreed, there¡¯s no¡ª¡±

    Leeu, the freckled girl, whined: ¡°Azzy, shut up! I¡¯m tired.¡±

    Azzy rounded on Leeu and hit her in the chest ¡ª lightly, just enough to surprise. ¡°We said no leader! No leader! No¡ª¡±

    Zidra ¡ª the one with the red-mottled lizard-like skin ¡ª grabbed Azzy by the hair and yanked her back, then hissed in her face. ¡°Step off!¡±

    Azzy hissed and tutted, yanking her hair free.

    Leeu was on the verge of tears. ¡°Uh¡ª uh¡ª I only meant¡ª¡±

    Zidra reached over to take Leeu¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s okay, for real. We all just have to stop fucking bickering. Got it?¡±

    Azzy snorted. Leeu shrugged and swallowed. Zidra sighed through clenched teeth. The leader ¡ª Riki ¡ª pointed to a corner, seemingly at random, but not the corner above which Iriko hung.

    ¡°Let¡¯s sit over there,¡± she said. ¡°Sit and think a bit.¡±

    The four bottom-feeders slouched and scurried over to the corner. Riki spent a few moments running her hands over the walls, searching for secrets. Azzy squatted in a grumpy, pouting, scrawny heap. Zidra ran her tongue over her teeth, then sat directly on the floor, chin in her hands. Leeu lay down on her back, limbs spread out, staring at the ceiling.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± said Azzy.

    ¡°Yup,¡± Zidra said. ¡°Fuck. Sounds about right.¡±

    ¡°Anybody got any meat left?¡± Azzy said. ¡°Anybody pocket some without saying? Got some stuck between your teeth? Shoved up your arse?¡±

    ¡°Wish we did,¡± said Leeu.

    ¡°Fuck.¡±

    The zombies lapsed into sullen silence. Iriko grew a single additional auditory matrix and pushed it out through her night-black flesh, in case she was about to miss a whisper. The flower of meat and mucus hung in the air, picking up the tiniest vibrations from below.

    Riki finished checking the walls. She turned back to her companions, dusted off her hands, and said: ¡°Let¡¯s see the gun.¡±

    Leeu screwed her eyes shut. ¡°Do I gotta?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Unless you dropped it. Did you drop it?¡±

    Leeu sat up and rummaged in her ragged clothes. She was wearing an oversized flak jacket and a pair of trousers, both of which looked as if they had been looted off a bullet-ridden corpse. She pulled out a long-barrelled handgun and showed it to the others.

    Azzy whistled. ¡°You weren¡¯t joking. Way to go, shit head. Love you sometimes.¡±

    Zidra crossed her arms and nodded. ¡°Nice. Good score.¡±

    Riki said, ¡°And you¡¯re total sure the borg bitch didn¡¯t see you take it?¡±

    Leeu shook her head. ¡°Everybody was looking at the bomb go off. I just thought ¡­ you know, why the hell not? Don¡¯t we deserve some guns too?¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Zidra purred ¡ª a weird little trilling noise in her chest. ¡°Maybe the Telokopolans should be handing out weapons instead of meat. Even things up a bit. Give us a fighting chance.¡±

    ¡°Mutually assured destruction,¡± Riki muttered.

    ¡°Eh? What¡¯s that mean?¡±

    Riki shrugged. ¡°An idea from back when I was alive. Doesn¡¯t matter now. Leeu, how many bullets in that thing? How much bang we got?¡±

    Leeu fumbled with the pistol for a long moment, unsure how to get the magazine out. Eventually she slid it free and held it up, squinting at the grey metal. ¡°Ten ¡­ no, eleven bullets. Yeah, eleven.¡±

    Zidra sighed. Riki sucked on her teeth.

    Leeu slid the magazine back into the gun. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s ¡­ it¡¯s not much. They¡¯re big bullets though. I think.¡±

    Azzy snorted. ¡°Pity you didn¡¯t lift some blue.¡±

    ¡°Nobody back there has any blue,¡± Riki said. ¡°Nobody but the Telokopolans. And they wasn¡¯t sharing.¡±

    ¡°She was,¡± said Zidra. ¡°She was sharing a lot, Elpida was. We¡¯re all full of it. Literally.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Azzy, ¡°but not the blue! Bitch could have given some up, right?¡±

    Zidra turned her head to glare at Azzy, then gestured at something on Azzy¡¯s chest, looking at her as if she was very stupid. Azzy rolled her eyes and snorted. Iriko could not quite see what the disagreement was about ¡ª she was at the wrong angle, up in her corner. She sprouted two extra eyes and slid them a few feet along the ceiling, but Azzy wasn¡¯t wearing anything out of the ordinary, just ragged t-shirts and a pair of torn-up shorts.

    Riki said, ¡°Alright, so, who¡¯s the best shot?¡±

    Leeu said, ¡°Not me.¡±

    ¡°Me neither,¡± said Azzy. ¡°Guns. Fuck guns. Get me a plasma cutter next time. Industrial style. Go right through one of those power armoured bitches like the side of a shipping container.¡±

    Zidra sighed, yet again. ¡°I don¡¯t think they have ¡®plasma cutters¡¯ here, dumb arse.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t even know what that is!¡± Azzy spat back. ¡°The highest tech you¡¯ve ever seen is a fucking water wheel. You eat handfuls of your own dung. You get shat out by the dozen from a hive cunt like some¡ª¡±

    Zidra leaned toward Azzy, face full of wrath. Azzy tried to scramble back, but Zidra grabbed the front of her clothes.

    ¡°H-hey, gettoff¡ª¡±

    ¡°I will bite your nose off, you little streak of piss, you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Off! Off!¡± Azzy kicked at Zidra¡¯s knees. ¡°Fucking mutant fuck, bite me¡ª¡±

    Leeu spoke as if her companions were not about to eat each other; she was staring at the firearm in her hand. ¡°What would we use the gun for, anyway?¡±

    The fight stopped as quickly as it had broken out; Zidra let go and Azzy pushed herself back, spitting and hissing. Iriko decided they must be really close friends after all. That was nice.

    Riki raised her eyebrows. Azzy just stared.

    Zidra said: ¡°To get some more food?¡±

    Leeu chewed her tongue. ¡°We could have gotten more food by staying in the chamber.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Azzy laughed. ¡°After ¡®Elpida¡¯ got her arm blown off?¡±

    ¡°She won, didn¡¯t she?¡± Leeu said.

    Riki shook her head. ¡°Plenty others was running. We all saw what the Dead-Head freaks wrote on that zombie.¡±

    Azzy snapped, ¡°You scared?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Riki, standing tall. ¡°Aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Leeu said, ¡°What did it mean, anyway? What¡¯s a ¡®degenerate¡¯?¡±

    Zidra looked up at the ceiling. ¡°Anybody the skull freaks don¡¯t like. Anybody they feel like killing. Anybody who makes friends with the Telokopolan lot and their tank. Right?¡±

    The zombies fell silent. Azzy swallowed. Zidra kicked at the ground, though there was nothing to kick. Leeu looked pale.

    Azzy tugged at her own t-shirt and muttered, ¡°Maybe we should get this shit off us.¡±

    Zidra shook her head. ¡°I like it. I¡¯m keeping it.¡±

    Azzy said, ¡°Telokopolis doesn¡¯t exist. Whatever that weird bitch meant, whatever she was talking about, it¡¯s all dead, like everything else. Everything¡¯s dead! Commonwealth, Kingdom, spacemen on Mars, robots in Asic, even the fucking monkeys! Come on, and I¡¯m not being a rude cunt this time. It¡¯s obvious bullshit. Everything¡¯s dead. We¡¯re just what¡¯s left over.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± said Zidra. ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t care.¡±

    Riki said, ¡°I¡¯m keeping it too.¡±

    Azzy snorted. ¡°Thought you said¡ª¡±

    Leeu interrupted. ¡°We only ran ¡®cos I lifted the gun!¡± she complained. ¡°We could have stayed!¡±

    ¡°And gotten stomped by the cyborg you stole from,¡± Zidra said. ¡°Yeah, real smart.¡±

    Leeu swallowed and slumped her shoulders. She held the gun like it was a punishment.

    ¡°None of us know how to shoot,¡± Riki said eventually. ¡°And we only have eleven bullets. That¡¯s not enough to test with. Maybe we should trade the gun for meat.¡±

    None of the four zombies said anything to that; even Iriko knew it was a hopeless suggestion. Trade away a gun and you¡¯d get a bullet for your troubles. Anybody capable of obtaining fresh meat would not give up a mouthful for a single pistol and eleven rounds. The weapon was only any use for hunting meat of one¡¯s own.

    Iriko realised her fear was gone. These four zombies were so much smaller than her, and they didn¡¯t fear the dark, tight, enclosing corridors. They weren¡¯t afraid of getting crushed and pinned and dying alone, miles underground. They were afraid of more obvious things, like starving, or getting in a fight. It had been a long time since Iriko had watched and listened to a group of zombies without eating them.

    She rather liked the feeling.

    Maybe they could lead her back to Pheiri.

    Iriko extended a thick pseudopod toward the floor. She concentrated very hard for several minutes, while the zombies moped about in the opposite corner, muttering about plans they all knew had no hope of coming to fruition. Iriko twisted the pseudopod ¡ª pinching tight here, puffing up there, smoothing curves and gentle angles, extruding fibres and textures, forming layers of chitin and filaments of bone. She sculpted slender thighs and slim hips and a nice elegant little waist. She made the shoulders fine and delicate and kept the chest modest. She pushed arms out from the sides, long and lithe and clean. She pulled a head upward from between the shoulders, with a heart-shaped face wrapped in smooth, soft, creamy skin. She pressed features into the face ¡ª pretty dark eyes and long sleek hair. She tried a ponytail, then twin-tails, but in the end she decided that simplicity was best; she left ¡®her¡¯ hair loose, hanging down the back of her perfect little doll.

    She finished by wrapping the whole thing in a kimono ¡ª nothing fancy, just pale pink petals on a pastel background. She couldn¡¯t do anything with the feet, sadly, because the doll had no feet, just the end of the pseudopod trailing off into the darkness.

    When Iriko was done, she felt disgusted.

    This thing she had crafted, was it meant to be herself?

    The puppet-pseudopod was ugly and wrong. The hair was like straw and the limbs were like rubber. The skin was the colour of blotchy, mouldy, rotten rice-mash, but she couldn¡¯t seem to get it any closer to the soft brown she wanted, the colour she could just about recall from some deep well of melted memory. The eyes were holes punched in starch, full of coal dust and pitch. The teeth were curved and jagged; they wouldn¡¯t straighten out no matter how hard she tried. The design on the kimono looked like flesh, not flowers.

    Iriko wanted to cry. She hadn¡¯t gotten any better at this. She hadn¡¯t practised.

    But the darkness would hide all her flaws. The shadows of the tomb would now be her ally.

    Iriko ¡®walked¡¯ her puppet out of the corner, out of the enclosing dark, toward the four sad little zombies. She used the rear of the pseudopod to simulate the sound of wooden sandals clacking against metal; she didn¡¯t want to surprise the four, after all.

    The scavenger quartet scrambled to their feet. Riki leapt in front, arms wide, as if trying to protect the others.

    ¡°Woah, shit!¡± Zidra yelled. ¡°What¡ª where¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop, stop!¡± Riki snapped. ¡°Stop there!¡±

    ¡°Where did she come from!?¡± Azzy kept saying, backing up to put herself in the rear. ¡°Where did she come from!? Where did she come from!?¡±

    Leeu pointed the gun right at the puppet¡¯s face.

    Iriko stopped the puppet, still deep in the shadows. She pulled a smile and raised a hand.

    Azzy screamed. Riki went pale, mouth hanging open. Zidra went very still. Leeu said, ¡°It¡¯s a¡ª uh¡ª one of them disguised¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, we know!¡± Azzy screeched. ¡°Leeu, shoot it! Shoot! Pull the trigger, you dick head!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think we should!¡± Leeu said. ¡°It won¡¯t work, right?!¡±

    Riki raised her voice. ¡°On our left, on the count of three.¡± She reached out without looking, grabbing Zidra and Azzy¡¯s hands. Leeu was left out, still clutching the pistol in both fists. ¡°On three, just run! Maybe it won¡¯t understand. One¡ª¡±

    Iriko realised she had forgotten to grow any organs for speech. She quickly reorganised the insides of the puppet, forming some rudimentary lungs and a vibrating flap for vocal cords. She opened the puppet¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°Guns don¡¯t work on me,¡± she said via the puppet. The voice was not very good, but she kept talking. ¡°But don¡¯t worry about that. I can help you eat¡ª¡±

    Leeu pulled the trigger.

    Bang!

    Recoil threw her arms upward and sent her staggering back.

    The bullet slammed right through the puppet¡¯s face, blowing apart all of Iriko¡¯s hard work, splattering her beautiful kimono with crimson gore.

    Leeu landed on her backside with a thump. A trickle of smoke rose from the barrel of the gun. The other three zombies froze, staring at the bubbling ruin of the pseudopod-tip.

    The biomass loss was negligible; Iriko knew she could slurp up all the flesh and fluids to regain everything she¡¯d just shed. One bullet was nothing. It had only done any real damage because she¡¯d been trying so hard to maintain the illusion of the puppet¡¯s face and head.

    But these girls, these horrid girls, they weren¡¯t supposed to treat her like this! They were supposed to say ¡ª say what? Hello there, lost girl? Do you want to sit in our little circle with us? Do you want to trade the useless gun for a mouthful of meat? They were supposed to accept that Iriko was just like them, just another scared girl, lost in the dark, all alone!

    But Iriko knew she was none of those things, not really. She was an ugly mass of protoplasmic flesh, hiding the truth in a dark corner.

    This was the curse of her improved cognition under Pheiri¡¯s tutelage. Iriko knew exactly what these zombies thought of her.

    Iriko detached her anchor-spikes, bunched her muscles against the corner, and pounced upon her prey.

    At least like this she could make the pain go away. These zombies were only little, they would not be missed. Nobody was here to witness her meal, nobody had to know. Pheiri could not be disappointed in her if he was not aware. Elpida would not be sad if she never found out.

    Iriko landed on the floor a few feet in front of the four zombies with a heavy wet splat of meaty mass. All four of them screamed now, scrambling back, wide-eyed with terror. Leeu pulled the trigger of her gun again and again ¡ª bang! bang! bang! ¡ª but the bullets pinged harmlessly off Iriko¡¯s refractive armour. Azzy screamed and screamed and screamed. Riki put her fists up, teeth bared. Zidra, with her strange mottled skin, went still and silent, as if she could blend into the walls. But she was crying big wet tears.

    Iriko reared up, ready to slam down on all four girls at once. She would crush these horrid, rude, awful little bullies, digest their bodies, and then forget all about the way they screamed at her¡ª

    Iriko froze.

    Elpida¡¯s special symbol was scrawled on the chest of Azzy¡¯s t-shirt.

    It was very crude, drawn with a fingertip dipped in blood, but the symbol was unmistakable ¡ª a pair of lines, like a tower or a narrow mountain, standing tall against a curve, almost like dawn or the moon or the edge of the world itself. Elpida had explained the meaning of the symbol to Iriko, though Iriko had trouble understanding why it mattered, until Howl had simplified it for her.

    The symbol of Telokopolis. The symbol which meant that one day, Iriko would never go hungry again.

    All four zombies were wearing it. Iriko had not been able to see it before, relying on low-light vision and infra-red and echolocation. It was daubed on Azzy¡¯s ragged t-shirt, painted on Zidra¡¯s shoulder with black, and cut into the fabric of Leeu¡¯s flack jacket. Riki drawn it on the back of both her fists.

    The screaming trailed off, replaced by four pairs of panting lungs. Leeu stopped pulling the trigger ¡ª she was out of bullets, going click click click. Riki reached out, fumbling for her her companions again.

    ¡°R-run!¡± one of them squeaked. Iriko couldn¡¯t tell which.

    The four zombies scrambled away ¡ª along the wall, then out through the opposite door. Iriko let them go.

    When the hurried footsteps had been swallowed by the static of the storm, Iriko slumped to the floor. For several minutes she did nothing. Eventually she reeled the remains of the pseudopod-doll back into her body, reabsorbing her sad attempt at making something pretty. She slurped up the flesh and blood which the bullet had scattered about the chamber.

    She wanted to cry. Just as she was about to, a short range radio contact crackled across the surface of her skin.

    ¡¸Good choice.¡¹

    Iriko bristled with spikes, extended threatening tentacles, and hardened her outer layers.

    A tall figure wrapped all in black stepped out of the shadows, from the same direction the four zombies had entered the room. Red eyes glinted with amusement above a metal half-mask. A long rifle was cradled in six pale arms.

    Serin!

    Iriko did not reply to the radio contact. She blanketed Serin with a rapid-fire series of echolocation pings, then extended several tubes of flesh and hooted as loud as she could in Serin¡¯s stupid face. She blew the biggest, dirtiest, rudest ¡®pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbt!!!¡¯ she could muster.

    Serin¡¯s red eyes twinkled with amusement.

    ¡¸I mean it,¡¹ Serin broadcast. ¡¸I wasn¡¯t sure which way you would leap. Not that I could ¡ª or would ¡ª stop you, either way. But it is a good thing you let those little weeds go. They may grow yet, who knows for certain? I¡¯m told that¡¯s the point.¡¹

    Iriko did a big huff, so big that even Serin had to blink.

    ¡¸mock mock laugh laugh haha haha iriko so stupid stupid!¡¹

    Serin smiled behind her mask. ¡¸Stupid? No. Far from it. The opposite, even. It takes wisdom to let the weak thrive. It¡¯s been a long time since I acknowledged that. Perhaps I have things to learn from you, Iriko.¡¹

    ¡¸iriko not stupid?¡¹

    ¡¸That is what I said.¡¹

    Iriko brooded on this for a moment. She considered reaching for Serin and swallowing her whole, but that would make Elpida unhappy and Pheiri wouldn¡¯t like it either, so she refrained, though she imagined what it would be like. Crunchy Serin, with all those special bionics, all those nanomachines. Mm.

    But Serin had called her smart, yes? That was better than eating.

    ¡¸why here here? serin is too far from pheiri don¡¯t want to be far from pheiri take me back take me back lead out out?¡¹

    Serin hefted her gun and moved her head, looking into the dark passageways which led off from the chamber. ¡¸I am doing the same thing as you, Iriko. The coh-mander ¡­ she cannot give the order. I am anticipating her needs. Which is not a thing I ever expected to say. Hmm.¡¹

    ¡¸elpida elpida okay? didn¡¯t talk to iriko didn¡¯t talk at all could only hear howl. howl!¡¹

    Serin¡¯s robes rustled, like a sigh. She spoke out loud in her scratchy metal voice, muffled by her mask. ¡°You are asking after Elpida?¡±

    Iriko waved a pseudopod ¡ª yes!

    Behind Serin¡¯s mask, her smile faded.

    ¡°The Coh-mander is indisposed.¡± Serin sighed again, making that odd rustling sound. ¡°I know the others told you not to fight. But how would you like to continue where we left off, Iriko? I¡¯m going to do what we should have never failed to do in the first place.¡±

    ¡¸do? do? what what what?¡¹

    ¡°Hunting. Hunt the prey which escaped us last time. Death Cult leaders, all of them. And this time there¡¯s no Necromancer to foul our shot.¡±

 tenebrae - 13.2

    Victoria examined the stump of Elpida¡¯s right arm.

    The bomb had annihilated everything south of her elbow; the joint itself survived only as a shredded mass of skin flaps, shattered bone, and mangled cartilage. Melyn had done her best to tidy up the damage, slicing off any bits of flesh which lacked circulation, pulling out chunks of minced tissue, and extracting shards of blackened bone. Pira had assured everybody that zombies could not suffer gangrene ¡ª tissue death did not work the same for nanomachine biology. But Melyn had operated as if on a real live human being, debriding cauterised flesh, suturing severed arteries, and discarding unsalvageable meat. None of that meat had been wasted, of course; every scrap was recycled, straight back into Elpida¡¯s mouth. One grim advantage of being undead.

    Now the stump was slathered in thick ointment, wrapped in dry gauze, and dressed with several layers of clean white bandage. The infirmary still reeked of cooked human flesh.

    Vicky had seen worse wounds in life ¡ª gut wounds, head wounds, sucking chest wounds; brain damage caused by pressure-wave concussions; soldiers blasted apart by artillery barrage, cut in two by high-powered autocannons, melted by white phosphorus, or burnt to cinders by the clinging jelly of napalm. She¡¯d seen worse wounds on Elpida before ¡ª she¡¯d watched over Elpida¡¯s seemingly lifeless corpse, shot through the heart by the monster they¡¯d fought outside their own tomb. Vicky herself had suffered almost as badly from that fight, her own arm mangled beyond mortal recovery, only saved by the horrible miracle of zombie biology.

    But there was something different about Elpida¡¯s arm just gone, just like that. Nothing left to stick or stitch onto the end of the stump.

    Vicky had personally scraped the charred remains of Elpida¡¯s forearm off the floor of the tomb, picking morsels of burnt bone out of the twisted wreckage of the bomb-vest. The resulting handfuls of blackened meat had not seemed large enough to account for a whole human arm and hand, let alone the right arm of the Commander.

    That had gone down Elpida¡¯s throat as well, bones and all.

    Six inches further up from the dressing was the start of Elpida¡¯s bionic upper arm ¡ª a ¡®pass-through¡¯ bionic, as she had once explained, passing blood and lymph to her biological forearm. The bionic was a sleek collection of bio-plastic plates, in the exact same copper-brown as Elpida¡¯s real skin. Apparently she had woken with it, back in the tomb, upon resurrection. All too easily forgotten. Vicky rubbed at her own chest, over her heart ¡ª her bionic heart, another easily forgotten advantage.

    What was the point in the pass-through bionic now? Would Elpida regrow the limb as a full cybernetic arm? Would she abandon more of her simulated flesh?

    Victoria looked up and met Elpida¡¯s gaze.

    Purple eyes were ringed with dark circles, pinched with echoes of pain, but not the least bit clouded.

    Elpida was sitting on one of the two slab-beds in the infirmary, stripped to the waist, holding out her stump for inspection. Her mouth was curled in a subtle smirk.

    ¡°Had enough of a gander?¡± she purred.

    Vicky cleared her throat and straightened up from the infirmary bed. ¡°Yeah. Yeah, looks good. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Looks good?¡± Kagami echoed from behind Vicky. ¡°How can you even tell? Since when were you a field medic, Victoria? Did I miss that particular chapter in the story of your life, or have you been holding out on us this entire time?¡±

    Elpida¡¯s smirk grew wider.

    Victoria turned to look over her shoulder, glad for an excuse to avert her eyes from Elpida¡¯s naked body, away from that knowing grin.

    Pheiri¡¯s infirmary was very crowded. Kagami floated close to the bulkhead hatch, suspended on an invisible gravitic field from a trio of her little silver-grey drones, her black hair hanging down in a dark wave; she had her arms folded across her chest, lips compressed with irritation, eyes glaring daggers at everything and everybody. Pira was sat in one of the two fold-out metal chairs attached the walls, wedged at an awkward angle between dead medical machines and blood-stained countertops, her boots planted amid the dried blood on the floor; Pira wore her usual shuttered expression, giving away nothing, but giving Victoria plenty of cause for caution. Shilu ¡ª the Necromancer, thankfully still in her human guise ¡ª was standing about as far as possible from both the others, at the other end of the infirmary, which was not very far, considering the limits of the cramped space; she held her hands behind her back, feet braced at parade rest. A compliant captive.

    The girl for whom Elpida had sacrificed her right arm was laid out on the second of the two slab-beds.

    Sanzhima¡¯s body was a wreck. She had been cut out of her clothes, intestines crammed back into her belly, stomach stitched shut. Her chest wounds were stuffed with gauze, right hand swaddled in a mitten of bandages, face plastered with ointment and dressings. She was wrapped in more bandages than the infirmary could spare. Long dark hair was still matted with her own blood, raked back out of her eyes, glued to her scalp. Her face was so puffy that Victoria couldn¡¯t really judge what she looked like beneath all the damage.

    Melyn had spent over two hours working on Sanzhima, after Hafina had carried her into the infirmary and lowered her onto the slab. Three times Victoria was certain that they¡¯d lost Sanzhima, but Melyn was a miracle worker ¡ª three times the girl had gasped and screeched back to this unkind afterlife, clawing at the slab, writhing to get away, Haf holding her down, everybody shouting and screaming and slipping in the blood. All but Melyn, who had worked in busy silence, sure footed as a mountain goat.

    Sanzhima was mercifully unconscious now, covered with a scratchy blue blanket. Her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.

    A half-empty empty cannister of raw blue nanomachines stood next to her head ¡ª the secret ingredient to her recovery.

    Melyn had not fared well. Life-saving surgery seemed to take an emotional toll on the diminutive Artificial Human. She was slumped in the other fold-out metal seat, wedged into the narrow gap next to Sanzhima, bloody hands curled in her lap, big dark eyes staring at a point on the wall.

    The distant shriek and wail of the hurricane whispered far beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull, out there against the black walls of the tomb.

    Victoria gave Kagami a look. ¡°Kaga, don¡¯t. We¡¯re all too tired for this. Can it.¡±

    Kagami glared back. ¡°¡®Can¡¯ what, Victoria? You¡¯re the one who said it ¡®looks good¡¯. Go on, tell us, why does it look good? What¡¯s good about any of¡ª¡±

    Melyn said: ¡°Dressing¡¯s good. Good. Dressing¡¯s good. Clean wound. Wound. Clean. Mm.¡±

    It was the first time Melyn had spoken in over an hour. Her voice was robotic and sharp. She did not look up.

    Victoria spread her hands in a shrug.

    Kagami cleared her throat. ¡°Yes, well. I¡¯m not trying to disparage Melyn¡¯s work, of course. That wasn¡¯t what I was doing! It wasn¡¯t! Okay?¡± She glanced down at Melyn. ¡°I wasn¡¯t insulting your work. Do you understand? Melyn? Melyn, are you ¡­ ? Tch!¡±

    Pira said, ¡°We get it.¡±

    Kagami rounded on Pira instead, eyes spitting fire, jabbing with one finger. ¡°You don¡¯t have the right to give input, you insect. Shut¡ª¡±

    Victoria raised her voice. ¡°Kaga! She does, we¡¯ve been over this. Any of us¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll probably suggest we finish the job!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Pull the rest of the arm off, beat Elpida over the head with it. Why not?¡±

    Victoria sighed, closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was developing a headache. Not surprising. How many hours had she been awake?

    Pira said, ¡°Where¡¯s Hafina?¡±

    ¡°How should I know?¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°Do I look like Pheiri?¡±

    Victoria opened her eyes again. She said, ¡°Uh, crew compartment, last I checked, getting all her armour off. But that was ¡­ what, an hour ago? Why?¡±

    Pira nodded a silent acknowledgement, got out of her chair, and walked over to the hatch. She turned her back to Kagami without flinching, which drew a silent snarl from Kagami¡¯s lips. Victoria resisted another sigh; she couldn¡¯t lose her temper right now, they couldn¡¯t afford that. Pira stepped out into the crew compartment. A few moments later she re-entered, followed by Hafina. The six-armed giant was stripped out of her armour, mostly naked, her skin a slow kaleidoscope of shifting colours.

    ¡°Hello hello?¡± Haf said, swinging her head left and right. ¡°Nasty times in here, yeah? Hear you lot shouting.¡±

    Victoria tried to smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that, Haf. Unless you want to give your own input. Everybody¡¯s got a right to, uh, participate?¡±

    Haf shook her head.

    Pira gestured at Melyn. ¡°Look after her, please. We can call you if either patient needs further medical attention.¡±

    Hafina nodded and squeezed forward, massive in the cramped space of the infirmary, but graceful and careful despite her size. She plucked Melyn out of the little metal fold-out chair with four of her six arms, cradled the smaller ART to her chest, and carried her back into the crew compartment. Pira gently pulled the hatch almost closed.

    ¡°Good thinking,¡± said Victoria. ¡°Good idea. She probably needed that. Melyn, I mean. We take her for granted.¡±

    Pira shrugged and returned to her own seat.

    Kagami tutted. ¡°One problem down, three hundred and sixty five to go. Where do you want to start, Victoria? All the extra mouths to feed? Sleeping arrangements? How about a headcount, see if we¡¯ve picked up any extra passengers? I¡¯m sure we can find a nook or cranny to squeeze in another half-dozen.¡±

    Victoria wanted to cross the room and drag Kagami out of her gravitic suspension field. She entertained a fantasy of slamming Kaga up against a wall and telling her to get the fuck back in line. But she knew that wouldn¡¯t work, not like it worked for Elpida. Victoria could not do what the Commander did. She didn¡¯t have it in her to do violence to Kaga.

    Instead she took a deep breath and counted to ten inside her head before she spoke. ¡°Kaga, I know you¡¯re wound up. We¡¯re all wound up. We¡¯re all tense. We¡¯re all uncomfortable. But I can¡¯t deal with you doing this, not right now. I just can¡¯t. Reel it in, or ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Or what?¡±

    ¡°Or I¡¯ll head back to my bunk and crash for eight to ten hours. And you can deal with this by yourself.¡±

    Kagami let her eyes slide to Pira, then to Shilu. ¡°By myself? I wish.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°I can go sit out on the hull, if you prefer.¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes. ¡°Not what I meant.¡±

    Victoria gestured at Shilu ¡ª at her eyes, then her feet. ¡°No, you ¡­ you stay here, you stay where we can see you.¡±

    Shilu nodded. ¡°Understood.¡±

    Kagami launched off again. ¡°And what¡¯s to ¡®deal with¡¯, anyway? The damage is done. Our suicidal moron of a Commander nearly achieved the glorious martyrdom she so obviously craves, we have yet another badly injured mouth to feed, and a crowd of malnourished charity cases outside who think she¡¯s their cannibal messiah. Great! Wonderful! Let¡¯s have a debriefing, hm? Shall we start with, oh, I don¡¯t know, lessons learned¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªthen we can move onto tips for future operations, swap some knowledge. Compare recipes for cooked arm meat¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kagami, stop¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªand get some clarity on not setting off fucking bombs next time!¡±

    Kagami stopped, red in the face, breathing hard.

    Pira looked up and met Victoria¡¯s eyes; she didn¡¯t need to say anything to make her message clear ¡ª let her rant, she needs this.

    But Victoria wasn¡¯t having it. The anger and fear was one thing, but the critique was another.

    ¡°What else was Elpida supposed to do, huh?¡± Vicky said. ¡°What other options did we have? She was right about that part, Kaga. We were in front of a crowd out there, a crowd to which we¡¯d made promises. We had to pull that off, or all we¡¯ve done here would be for nothing. She made the right choice.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°All we¡¯ve done here? Pray tell, Victoria, what exactly have we ¡®done here¡¯? Attracted a crowd of hangers-on who we can¡¯t feed? Painted a great big target on our foreheads? Oh, I suppose we¡¯ve spread the name ¡®Telokopolis¡¯ about, for all the good that does. Great work, really worth doing, certainly won¡¯t be taken apart the moment this fucking storm ends!¡±

    ¡°None of that changes that Elpida did the right thing.¡±

    ¡°In the most stupid fashion possible!¡± Kagami shouted. ¡°She could have used a drone, I¡¯ve got plenty of them now! They¡¯re expendable, that¡¯s what they¡¯re for! Or ask Hafina to do it, she¡¯s got a few arms to spare. Hell, Ilyusha has armoured limbs, maybe she wouldn¡¯t have gotten turned into chunky mince! Or Shilu, you ¡ª you can regenerate yours, I assume?¡±

    ¡°Within certain limits,¡± said Shilu. ¡°But I had to do the cutting. And that had to be from the rear, there was no way to hold the vest together from the front.¡±

    ¡°Tch!¡± Kagami hissed. ¡°Whatever. Bottom line, Elpida didn¡¯t do any of those very sensible things, oh no. She just had to do it herself.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Victoria said. ¡°And I still think that was the right choice. I¡¯ll stand by that. You heard that crowd, you heard them cheering. It worked.¡±

    ¡°I also heard half of them screaming! And more than half fleeing the chamber. Shouting and screaming and a lot of running away. Was that part of Elpida¡¯s plans?¡±

    ¡°That ¡­ that was inevitable,¡± Victoria admitted. ¡°But the ones who stayed¡ª¡±

    ¡°Want free meat!¡± Kagami snapped. ¡°And they¡¯ll stop getting it soon enough. Do you think they¡¯ll keep on cheering then? Do you really think¡ª¡±

    ¡°Elpida only heard the cheering,¡± said Elpida¡¯s mouth.

    Victoria braced herself before she turned back around. She was glad she did; Elpida was still wearing that weird little smirk.

    But it wasn¡¯t Elpida.

    The Commander had not been present for hours, not since she had slumped into Pheiri¡¯s rear airlock, clutching her stump, howling encouragement at the crowd beyond the picket line. The moment the ramp had thumped shut, Elpida had stumbled sideways as if passing out from pain and blood loss. She had caught herself with an awkward lurch, then straightened up, blinking like she was surprised to be there. It was not Elpida who had walked to the infirmary and sat down to wait. It was not Elpida who had hurried off to the control cockpit to give dangerous suggestions to Iriko. It was not Elpida who wore that smug look. Elpida would never have made that face.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    She sat there, naked from the waist up in her tomb-grey trousers, face dirty with blood and soot, white hair raked back with her grimy left hand, the bandaged stump loose at her side.

    Howl looked back from behind those purple eyes.

    Kagami tutted. ¡°Then she¡¯s even more delusional than I feared. Great news, thank you.¡±

    Howl let her eyes rove over Kagami, then Pira, then aside to Shilu, looking her up and down. Finally she returned to Victoria.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Vicky?¡± she said, still with that smirk. ¡°Do I give you the creeps? Got you all itchy?¡±

    Kagami sighed, loudly. Pira shifted in her seat.

    Victoria shook her head. ¡°No offence, Howl. It¡¯s just really weird seeing you ¡­ piloting her, like this, in control. Like she¡¯s here, but she¡¯s not. She¡¯s really not there, not at all?¡±

    Howl shrugged with a little coquettish tilt of Elpida¡¯s head. She raised Elpida¡¯s left hand and wiggled the fingers, as if testing. ¡°Nah, Elps ain¡¯t here right now. You got all me, all the time. But hey, don¡¯t sweat it, this is weird as shit for me too, no joke.¡±

    Pira said: ¡°Where is she?¡±

    Howl tapped Elpida¡¯s forehead with Elpida¡¯s left index finger. ¡°She¡¯s no Necromancer, she hasn¡¯t gone anywhere.¡±

    Victoria sighed. ¡°Yeah, but, metaphorically. Where is she? What¡¯s she doing?¡±

    Howl puffed out a bored sigh and rolled her eyes. ¡°Sleeping. Unconscious. Down and out for the long count.¡±

    ¡°Have you tried ¡®waking¡¯ her?¡±

    ¡°Sure. She¡¯s not ready to wake up though.¡±

    ¡°This has never happened before,¡± said Victoria. ¡°Unless you¡¯ve been up and walking around when she¡¯s been sleeping.¡±

    Howl gave Victoria a sullen look ¡ª another expression Elpida would never make. ¡°Don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve noticed, grease-head, but this is a bit fucking different to usual.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Kagami barked. ¡°At least Howl has a sense of humour. Hopefully more instinct for self-preservation than our ¡®Commander¡¯, too.¡±

    Victoria closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, Howl was still right there.

    ¡°How long?¡± she said.

    Howl grunted. ¡°Eh?¡±

    ¡°How long is this likely to last? When is Elpida going to be back?¡±

    Howl smirked. ¡°Miss her already, huh? It¡¯s okay, I can pretend for you. Snap out some commands, pat you on the head, all that shit.¡±

    Victoria counted to ten inside her head, slowly. ¡°How long?¡±

    Howl dropped the smirk. ¡°Search me, pussy-cat. I don¡¯t fuckin¡¯ know. She¡¯s out. That¡¯s all I got.¡±

    Victoria stepped back, leaned against the other slab-bed, and raised her face to stare at the low grey ceiling. The infirmary was so cramped, there was nowhere else to go. She let out a deep sigh.

    Kagami said, ¡°You¡¯re showing surprisingly little pain for somebody with a missing arm. More Necromancer trickery?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I can block some of that. Stings a bit!¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°You should be able to speed up the regeneration process.¡±

    ¡°Pfffft,¡± Howl snorted. ¡°Nah, I ain¡¯t got that level of access. Might just pull the whole stupid bionic off. Start from scratch. Enrichment for Elps! Maybe that¡¯ll wake her up, ha!¡±

    Pira sat up in her chair. The metal creaked. ¡°I think you know more than you¡¯re letting on.¡±

    Howl stared at Pira.

    Kagami hissed, ¡°Oh for fuck¡ª¡±

    Victoria said, ¡°Let her speak.¡±

    A moment of silence passed, filled with storm static. Pira said: ¡°I think you know why she¡¯s retreated, Howl. We need to talk about it.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Howl sneered. ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s all fucked up.¡±

    Howl broke into a smirk. ¡°Sorry, carrot-top, but the only one around here who gets to fuck Elps right now is me.¡± She raised her left hand and the ragged stump of Elpida¡¯s right arm. ¡°Though I¡¯m down to only one set of fingers. Might need some help to make her squeal. You offering?¡±

    Pira didn¡¯t rise to the bait, but Kagami snorted with blushing laughter.

    ¡°Kaga,¡± Victoria said.

    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Kagami asked. ¡°Is that what you two get up to, alone in the night, when she slinks off to some empty compartment? Does that count as sex, or masturbation?¡±

    Howl stuck her tongue out and waggled it at Kagami. ¡°Definitely sex.¡±

    Kagami laughed again, a little too shrill for Vicky¡¯s comfort. Bad sign. Everyone was fraying.

    Howl went on: ¡°You¡¯re welcome to try your luck if you¡¯re ever up and awake and ready for the five-knuckle piston¡ª¡±

    Vicky slammed a fist on the edge of the slab-bed. ¡°Stop!¡±

    All eyes turned to her.

    Kagami opened her mouth, but Victoria pointed at her. ¡°Not a word. Shut up, right now.¡± Kagami scowled, but shut her mouth. Victoria took a deep breath, and said, ¡°We need to talk about her.¡±

    ¡°Elpida?¡± said Pira.

    ¡°Who else? Kagami is right, even if we might disagree on the details. The way she handled that bomb. The fact she¡¯s out cold. Even the decision to save Sanzhima here, it was ¡­ messy, yeah, I¡¯ll admit that. All of it. You¡¯re right as well, Pira. She¡¯s all fucked up. She¡¯s been fucked up since the hunt, since we killed Eseld and her friends. At least since then, if not before. That did something to her which she¡¯s never come back from. We all know it, we can all see it.¡± She glanced at Shilu. ¡°You weren¡¯t there, but I take it you can follow this?¡±

    Shilu nodded.

    Kagami muttered, ¡°Why the hell is she in here, anyway?¡±

    ¡°So we can keep an eye on her,¡± Victoria snapped, then turned to Howl. ¡°Is Elpida going to remember anything we say right now?¡±

    Howl shrugged. ¡°If I tell her.¡±

    ¡°Are you going to?¡±

    Howl closed her eyes and stuck her tongue into her cheek. ¡°Hmmmmmmm. Who knows? I think you bitches need to concentrate on the practical shit right now. You don¡¯t got time for playing fifty questions with me.¡±

    ¡°Practical concerns?¡± Pira said.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Howl opened her eyes again and smirked. She lingered on Pira for a moment, then skipped across Kagami, and landed on Victoria. ¡°Vicky, hey. Where¡¯s everybody else right now, huh?¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°Everybody else. The others. Your girls. Your bitches. Where they at?¡±

    Victoria frowned, trying to focus through the haze of exhaustion and post-stress energy crash. ¡°Why? What does that matter?¡±

    ¡°Just gimme the run-down. Imagine I¡¯m Elps, if it helps you. Chop chop, hop to your orders! Double time! Woo!¡±

    Victoria sighed. ¡°Other than us in here? Alright then. Mel and Haf are in the crew compartment now, I assume. Sky, she¡¯s still unconscious, we moved her into the bunk room, right?¡±

    Pira said, ¡°She woke for a few moments. Asked where she was. She wasn¡¯t coherent.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Victoria said. ¡°Uh ¡­ Eseld and Cyneswith, they¡¯re in the bunk room too. Illy and Amina are meant to be in there with them, keeping an eye on them, but who knows for sure? I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if half the crew is asleep by now. We¡¯re burning the midnight oil here.¡± She sighed again, feeling the heavy drag in her limbs and head. Howl just kept nodding along. ¡°Atyle went to the control cockpit. Ooni ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Asleep,¡± Pira provided.

    ¡°Thanks. Ooni, sleeping. Serin, whereabouts unknown. She vanished after the bomb and now she¡¯s beyond comms range. And we can¡¯t raise Iriko, either. That¡¯s probably your fault, Howl. You filled her head with orders and she ran off to hunt the Death¡¯s Heads.¡±

    Howl shrugged. ¡°I said no hunt.¡±

    Victoria tutted. ¡°As for the rest, there¡¯s a small crowd of zombies still out there in the chamber. Pheiri¡¯s watching over them. About twenty-something of them, all the ones who didn¡¯t run.¡± She glanced at Kagami. ¡°Speaking of which, who¡¯s on the drone picket, if you¡¯re here?¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes and gestured at the ceiling. ¡°Who do you think?¡±

    ¡°Ah, Pheiri, right. Okay.¡±

    Howl flashed Elpida¡¯s teeth. ¡°Huh. Cool. Alright then, Victoria Volcano, what¡¯s your plan?¡±

    Vicky blinked. ¡°My plan?¡±

    ¡°Is there an echo in here?¡± Howl cackled. ¡°Yeah, bitch. Your plan! What you gonna do now?¡±

    Victoria spread her hands and felt like laughing. ¡°Hunker down? Wait for Elpi to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ehhh-errrr!¡± Howl made a noise like a buzzer. ¡°Not good enough!¡± She waggled her stump. ¡°You get blown up by a bunch of shit heads, you don¡¯t retreat into your shell, that¡¯s a signal they can push their advantage. You gotta strike back, fuck ¡®em up, make ¡®em know there¡¯s consequences for this shit. Make everyone know we¡¯re not to be messed with.¡±

    Kagami grunted. ¡°That¡¯s what I would do. I¡¯m glad we can agree on something.¡±

    Victoria sighed and raised her hands in the air. ¡°Then why ask me?¡±

    Howl said, ¡°¡®Cos you¡¯re in command now, cunt.¡±

    Victoria¡¯s stomach lurched. ¡°What? No, no, I¡¯m not in command.¡±

    Howl gestured at Vicky¡¯s face. ¡°Then why are you wearing the headset?¡±

    Vicky raised her fingers to the comms headset still wrapped around her skull, earphone still covering one ear. ¡°In case Pheiri needs to alert us to something. Kagami¡¯s wearing one too! It doesn¡¯t mean anything! And I can¡¯t take command! I don¡¯t know the first thing about that. I know guns, preferably big guns. I don¡¯t know how to do what ¡­ what Elpida does. No.¡±

    Howl snorted. ¡°Weak.¡± She glanced at Pira.

    Pira said, ¡°Me neither.¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°I could¡ª¡±

    Vicky turned to her. ¡°Kaga, no¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªif everyone was a wire-slaved drone,¡± she finished, voice brimming over with sarcasm. ¡°Thank you for the vote of confidence, Victoria. Really, thank you so much.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±

    ¡°You mean I¡¯m an incompetent. I know exactly what you mean.¡±

    ¡°I mean you¡¯re not her! You¡¯re not Elpida!¡±

    Howl cackled and kicked her legs against the side of the slab-bed. ¡°You girls are not dropping this to me, fuck no, no way, I ain¡¯t taking that wheel.¡±

    Victoria said, ¡°You¡¯re not her. You¡¯re not Elpida. You¡¯re not the Commander.¡±

    ¡°Damn right I¡¯m not!¡± Howl snapped. ¡°I¡¯m not made for it! One of you bitches needs to step up, ¡®cos you¡¯re the closest thing she¡¯s got to a command staff!¡± Howl glanced at Shilu. ¡°Cheese grater here excluded.¡±

    Shilu nodded.

    Kagami snorted. ¡°What are you made for then, Howl? Insults and profanity?¡±

    Howl cracked a grin. ¡°Killing big things, fast and dirty, in small spaces.¡± She stared at Elpida¡¯s missing arm. ¡°If I had two hands I¡¯d go after those shit-fuck bitches myself. Take one of those super-compact combat shotguns from the armoury. A ballistic shield. Armour, grenades. Take Illy with me, she knows how to rock. Let me do it, I¡¯ll get it done in an hour tops. Bring back a string of heads, mount them on Pheiri¡¯s front.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°You¡¯d get taken apart.¡±

    Howl stared at her with sudden pinched anger ¡ª then grinned. ¡°Oh yeah, cunt face? I never forgot that you mag-dumped into Elps¡¯ belly. You¡¯re one of us, you¡¯re one of her girls, but that doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t knock some teeth out, even one-handed. You wanna take that bet, you¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in the wrong body,¡± Pira said, calm and slow. ¡°I saw it earlier. The way you walk, how you hold yourself. Or rather, how you hold Elpida¡¯s body. You¡¯re not familiar with her gait, her body weight, her height, her reach, all of it. Normally, when you use her mouth to speak, you don¡¯t actually take over her whole musculature, only what you need. You did control her whole body once before, to fight Lykke, but Lykke was so incompetent at close quarters combat that your imprecision didn¡¯t matter, you could just brute force with Elpida¡¯s muscles and win anyway. But if you arm up and go after the Death¡¯s Heads, they¡¯ll take you apart.¡±

    Howl¡¯s grin died. She sighed through her nose, eyes sliding away, across the infirmary. All the fight seemed to go out of her.

    Storm-static filled the silence, roaring far beyond the walls.

    Victoria wasn¡¯t sure what to think of Howl.

    Intellectually she knew that Howl and Elpida were separate people. They just happened to be sharing one body. One brain, two occupants. This was no more impossible or bizarre than anything Victoria had witnessed since bodily resurrection three hundred million years in the future. But over the last few weeks, as the crew had settled into new rhythms of life inside Pheiri, Victoria had found it hard to consider Howl as distinct from Elpida. In practice Howl only came out when she wanted to say something that Elpida would not. This habit made Howl feel like simply another side of Elpida herself ¡ª a mood or an emotion, rather than a separate individual in her own right. It didn¡¯t help that Howl generally kept to herself; Elpida liked to talk to everyone, sometimes at great length, taking interest in every member of her new ¡®cadre¡¯. But Howl hid inside Elpida¡¯s mind, emerging only to emit the occasional cackle or comment. She was an enigma to the others, most of the time.

    But now Howl was right in front of her, looking back from inside Elpida¡¯s purple eyes.

    Everything about Howl was different ¡ª mannerisms, microexpressions, even the way she modulated her voice. The motion of her eyes was different to how Elpida looked at others, or examined a room, or made contact. Elpida¡¯s gaze was often slow and methodical. When Elpida looked at Victoria, Vicky felt that Elpida saw her in full, inside and out, in a way few others had ever done. But Howl¡¯s gaze was quick and jerky, always darting off to some other point in the infirmary. When she looked at Victoria, she seemed to see something amusing, a joke Vicky did not share.

    Elpida would never have slumped in defeat, either.

    Elpida wasn¡¯t here; Vicky had to step up.

    ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ it¡¯s alright, Howl,¡± she said, slowly, testing the words. ¡°I think I get it now. You¡¯re deflecting, trying to protect Elpi. I get it, I really do. We need to take some of the weight off her shoulders. It¡¯s the only way.¡±

    Howl sighed. She swung her legs up onto the slab-bed, then lay down on her naked back. She rested Elpida¡¯s stump on the slab and covered her eyes with her other hand.

    ¡°Yuuuuup,¡± she grunted. ¡°Because Elps is alllllll fucked up.¡±

    Silence crept back, filled with the static of the storm. Victoria didn¡¯t know what to say.

    Eventually, Pira said, ¡°She rarely lets others take real responsibility. She doesn¡¯t delegate anything she can do herself. Admirable, but not sustainable.¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm,¡± Howl grunted.

    Vicky weighed her words carefully. ¡°Was she like this with the ¡­ the ¡®cadre¡¯? You and her other sisters?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°You know her infinitely better than we do. You grew up with her. In her own ¡­ your own time and culture, right? Has she ever done anything like this before?¡±

    ¡°Nah,¡± Howl grunted. ¡°Even in the worst of times, she¡¯s never crumpled like this.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°Then what the hell is she doing?¡±

    Howl didn¡¯t answer. Beyond the tomb¡¯s walls, dark winds screamed across the black metal. Victoria could barely think.

    Shilu said, ¡°From what I¡¯ve seen of you lot so far, Elpida has sole command responsibility here. But this group is small, easily led. Internal friction is common, but you¡¯re all working for the same goal, mostly. That¡¯s not the problem. The problem is more abstract. I don¡¯t know her well enough to say more.¡±

    Kagami rolled her eyes. ¡°Can¡¯t believe we let you inside the hull.¡±

    ¡°Once again, I can leave, if you want.¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Kagami grumbled.

    Howl drawled from her bloodstained slab, speaking to the ceiling. ¡°Deep down, Elps still thinks of you all as civvies. Or maybe Legion, at best. You¡¯re all her responsibility. This whole fucking situation ¡ª the whole world! ¡ª all her responsibility. She¡¯s the only one of us, the only Telokopolan. She¡¯s got all the weight. And she won¡¯t give it up, not for shit. S¡¯why she saved that girl. S¡¯why she won¡¯t ease up, not even for a second.¡±

    A long silence. Pira swallowed. Kagami looked sullen and guilty. Victoria didn¡¯t know what to say.

    Shilu said, ¡°Her burden is a moral one.¡±

    Howl snorted, still hiding Elpida¡¯s eyes behind her one remaining hand. ¡°Could say that. She always avoided that kinda thing, back when we were alive. Moral burdens, big choices, all that rubbish. She kept us away from the big decisions, the politics, the stuff that could have gotten us in bad, in deep, where we couldn¡¯t get back out. Kept us focused on training, on our skills, on each other. Made us stand apart.¡± Howl shook her head. ¡°She could have rallied the Civitas, the parts of it which liked us. Or even just the people, at least the fucking Skirts. They loved us! Lapped up the fiction, the news, all of it. She could have used us as a symbol. But she didn¡¯t.¡±

    Howl paused. Victoria shared a look with Kagami, then Pira. She opened her mouth, but suddenly Howl was carrying on.

    ¡°We almost did it ourselves, without her say so,¡± she said. ¡°This one time. We were gonna take a combat frame without permission, a rip and run. The Stargazer, little fucker who would have behaved good on camera for us. We were gonna walk it out onto the plateau and make sure we got on all the newscasts, declare against the Covenanters.¡± A grin grew across Howl¡¯s lips. ¡°Mad plan. It grew as we went. From one frame to three. From putting our case to the public, to calling for a round-up of those fucks. Civil war inside the Spire. Would have worked, too.¡± Her grin died. ¡°But Elps, we couldn¡¯t keep shit from her. She got wind of it, shut it down.¡±

    Pira said, ¡°Why?¡±

    Howl sighed. ¡°Because she was afraid it would paint a target on us. Because she thought we could stand apart from all the shit going on.¡±

    Silence, storm-static, black winds raging. Howl pressing that hand to Elpida¡¯s eyes.

    Victoria said, ¡°But she was wrong.¡±

    Howl nodded. ¡°Ohhhh yeah. She was wrong. You gotta remember, she watched all her sisters die ¡®cos she got it fucking wrong. Me too. And now she¡¯s doing the opposite. She¡¯s made herself into a symbol and she can¡¯t let it fail. She can¡¯t let a single soul go, even if we¡¯re all already undead. She can¡¯t do it all over again.¡±

    Howl lay there for a moment, saying nothing. Then she quickly drew her hand across Elpida¡¯s eyes and sat back up, red-rimmed gaze darting across the others.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell her you saw me like this,¡± Howl said. ¡°It won¡¯t help her.¡±

    Victoria said, ¡°Can you get through to her?¡±

    Howl shrugged. ¡°Probably not.¡±

    Silence returned again, filled with the tiny sounds of Pheiri¡¯s body, the clicking and whirring of his innards, the distant nuclear heartbeat down in his core ¡ª all drowned beneath the howling hurricane outside.

    Kagami was staring at Sanzhima¡¯s unconscious form. ¡°That girl didn¡¯t even want to be saved,¡± she muttered. ¡°You all heard her, begging for mercy. She didn¡¯t even want this. She wanted a bullet.¡±

    Pira straightened up. ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    Kagami squinted at her. ¡°What? What doesn¡¯t matter?¡±

    ¡°Elpida never leaves anybody behind,¡± Pira said. ¡°She never abandons anybody.¡±¡±

    Kagami snarled. ¡°Perhaps she should have left you behind! You saw what that girl¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the only way any of this continues to work,¡± Pira said, cold and calm, face shuttered. ¡°Without that promise, all this falls apart. Nobody is left behind. Not even the dead.¡±

    Howl grunted, growling with sarcasm. ¡°Right.¡±

    Victoria stared at the ceiling again. This was exhausting. How did Elpida deal with this, all the time, this pressure and this burden?

    She shouldn¡¯t have to.

    ¡°Look at us,¡± Victoria said, glancing around at the others. ¡°We¡¯re paralysed without her. This is absurd. We can¡¯t rely on one point of failure like this. We can¡¯t keep putting this on her, that¡¯s part of why this has happened, why she¡¯s ¡­ retreated. She¡¯s burned out.¡±

    ¡°She takes it on herself,¡± Kagami grunted. ¡°That¡¯s not our fault.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter who¡¯s fault it is,¡± Vicky said. ¡°We gotta step up anyway. Are we just Elpida¡¯s ¡­ minions?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Or are we ¡­ are we ¡­ ¡±

    Victoria trailed off. All the words she could think of felt inadequate. Are we a team? Are we comrades? Are we Pheiri¡¯s little helpers? Nothing she could say seemed right, everything seemed silly, especially when said in her voice. She felt the moment slip away from her. Maybe they really should hunker down and hide, until Elpida woke and the storm passed. She wasn¡¯t cut out for this, none of them would have survived without Elpida, none of them-

    ¡°We are the children of Telokopolis,¡± said Pira. ¡°Even if she was not our birth mother.¡±

    Pira raised her eyes to look at Howl.

    Howl held that gaze, without any hint of a smirk. She nodded and swallowed. ¡°Sure. Sure, yeah. Sure.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°Even me?¡±

    Howl swung a grin toward Shilu. ¡°If you wanna be, cheese grater.¡±

    ¡°Then I am.¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis is forever,¡± said Pira, though her voice lacked all conviction.

    The others echoed the refrain. Kagami muttered it under her breath. Howl thumped herself on the chest with Elpida¡¯s left hand. Shilu said the words slowly and carefully. Victoria whispered, drowned out by the storm.

    After a long moment, Shilu spoke up again. ¡°Victoria, I have to echo Howl, but with a slightly different emphasis ¡ª what¡¯s the plan?¡±

    Victoria shook her head. ¡°Whatever we do, we all have to agree on it. And we should get Pheiri¡¯s input too, he¡¯s the closest thing to a command position we have right now, outside of ourselves. We don¡¯t take any decisions unless we agree. No unilateral action.¡±

    Kagami snorted. ¡°I sense a ¡®but¡¯ on the way.¡±

    ¡°But,¡± Victoria sighed. ¡°But I think Howl has a point. We can¡¯t cower. As long as we¡¯re stuck in this tomb, we need to hunt down the Death¡¯s Heads, show some spine, put heads on spikes, all that. I mean, metaphorically. I¡¯m not putting heads on actual spikes. Anyway, Serin and Iriko may already be on it, but they¡¯re acting without support. It¡¯s time we stopped doing that.¡±

    Howl grinned, wide and toothy, in a way Elpida would never.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go take some skulls, bitches!¡±

 tenebrae - 13.3

    Elpida woke up.

    She awoke in her own bed, greeted by the muted colours and soft lights of the dormitory, within the pilot project cadre¡¯s private quarters. A trio of ceiling fans turned lazily in the high shadows. Ventilation ducts whispered with a trickle of warm recycled air. Distant vibrations murmured upward through the layers of the city, so gentle they could only be felt during the liminal moments between sleep and awakening. She knew exactly where she was ¡ª nestled in the core of the Legion District on spire-floor 186, surrounded by miles of living metal, acres of sturdy bone, and endless sinews of hot, red, wet machine-meat, deep in the heart of Telokopolis.

    She was wide awake. She couldn¡¯t tell how long she¡¯d been asleep, which was odd.

    Elpida lifted her head from the pillow, wiping the crust of sleep from her eyes with her left hand. The suite of screens at the far end of the dorm was switched off, as always while the cadre slept, all except for one screen which showed the current time in big grey numbers ¡ª just past oh-six-hundred in the morning.

    The dormitory was still and empty. So early? Elpida frowned.

    She kicked the sheets away from her naked body and moved to climb out of bed, but then discovered that she was not alone in the dormitory after all; she was not even alone in her own bed.

    Howl was entangled with Elpida. She was snuggled down against Elpida¡¯s side, concealed beneath the bedsheets, fast asleep. Howl¡¯s strong, compact legs were hooked around Elpida¡¯s right thigh, her arms hugging Elpida¡¯s waist; her head lay on Elpida¡¯s shoulder, dusting Elpida¡¯s collarbone with white hair, staining Elpida¡¯s skin with a patch of long-dried drool from her parted lips. Elpida¡¯s right arm was pinned beneath Howl¡¯s body weight, gone numb and tingly from nerve compression.

    ¡°Howl?¡± Elpida croaked. ¡°Howl?¡±

    Howl grunted, but refused to wake.

    Elpida disentangled herself from Howl¡¯s embrace, pulling her right arm out from underneath Howl¡¯s weight. Howl grumbled with disturbed sleep, then rolled over without further complaint.

    Elpida stood up, bare feet flexing on the warm floor tiles, naked skin freshened by the open air. She started her usual sequence of wake-up stretches, then stopped to spread the fingers of her right hand and massage the wrist. The whole limb was still numb with pins and needles.

    The rest of the dormitory beds were empty, though they had obviously been slept in; blankets and sheets were rumpled, pushed back, left in their usual disarray. Discarded clothing lay all over the place, a disciplinary problem Elpida had never managed to solve, not least because she indulged in that herself. The dorm smelled as it always did ¡ª of her sisters, of sweat and sleep and sex.

    But the air was silent and the beds were cold, all except Howl¡¯s soft breathing in Elpida¡¯s own bunk.

    Had Elpida forgotten some important muster or briefing? She didn¡¯t think so, she would never have done that, though she could not recall precisely what the cadre¡¯s schedule was for today, nor what they had all done last night. There were no emergency warnings flashing up on the screens, no alarms blaring out in the Legion District, no Old Lady Nunnus growling at her from the intercom panel by the door. Had her other sisters scurried off on some early morning escapade, leaving only Howl to distract the Commander, likely by shoving a sleep-addled groin in her face? Elpida smiled at the thought, but shook her head; if that was the plan, Howl was doing an uncharacteristically bad job. No, if the others were up to something, they would have left Metris and Silla, maybe Third too, or perhaps just Quio pretending to be half-asleep in one of the beds, bare arse stuck up in the air. Howl would be leading the mischief, not left behind as the distraction.

    Struck by a sudden urge she did not understand, Elpida reached over to the nearest bunk and picked up a discarded t-shirt ¡ª with her left hand, because her right still felt numb and clumsy. She pressed the sweat-stained fabric to her face, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. Yeva mostly, with a bit of Fii. Had the two shared that bed last night?

    Elpida shuddered. Her eyes watered and her chest tightened. She didn¡¯t know why. She¡¯d seen both Yeva and Fii last night ¡ª hadn¡¯t she?

    ¡°Where is everybody?¡± she said out loud.

    Howl shifted on the bed. ¡°Elps, you gotta wake up.¡±

    Elpida turned and looked down at Howl, at her petite form snuggled beneath the covers, her eyes still closed, her short shock of white hair crushed against the pillow.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Elpida said. ¡°I¡¯m up. You¡¯re the one dozing.¡±

    Howl sighed into the pillow, barely awake.

    ¡°Where is everybody?¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you don¡¯t know.¡±

    Howl didn¡¯t reply for a long moment. Elpida assumed she had fallen back asleep. But then Howl muttered, ¡°Whatever, fuck-nuts. Just do what you gotta do. I¡¯ll hold the fort. Keep the troops in line. Take as long as you gotta. Just ¡­ just come back. K¡¯?¡±

    Howl trailed off, then ended on a little snore. She rolled over onto her front, fast asleep.

    Elpida sighed. Maybe there was a prank brewing. She bent down and kissed Howl¡¯s hair before stepping away from the bed.

    She couldn¡¯t be bothered to drag on a pilot-suit base layer, let alone the whole kit, but she did grab a pair of shorts from another bed and pull them up to cover her hips ¡ª they smelled of Kit, which was nice. Nobody cared about nudity in the cadre, but she never knew when they might have a visitor in the mess hall or the briefing room. Today was already starting off weird; she didn¡¯t need some Legionarie¡¯s eyeballs popping out at the sight of her naked groin.

    Elpida left Howl behind with a backward glance, then walked through the maze of bunks, opened the door, and stepped out into the corridor. Freshly recycled air pumped from the overhead ducts. The floor was warm beneath her naked feet, body temperature to match her needs. The muted silver and dark cream and soft treelike greens of the corridor set off a terrible longing in her chest.

    But a longing for what? This was just the main hallway in the cadre¡¯s private quarters, nothing special, a fragment of her life she never really thought about.

    Elpida took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. She was going funny.

    She couldn¡¯t hear anybody in the briefing room, the rec room, the mess hall, the armoury, the gym, the shower room, or any of the other little facilities which made up the cadre¡¯s private quarters. She even strained to hear if anybody was in medical, but the whole complex was voiceless. The only sound she could hear was mechanical. At the edge of Elpida¡¯s hearing, at a frequency most baseline humans would not have noticed, she detected a slight buzz ¡ª the hum of a screen left switched on, probably in the rec room.

    She decided to check there first; this would not be the first time some of her sisters had slept in rec. She slapped the palm pad. The door slid open.

    Elpida froze.

    The big screen at the rear of the rec room glowed with baleful light. It showed a dark place, full of dead things ¡ª undead things, with bionic limbs and sharp teeth, clad in scraps of scavenged armour, clutching half-broken weapons in scabby, filthy claws. The undead wretches were sprawled about on a floor of black metal, gnawing on human flesh and blood-stained bones. No sound came from the screen, only silence.

    A figure was waiting for Elpida, facing the doorway, framed by the dark light of the screen, bordered by the row of sofas and chairs, standing next to one of the wide tables in the middle of the room.

    Eight feet tall, a massive frame more metal than meat, bristling with cyborg limbs and implanted weapons. The skin of her face was smooth bio-plastic in a fluid pattern of dark blue and soft black. A pair of bionic eyes the colour of raw sunlight peered out from that face, framed by hair made of spun gold. She wore plates of carapace armour, dirty and stained with soot and blood. She carried a rifle over her shoulders, a heavy weapon designed to punch through a hardshell suit or cut smaller Silico in half.

    The figure neither moved nor spoke. She just stared, hands clasped behind her back.

    Elpida realised who the cyborg was. Relief and rest faded away to nothing, replaced with cold familiarity. Reality suddenly made sense.

    Elpida sighed, strode forward into the room, and said, ¡°This is a dream.¡±

    Persephone ¡ª the eight-foot tall revenant who had formed the most attentive audience to her performance with Sanzhima ¡ª opened her mouth and spoke in a buzzing machine-voice, deep and crunchy.

    ¡°How can you tell?¡±

    Elpida replied, ¡°Because this is Telokopolis, my past, but you¡¯re from the future, my present. Because I passed out in Pheiri¡¯s airlock, once it was safe to let go and give in. I remember passing out. I¡¯m unconscious.¡±

    Persephone said, ¡°It is a very vivid dream.¡±

    Elpida nodded. She raised her right hand and stared at her open palm. The creases were perfect. Her hand was numb. ¡°That it is. Which means it might be more than a dream.¡±

    Persephone said, ¡°And why would you dream of me?¡±

    Elpida laughed, shook her head, and walked over to the table which Persephone stood near. The tabletop was scattered with the usual detritus ¡ª books, data readers, bits of disassembled equipment, a piece of discarded underwear; Elpida hesitated over a scrap of poetry by Kos, and some kind of metal sculpture she recognised as Snow¡¯s handiwork.

    The middle of the table had been cleared off, allowing a chess set to stand alone. It was the wooden chess set she had received as a gift from a Legion general, the single most expensive object the cadre owned ¡ª with the exception of their combat frames, which were neither truly theirs, nor possible to own. Elpida had dreamed of this chess set once before, dreamed of playing chess with Howl. But this time there was no opposing player; Persephone stood at an angle to the board, not opposite. The pieces were positioned as if in mid-game, white toward Elpida, black on the other side.

    Elpida sat down in the chair before the chess set and put her bare feet up on the edge of the table. She examined Persephone for a moment; the cyborg giant wore no expression.

    ¡°I¡¯m not really dreaming of you,¡± Elpida said. ¡°You don¡¯t even sound like yourself. I didn¡¯t have much time to get to know you, but you¡¯re mostly arrogant, brash, bold. You wouldn¡¯t stand there asking me bland questions. I¡¯m not dreaming about you at all, you¡¯re just a ¡­ ¡± She faltered, then swallowed. ¡°A symbol. My subconscious, talking to itself. You might also be a Necromancer trick, but I doubt that. This is all me, doing this to myself.¡±

    Persephone raised a bio-plastic eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡±

    Elpida lowered her eyes to the chess set and put her forehead in one hand. ¡°Is this really what my subconscious wants me to do? Justify myself, to myself? Haven¡¯t I done too much of that already?¡±

    Persephone tossed a twisted cage of metal onto the table, blackened by fire and blast damage, covered in splashes of cooked blood. The bomb vest.

    ¡°You could always wake up,¡± said Persephone.

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you dreaming about me?¡±

    Elpida folded her arms and looked back up at Persephone; those false sunlight eyes told her nothing. ¡°Because everything I just did, every risk I just took, it was all to impress you.¡±

    Persephone raised both eyebrows. She opened her mouth.

    A second voice interrupted from Elpida¡¯s left, tinkling with the threat of giggles ¡ª ¡°Oooooh, a crush, on her?! Absolute scandal, zombie!¡±

    Elpida turned and stared at the thing which sat coiled upon the cushions of an armchair.

    Blonde hair fell in thick and bouncy ringlets across bared shoulders the colour of fresh cream. Clad in a sheer white dress which clung to her flesh, very little of the figure¡¯s form was left to the imagination ¡ª full chest, wide hips, narrow little waist which looked painfully easy to snap. Long bare legs were crossed one over the other, ankles encircled with white ribbons, tied into stiff bows of shiny silk all the way up her calves, feet cradled in neat little slippers. A pair of bright green eyes shone like emeralds in a dark room, set in a plush, plump, pinkish face, with lips and lids and lashes all painted, eyelids fluttering with amusement. A white choker encircled her throat. White gloves of delicate lace encased her slender arms and long-fingered hands. A white bow sat in her hair, pulling the great mass of gold into a ponytail.

    Lykke ¡ª Necromancer, once again restored to human form, dressed like an upper spire socialite eager for a party ¡ª drew a white-gloved fingertip over her lower lip.

    ¡°Hiiiiiii, zombie,¡± she purred. ¡°Got a crush?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°And what part of my psyche do you represent?¡±

    The dream of Lykke shrugged her naked shoulders. She kissed a fingertip and pressed the air as if passing it to Elpida. ¡°Search me, zombie.¡± She flexed on the armchair, arching her back, pressing her body toward Elpida. ¡°I mean that literally. Come over here and frisk me. Stick your hands into my¡ª¡±

    ¡°Howl is asleep in the dorms,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I can go get her if you like. She¡¯ll be happy to frisk you.¡±

    Lykke¡¯s flirtatious smile slipped. She glanced at the door with disquiet fear, then swallowed hard and slumped back into the armchair, waving away the suggestion with one lace-gloved hand.

    ¡°Behave,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you represent some part of my mind.¡±

    Lykke pouted, eyes averted. ¡°I wish you had a crush on me, instead.¡±

    Elpida sighed. ¡°And to answer your question seriously ¡ª or rather, my own question, posed back at me, no.¡± She returned her gaze to Persephone. ¡°Not Persephone specifically. She¡¯s just the most prominent example in my mind, because she was standing at the front of the crowd. I had to impress you. I had to win you over.¡±

    Lykke started to speak again, but Persephone glanced at her, sunlight eyes burning against the backdrop of the screen. Lykke snorted with irritation, but said nothing.

    Persephone said, ¡°Win me over?¡±

    Elpida leaned back in her chair again, gazing past Persephone and Lykke, past the dream, at the big screen which showed reality ¡ª a view of the tomb chamber, or at least as Elpida imagined the tomb chamber, full of zombies.

    ¡°The bottom feeders,¡± she said. ¡°The scavengers. The starving, the hungry, the abandoned, the lost. They¡¯re easy. I can give them some meat now, promise them more meat in the future, offer them protection, security, empathy, understanding, and they¡¯ll flock to me. To us. To the promise of Telokopolis. They have nothing, no better options, and they¡¯ve experienced the utter desolation of living as prey. To them, I can offer a better future, and I don¡¯t need to do much to prove that.¡± She turned her eyes back to Persephone. ¡°But you?¡± Elpida shook her head. ¡°The others out there, the ones in powered armour, the ones who¡¯ve been successful, the predators, the raiders, the high-end cyborgs, all those who have carved out some real power in the nanomachine afterlife. I can¡¯t just offer you meat and expect you to buy in. You can take meat. I suspect that if I told you about the meat-plant project, you might not even want to be part of the result. Why scratch for sustenance when you can just take what you want from the bodies of other zombies?¡± She shook her head again. ¡°No, I had to prove to you that my conviction is stronger than death. I had to prove that my alternative is not just superior, it¡¯s inevitable, and it is in your own best interest not to resist. I had to show you that Telokopolis is forever.¡±

    ¡°You speak with such clarity,¡± said Persephone.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Elpida sighed. She rubbed her chest, over her heart. ¡°This is a dream. The burnout, the pressure, it¡¯s suspended here, somehow.¡±

    Lykke murmured: ¡°Dream, dream, dream on, zombie.¡±

    Persephone said, ¡°You don¡¯t seem happy with your success.¡±

    Elpida felt a tug inside her chest. ¡°Success?¡±

    Persephone nodded. ¡°I was impressed. You saw my face at the front of the crowd, as your comrades led you back into your machine. You saw that I was surprised. You hope this surprise will kindle belief. There were many like me in that crowd, even the ones who left. They witnessed. They know.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel like victory.¡±

    ¡°You saved the girl.¡±

    Lykke slapped the arm of her chair. ¡°You did! Zombie, you rescued that little mewling lamb. You pulled her from the brink of death. You know you did! Why are you whining about it now? You deserve a triumph!¡±

    Elpida stared at Lykke¡¯s glittering lashes and shiny lips, at the cheeky smile which curled on her face, the flush of arousal in her cheeks.

    ¡°She didn¡¯t want to be saved,¡± Elpida said. ¡°She begged me for a bullet in the head, and I told her no. I put her through more pain.¡±

    Persephone said, ¡°None can truly consent to death when conditions like ours prevail over all.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°I made that choice, I took it from her. And more, I risked everybody¡¯s safety, everybody¡¯s life. I risked my own, which puts all of them at risk. I blew up my arm, which seriously reduces my own operational capability for weeks, or months, or maybe more. I put everything on the line.¡±

    Persephone said, ¡°It was the only choice.¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Yes, and that¡¯s the problem. It was the only choice, which means it was no choice at all. I¡¯m not being a proper leader anymore. I¡¯m not acting like their Commander. I¡¯m failing, because I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m becoming something else.¡±

    A double thump of heavy boots came from the doorway to the rec room, followed by a familiar clack-clack-squeak sound, a sound that Elpida had known almost her whole life.

    A voice spoke, a hard and scratchy crackle clawing up from an aged throat, a chunk of fire-warmed granite wrapped in felt.

    ¡°Why are you doing this to yourself?¡± asked Old Lady Nunnus.

    Elpida shot to her feet, standing to attention.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am!¡±

    Nunnus was already striding into the rec room with her swaying iron gait, a heavy double-thump of tightly laced combat boots augmented by her automatic crutch ¡ª a cage of padded metal around her left forearm, the support of the crutch adjusting back and forth to the needs of her ravaged body. Nunnus was mostly bionics from the hips down, her hipbone itself fused and ruined by Silico weapons and the toxins of the green, decades before Elpida had been decanted from a uterine replicator. She walked straight-backed despite the old war wounds and her incredible age. Grey eyes pinned Elpida, sharp as needle points behind wire-frame glasses, peering out from within a heavily-lined face, topped with bone-white hair cut short upon a liver-spotted scalp.

    Old Lady Nunnus ¡ª General Symphora Eupraxis Nunnus ¡ª was ancient, even by the standards of the upper spire, the Legion, the Civitas, or even the bone-speakers¡¯ guild. She had been old before the pilot program¡¯s first genetic engineers had been born. Elpida was never certain of her exact age, but she knew Nunnus was well north of a century and a half, her body sustained by multiple rejuvenation treatments, extensive bionic work, and what Nunnus herself jokingly called ¡®load-bearing tumours¡¯. Her intellect was sustained by a sheer bloody-minded refusal to die ¡ª and by her position as the most senior, most well-respected, most well-decorated Legion general who held to the ideals and hopes of the expeditionary faction of the Civitas. Without her support, the pilot program would not have survived the ¡®failure¡¯ of Elpida and her sisters in their early days. Elpida often suspected that she and her sisters were, in turn, what sustained Nunnus.

    Nobody in the cadre called Nunnus ¡®General¡¯; everybody outside the cadre did, even the early seeds of the Covenanters. Nunnus had not worn a proper uniform in decades. She stomped about Legion barracks and staff meeting rooms and the halls of the Civitas in a long silver-grey skirt the colours of her old Legion posting, wearing a cold-weather jumper and a pair of combat boots.

    Nobody in the cadre called her ¡®mother¡¯, either. But as this dream of Nunnus stomped into the rec room, Elpida felt tears prickling in her eyes.

    The real Nunnus had died a year before the cadre. Heart attack. Elpida had always known it was poison.

    Nunnus came to a stop just short of the table, frowning at Elpida. ¡°Well?¡±

    ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡± Elpida swallowed. There was a lump in her throat. ¡°Ma¡¯am, I ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°You do know I¡¯m not real?¡± Nunnus said. ¡°This is a dream. Correct? I¡¯m just a phantom, built of your own memories. Don¡¯t get verklempt over me.¡±

    ¡°I ¡­ I don¡¯t care. It¡¯s good to see you, Ma¡¯am.¡±

    Nunnus held her gaze, eyes a deep, warm grey. Eventually she grunted. ¡°Yes, I expect it would be. Now, stop ¡®ma¡¯am¡¯ing at me and answer the question. Why are you doing this to yourself?¡±

    Elpida hesitated. ¡°Because ¡­ ¡±

    Because I failed you. I failed the cadre. Everyone died, because I made the wrong choices. And now I¡¯m making the wrong choices again, but there¡¯s no other way, there¡¯s no other choice, there¡¯s no other road back to Telokopolis, and I¡¯m not made for¡ª

    ¡°And sit down,¡± Nunnus snapped. ¡°You think I need you jumping to attention every time I walk into the room?¡±

    Elpida nodded. She pulled a chair out for this dream of the Old Lady, and Nunnus sat down with a little grunt, sighing at the creaking of her old bones. Elpida followed her orders, sitting back down in her own chair.

    ¡°Well?¡± Nunnus asked.

    Elpida said, ¡°I¡¯m doing this to myself, because ¡­ because I am acting like a poor excuse for a Commander.¡±

    ¡°Unpack that statement,¡± Nunnus ordered.

    Elpida couldn¡¯t help herself, she smiled. ¡®Unpack that statement¡¯. How many times had she heard those words? The familiarity unlocked her tongue.

    ¡°As Commander ¡ª whether in the cadre of my own sisters, or as leader of a group of undead girls who need me ¡ª my first duty is to those who stand at my side. My sisters. The children of Telokopolis. My comrades, my girls. I should be prioritising them, protecting them, doing my best to lead them. But what I did back in that chamber, that wasn¡¯t ¡­ ¡± Elpida had to pause, swallow, and take a breath. Nunnus waited. ¡°I wasn¡¯t putting them first. I risked everything, their safety, their lives, my own life, our security, for the sake of this ¡­ this other thing. This thing greater than me. Telokopolis. The promise of Telokopolis that I¡¯ve made. And maybe that was the right choice, but it was also the only choice. I couldn¡¯t see any other. And that means I should not be in command. Not in the way I have been.¡±

    Nunnus leaned back. The chair creaked. ¡°That doesn¡¯t answer my question.¡±

    ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡±

    Nunnus held Elpida¡¯s gaze, the way she always had, soft and knowing and without judgement. Everyone else thought Nunnus was a hard case, a sharp-tongued disciplinarian.

    ¡°You¡¯re doing a very good job of enumerating your perceived failures,¡± Nunnus said. ¡°But that is not what I asked for. I did not ask you for the reasons you¡¯ve retreated from your responsibilities. I asked for an explanation for this.¡± She cast her eyes up and around. ¡°Why are you doing this to yourself?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand, ma¡¯am.¡±

    Nunnus sighed. ¡°Your girls need you. You are their Commander. But you¡¯ve locked yourself away. You never did this while I was alive. Why now?¡±

    ¡°With respect, ma¡¯am, you are incorrect. They don¡¯t need me.¡±

    Nunnus frowned. ¡°Really.¡±

    Elpida went on. ¡°Right now, they¡¯re better off without me. I¡¯ve breached their trust, they can tell that something is wrong with me, that I¡¯m being driven by this ¡­ this other, contrary priority. With the cadre, I made every mistake possible, because I was trying to protect them, to protect us. I chose wrong. Right now, my new comrades, they¡¯re better off with me stepping back from command. Kagami, Serin, Ilyusha, Atyle, they can put together a strike against the Death¡¯s Heads, they don¡¯t need me getting in the way. Not like I am now, not with how I¡¯ve been behaving.¡±

    Nunnus frowned harder. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard such nonsense from you. You are the most capable Commander I¡¯ve ever known. Those girls, they¡¯re relying on you to lead them, even if you make mistakes, even if your judgement is clouded. That¡¯s why you don¡¯t lead alone, by pure authority. You lead with consent, because you have their trust¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I do, not¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your plan worked,¡± Nunnus said. ¡°It was wildly irresponsible of you, but it worked. You took a calculated gamble, and while I would not recommend taking such a gamble a second time, to win and abandon your cause now is the height of foolishness. You know this. You won. Exploit that opening.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not abandoning anything, I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then why are you here?¡± Nunnus pressed. ¡°Why are you hiding?¡±

    ¡°To keep myself out of everyone¡¯s way. Because, given the opportunity, I will do it again, because it¡¯s the only choice. Without me, my new comrades will hunt down those who attacked us. With me ¡­ the situation becomes unpredictable.¡±

    Nunnus raised her eyebrows. Persephone tilted her head. Elpida glanced between the two of them. Both dreams, both fake. Over in the armchair, Lykke stared on with shining eyes, rapt with attention, lace-gloved hands clasped beneath her chin.

    Elpida sighed. ¡°Is this really the best my subconscious can muster?¡±

    Nunnus smiled, a crinkle of her ancient lips. ¡°You¡¯re doing your best, my girl. You need to trust yourself more. Right now you are doubting.¡±

    Elpida almost laughed, shaking her head. ¡°I got it right first time, Ma¡¯am? Is that what you¡¯re telling me?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.¡±

    Lykke broke out into a peal of giggles. ¡°Is this really what you tell yourself, zombie?! A pep talk from mummy? Isn¡¯t working very well, is it?¡±

    Elpida snapped around, scowling. She still couldn¡¯t tell what Lykke was meant to represent.

    Lykke shot her a glittering wink. ¡°What you need is a whirlwind one-night stand to lift your mood. A good hard railing up against the edge of a hundred-floor drop. Look at you!¡± She ran her eyes up over Elpida¡¯s almost-naked body. ¡°You¡¯re already stripped down and ready for it. And you¡¯re so pent-up, zombie. I can smell it from a mile away, like a bitch in heat.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Elpida grunted. ¡°Not entirely untrue.¡±

    ¡°When¡¯s the last time you got properly turned inside out and upside down? Not by any of your ¡®new¡¯ ¡®comrades¡¯, eh? You want to do that redhead one, don¡¯t you? But you¡¯re worried her quivering childhood friend will try to strangle you in your sleep! Why not fuck both of them? Or fight one, fuck the other? Hell, you could¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop. I get the¡ª¡±

    ¡°Have one on each hand, one on each¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop!¡±

    ¡°At ease,¡± said Nunnus.

    Elpida relaxed.

    Lykke giggled ¡ª a light, tinkling, glass-like sound ¡ª and said, ¡°Oh yes, please do. I¡¯m all easy for you, Elpida.¡±

    Nunnus said, ¡°It was a good question, even if it was from an unreliable source.¡± She glanced at Lykke; the Necromancer winked. ¡°You don¡¯t seem to be feeling very confident, Elpida. This conversation isn¡¯t helping you. Is it?¡±

    Elpida gestured for permission to stand. Nunnus nodded. Elpida got out of her chair and started to pace the length of the rec room, glancing up at the big screen which showed the zombies back in the tomb chamber.

    ¡°I can¡¯t take the pressure,¡± she said eventually. ¡°I¡¯ve had trouble admitting it to myself for months now. But back there, after the bomb, after everybody dragged me back inside Pheiri, I ¡­ I passed out. Not from exhaustion. From failure. I don¡¯t have any control, not anymore. I keep taking risks, because there¡¯s no other option. But I wasn¡¯t made for this.¡±

    Nunnus grunted. ¡°Mm. But you¡¯re doing it anyway.¡±

    ¡°And it¡¯s burning me out. Howl was right. But at the same time, what other choices do I have?¡± Elpida strode the other way across the length of the rec room. She knew she was talking to herself, none of these dream apparitions were real, but perhaps this was what she needed. ¡°The storm, the tomb, Eseld¡¯s sudden reappearance, Shilu being dumped into our laps, all of it ¡ª if only this had all happened a few months later, with the meat plant project bearing ripe fruit. Then I could offer those zombies real hope, real material support. Right now all I can do is balance everything on this knife¡¯s edge, relying on theatrics, rhetorical tricks, and risky pay-offs.¡± Elpida shook her head. ¡°I wasn¡¯t cut out to do this. I wasn¡¯t made for it. I was made for commanding a small team, not this ¡­ this ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Politics,¡± said Persephone.

    ¡°Mm,¡± Nunnus grunted. ¡°Sowing the seeds of future institutions.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°No, not that, not exactly, though that¡¯s part of it. It¡¯s more like ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°The great game,¡± purred Lykke.

    Elpida stopped pacing. She pointed at Lykke. The Necromancer¡¯s lips curled in a little red smile. She coiled in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her exposed legs.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Elpida. ¡°Yes. A great game.¡±

    She stepped back toward the table and reached for the chess set. Her hand hovered over the white end of the board ¡ª her end? She hesitated over a raven, a wall, the white empress, but then settled on the piece which represented the city itself, an elegant spire carved from pale wood. She plucked the white city from the board and held it up, framed by the screen and the vision of the chamber in the tomb.

    ¡°I feel like I¡¯m a playing piece,¡± Elpida said. ¡°An important one, perhaps, but still just a piece. I can¡¯t even see the board. The meat plants, getting Shilu on our side, feeding the zombies, rallying them by saving Sanzhima ¡ª are these moves, or not? Are they the right moves? I don¡¯t know, but they¡¯re the only moves I can make. I¡¯m clinging to every move I can possibly make, and every move has to be perfect, because I cannot see the board. I am fighting blind. I am blind.¡±

    ¡°Oooooh,¡± Lykke moaned. ¡°Poor baby.¡±

    Elpida ignored that. She stared at the white city piece in her hand. ¡°There is a player on my side. Or at least, I have to believe there is. I have to, or ¡­ or none of this makes any sense. I have to believe the city is at my back. Telokopolis is at work, inside the network, and she has my back.¡±

    Nunnus said, ¡°Do you really believe that?¡±

    Elpida could not answer. When awake, she would never allow herself to entertain this seed of doubt. But asleep, unconscious, in a dream, she could not turn away from the playing piece in her hand.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she murmured. ¡°I only wish I knew. I wish I knew if I was doing the right thing or not. I wish I understood her plan. I ¡­ I wish I ¡­ I wish I knew.¡±

    In Elpida¡¯s peripheral vision, Lykke¡¯s eyes flickered to the doorway.

    Elpida turned quickly. She caught a glimpse of a figure as it stepped out of sight ¡ª a bone-white dress fluttering over dark red flesh.

    Elpida¡¯s heart leapt.

    She rushed to the rec room door and burst out into the corridor, but there was nobody there, only a lingering scent of blood and warm skin, so quickly washed away by the recycled air from the ventilation system ¡ª and a new corridor entirely.

    The end of the little hallway ¡ª the one she knew so well, with all the doors which led off to other parts of the cadre¡¯s private quarters, which should have terminated in the door to the showers ¡ª now opened out into a high, wide, vaulted corridor, like the abandoned places in the thick centre of Telokopolis, down in the Skirts. The oldest parts of the city, where her bones and her flesh lay so close to the surface. The roots from which she had been grown, by divine processes which none in Elpida¡¯s time understood.

    Exposed bone lined those walls, yellow and crusted with mineral build-up, eroded here and there by great age, rising in sweeping curves toward the pointed ceiling. Membranes of warm flesh throbbed and pulsed, carrying the blood of the city, casting a deep crimson glow on the corridor below.

    Far ahead, a flicker of white dress vanished around a corner.

    ¡°It¡¯s her,¡± Elpida whispered.

    She glanced back into the rec room. Persephone nodded. Lykke examined her own fingernails, suddenly bored. Nunnus said, ¡°You wanted certainty. Go get it.¡±

    Elpida left the rec room behind, walked the length of the familiar corridor, and then plunged into the crimson light of that vaulted hall. She considered pausing to duck into the armoury and fetch a sidearm, but this was a dream, and the figure she followed was the one she trusted more than anything, even herself. She crept forward, beneath the yellow layers of the ribs and through the glowing machine-meat of the secret innards of the city. A chill crept into her feet from the metal floor. Goose pimples rose on her naked skin. The air here was cold and still and smelled of iron.

    She strained to hear a sound from up ahead. Was that the patter of dainty feet on unpainted metal, or the spasm of a struggling heart, or¡ª

    A footfall from behind. Elpida turned quickly.

    Lykke smirked, giggling in silence, a finger pressed to her lips.

    The Necromancer must have followed Elpida out of the rec room, but Persephone and Nunnus had not done the same. Up close, Lykke looked like she was dressed for a night of drinking and flirting, with those silken white ribbons about her bare legs and those lace gloves enclosing her arms, her sunny blonde hair up in a bouncing ponytail, her dress a second skin against her curves. Green eyes turned black in the crimson light. The blood-red illumination of Telokopolis dyed the Necromancer a deep and bloody scarlet.

    She was very short. Elpida had not noticed that before, when Howl had beaten Lykke black and blue.

    ¡°I¡¯m busy,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I need to go meet¡ª¡±

    ¡°Tch!¡± Lykke tutted. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t follow that old thing. You¡¯re being led by the nose, zombie.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°Why follow me? I¡¯m still not clear on what you represent.¡±

    Lykke clasped her hands before her groin, upper arms pushing her breasts together. She dipped her chin and looked at Elpida from upturned eyes. ¡°Do you want to know a secret, zombie?¡± she whispered. ¡°Just between you and me. Our little secret. For nobody else.¡±

    Elpida considered leaving this apparition behind, but perhaps she had misunderstood the situation. She needed to be sure.

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Tell me your secret.¡±

    Lykke smirked, eyes twinkling. She leaned in close, one hand to her mouth as if shielding her words from eavesdroppers.

    ¡°I¡¯m really here,¡± she whispered.

    Lykke quickly leaned back again, biting her lower lip and wiggling her eyebrows.

    ¡°But this is a dream, isn¡¯t it?¡± Elpida said.

    Lykke rolled her eyes. ¡°No, no, no! No, it¡¯s not. It¡¯s not a dream! You think dreams matter this much? You think I¡¯d be here for a dream?¡± Lykke sighed and tutted. ¡°Well, yes, it is, but also it¡¯s not, but that¡¯s also incredibly boring to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enlighten me.¡±

    Lykke paused, biting her lip.

    ¡°Now, Necromancer,¡± Elpida said. ¡°If you¡¯re really here, why haven¡¯t you killed me?¡±

    Lykke¡¯s lips sparkled back into a little smirk; so easy to bait.

    ¡°Becauseeeee,¡± she purred, ¡°I don¡¯t want to! Look, this is all a ¡®dream¡¯, yes, but I¡¯m actually here. You¡¯re in your own local network, just the part of it made out of your own body and mind. Normally zombies don¡¯t do this, but you¡¯ve got that ¡­ ¡± Lykke¡¯s lips curled for a second. ¡°That horrid gremlin along with you, and she¡¯s given you more room to play with than little zombies should usually have. So, welcome!¡± Lykke wiggled her fingers. ¡°It¡¯s like I¡¯ve snuck into your bedroom!¡±

    Elpida nodded. ¡°Then what are you, a virus? A bad thought?¡±

    Lykke sighed, flopped her arms, and rolled her head back. ¡°No, I¡¯m me! It¡¯s Lykke.¡± She batted sun-white lashes at Elpida, dyed bloody by the light. ¡°Don¡¯t say you¡¯ve already forgotten me, zombie. Unless I¡¯ve lost track of time, it wasn¡¯t that long ago you and I met each other. Have I really slipped from your memory so fast? I¡¯m not certain my heart could take such a bruising. I would expire, right here, and then you¡¯d have to carry me to bed. Will you carry me to bed, Elpida? Or ¡­ ¡± Lykke bit her lower lip and reached out with one lace-gloved hand. She drew a fingertip down Elpida¡¯s chest. ¡°Or maybe we could dance, right here?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°Can you hurt me, if this is inside the network?¡±

    Lykke pressed her fingertip harder, pressing the white lace against the soft flesh of Elpida¡¯s chest.

    ¡°Oh, not really,¡± she mused, as if disappointed. ¡°I¡¯m projecting, that¡¯s all. I¡¯m nowhere near you, out there in the physical. I can¡¯t achieve actual direct network access to you, I¡¯m just ¡­ riding in on a stray wave, so to speak. You and I might tussle a little.¡± Her face fell into a strange, girlish melancholy. ¡°But we can¡¯t dance for real. Only within the limits of your imagin¡ª¡±

    Elpida slammed her left fist into Lykke¡¯s stomach.

    Her knuckles sank into the Necromancer¡¯s slender belly, sliding across the sheer white dress.

    Lykke¡¯s eyes flew wide with shock and pain. The breath burst from her lungs in a choking gasp. She started to double up.

    Elpida lashed out with her right hand and grabbed Lykke by the throat, shoving her backward, pinning her against the yellowed bone of Telokopolis. The Necromancer weighed almost nothing. Her legs dangled, one slipper falling to the floor as she kicked and writhed, trying to find a foothold, feet glancing harmlessly off Elpida¡¯s legs. Her hands flew to Elpida¡¯s wrist, tugging at her forearm. Green eyes burned in the red shadows, bulging from their sockets.

    Elpida held her there for ten long seconds, testing her hypothesis. Nothing happened ¡ª just Lykke, fluttering between flesh and bone.

    ¡°And you can¡¯t escape,¡± Elpida said, voicing her theory. ¡°Good. You¡¯re going to tell me everything I want to know. Understand?¡±

    She slackened her grip, just enough for Lykke to suck down a wheezing breath.

    ¡°Y-yes¡ª¡± Lykke gasped. ¡°Ye¡ª¡±

    Elpida dropped her.

    Lykke hit the floor in a heap, heaving and panting, choking and coughing, drooling from slack lips. She struggled into a sitting position, veiled behind her golden hair.

    Elpida said, ¡°Howl¡¯s pinned you somehow, hasn¡¯t she? Or you came back, when you know you can¡¯t get away. You¡¯re going to tell me everything I want to know, Necromancer. And then we¡¯re going to walk down this corridor and ¡­ meet ¡­ ¡±

    Lykke raised her face ¡ª cheeks flushed red, pupils dilated with pleasure, quivering lips curling into a carnal smile.

    ¡°More!¡± she whined.

    ¡°Ah,¡± said Elpida. ¡°Right.¡±

    Lykke swallowed, bearing her throat, chest heaving with sharp and hitching breath. ¡°Oh, little zombie. I can get away any time I like! But I¡¯ll tell you anything, if you keep going. Grab me again, zombie. Hit me, choke me, throw me about! Whatever you want! Just please, let¡¯s dance!¡±

 tenebrae - 13.4

    ¡°Dance?¡± Elpida echoed. ¡°You want me to hit you again?¡±

    Down on the floor, her sun-kissed skin clothed in a silken white party dress, with her ribbon-wrapped calves, her delicate lace elbow-gloves, and a white choker encircling her slender throat, Lykke nodded.

    She gazed up at Elpida from behind thickly curled lashes, eyes wet and wide, dyed dark by the scarlet light which glowed from the secret inner walls of Telokopolis. Lykke¡¯s breath came in quivering little hitches; her chest heaved beneath the thin fabric of her dress. Her skin was shiny with sudden sweat. She smelled faintly of fresh grass under hot sunlight, spiced with the iron tang of blood. One hand clutched the hem of her dress, crumpling the fabric in trembling fingers; the other hand fluttered upward to her throat. She brushed the dark purple bruises which began to flower beneath her choker ¡ª the imprint of Elpida¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Lykke hissed. ¡°Oh, yes. Please, little zombie. Let¡¯s dance! As long as you like, any way you like! Do your best!¡± She tapped her bruised throat. ¡°Do this again, if you need somewhere to start! Do it harder, for longer, until I¡¯m all ¡­ all ¡­ ¡±

    Lykke trailed off, panting hard, eyes wide and manic.

    Elpida almost laughed. She should have expected this. ¡°And you really can get away any time you want?¡±

    Lykke nodded. ¡°Yes! Yes! Don¡¯t even ask that question, don¡¯t concern yourself with it, just pretend I can¡¯t! Pretend you¡¯ve got me at your mercy and¡ª¡±

    Elpida stepped back. She raised her chin and crossed her arms.

    Lykke responded exactly as Elpida hoped she would ¡ª her face crumpled with confused rejection, sudden desperation burning in her glittering green eyes.

    Lykke scrambled to her feet, still panting and quivering with a cocktail of pain and lust. She had to brace herself against the bone-ribbed wall of Telokopolis, as if her knees had gone weak. One lace-gloved hand moved across her own belly, probing the tender flesh where Elpida had gut-punched her. Her pink tongue darted out to wet thin, glistening lips. She hesitated, jaw twitching, unable to form words.

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± said Elpida.

    ¡°You don¡¯t¡ª you don¡¯t want to? But¡ª you¡ª please! Please, zombie! I stayed, I stayed, for you¡ª¡±

    Elpida kept her distance. ¡°Howl awoke something in you, with that beat-down, didn¡¯t she?¡±

    Lykke¡¯s face scrunched up, brow furrowed, teeth clenched. ¡°Don¡¯t say her name! Don¡¯t ruin this with talk of that ¡­ goblin!¡±

    Elpida raised her eyebrows. She needed to lead Lykke on, but with great care; it seemed that Howl was not the correct pressure point. ¡°But Howl hurt you, didn¡¯t she? She made you feel real pain, possibly for the first time ever.¡±

    Lykke hissed through her teeth. ¡°No! That was you, zombie. Your fists on my flesh. Your face filling my vision. Not her! I could see her, grinning through your muscles, but she was ¡­ inconsequential to what we did, you and I, together. She¡¯s not you. I¡¯m not interested in talking about her.¡±

    Elpida considered pushing harder ¡ª more talk of Howl might get Lykke to leave. But this opportunity was too good to pass up. Howl had broken something inside Lykke, and now the Necromancer was compromised. Forget intel; if this was not a trick, then Lykke was ripe for plucking.

    Elpida cast a different hook: ¡°Alright then. I hurt you. And now you want what ¡ª more of that?¡±

    Lykke took a deep breath, straightening her spine and standing upright again, puffing out her chest and cocking her hips beneath her dress, ponytail falling across one naked shoulder. She put one hand around her own throat, fingers mirroring the bruises left by Elpida¡¯s grip. ¡°Pain. That ¡­ that experience, I¡¯ve never felt anything like it before. It¡¯s all I¡¯ve thought about since then. I didn¡¯t go back home, I didn¡¯t return, I didn¡¯t even leave the boundary of that storm, because I didn¡¯t want to risk losing sight of you, zombie.¡±

    ¡°Should I be flattered?¡±

    ¡°No other dance, no other sensation I¡¯ve ever felt can compare to it. I ¡­ ¡± She trailed off and swallowed, eyes fluttering shut as if in the prelude to an orgasm. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯ve been missing out on this, for so, so, so long! And you¡ª you zombies!¡± Her eyes flew open, cheeks flushed with rosy passion. ¡°You zombies, this is what you feel?! I want more, yes. I want it all. And I want it from you, zombie. You¡¯re the only dance partner I¡¯m interested in now, you¡¯re the best I¡¯ve ever had. It was your hand which made me feel pain, with your face in my eyes. I want more, yes! Yes, little zombie, I want¡ª¡±

    ¡°Say my name.¡±

    Lykke blinked rapidly. ¡°Excuse me¡ª¡±

    ¡°Say. My. Name.¡±

    Elpida gambled. The prize would be worth the risk.

    ¡°Zombie?¡± Lykke giggled. ¡°What does that have to do with¡ª¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t want Howl,¡± Elpida said. ¡°So say my name. Call me zombie one more time and I¡¯ll go wake Howl, she can work you over with both fists while I go speak with Telokopolis.¡±

    Elpida made a point of looking away, down the vaulted corridor of giant bones and crimson flesh, to where she had seen that strangely stiff white dress slip beyond sight. A phantom of Telokopolis, gracing her moment of doubt. She longed to follow, but she could not ignore the chance to turn a full-blown Necromancer.

    ¡°Elpida!¡± Lykke blurted out. ¡°Fine, fine! Elpida, Elpida, Elpida! Please, just, let me have this¡ª¡±

    Elpida lashed out with an open palm. She backhanded Lykke across the face.

    The slap sent Lykke tottering several steps to one side. She let out a quavering gasp, eyes streaming with fresh tears. Both hands rose to cup her stinging cheek. She held a pose of wordless ecstasy for three full seconds ¡ª then coiled back around, breaking into a nasty little smirk, eyes tight, teeth showing.

    ¡°Oh, come on, zo¡ª Elpida!¡± she purred, rubbing her glowing cheek with one hand. ¡°You can do better than that!¡±

    Elpida held her gaze. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Look at you, look at your muscles, your upper body strength! You could slap me halfway down this corridor if you tried. You could knock a girl unconscious with one slap. I want a dance, a real one. Don¡¯t disappoint me now.¡±

    Elpida reconsidered her strategy; perhaps she was being hasty. Elpida knew how to handle partners who needed a little pain ¡ª she and Howl had beaten each other black and blue back in life, and half her most intense relationships within the cadre had often involved some kind of physical fighting, mostly on the sparring mats. She was no stranger to the blurred line between a good fight and a hard fuck, though she knew most baseline human beings did not feel that connection quite so strongly, or at all. Every one of her sisters always gave as good as they got, and the shared pain meant something between them.

    But Lykke was not a pilot; Lykke was not even human. According to Shilu, Lykke had never been human in the first place ¡ª this Necromancer had begun life as a ¡®post-human feedback loop¡¯. Was Elpida wading out into waters beyond her depth? Should she turn around and head after the phantom of Telokopolis after all?

    Lykke spoke before Elpida could decide. ¡°Do I disgust you?¡± she said, giggling. ¡°I know this would disgust other Necromancers. This is the most unsanctioned behaviour I¡¯ve ever indulged in! But if this is wrong, I don¡¯t want to be right.¡±

    Elpida pushed, testing the ground. ¡°Who or what sent you after Shilu?¡±

    Lykke sighed and rolled her eyes, shoulders slumping. ¡°Ugh. Don¡¯t talk about her! We¡¯re just getting started, don¡¯t ruin the mood!¡±

    ¡°I hurt you, you give me intel. That¡¯s the deal,¡± Elpida said. ¡°If you¡¯ve got nothing for me ¡­ ¡± Elpida spread her hands and took another step back.

    Lykke followed, trotting forward, eyes thrown wide, hands up as if trying to soothe a difficult animal. ¡°Fine, fine! Um ¡­ Shilu, right? Yes! Er, Shilu is ¡­ um ¡­ very annoying, and ¡­ y-yes, I was sent to mop her up. And ¡­ and ¡­ that¡¯s it!¡±

    ¡°Were you sent by Central? Or by some other faction?¡±

    Lykke shrugged, arms held out, expression desperate. ¡°I don¡¯t know! I don¡¯t care about that! Zom¡ª Elpida! Why do you care?! Why do you care about any of that boring old shit? I¡¯m right here in front of you, I¡¯m here, right now, and¡ª¡±

    Elpida grabbed Lykke¡¯s right wrist in her left hand. The Necromancer had a split-second to gasp, eyes flying wide, lips curling with the anticipation of pleasure ¡ª and then Elpida¡¯s right fist crashed into Lykke¡¯s face.

    The Necromancer went flying backward, knocked off her feet, suspended from the anchor of Elpida¡¯s hand around her wrist. Blood sprayed from her nose and a burst lip, splattering across the cold floor of the vaulted corridor. She heaved for breath behind the veil of her golden hair, spluttering and moaning through a gush of blood dripping from her face; a few droplets fell just short of Elpida¡¯s naked feet.

    ¡°When the storm ends,¡± Elpida said, ¡°are they going to send more Necromancers after us?¡±

    ¡° ¡­ mm-what?¡± Lykke moaned.

    ¡°Stand up.¡± Elpida yanked on Lykke¡¯s arm, dragging her back to her feet.

    Lykke¡¯s head jerked up and around; she was bleeding from her nose and her upper lip, right cheek blooming with a fresh bruise. Her eyes were full of tears, glazed with trance-like pleasure. She smiled and let out a high, whining moan. ¡°Moooooreeeee¡ª¡±

    ¡°When the storm ends,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°Are they going to send more Necromancers after us? Or are you going to attack us again?¡±

    Lykke¡¯s joy curdled; her smile died, her gaze flattened, her wounds no longer seemed to cause her pain.

    ¡°You¡¯re so constipated, zombie,¡± she said. ¡°How do you stand it?¡±

    ¡°I told you to use my name.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps we should do this another way,¡± Lykke sighed. ¡°Perhaps. You can do so much better, zombie.¡±

    ¡°I hurt you, you share intel. That¡¯s the deal, Necromancer. No intel, no deal.¡±

    Lykke grinned, all white teeth. ¡°Deal? I don¡¯t recall making any deal.¡±

    Elpida let go of Lykke¡¯s wrist. ¡°Then you can go handle yourself¡ª¡±

    Lykke unhinged her jaw.

    Her cheeks split open ¡ª first to her ears, then further, the sides of Lykke¡¯s throat ripping apart as if her whole neck was a concealed mouth. Her pretty white choker burst in two. Her skull rolled backward, mouth and throat and neck transformed into a giant crimson maw lined with hundreds of razor-sharp teeth, dripping loops of sticky saliva. She reared up, legs suddenly extending, then fell upon Elpida.

    Lykke¡¯s giant mouth slammed down over Elpida¡¯s head, plunging her into moist, reeking, humid darkness.

    Elpida reacted fast, digging her fingers and thumbs into the pliable flesh of Lykke¡¯s extended neck-mouth. But Lykke was all muscle. Elpida was trapped.

    Rows of teeth lanced into Elpida¡¯s neck. She felt flesh part and bone scrape, followed by the unmistakable sensation of her own head parting from her shoulders with a slick wet riiiiiiiip¡ª

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    Elpida woke up.

    She awoke in her own bed, greeted by the muted colours and soft lights of the dormitory, within the pilot project cadre¡¯s private quarters.

    She was wide awake. She remembered everything.

    Elpida kicked the covers back, pulled herself from Howl¡¯s embrace, and leapt out of bed. She hit the floor ready to fight, fists raised, empty handed, eyes scanning the cold dormitory for a weapon, for the position of her enemy, for the inevitable surprise attack, for¡ª

    Ceiling fans, recycled air, distant vibrations. Nothing moved in the dormitory except herself. Nothing made a sound except Howl¡¯s breathing, deep and soft in uninterrupted sleep. Nothing was hiding beneath the beds. She was back at the start of the ¡®dream¡¯, but there was no sign of Lykke.

    Elpida forced herself to relax. She swept her hair out of her face. She put one hand to her neck and throat, feeling for a wound. But there was nothing, not even a bruise.

    ¡°Howl?¡± she said, voice pitched hard and urgent. ¡°Howl, we have an intruder. Howl, wake up. Howl!¡±

    Howl grumbled in her sleep. Elpida turned and reached out to shake Howl¡¯s shoulder, loathe to take her eyes off the dormitory, but for some reason she couldn¡¯t reach Howl, couldn¡¯t shake her, couldn¡¯t¡ª

    Elpida stopped short and raised the stump of her right arm; the limb was gone from her elbow down, terminating in a long-healed amputation wound.

    ¡°Right,¡± she muttered. ¡°That¡¯s reality.¡±

    Howl grunted. ¡°Elps?¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Elpida almost repeated her earlier request, but then paused; there was a very good reason for Howl to be asleep. ¡°You can¡¯t wake up, can you?¡± Elpida said. ¡°Because I¡¯m the one who¡¯s asleep, and you¡¯re busy, you¡¯re looking after the others. How is everything going, out there?¡±

    Howl turned over, rubbing her face against the pillow, eyes still closed. ¡°S¡¯fine. You deal with you, Elps.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m dealing with a bit more than just myself. Lykke¡¯s in here. She¡¯s playing with me, I think.¡±

    Howl grumbled again. ¡°Then play harder. Play hard ¡®till the bitch breaks.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ I¡¯ll try.¡±

    Howl let out a soft snore. Back to sleep.

    Elpida considered her options. She could stay here, next to Howl, which would probably keep Lykke away; she could even lie back down in bed and return to sleep ¡ª though she wasn¡¯t quite sure what that would represent. She did not wish to return to waking control of her own body; her comrades were likely hunting down the Death¡¯s Heads right then, and she felt they would do better without the burden of her clouded judgement.

    And Telokopolis was right here.

    Telokopolis had appeared to her, as a network ghost or phantom memory or simple embodiment of everything Elpida believed in. Lykke was nothing compared to the chance to speak with the city. Elpida had to know, she had to ask ¡ª was she doing the right thing? Was she on the right path? Did she have the blessing of her true mother?

    Elpida grabbed a pair of shorts again, just as she had the first time, dragging them on over her hips. She considered stopping to don one of the pilot suits which lay about the rumpled dormitory beds, but Lykke¡¯s Necromancer tricks would probably not be turned away by a thin shell of polymer weave filled with bio-reactive circuitry and telemetry monitors.

    She hurried to the door and hit the palm-pad from the side, in case Lykke was waiting to leap out at her. Then she pressed herself against the wall, to obtain the best view of the corridor before she stepped out of the dormitory. The main hallway of the cadre¡¯s private quarters was empty, just as before. Muted silver and dark cream and soft treelike greens concealed no hidden Necromancer. Elpida made sure to run her eyes carefully along the surfaces, in case Lykke was camouflaged somehow. She checked the ceiling, too ¡ª a cheap trick, but she couldn¡¯t afford to be lazy.

    Elpida stopped into the corridor.

    All the doors were shut. The floor was warm. The recycled air smelled clean and dry. This time there was no buzz of a screen left switched on overnight; the cadre¡¯s quarters were silent, all except for the distant sounds of the body of Telokopolis.

    And this time there was no additional corridor; the door to the shower room stood at the end of the hallway, right where it should be. The vaulted corridor of Telokopolan bone and living flesh was gone.

    Elpida had missed her chance.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± she hissed. ¡°Lykke.¡±

    Elpida checked the rec room first, hoping to find the dreams of Persephone and Old Lady Nunnus still waiting for her inside. But the rec room was empty, the screen quiet and dark, all the lights switched off. She shut the door and turned back to the corridor; as she did, a low hiss came from the ventilation ducts, trailing off into the faintest whisper of an inhuman giggle.

    Elpida held her breath. She stayed as still as she could. She willed her heart rate to slow.

    She waited thirty seconds, then a minute. Nothing happened.

    Elpida crept down the corridor, moving silently on bare feet, making for the large double-doors which led to the cadre¡¯s private armoury. She considered entering through the gym instead, but she needed more than a sparring staff or a blunt blade; besides, she was not confident using either of those weapons with only one hand.

    She reached the big steel doors and hovered her fingertips before the armoury¡¯s palm-pad. Then she stomped her feet twice, a couple of big heavy steps right in front of the door; quickly she hopped to one side and hit the pad. The armoury access light blinked green. The door slid open.

    Elpida counted to five, then peered around the door frame, fingers still on the palm-pad.

    No sign of Lykke. Elpida stepped inside. The door slid shut behind her.

    The pilot project cadre¡¯s private armoury was the equal of any Legion infantry arsenal ¡ª just on a smaller scale. A wide room floored in the same matte steel as the rest of their quarters, the armoury was lined with weapons, all plugged into charging ports or cradled in specialised racking or cushioned in soft foam to avoid incidental wear and tear. Handguns, side-arms, personal defence weapons, blades and knives both monoedge and mundane, batons and shock-clubs and big heavy machetes, rifles and carbines and everything in between, shoulder-and-back-mounted autonomic defence rigs, weight-splaying carry-frames for heavy firepower, and all the other infantry-level weapons and systems Elpida had known in life.

    The guns were all of familiar Telokopolan manufacture, uniformly matte black or pale silver, made of ultra-lightweight polymers and specialised alloys; most of them were energy, laser, or plasma-projection based, but almost all the solid-shot firearms used either caseless ammunition or shaved their projectiles from miniaturized blocks of nano-manufactured reaction mass. A small table in one corner held Emi and Kit¡¯s passion project ¡ª a set of black-powder ¡®slug throwers¡¯ in various sizes, all hand made and assembled from raw steel. That little diversion had proven very popular over the years, waxing and waning as different members of the cadre decided to try their hands at tests of mechanical skill, such as building a shotgun which would dislocate the operator¡¯s shoulder when fired.

    The cadre did not have much occasion to use this stuff in battle ¡ª there was not a lot of point, when one went out into the green inside a combat frame ¡ª but Elpida had always made the cadre take personal defence and weapons handling as seriously as they could. Her girls were always the equal of any Legionnaire. They had never been caught out when they had to defend themselves.

    Except when Elpida had not allowed them to do so, right at the end.

    She quashed that thought. This was no time for it.

    In addition to the weapons, the armoury also contained a stock of additional pilot suits, folded up and stowed, along with all the other functional clothing the cadre could need; none of it was particularly interesting, but they never wanted for spares. Rows of greensuits stood along one wall, their flimsy-looking plates hanging loose from the racks. Heavy full-body stands held a set of fifty full hardshell suits, two for each member of the cadre, just in case.

    Some of the suits showed evidence of minor repairs here and there; a moment¡¯s glance was enough to bring a dozen memories to the surface of Elpida¡¯s mind, but she did not have time to think about her sisters right then. She bottled that emotion. This place, though not real, was getting to her.

    Her own hardshell suit stood at the very end of the row. Could she don it with only one arm? Probably yes, but not quickly. She would be vulnerable.

    The armoury had three other exits ¡ª one to the gym, one to the firing range, and a big heavy elevator door in the rear. That elevator was large enough for all twenty five of the cadre, all in hardshell suits; it led directly down to the combat frame hangers in the Skirts. That elevator ride would take ten minutes. Elpida wondered if it would work, here in this network ¡®dream¡¯.

    She hurried over to a rack of side-arms. She needed something she could use one-handed; that ruled out the close-quarters comfort of a monoedge blade, or the stopping power of a rifle.

    She grabbed a compact pistol, a lightweight model with as little recoil as possible. She used her left hand to pop the magazine free, then pulled it out with her teeth. Caseless rounds were stacked nearby, and she could load one-handed, but she needed to hurry, before Lykke crawled out of a vent.

    But the magazine was already loaded. Sixteen caseless rounds gleamed within.

    Elpida almost laughed. Her girls would never have left live ammo in a racked gun. Perhaps the dream was helping her.

    She pushed the magazine back into the gun against the side of the racking, shoved the pistol into the waistband of her shorts, and crossed to the PDWs. She lifted a GSD-114 from its charging rack ¡ª a ¡®Grasshopper¡¯ personal defence weapon, light enough to fire in one hand, tight enough to use in small spaces, forty centimetres of miniaturised magnetic acceleration. She slapped the controls with her chin; the gun¡¯s indicator lights were all green, fully charged and ready to go.

    She hefted the weapon in her left hand and struggled to press the stock against her shoulder, then gave up and braced her elbow against her hip. Point shooting would have to suffice.

    ¡°Tch!¡±

    The tut echoed off the steel walls of the armoury. Elpida whirled on the spot, finger on the trigger.

    ¡°I always assumed you were ambidextrous,¡± Lykke drawled.

    The Necromancer was draped over a hardshell suit ¡ª Elpida¡¯s own suit. Her arms lay across the shoulders, chin resting beside the helmet, melting against the grey-green amour like a cat in sunlight. She bore the wounds Elpida had left her with ¡ª hand-print bruises on her pale throat, a bloody nose and a split lip, a purple blossom spreading across her cheek ¡ª but no sign of the elongated face-maw. Lykke was back to normal.

    ¡°I am,¡± Elpida replied. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean I can one-hand a gun like this.¡±

    Lykke rose from the hardshell suit, cradling her own bruised stomach. Her fingers fluttered over her flat belly through the fabric of her dress. She winced and flinched, letting out a soft gasp.

    ¡°Then why are you waving it around, zombie?¡± she said.

    Elpida didn¡¯t reply. She kept the PDW trained on Lykke. The Necromancer smiled, rolled her eyes, and turned away. She sauntered over to the pilot suits, pulled one out from a bin, and unrolled the soft grey fabric. She held it up to her front, looked down at herself, and did a little twirl. Then she pulled a disgusted face and let the suit fall to the floor.

    ¡°You said you couldn¡¯t hurt me here,¡± said Elpida.

    Lykke broke into a smug little smirk and gestured at Elpida with both hands, arms held out wide. ¡°Uh huh! And here you are, untouched!¡±

    ¡°Mm. Neat trick. Felt very real.¡±

    Lykke giggled, biting her bottom lip. ¡°Did you like it? Was it a unique experience, being all the way down my pretty little throat?¡± She tilted her head back and ran one lace-gloved hand across the bruised flesh of her exposed throat, hooking a finger briefly into her regenerated choker ¡ª then she clacked her teeth together three times. ¡°Hahaha!¡±

    ¡°Never had my head bitten off before,¡± Elpida said.

    ¡°Mm!¡± Lykke purred, hands clasped together, wiggling one leg back and forth. ¡°Your first time! Let¡¯s see how many other firsts we can take from you, shall we?¡±

    Elpida said, ¡°What other lies did you tell?¡±

    Lykke stamped one slippered foot. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re no fun! I was telling the truth, zombie! I can¡¯t actually hurt you. I can¡¯t wipe you! I don¡¯t have that kind of access. No Necromancer does. And this is inside you, dummy. No matter what it feels like in the moment, all I can do is bat you around a bit. Not that I won¡¯t keep going!¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Elpida demanded. ¡°I thought you¡¯d discovered a love of pain. Why do you want to fight me?¡±

    Lykke raised both hands in a little shrug. ¡°Because it turns out you are an incredibly boring dance partner when you lack the proper motivation. So! You and I, little zombie, we¡¯re going to play on equal footing.¡±

    Elpida scoffed. She smiled, despite herself. ¡°Equal footing? You¡¯re obviously the one in control of this dream. You can do whatever you want. You just came out of nowhere.¡±

    ¡°Uuuughhhhh,¡± Lykke moaned. ¡°No, no, no! How many times? This isn¡¯t a dream! Zombie¡ª ugh, don¡¯t give me that look! Elpida, fine. This is not a dream. It¡¯s more like ¡­ software!¡± Lykke lit up. ¡°It has rules, like gravity, inertia, solid objects, muscles. And pain! All the good stuff which makes reality so juicy.¡±

    ¡°And you expect me to believe you can¡¯t break those rules?¡±

    Lykke shrugged. ¡°Out in the real network the rules are more ¡­ flexible, for things like me, sure. I won¡¯t lie about that. But here? Mmmm, not really. You¡¯re just a zombie, which means you can¡¯t actually see what¡¯s really going on. I can, and I can fuck around a bit.¡± Lykke flicked her fingers, as if brushing away a mote of dust. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to! I want to dance! With you.¡±

    Elpida¡¯s stomach tightened, low down, with an excitement she had not expected. She took a deep breath. This was a distraction she could ill afford.

    ¡°Equal footing?¡± she echoed.

    ¡°Yes! I¡¯ll stay subject to all the same rules as you. No more teeth, no more claws, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die!¡± Lykke ran a fingertip over her chest, over her heart. ¡°Just throw the gun away and come at me. You want this too, zombie. I can tell.¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t move. ¡°If this is software ¡ª my software ¡ª why can¡¯t I summon help?¡±

    Lykke sighed. ¡°Obviously because you don¡¯t really want to!¡± She tutted, then batted her eyelashes and bit her lower lip again. ¡°Zombie, forget about all that. This ¡­ this is a first time for me, too. I¡¯ve never done this with a zombie before, inside your own private network, not like this. I feel quite vulnerable, you know? With me it¡¯s always one and done.¡± She sighed, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers, turned half-aside as if embarrassed. ¡°I¡¯ve never ¡­ come back to the same zombie. It¡¯s such a different feeling. You¡¯re the first.¡± Lykke let out a little moan and shook herself, as if gathering her courage. ¡°And you¡¯re going to have so much fun. I know you will! We¡¯ll both get what we need.¡±

    Elpida felt a tug, deep down in her belly ¡ª but she clamped down hard. ¡°And every time you rip my head off, I¡¯m gonna wake up back in my bed?¡±

    Lykke shrugged again. ¡°I don¡¯t know! You can do whatever you want! Why not try to return the favour?¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not going to let you do that a second time.¡±

    Lykke tutted. ¡°Then why are you still here? You can leave whenever you like! Go back to your little pack of kittens or whatever. But you won¡¯t, will you? Because you¡¯re all twisted up inside. So, as long as you¡¯re here and hiding from responsibility, why not play with me? That¡¯s got to be better than moping about, right?¡±

    Elpida ignored that. ¡°You only got the drop on me because this place is emotionally compromising.¡±

    Lykke tilted her head, blinking innocently. ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡° ¡­ you really don¡¯t know?¡±

    Lykke wet her lips. ¡°I¡¯ve picked up a little. Something about dead sisters? This is the world you lived in, right? This is the place you lost, and the loss that broke you.¡± Lykke smirked. ¡°Does talking about it help get you ready? Unconventional, perhaps, but I¡¯m all ears.¡±

    Elpida felt words rising up her throat ¡ª yes, yes, this is all I lost, all the echoes and imprints of my sisters are here, and¡ª

    And Lykke was a distraction; Lykke was pumping her for info; Lykke had to be dealt with.

    Elpida lowered the PDW. ¡°All this is to keep me from speaking with Telokopolis, isn¡¯t it? You took away that corridor. You¡¯re a distraction, keeping me from following, keeping me from finding the certainty I need. That¡¯s your purpose.¡±

    Lykke rolled her eyes, threw up both lace-gloved hands, and let out a strangled scream.

    ¡°How self-centred can you be?!¡± she shrieked. ¡°Can¡¯t you just live in this one moment, zombie?! You can¡¯t even see how bricked up you are, or what I¡¯m offering you! How are you even still going like this?! If I was in your position, I¡¯d be curled up on the floor in a ball!¡±

    Elpida frowned; was she wrong? She¡¯d not really meant the words she¡¯d said, she was testing, but she had not expected this response. Lykke¡¯s answers were difficult to trust, but she asked anyway: ¡°Tell me the truth, Lykke. Did you remove that additional corridor?¡±

    ¡°Does it matter?!¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Because I need to talk to Telokopolis¡ª¡±

    ¡°How do you even know it¡¯s her, hmm!? Or whatever it is you¡¯re trying to talk to. How do you know?¡±

    ¡°Because it looked like how I ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida trailed off. She realised what she had been about to say.

    ¡°Ha!¡± Lykke barked. ¡°How you imagine her, right? Face it, zombie, you¡¯re chasing your own memories. Pay attention to the moment. I¡¯m right here!¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°No. No, she has to be here. I need¡ª¡±

    ¡°What you need, zombie, is a dance you don¡¯t know how to dance!¡±

    Lykke flew at Elpida, hands outstretched, lace-clad fingers hooked like claws. Elpida dropped the PDW to the floor with a clatter; her bait had worked. She drew the pistol from her waistband, aimed one-handed at Lykke¡¯s centre of mass, and pumped the trigger ¡ª thock-thock-thock!

    Caseless rounds tore through Lykke¡¯s shiny white dress and punched into her ribcage, tearing a trio of bloody holes in her chest. The Necromancer went down in a tangle of limbs, carried forward by the momentum of her headlong charge. She slid to a halt a few feet from Elpida¡¯s toes, twitching and wheezing, blood spreading in a shallow pool on the metal tiles.

    Lykke slapped at the floor. She struggled to raise her head.

    ¡°Cheater!¡± she rattled.

    Her eyes glazed over. She went limp, then still.

    Elpida stepped back and aimed the pistol at Lykke¡¯s head. She pulled the trigger three more times, putting a trio of rounds through Lykke¡¯s skull. Bone and brain matter splattered across the floor. Elpida waited another two full minutes, watching the corpse for signs of motion.

    ¡°My network space,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Which means my rules. I don¡¯t believe that for a second. Get up, Lykke.¡±

    The Necromancer didn¡¯t move.

    ¡°Get. Up.¡±

    Nothing. Elpida felt a terrible disappointment ¡ª but why? Did she really want to fight Lykke hand-to-hand? She would gain nothing from the experience.

    She had to go after that phantom vision of Telokopolis. She had to know. Perhaps the corridor would be there once more, now that Lykke was ¡®dead¡¯.

    Elpida backed toward the armoury door, not once taking her eyes off Lykke¡¯s body. She touched the palm-pad with her elbow.

    Beep!

    The access light stayed red. That was not supposed to happen. Back in life, that never happened.

    She had to stoop to press the palm-pad with her stump.

    Beep. Red light.

    She leaned against the wall and awkwardly bumped the pad with one foot.

    Beep. Red light.

    She stared at the corpse. She waited another sixty seconds. Lykke didn¡¯t move.

    ¡°Get up, Lykke,¡± Elpida said.

    Nothing.

    As carefully as she could, Elpida moved her left hand toward the palm-pad, still holding the gun. She had to turn the barrel away from Lykke, for just a moment. Her knuckles brushed the pad.

    Beep. Red light.

    Lykke jerked upright, a whirling vortex of blood-soaked white dress and golden blonde hair.

    She scuttled toward Elpida on all fours, bleeding and screeching and cackling from a mouth full of sharp teeth. Elpida flicked the gun around and pulled the trigger, but the rounds cut through Lykke like stones through water, and then Lykke knocked the weapon out of Elpida¡¯s hand. Lykke was on top of her, reeking of blood, a fanged maw pressed into Elpida¡¯s face. She knocked Elpida to the floor. Elpida got a foot into Lykke¡¯s belly, but the Necromancer flowed around the kick like her body was made of liquid.

    ¡°That one doesn¡¯t count, zombie!¡± Lykke screeched. ¡°Equal footing means equal footing! You cheat, I cheat! Next time, use your fists!¡±

    Lykke¡¯s teeth closed around Elpida¡¯s throat. Elpida felt razorblades tear her windpipe open, cold air rushing in to freeze her gullet, blood gushing down her front and¡ª

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    Elpida woke up.

    She awoke in her own bed, greeted by the muted colours and soft lights of the dormitory, within the pilot project cadre¡¯s private quarters.

    She was wide awake. She remembered everything.

    ¡°Fuck.¡±

 tenebrae - 13.5

    Elpida woke up.

    She leapt out of bed and sprinted for the armoury ¡ª her third attempt at this strategy.

    She paused to upend one of the dormitory beds, grabbing the bed frame with both hands and flipping it over; the bed crashed into several other bunks, scattering discarded clothes and knocking mattresses to the floor, all to deny Lykke one of her previous ambush vectors. Elpida did not wait to see if the Necromancer crawled from the wreckage. She shot out of the dormitory and into the corridor, then pressed her back to the wall as she passed beneath the overhead ventilation duct. Lykke had burst from behind that metal grille on Elpida¡¯s prior attempt, snatching her up with razor-sharp claws and a pair of snapping jaws.

    Elpida skidded to a halt outside the armoury doors and slapped the palm-pad. The access light blinked green. The doors slid open.

    Lykke was right over the threshold, inches from Elpida¡¯s face.

    The front of Lykke¡¯s body was split from throat to groin, like a gigantic sideways mouth, filled with the writhing snake-pit of her guts and the pulsing knot of her heart. Her glossy white dress was torn to ribbons by rows of glittering diamond teeth.

    ¡°Too obvious!¡± Lykke gurgled.

    She fell on Elpida, biting and tearing with her giant mouth. Elpida felt her stomach rip open and her intestines bubble forth, mingling with Lykke¡¯s own exposed organs. Lykke¡¯s hands and arms burrowed up inside Elpida¡¯s torso, cupping Elpida¡¯s heart in slender fingers, then gripping hard, crushing¡ª

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    Elpida woke up.

    She sprinted for the armoury. Attempt number nine.

    Last time she¡¯d gotten her hands on a gun, loaded and cocked and ready to fire. But then Lykke had dropped from the ceiling, her body twisted into a cackling ball of flailing limbs, each finger tipped with a long white spike. She¡¯d landed on Elpida, rammed her fingers into the soft tissues of Elpida¡¯s joints, and pulled her apart before Elpida could get off a single shot.

    Elpida followed the same pattern as before. She upended the fifth bed from her own, then ran out into the corridor, dodged the vent shaft, entered the gym, avoided going near the pile of crash mats, accessed the armoury from the gym-side door, locked that door behind her, and sprinted for the racked firearms.

    Last time she had grabbed another lightweight pistol, something she could fire one-handed; but that was beneath the spot where Lykke lurked on the ceiling, ready to drop out of the shadows. This time, Elpida veered off, heading for an open case of chunkier side-arms.

    She selected a heavy handgun by sight and sprinted toward it ¡ª a 117-MCS, a big shiny chrome beast of a gun, a hand cannon designed for last-ditch, up-close, no-second-chances personal defence, for use against Silico constructs out in the green, for when you only had time for one pull of the trigger, with no need to aim, and you needed that single bullet to count. One round from that would blow Lykke¡¯s entire spine out through her back, if Elpida could land the shot.

    Elpida grabbed the gun at a dead run, ripping it from the foam cushion in the case. She had to trust that this ¡®software dream¡¯ had pre-loaded the weapon for her, no time to check.

    A screaming cackle rang out from above.

    Elpida hit the floor and rolled. Displaced air swished past the back of her neck; a meaty wet slam hit the floor tiles right behind her, buckling the metal with a screech of bent steel.

    ¡°Almost!¡± Lykke howled, her voice mangled by a mouthful of bloody meat. ¡°Almost, zombie, but not¡ª¡±

    Elpida came out of her roll into a kneeling position, smooth and quick, ignoring her bruises. She braced the 117 across her own knee, aiming at Lykke¡¯s chest. The Necromancer was a mass of quivering, bleeding, naked meat, studded with drooling mouths and gnashing teeth and little sucker-tipped feelers.

    Elpida pulled the trigger ¡ª boom!

    The handgun snapped her wrist back, recoil rocking all the way to her shoulder.

    Lykke¡¯s centre of mass exploded outward, splattering the gun-racks and steel tiles with crimson viscera and streamers of intestine. The Necromancer paused, looked down at the huge hole blown in her body, then broke into a chorus of high-pitched giggles. The massive wound in her midsection sprouted a dozen rows of extra teeth. She threw herself at Elpida.

    Elpida aimed again and pumped the trigger ¡ª boom! boom! boom! ¡ª blowing holes in Lykke as she charged.

    The Necromancer didn¡¯t even slow down. A wall of mouths crashed into Elpida¡¯s face and body, tearing at her exposed extremities, slicing into her face and cheeks and ears and through the bone of her skull as the world went dark and¡ª

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    Elpida woke up.

    She took her time to don a pilot suit before leaving the dorms ¡ª difficult with only her left arm, but worth the effort. Lykke had declined to interfere with this ritual, perhaps because Elpida was still within arm¡¯s reach of Howl, or perhaps to give Elpida time to consider her next move, to keep this sick game as fun as possible. Elpida used the time to analyse the failures of her previous attempts. Once she was wrapped tight and secure within the familiar embrace of the dark grey bodysuit, she took a deep breath, and sprinted for the armoury.

    Attempt number fifteen.

    Or was it sixteen?

    Elpida had reached her own hardshell suit on the previous attempt. She¡¯d climbed inside the suit easily enough, but locking and sealing the front plates with only one arm had taken more time than she had expected. Lykke had come up in the elevator at the back of the armoury, sauntered out from the big double doors, and taken her time walking over to Elpida. Then she had simply reached into the suit and ripped Elpida¡¯s throat out with a handful of scissor-like claws.

    Elpida retraced her steps again ¡ª corridor, gym, armoury, don¡¯t bother with the guns, get to the hardshell.

    This time she stepped into the suit, stuck her head into the helmet, skipped the boot up sequence, and slammed the shell-plates into place as quickly as she could. One of the four plates locked tight with a familiar click-click-click. Then the second, clunking and whirring as it secured itself. Elpida had to hurry, the elevator was rising with a familiar mechanical hum. She yanked the third plate down and rammed it into position ¡ª click-clunk-clunk.

    The fourth and final shell-plate slid into place, followed by the gentle hiss of atmospheric seals. The suit visor lit up with the warm orange of a hardshell HUD; boot up sequence text scrolled past Elpida¡¯s left eye.

    >Good morning Commander

    >Reactor: online

    >High impact reactive plating: online

    >Musculoskeletal system servo-support: online

    >Atmospheric recirculation and oxygen supply: online

    >Biometric monitors: online

    >Automatic emergency medical systems: online

    >Communications interface: online

    >Weapon uplink sensors: online

    >Squad-interface local comms network: online

    >Threat detection display: online

    And all just in time. The lift arrived at the armoury a second later. The doors parted.

    Lykke stepped out of the lift, a nasty smile playing across her lips. Her body was a mass of tooth and claw, dripping with acidic blood which left burning trails in the steel floor.

    Elpida stepped back; the suit acted as a second skin, but she was still unarmed. She turned away to sprint for a gun ¡ª something heavy, something only the suit could handle, a high-power plasma-projection rifle. Even Lykke couldn¡¯t survive that. One shot would cook her whole body, inside and out.

    But before she could take a single step, Elpida felt a fist slam into her flank.

    The punch hit like an anti-armour round. Elpida went flying; the hardshell suit crashed through the back wall of the armoury in a shower of masonry dust and broken metal, tearing through pipes and cables, slamming through a layer of white tiles as she burst into the cadre¡¯s private shower room.

    Elpida landed on her back, skidding across the tiles. The hardshell¡¯s HUD flashed crimson with servo-motor errors and emergency medical warnings; the suit injected her with painkillers and stimulants, sent out distress signals, and tried to auto-start the built-in personal shields ¡ª but those were damaged as well, dying in a flicker of blue electricity.

    Elpida couldn¡¯t stand up; her spine was broken.

    Lykke leapt through the breach and landed on the chest of Elpida¡¯s hardshell, her feet transformed into razor-sharp talons. The white claws cut through the suit like hot wires through butter, sinking into Elpida¡¯s flesh, parting her ribs, impaling her heart. Lykke laughed in her face, mouth a grimace full of dripping teeth¡ª

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    Elpida woke up.

    Attempt number ¡ª twenty? Twenty two? Twenty three?

    She made it to the suit. Got her hands on a gun. Lykke put a fist through her chest and pulled out her heart.

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    Elpida woke up.

    Plasma-projection didn¡¯t work. Elpida burned Lykke to a crisp, but Lykke stepped from inside her own charred skin like it was a chrysalis and she was a butterfly. She ripped off the hardshell helmet and ate Elpida¡¯s face.

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    Elpida woke up.

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    Elpida woke up.

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    Elpida woke up.

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    Elpida¡ª

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    Elpida woke up.

    She awoke in her own bed, greeted by the muted colours and soft lights of the dormitory, within the pilot project cadre¡¯s private quarters.

    She was wide awake, and she had lost count.

    She lay in bed for several minutes, holding Howl in her arms, luxuriating in the feeling of Howl¡¯s body curled against her own. Howl¡¯s breathing was slow and soft and even. None of Elpida¡¯s previous attempts had drawn more than a brief murmur from Howl, even when Lykke had crawled out from under one of the dormitory beds.

    Elpida considered the sum of all her previous attempts to kill Lykke. Complete failure. She had tried guns, swords, and heavy weapons. She had tried with the hardshell, and without any protection at all, not even clothes; she had died naked plenty of times. She had tried bare hands ¡ª well, hand, singular, currently ¡ª and combat knives. She had even bitten Lykke several times, but that had achieved nothing but a mouthful of rancid blood.

    Elpida considered staying in bed. After a little while she felt her eyelids grow heavy and her thoughts begin to blur.

    She shook herself awake. She could not afford to sleep. She couldn¡¯t return to reality, not yet, not until she had resolved this inner conflict which had compromised her ability to command, her ability to do right by those who followed her, and her ability to discern the correct path.

    Not until she spoke with Telokopolis.

    She disentangled herself from Howl¡¯s embrace and got out of bed, yet again, pausing only to kiss Howl on the forehead. She stood in one spot for a long moment, curling her bare toes against the warm floor tiles, scanning the dormitory for any fresh sign of Lykke. She squatted down to check under the beds. She concentrated on her hearing, to pick out any muffled giggles from a vent shaft or behind a door. She pulled back the covers on a particularly suspicious looking lump, but it was only a trio of discarded pillows, in Kos¡¯ bed; Kos did like to sleep with one between her legs and one under her back, after all.

    Elpida decided she didn¡¯t care anymore.

    ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of this game, Lykke,¡± she said out loud. ¡°You win. Just come out. Show yourself.¡±

    Nothing happened.

    Elpida sighed. ¡°Fine. I¡¯m going to take a shower.¡±

    She didn¡¯t bother getting dressed; what was the point, if Lykke was just going to kill her on the way there? Elpida walked to the door, half-expecting Lykke to burst out from beneath the floor. She hit the palm-pad and stepped out into the corridor without looking. She walked directly beneath the vent duct. She ignored the armoury and strode into the shower room ¡ª the wall was intact once more, of course. The ¡®software dream¡¯ repaired everything, except Elpida¡¯s own right arm.

    The cadre¡¯s private shower room was a long space tiled in clean white, punctuated by plain steel fixtures, and separated into a series of large communal showers; the room also hosted a big bath, but almost all of the cadre preferred to shower. A row of toilet cubicles stood at one end, though it was rare for any of Elpida¡¯s sisters to bother closing the stall doors. The other end of the room connected to the gym. An area near the front held sinks and toiletries, a little rack of familiar toothbrushes, a trio of hair-dryers, and all the other debris of physical maintenance that even gene-engineered transhuman super soldiers could not forego.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Elpida took a shower. She stepped directly into the stream of freezing cold water while it warmed up. A wave of goosebumps rose all across her skin. She ducked her head beneath the stream while it was still cold, gasping as the water soaked through her hair and chilled her scalp. She stood beneath the water as it slowly turned warm, then hot, then hotter.

    She closed her eyes, expecting a bone-talon in her back at any second.

    Minutes ticked by. Elpida¡¯s skin began to sting. No sign of Lykke.

    She opened her eyes and got on with it.

    In life, Elpida had not often showered alone. Even when she was not particularly excited about company, somebody always wanted to join the Commander, and there was always room for more. She paused for a moment, half-covered in thin soap, and realised she may have had sex more times in this shower than everywhere else combined.

    But now she was alone, except for Howl, who was dead asleep, and Lykke, who was not meant to be here.

    ¡°I really did think you would surprise me in the shower, Lykke,¡± she said out loud. ¡°You disappoint me.¡±

    Elpida finished up, rinsed herself off, and dried her body with a towel. She walked to the other end of the shower room and opened the double doors to the gym, then crossed the sparring mats and stepped into the armoury, one more time.

    She ignored the guns and the hardshell suits. She didn¡¯t have to pretend; she knew it wouldn¡¯t work.

    She went over to the bins full of fresh clothing; usually she would have walked back to the dorm for clothes, or taken some with her, but she wanted to see how accurate this software space really was. She pulled out a pair of black shorts and a matching black t-shirt. She stepped into the shorts and pulled the t-shirt on over her head, considering her next move as she got dressed. Rec room? Briefing room? What if she just left the cadre¡¯s quarters entirely and went out into¡ª

    Her head popped through the neck-hole of the t-shirt; Lykke was standing ten feet away, a manic grin on her lips, a lightweight pistol aimed at Elpida¡¯s face.

    ¡°Bang!¡± Lykke shouted. She jerked the trigger.

    The gun went click.

    Elpida sighed. ¡°Very clever.¡±

    The Necromancer burst out laughing, clutching her stomach, tears gathering in her emerald eyes. She dropped the empty pistol with clatter and waved one hand in Elpida¡¯s general direction.

    Lykke had reverted to her human visage, done up for a party in her sheer white dress, showing off long bare thighs and the wide flare of her hips, arms and hands encased in white lace gloves, ankles and calves wrapped in silken ribbons, her slender throat encircled with a white choker, blonde hair gathered in a ponytail, golden tresses falling across her exposed shoulders. She still bore the first wounds Elpida had inflicted upon her, before this cycle of repeated death and restart ¡ª a nasty shiner across her cheek and the left side of her lips, a patchwork of bruising on her belly, and a purplish hand print on the pale flesh of her delicate throat.

    Elpida waited for Lykke to stop laughing. The Necromancer eventually trailed off, fanning her face with a hand.

    ¡°You should have seen the look on your face, zombie,¡± Lykke purred. ¡°Almost worth all this mucking about.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad one of us found it amusing.¡±

    Lykke snorted. ¡°No you¡¯re not. Don¡¯t lie.¡±

    ¡°I give up,¡± Elpida said.

    Lykke tutted softly. ¡°Yes, yes, I heard you the first time. And I just said, don¡¯t lie.¡±

    ¡°I give up,¡± Elpida repeated. ¡°I have no interest in continuing this¡ª¡±

    Lykke stamped one dainty foot, her snowy brow creasing with a scowl, fists clenched either side of her hips. ¡°No! No, you¡¯re not giving up! Stop lying!¡± She gestured at Elpida, up and down. ¡°This? This is just another stage of self-denial, no different to what you¡¯ve been doing for the last few hours!¡± She huffed and tutted and tossed her hair. ¡°At least it¡¯s passive denial, I suppose, rather than active denial. I¡¯ll give you that much. You¡¯re ¡®making progress¡¯, or whatever. But my gosh, zombie! Really! Are you having fun doing this?¡± Lykke looked her up and down again. ¡°Though I will admit that you have some very serious stamina. Any other zombie would have broken hours ago, but you just kept going, and going, and going. I was starting to doubt you even have limits.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I do,¡± Elpida said. ¡°I keep going.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm,¡± Lykke purred. ¡°If only you could turn some of that stamina on me. And I must say, you do look good in black. I would suggest a little black dress, so we could, you know, coordinate as opposites! But I suspect you would sooner lick my feet than wear a little black dress. Not that you would do either.¡± She huffed. ¡°Aren¡¯t you getting bored, yet?¡±

    Elpida crossed her arms over her chest ¡ª an incomplete gesture, with no right forearm. ¡°You seem to be enjoying yourself well enough.¡±

    Lykke slumped her shoulders, rolled her eyes, and let out an exhausted moan. ¡°Uuugh! Is that what this looks like? I can get this kind of petty entertainment from any zombie. I can take it, any time I like! And I¡¯m bored of it!¡±

    ¡°And who¡¯s fault is that?¡±

    ¡°Yours!¡± Lykke shrieked. ¡°You¡¯re the one who keeps insisting on this cycle! Come at me properly, zombie! Elpida! There! I¡¯ll use your name as much as you like, I¡¯ll moan it under your fists, only come at me properly, not with these guns and¡ª¡±

    ¡°I did use my fists,¡± Elpida said. ¡°And my teeth. And knives. And a monoedge sword. None of it stopped you.¡± Elpida spread her arms. ¡°The only thing which seems to stop you is this. Disengaging.¡±

    ¡°Arrrrgh!¡± Lykke yelled, mouth wide, balling up her fists, stomping both feet up and down on the spot. ¡°Stop being so wilfully obtuse! You know none of that counts! Trying to kill me doesn¡¯t count! It¡¯s a waste of both our time! I want you, zombie. I want what only you can offer. And ¡­ ¡± Lykke¡¯s mouth twisted with frustration. Her cheeks flushed with rosy red. ¡°And I can¡¯t take it from you. You have to give it, willingly. And ¡­ oh, this is so humiliating!¡±

    Lykke stomped in a little circle, throwing her hands up in the air.

    Elpida sighed. Lykke was correct about one thing ¡ª Elpida knew exactly what the Necromancer really wanted. She was just choosing to ignore and reject her.

    But that was not a viable option anymore.

    ¡°I know exactly what you want, yes,¡± said Elpida. ¡°You want me to fight you, like I did with my sisters.¡±

    Lykke ended her tantrum. Her lips parted and quivered, breath suddenly stopped up. ¡°Y-yes. Yes! Yes, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°And it¡¯s a distraction. I need to talk with Telokopolis.¡±

    Lykke screwed her eyes up, curled her fingers into fists, and screamed at the ceiling.

    Elpida waited for the scream to die away. ¡°If you can direct me toward the figure we saw earlier, then I will consider granting your request. If you can give me intelligence about Central, or other Necromancers, then I will consider granting your request. If you ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida trailed off, because Lykke was ignoring the offer; the Necromancer turned away and wandered over to the hardshell suits. She stepped behind the row, dwarfed by the bulky plates of green-grey armour. Her white dress flickered in the gaps between the suits. She paused, then poked her head out.

    ¡°So, zombie,¡± she said. ¡°Who was¡ª¡± She leaned back to examine something. ¡°Yeva? Or how about ¡­ ¡®Orchid¡¯? Huh! What a name.¡±

    Elpida bristled. ¡°How do you know those names? The suits only have serial numbers.¡±

    Lykke rolled her eyes. ¡°Because they¡¯re all over the place! They¡¯re coating your memories like dust!¡± She ducked back again. ¡°Okay then, how about Scoria? Who was that?¡± She leaned to one side, reading the Telokopolan script across the back and shoulders of each hardshell suit. ¡°Or Velvet? Feel like talking about any of them? Is where we should start, to get you properly unclogged?¡±

    Elpida walked away, toward the armoury doors.

    ¡°Wait! Wait!¡± Lykke tutted ¡ª then squealed in pain, followed by a heavy clatter as a piece of unlocked armour crashed to the floor. She had tried to squeeze through the gap and gotten herself tangled. ¡°Don¡¯t just walk off, you¡ª¡±

    Elpida hit the palm-pad. The doors slid open.

    She left the armoury and stepped out into the corridor. For a moment she hoped she might find the additional hallway re-added to the space, but she had no such luck. She walked down to the opposite end of the cadre¡¯s quarters, heading for the rec room.

    ¡°Where are you¡ª zombie! Wait¡ª for¡ª argh!¡±

    The armoury doors slid shut on Lykke, muffling a squawk of surprise. Elpida smiled with grim satisfaction as she entered the rec room. She made sure to shut the door behind her, then turned the lights on, clear and bright. The big screen was off and the sofas were cold, no Persephone or Nunnus, dreams or otherwise. Elpida walked over to a stack of video discs and began flicking through them. Would they actually work, here in this virtual place built from her memories? Or would they be full of holes, missing segments of narrative, made from only the parts she actually remembered?

    She settled on an old Skirts action film, a crime drama full of gunfights and lots of overwrought death scenes ¡ª Magnet Time On Floor Zero Five.

    Howl had loved this one, and the two sequels. Elpida had always hated it, especially the bits with the sword fighting. Monoedge blades did not flash with sparks and electricity when they made contact, nor did they go ¡®shhhring!¡¯ when drawn from a stealth. But ninety-nine percent of Telokopolis would never see a blade in action, let alone a firearm.

    If the details were all wrong, she would know this was nothing but memory. But if the picture was correct then¡ª

    The rec room door swished open. Lykke strode inside, arms up, eyes ablaze.

    ¡°Zombie!¡± she snapped. ¡°You can¡¯t just ignore me like that! This is even worse, what are you doing?! What is this?! What are you messing about with now?!¡±

    Elpida showed her the movie. ¡°If I can¡¯t speak with Telokopolis, and I can¡¯t get rid of you, then I¡¯m going to occupy my mind while I¡¯m here. Perhaps I can get some thinking done, solve my problems.¡±

    ¡°Ugh!¡±

    Elpida walked over to the big screen and tried to find the remote control.

    Lykke sighed. ¡°You don¡¯t even know if that thing we saw was your ¡®Telokopolis¡¯ in the first place. And neither do I.¡±

    Elpida didn¡¯t bother to look round. ¡°All the more reason to speak with her. All the more reason I need confirmation. All the more reason I need ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    All the mockery was all gone from Lykke¡¯s voice.

    Elpida turned back. The Necromancer had her hands spread, face blank, eyes clear.

    ¡°Why?¡± she repeated. Her voice was gentle and high, almost girlish.

    ¡°Because ¡­ ¡± Elpida sighed and shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m seriously considering having this conversation with you.¡±

    ¡°And I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m entertaining this absolute poppycock!¡± Lykke snapped, her gentle facade cracking instantly. ¡°But seriously, why? Why do you need to know if that little glimpse was the ¡®genuine article¡¯? I saw all that you saw! Nothing more than a slip of leg and a swish of white skirt! In here that could have been anything. That might be all which your idol wanted you to see, just a glimpse of bare ankle to keep you drooling. Or it could have been something else, projecting your own expectations back at you. Like me, but less pretty.¡± Lykke shrugged. ¡°It could have been the graveworm, for all we know. Or something else, something lurking in this horrid little tomb that you¡¯re buried in right now. Or anything! It might not be your precious lost mother at all. It might be a trick.¡±

    Elpida shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s still worth following up. I can¡¯t ignore that.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯m doing everything wrong. I¡¯m putting my comrades, my cadre, all of them, in danger, all over again, for a principle that ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida trailed off and shook her head, a third time. Her throat felt blocked. She shouldn¡¯t be discussing this with Lykke; the Necromancer did not have her best interests at heart, even if she wasn¡¯t working directly for Central. The Necromancer was alien. Her words were self-serving, at best.

    Lykke waited, eyebrows raised, then sighed and rolled her eyes when she realised Elpida wasn¡¯t going to say more. She looked left and right and then up at the ceiling. She put her hands on her hips and removed them again. Finally she straightened her spine and took a deep breath.

    The Necromancer raised her right index finger and bit into the tip, hard enough to draw blood. She traced a shape on the front of her own white dress, in glistening crimson.

    She drew the crescent-and-double-line ¡ª the symbol of Telokopolis, Elpida¡¯s own invention, here in the nanomachine afterlife.

    ¡°This?¡± Lykke asked, with ostentatious disinterest.

    Elpida nodded. ¡°That.¡±

    Lykke sighed again. ¡°Not that I care, zombie, but ¡­ let¡¯s say you went off and met your ¡®Telokopolis¡¯, this network ghost or whatever. And let¡¯s say that she turned out to be an imposter, the graveworm fucking with both of us, or something like that. Or another Necromancer, like me. Or maybe it is her, but she¡¯s ¡­ I don¡¯t know, evil! Would any of that change what you¡¯re doing, out there in the flesh? Would you just lie down and give up? Would you end your life? Would you change your whole nature?¡±

    Elpida opened her mouth to reply ¡ª but Lykke clicked her fingers rapidly.

    ¡°Ah!¡± Lykke said. ¡°No, no! Don¡¯t just answer reflexively. Think about it. Seriously! Think about your beloved ur-mother. Think about if she was a fake. Or dead. Or not what you think. Really think about it, zombie. Don¡¯t just give me the party line again.¡±

    Elpida put the video disk case down on the sofa. She crossed her arms and looked away from Lykke.

    If Telokopolis was dead or gone ¡ª or worse ¡ª what would Elpida do?

    The same thing she had done since her resurrection.

    She shook her head. ¡°No. Of course not. Telokopolis is forever. Even if the city is dead and gone, I¡¯m still here.¡±

    ¡°Then what does it matter if she¡¯s ¡®really¡¯ here or not?¡±

    Elpida raised her eyes and held Lykke¡¯s flat gaze for a few moments, then sighed in frustration. ¡°I¡¯m still making mistakes. I¡¯m still putting the cause before my comrades, but back when I did the opposite, that got everyone killed, too. I need a ¡­ a ¡­ not a Commander of my own, but a ¡­ I¡¯m still¡ª¡±

    ¡°Pent up as all fuck!¡± Lykke shouted. ¡°Ugh! I cannot believe I¡¯m having to spell this out for you, zombie. How often did you get it on when you were alive? Every day? Multiple times a day? You¡¯re like a fish which doesn¡¯t know it¡¯s suffocating in the open air! Explaining this makes it so much less exciting for me. Tch!¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Your judgement is clouded,¡± Lykke said. ¡°Because, quite simply, you have not had a good fuck in months.¡±

    Elpida almost laughed. ¡°Howl and I have been fucking plenty, thanks. I¡¯m not sexually frustrated, that¡¯s not the cause of this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about fingers ¡ª or anything else ¡ª going in and out of your cunt, zombie. I¡¯m talking about what we did earlier, in the tomb. Or almost did. I¡¯m talking about the thing I can offer you, in here, which she can¡¯t, because she¡¯s sharing your body. And apparently you¡¯re unwilling to do it with others, either.¡±

    Elpida frowned. ¡°You mean a fight?¡±

    ¡°Yes! You came very close with the little redhead bitch, but you didn¡¯t quite get there. What was her name again?¡±

    ¡°You mean Pira?¡±

    ¡°Mm!¡±

    Elpida was surprised; Lykke was talking about the time Elpida and Pira had a fistfight, before they found Thirteen Arcadia, long before Pira¡¯s betrayal. When Elpida had ¡®won¡¯ ¡ª with Pira pinned beneath her fists ¡ª she had almost kept going. She had almost grabbed Pira between the legs, driven by instinct and habit. She had stopped at the last second, because Pira was not a clade-sister, Pira was not a gene-engineered pilot, Pira was not like her. Pira had not seen their fight that way, not the way that Elpida¡¯s sisters had thrown themselves at each other so often.

    ¡°How do you know about that?¡± Elpida asked.

    Lykke slumped her shoulders and rolled her head. ¡°Because you¡¯re thinking about it right now, zombie! Look, you¡¯re all pent up, you¡¯re wound so tight that you can¡¯t function, and you can¡¯t figure any of this out or go back to your little friends until you get some relief and clear your head. Whatever else is going on ¡ª ¡®Telokopolis¡¯ or not ¡ª you can¡¯t ignore that need.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡±

    Lykke spread her arms and smiled. ¡°And here I am! The perfect canvas. Paint me, zombie. Paint me all the colours you need.¡±

    Elpida decided to entertain a hypothetical ¡ª what if Lykke was correct?

    Elpida had very rarely experienced true sexual frustration in life. She and her clade-sisters in the cadre had been physical with each other constantly, in lifelong matured habits and familiar patterns which had endured right until the end. And they had fought, oh yes they had ¡ª in the gym, on the sparring mats, but also informally, in a constant animalistic process of playful domination. She and Howl especially had pushed that habit and instinct past the limits of all their other sisters, beating each other to pulp, bruising each other all over, only to spend the next day curled up together in mutual recovery and rest and physicality.

    Was Elpida really just pent up from lack of physical expression, in a way she could not obtain when Howl took control of her hands?

    She had been grinding herself down with responsibility, with no true downtime, with no real way to work out all that stress. She briefly tried to imagine engaging in that kind of sexual fighting with Victoria ¡ª no, absolutely not, Vicky wouldn¡¯t be able to return even a tenth of it. How about Ilyusha? Maybe. The cyborg might go for it, but it wouldn¡¯t be the same. She and Pira had the right chemistry, but Pira saw things differently; besides, Elpida was worried that might stir some terrible jealousy in Ooni. None of the others were viable candidates, were they? Atyle, no, she didn¡¯t rouse those feelings in Elpida. Neither did Serin, or Hafina. Perhaps Shilu, but Elpida barely knew her, there was nothing to grasp, not yet.

    Elpida raised her eyes back to Lykke.

    The Necromancer¡¯s lips parted with a soft, wet click. Her emerald eyes glittered, widening in anticipation. She must have seen some change in Elpida¡¯s face.

    ¡°Zombie? Live in the present! I¡¯m right here! Please ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida sighed and shook her head. Lykke wasn¡¯t right for this either.

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be the same, not with you,¡± she said.

    Lykke clenched her teeth, eyes flaring with frustration. ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t get it,¡± Elpida explained, quietly and slowly. ¡°You¡¯re not a human being, Lykke. You were never a human being. You¡¯re just playing with pain. Damage, pain, bruises, they don¡¯t really mean anything to you. You can switch them off and get rid of them at will. Pain is just ¡­ data, right? So it won¡¯t mean anything. I¡¯d be going through the motions, sure, but that would be all. And when we¡¯re done, you can just fly away. You¡¯ll come back in the flesh and kill me. None of this is real. So, no, it wouldn¡¯t be the same. It wouldn¡¯t be real. It wouldn¡¯t mean anything. Not with you.¡±

    Lykke¡¯s lips quivered. Her eyes were full of tears. When she spoke, it was a whisper. ¡°You¡¯re being serious, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Then ¡­ ¡± Lykke swallowed. ¡°I¡¯ll make it real.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Lykke let out a shuddering breath. Her cheeks were flushed, but there was no smile on her lips now. She blinked, breath caught in her throat. ¡°I¡¯ll play by the exact same rules as you, like I promised before. No more bodily changes, no more secret teeth. I¡¯ll lock myself out of that. Just this, just what you see, right here.¡± She tapped her chest, hands fluttering. ¡°Even if you go for a gun. And¡ª and please, don¡¯t!¡± Lykke¡¯s face scrunched with distress. ¡°Promise you won¡¯t! Promise!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ll make the damage permanent.¡±

    ¡°But what does that mean? For something like you, what does that mean?¡±

    Lykke sighed, almost laughing, but too nervous to do more than squeak. ¡°I can¡¯t even begin to explain that, zombie. But if you hit me ¡­ I¡¯ll hold onto it. I promise.¡± Her lips curled into a shivering smile. ¡°All of it will be real. And I¡¯ll fight back! I¡¯ll do my best!¡± She raised her hands and made little fists, holding them up in an awkward pose. ¡°I¡¯ll try! To give as good as I get!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re serious, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Lykke nodded.

    ¡°If this is a trick, Necromancer ¡­ ¡±

    Elpida trailed off. This wasn¡¯t a trick.

    ¡°Please, zombie. Elpida, I mean.¡± Lykke blinked rapidly. Her breath was coming faster and faster. Her face was flushed so bright she looked about ready to pass out. ¡°Please!¡±

    Elpida looked down at her left hand and made a fist; she looked at the stump of her right arm, terminated at the elbow. She considered all the things she really wanted here ¡ª intel from a Necromancer, a conversation with the network ghost of Telokopolis, resolution to her inner contradictions.

    All those concerns seemed pale and fragile when compared to the beating in her chest and the pulse between her legs.

    She raised her eyes and smiled at Lykke. The Necromancer flinched.

    ¡°A one-handed fistfight,¡± Elpida said. ¡°Against a girl two thirds my size and half my body weight, who doesn¡¯t have a clue how to throw a punch. Really?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll ¡­ I¡¯ll do my best!¡± Lykke said, voice gone high and squeaky.

    ¡°Necromancer¡ª¡± Elpida stopped, grinned wide, and corrected herself. ¡°Lykke.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes?¡±

    ¡°Lykke, I am going to drag you around the cadre¡¯s private quarters until my name is the only thing you can remember.¡±

    Elpida mounted the sofa in one step, leapt the back in two, and landed on Lykke with her left fist.

 tenebrae - 13.6

    Sky was awake.

    Sky had been awake for a while, but she was going nowhere fast.

    Sky felt like shit on a shingle cooked over a tire fire ¡ª and she should know, she¡¯d eaten worse.

    Her head pounded like a jackhammer fuck, threatening her with waves of sticky, cloying nausea, though she kept her eyes closed tight and her body lying still. Every shallow breath strained at a mass of deep bruises across her chest and belly, worse than any beating since her teenage street-rip years. She counted three fractured ribs between her own stuttering breaths, and maybe a couple more in the blurred pain between. Her neck was stiff with whiplash, her back was sore with pulled muscles, and the rear of her skull had bloomed with a cluster of nasty bumps, like some gutter trash had been bouncing her off a pavement. Her nose and throat felt raw and rough, burned by her own stomach acid from too much vomiting, but also by some violation which lurked at the edge of uneasy dreams. She¡¯d spent hours drifting among nightmares of smothering and choking and drowning; she could almost still feel the liquid death coating the inside of her lungs and bloating her stomach.

    Her eyes were crusted shut. Her memory was a swamp.

    Sky counted her blessings. This was far from the worst condition in which she had ever woken up. The thin mattress on which she lay was clearly a bit shit, but it was better than the alternatives.

    At least she was breathing with her own lungs, with fabric and air against her skin. She could wiggle her toes and clear her own throat, though the former had gone numb and the latter hurt like she¡¯d been throat-fucked by a suspended animation rig. Her pain level was high, but not urgent, not panic-inducing, not the kind of pain which demanded dampeners and synth-opiates. And it was infinitely preferable to the blurry pins-and-needles of nerve disconnection, while her flesh hung open and some vital part of herself regrew in a glass tube for six weeks. She couldn¡¯t feel the tell-tale tug of IV lines or electro-hookups in her arms or legs, nor hear the beep and whirr of medical machines, nor smell the faecal reek of some field hospital in a rotting mountain hovel.

    The air was filled with the static of a rainstorm and the howl of high winds, muffled beyond distant walls.

    The deep throb of a powerful engine seemed to keep time with Sky¡¯s own heartbeat.

    Sky groaned involuntarily, then clenched her teeth ¡ª then groaned again. Even her jaw was bruised. Somebody had worked her over nasty style, somebody who leered down through her memories with a mouth full of bloody teeth and sunshine hair and white¡ª

    Sky hissed and tried to spit.

    A beating? Ha! This was nothing. Even as a kid a beating hadn¡¯t been enough to stop her, and she wasn¡¯t a kid anymore. She was seasoned, she was fire-hardened, she was a rabid Black Dog spat up from the darkest corner of Sol¡¯s entrails. Whoever had pinned her down and knocked her about was going to regret not putting a round in her skull. This wouldn¡¯t stop her.

    Sky had once spent three months in a tube of gel after the battle of Hellas City, paralysed so she wouldn¡¯t vomit out her own digestive system before what was left of the Black Dog¡¯s med-techs could purge the designer plague leftovers from her body. Down on Earth she¡¯d once taken a shotgun blast to the chest, right into the armpit seam of her armour ¡ª a booby-trapped door in some abandoned Euro-trash village; the surgery to keep her alive had lasted six hours, with plenty of anaesthetic but not the mercy of unconsciousness. She¡¯d taken head wounds and gut wounds and broken bones ¡ª and even briefly lost an eye ¡ª in half the Outer System conflicts of the last thirty years. And further back, when she¡¯d left home, her real home, the one to which she could never return, she¡¯d lived in the hold of one of the last lifters off-planet, no showers or hot water or changing out of her voidsuit for eight long months, stewing in her own recycled piss. And before that there were the days she didn¡¯t like to think about too often, the cold hungry days after her world had fallen apart for the first time¡ª

    ¡°Stop,¡± she hissed through bruised lips. ¡°Stop. Stop thinking shit that doesn¡¯t matter. Move. Now. Move or die.¡±

    Sky opened her eyes, which took her a while. Her vision was blurry with sleep, pain, and exhaustion. She raised her right arm and rubbed her eyes, then winced ¡ª her face was puffy with bruises. She forced herself to rub and blink and squint until her vision cleared.

    Deep shadows, metal walls, narrow bunks.

    Sky¡¯s memories began to consolidate. She knew where she was ¡ª still in the little bunk room where the others had dumped her, lying on one of the bottom bunks. Nobody else seemed to be around, but Sky could hear soft breathing from behind a curtained alcove.

    Sky let herself vegetate for a few minutes, gathering her thoughts, flexing her legs to feel out her bruises.

    This wasn¡¯t the first time Sky had awoken since she¡¯d been carried into this war machine, whatever it was. She had drifted in and out of consciousness for hours, perhaps the better part of a day or two. She recalled being carried through the dark corridors of the tomb, then tossed onto a slab in some kind of infirmary, cramped and crowded and awash with blood; she remembered a pixie-faced medical bot probing her to make sure she wasn¡¯t broken inside, stitching up a few cuts and slathering gunk on a few gashes. She remembered being carried in here ¡ª she¡¯d woken up and asked where she was, and one of the women had said, ¡®Safe. Inside Pheiri. We¡¯ve got you, zombie.¡¯

    Zombie, huh?

    Sky also remembered the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber, though that was fuzzier. She remembered vomiting ¡ª lots of vomiting ¡ª and coughed softly at the crawling sensation in her oesophagus. She remembered something liquid being forced down her throat, squirming and writhing and bloating up to fill her innards. She remembered¡ª

    Lykke!

    Sky jerked upright, wincing and hissing through the pain, swinging her legs off the side of the bunk. Her heart was racing, her skin was drenched with sudden sweat, and her hands were shaking. Her chest screamed with her own heaving breaths. The effort of sitting up made her vision blur and spin.

    She clutched the side of the bunk so hard that the metal dug into her palms.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± she hissed. ¡°Fuck that¡ª fucking bio-job bitch. Fuck. Fuck her. Fucking gonna¡ª fuck. Kill her. I¡¯ll fucking kill her.¡±

    Sky¡¯s memories were clear now: from the ¡®resurrection chamber¡¯, the journey through the tomb, the shock and awe of it all, beside Eseld and Cyneswith and that full-body plastimetal cyborg, Shilu, and then¡ª

    Lykke.

    The cloud of flies which she¡¯d forced down Sky¡¯s throat. Sky had drowned in little wings and greasy bloated bodies and filth and fluids and¡ª

    Sky was shaking.

    ¡°Snap out of it, bitch,¡± Sky hissed at herself. ¡°Wise up. Get it together.¡±

    Sky slapped herself across the face, regardless of her bruises. The pain made her eyes water, but she clenched every muscle until she stopped shaking. After a moment she leaned to one side, gathered a glob of saliva in her mouth, then let it slowly drip to the floor.

    Her spit was tainted with the pinkish froth of her own blood, but not with any white ¡ª no fly wings, no little crushed bodies, no remnant of Lykke¡¯s violation.

    Sky¡¯s vision blurred with relief; she wiped the glob of spit across the metal decking with one foot. She sagged toward the thin mattress again, then shook her head and made herself sit up. She was acting like some civ-levy conscript retard.

    She was alive, wasn¡¯t she? What else mattered?

    Or not alive, technically.

    Sky examined herself. She was wrapped in a scratchy blue blanket and dressed in a grey t-shirt, with matching shorts ¡ª clothes from the tomb armoury. She lifted the hem of the t-shirt and found a very impressive patchwork of bruises, already turning a familiar mess of yellows and greens and browns, punctuated by the clean white of bandages and dressings, where Lykke¡¯s claws had cut into her torso. She probed carefully until the pain brought tears to her eyes. She had a little chorus of broken ribs in there too; she needed to make sure to breathe deeply, despite the pain, or she might risk pneumonia or a collapsed lung.

    Was that right? How did these new bodies work, anyway?

    She had all her limbs, her senses worked right, and she wasn¡¯t tied up or chained down or studded with fresh incisions from organ-raiding. She pulled her dark hair into a twist over one shoulder to keep it out of the way, then glanced around the room and asked herself ¡®what next?¡¯

    Sky almost laughed.

    She was dead, right? She vaguely recalled her own death, though it didn¡¯t seem important now ¡ª a stupid death, an idiot¡¯s death, blown to pieces by a bomb in a shopping mall, planted by some snot-nosed Eurasian terrorist, in a country she barely identified with, on a planet that she barely knew. Now that shit-hole planet was dead too, wiped off and repopulated by nanomachine zombies and plastic monsters. Sky was hundreds of millions of years in the future, rebuilt from fairy dust and bullshit.

    Sky looked at her own hands. Her skin looked real enough ¡ª the same ruddy-red brown she¡¯d been born with ¡ª and young again. The left side was high quality bio-polymer, almost exactly the same as real skin; she found a seam which ran roughly down the left side of her body, over her left shoulder and the side of her neck, down to her left thigh and her groin. Was that where the bomb blast had torn her apart? Resurrection had patched her up with spare parts.

    And then, after resurrection, Sky had almost been raped to death by some bio-mod monster dressed like a street slut, then rescued by this unknown crew and taken inside this machine, ¡®Pheiri¡¯, whatever that meant.

    The world was over, but Sky was still here.

    ¡°Again, huh?¡± she said ¡ª then laughed at the perversity of it all. The laugh made her ribs hurt, but she didn¡¯t care.

    Sky knew she should feel horror, or shock, or some kind of dislocation. Wasn¡¯t that what normal people felt when the world ended? True, she¡¯d been surprised and a little overawed by the sight from the top of the tomb ¡ª all that ruin and wreck, that choked-out sun, the mile after mile of destruction. But she¡¯d gone numb, nice and quick, just like always.

    She¡¯d been through this so many times already. First her parents had died when she was eleven years old, killed by Jovian Security in some botched response to a terrorist attack which wasn¡¯t even real. Ten years later, after a decade of street life, Sky had lived through Ganymede¡¯s Murder, up close and personal. Then had come the Black Dogs, for seventeen long years; real comrades, real purpose, real pay, and nice warm squirming meat in her bunk every night ¡ª women, toyboys, bio-mod freak shows, meat-dolls, whatever she fancied. But then February Twice had taken the Dogs down the gravity well, in-system, and Mars had eaten them alive. Sky was just lucky enough to end up as gristle, spat out after being chewed up. After all that, peace had broken out and fucked up everything. The Dogs had disbanded after Hellas; there were so few of them left, February Twice was dead, along with all of Sky¡¯s friends. The Pavonis Mons Commune had accepted her readily enough, because they were desperate for experienced soldiers by then ¡ª sadsack civvies who¡¯d sat out the war and knew they were next on the chopping block. That period of Sky¡¯s life had lasted a lot longer than the three-month contract she¡¯d signed. She¡¯d stayed on when the contract ran out, because she¡¯d found somebody she liked to be with, a Martian called Onira. Onira had two kids and always knew the right things to say, even when Sky couldn¡¯t talk. Sky had walked the walls and carried a gun by day and gone home to a real home at night, and not fired one shot the whole time.

    She tried not to think about Onira. Made her weak.

    Four years and then that had ended too; Pavonis Mons had been crushed like all the other experiments in ¡®radical self-government¡¯. Mars was a sick bucket of bad memories by then, so Sky had left for the biggest shit hole in Sol ¡ª Earth, glittering with dreams, with thick greenery, with ancient culture. Earth¡¯s promises had turned to ash in the grinding reality of being just another merc from nowhere. She¡¯d settled into a high-risk security job on the edge of the Eurasian Republic, spending her pay check mostly on booze and meat-body sex-dolls. Her co-workers had been pussies and whiners, nothing compared to the larger-than-life giants of the Black Dogs. Now and again some pencil-neck journalist would track her down to ask questions about Ganymede, and less often about the Mars Unification War; once she got in legal trouble for breaking a journo¡¯s jaw with the butt of a rifle. Why ask her? Why not some other Gany-diaspora dipshit?

    She¡¯d felt dead already. A walking husk. She¡¯d considered going back to Jovian space ¡ª not Europa or Io, those cunts could rot, but to one of the bigger station habitats, somewhere she could lose herself in the crowds, somewhere people would sound like her. But Earth¡¯s gravity had sucked her down. And then she¡¯d slipped up one day. Boom! Sky¡¯s world had ended in one bright flash.

    Sky¡¯s world had ended so many times. What was different about this one?

    Lykke?

    Sky had never seen anything like Lykke before. She¡¯d gone up against some pretty extreme bio-mods on Mars, and witnessed far worse things out past Titan, on old habs and empty stations and burrowed-out rocks. But Lykke broke all the rules of even the most messed up bio-mods; she was closer to some of the nanomachine nightmares Sky had seen at Ganymede¡¯s Murder.

    Sky noticed her hands started to shake when she thought about Lykke again, so she stopped.

    World¡¯s dead, and you got beaten up. So what? Keep moving.

    Sky glanced around the bunk room; she needed a plan, an exit, and fast. The crew here hadn¡¯t hurt her, but that didn¡¯t mean much. Sky needed to arm up and learn the lay of the land. She wasn¡¯t sure what she was even on board; the cramped bunks reminded her of a void-ship, or a bird farm, but the noises were all wrong for the former, and the deck wasn¡¯t rolling, so it probably wasn¡¯t the latter.

    And she could still hear the distant drumming of heavy rain and high winds. Was that the storm they¡¯d seen earlier? It sounded big.

    Sky¡¯s eyes passed over the bunk to her left, then paused and went back.

    Guns?

    The bottom bunk to Sky¡¯s left was stacked with guns, armour, and equipment. She stared for several moments, caught between disbelief and confusion.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    The crew of this machine had left her unsecured in a room full of firearms?

    Sky climbed to her feet. This took several abortive attempts, a lot of wincing and grunting and gritting of teeth, and much silent bitching. Her back was turbo-fucked, her stomach quivered whenever she moved, and her neck twinged if she turned her head to the right. She almost ended up on the floor, gripping the edge of the next bunk up, shamed by her weakness. She thumped herself in one thigh, swallowed a scream, and felt tears of pain run down her cheeks.

    Eventually she got herself upright as best she could, bare feet on the metal floor. She stood there for minutes ¡ª way too long, if she didn¡¯t want to be found ¡ª swaying and panting, until she felt strong enough to hobble forward.

    She shuffled over to the impromptu armoury laid out on a bunk.

    None of it was booby-trapped. No wires, no pressure plates, no tell-tale flicker of IR beams. Sky experimented by poking a bullet-proof vest, but nothing happened. She nudged at a boot, then reached out and wiggled the butt of a submachine gun. Still nothing.

    She was sorely tempted by the massive coilgun which lay one bunk over, but she wouldn¡¯t be able to lift the thing with her wounds. Firing it would probably knock her out. Instead she picked up an automatic handgun, something light and easy, chemical propellant with lead bullets. Primitive, but reliable. She slid the magazine out and stared, then smothered a laugh. The gun was loaded! She quietly pushed the mag back into place, made sure the safety was on, and boggled at the weapon.

    The crew had left her in a room full of loaded guns, body armour, and high-tech combat gear.

    They were morons.

    Wait, no. Sky shook her head at her own naivety ¡ª then winced again, ow. The rescue crew, whoever they were, they¡¯d driven Lykke off, right? So they couldn¡¯t all be complete fools. They were well-equipped and highly skilled, must be hard as nails. Maybe they were so beyond being threatened that leaving an unknown alone with a bunch of guns didn¡¯t matter. Yeah, that was probably it. Bitches probably had grav-plates and personal shield implants, like Sky used to back on Mars.

    Or maybe this was just the way things were done here. Maybe they trusted her, despite not knowing her?

    Sky stared at the gun. She didn¡¯t know what to do. She¡¯d been thinking of arming up and escaping, but she was too wounded and bruised to get into this gear.

    What if they¡¯d wanted her to find the guns?

    When Sky had been twenty one years old, just another refugee crammed into a lifter hold among the other last-outs off Ganymede¡¯s smouldering corpse, a woman had approached her one day ¡ª straight up, striding across the no-man¡¯s-land in the middle of the hold. She¡¯d thought she was in for yet another fight over food and water. But the woman had pressed a gun into Sky¡¯s hands.

    She had said: ¡°Hey, skinny bitch. Seen you around. I like your style. You¡¯re with me now. You¡¯re gonna help me take the bridge of this bucket.¡±

    The woman had seemed like just another nobody; Sky hadn¡¯t known then that she was the owner, leader, and commander of the Black Dogs of Saturn ¡ª February Twice. Sky had no idea. Sky hadn¡¯t understood anything, except the weight of a gun in her hands and the flash of a confident grin behind a voidsuit visor, turning away from her, expecting her to follow, utterly confident that Sky would not shoot her in the back for the meat on her bones.

    And Sky had followed. Sky was good at that.

    She weighed this new gun. Nobody had handed it to her. They¡¯d left it here, for her to take.

    She couldn¡¯t have escaped even if she¡¯d wanted to. She¡¯d have passed out just trying to strap on a bulletproof vest, let alone arming up like the good old days.

    Sky needed to find the cunt in charge of this outfit. She¡¯d heard bits and pieces earlier, while sleeping and waking.

    ¡®Elpida¡¯?

    Yeah, that was it. Elpida. Commander.

    Sky double-checked the safety on the pistol, shoved it into the front of her waistband where it could not be missed, and decided to go find Elpida. She toyed with the idea of picking up some heavier firepower too, but anything she had to brace against her shoulder would probably cause more pain than she could handle right then. She¡¯d have to use her words and keep her head down, until she was healed up and ready to rock.

    She did take the extra time to put on a pair of socks and lace up some boots, sitting on the edge of the bunk and trying not to grunt too hard whenever she had to lean forward. Had to protect her feet, after all. Some things never changed, no matter where you were killing.

    Getting out of the bunk room was not easy; Sky was so bruised she struggled to walk without pain, even with the added stability of the boots.

    Only one of the other bunks was occupied. Sky got halfway to the hatch, then paused to peek around the curtain.

    And who should she find sleeping there, curled up together, but Cyneswith and Eseld?

    Sky¡¯s lips curled with jealousy and disgust. Fair, the pair weren¡¯t actually cuddling in their sleep ¡ª Eseld was pressed to the wall, while Cyneswith was a good hand-span to her rear. But they were together, weren¡¯t they? The two she had woken up with, minus Shilu. And she¡¯d rather not run into Shilu again. Shilu was too much for Sky to take, even healthy and healed. She half-hoped that Lykke had gotten Shilu.

    Sky stared down at Cyneswith, at her delicate features and wispy light hair. Cyneswith had reminded Sky of the kind she liked ¡ª small and needy and desperate for protection. But Eseld? Huh. Eseld had saved her in the resurrection chamber, and arguably again in the gravekeeper¡¯s chamber, but Eseld was a mouthy little shit with a face full of fangs. Sky didn¡¯t like her.

    Eseld was also cradling a human skull against her chest. Freak shit.

    Well, not that Sky could talk. She¡¯d kept trophies too.

    Sky turned away, letting the curtain fall back into place. She could negotiate her position in regard to those two later ¡ª or she could give Eseld a good pistol-whip to the jaw and drag Cyneswith out with her, after shooting this ¡®Elpida¡¯ in the face, if Elpida turned out to be anything less than worth Sky¡¯s respect.

    She tried not to laugh as she made it to the bunk room door. Yeah right. The Commander was probably protected. Sky had to be sneaky.

    The door to the bunk room reminded Sky of the inside of a void ship, heavy and bulky, made for atmosphere seals. She opened it quietly and stepped out into a large compartment, illuminated by low red night-cycle lighting.

    The compartment was stuffed with equipment, strewn all over the floor and overflowing from built-in seat benches on either side ¡ª more guns, heavy weapons, piles of clothing, body armour, even a few drones; Sky recognised some of it from the tomb armoury. The far end of the compartment framed a single door with an atmosphere-seal indicator light. The near end had a set of stairs leading up into darkness, a ladder to some kind of storage area above, and a corridor which led forward into a mass of cables and metal corners and old screens and closed hatches. Directly across from the bunk room door was another, matching door, left slightly ajar. Sky¡¯s sense of direction told her that was the infirmary, where she had been poked and prodded and patched up.

    Sky shuffled across the big compartment. She would have preferred to be stealthy, but walking hurt too much. Her wounds ached and stung and she felt unsteady with every step, but she made it to the door and eased it open, peering into the room beyond.

    Infirmary. Dried blood all over the floor, peeling paint on the walls, a work surface covered in medical equipment. A girl she didn¡¯t recognise was lying on a medical bed, wrapped in bandages, breathing slow, shallow, and rough, out cold. She looked about how Sky felt.

    Asleep on a little fold out seat next to that bed was the medical bot Sky recalled from earlier ¡ª a tiny, pixie-like android, with greyish artificial skin.

    The bot was bundled up in a blanket, as if somebody had tucked her in for a nap. The area around her was blurry, as if Sky¡¯s eyes were watering. She squinted and peered closer ¡ª then flinched, almost jumping out of her skin. She hissed at the pain in her chest and belly.

    The little medical bot was not sitting on the chair directly; she was snuggled down in the lap of a second bot ¡ª a big one, with lots of arms, and chameleon-skin chromatic matching. The big android was blending in with the grey and off-white of the infirmary walls. Thankfully it was also fast asleep.

    Sky cleared her throat. ¡°Hey. Hey. Med-tech. Hey.¡±

    The little bot opened her eyes ¡ª massive, dark, and liquid. She blinked at Sky several times, but said nothing.

    ¡°Med-tech, yeah?¡± Sky repeated. ¡°You¡¯re the one who patched me up?¡±

    The bot blinked again, then nodded. Her eyes jumped up and down Sky¡¯s body, as if examining her for wounds. Sky paused to let the bot do her work; always good to let the med-techs work without bullshit, even if she bristled at the intrusion. It was only a bot, after all.

    ¡°You should be in bed,¡± said the med-bot. ¡°In bed. In bed. You¡¯ve got fractures, compound and simple, and more. More. More. Didn¡¯t expect you to wake. Wake. So soon. Soon¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop,¡± Sky grunted. Poor thing was on the fritz. ¡°Tell me who¡¯s in charge here.¡±

    The bot blinked. ¡°Pheiri? No. Ha ha.¡± She spoke the laugh out loud, but didn¡¯t seem amused. ¡°Elpida¡¯s the Commander. You want to see her?¡±

    ¡°Please.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s up front, in the control cockpit. With all you other zombies. Watching the screens.¡± The bot wormed one delicate grey arm out of her blankets, then pointed, indicating the corridor back in the big compartment. ¡°She¡¯s the one with the white hair. White hair. Can¡¯t miss her.¡±

    Sky nodded. ¡°Thanks, med-tech.¡±

    ¡°Melyn.¡±

    Sky paused. ¡°You have a name?¡±

    ¡°Melyn.¡± The bot nodded.

    Who the hell gives med-bots names? Sky decided that was a good sign; she liked people who named their machines. Sky cleared her throat again and tried to ignore the second android, the big one ¡ª her eyes were open, peering at Sky over the med-bot¡¯s head. Sky turned away without saying goodbye.

    With considerable difficulty, Sky hobbled back across the compartment, then limped into the cramped, jinking, jumbled corridor, presumably heading toward the front of this war machine.

    The corridor was a mess, crammed with old subsystems, abandoned crew seats, and masses of hanging wire. Sky passed open hatches which led off into tight spaces, ducked beneath flickering screens showing frozen readouts, and limped across a swell of armour as if walking over the brain of an artificial intelligence; perhaps that was the deep rhythmic thrumming she felt, like a heartbeat in the core of the machine. She passed beneath a ladder which seemed to climb up toward some kind of turret. No way, was this a tank? It was huge, bigger than any armoured vehicle had any right to be. It had to be a walker, or a water-craft, not a tank.

    Sky heard a low mutter from up ahead ¡ª several voices, speaking in urgent whispers and speculative mumbles, blurred by the clicking and humming and buzzing of screens and computer readouts.

    She felt a sudden rush of nostalgia, and a pang deep in her chest.

    It sounded just like the war room on the Black Dog¡¯s cruiser, Saturn¡¯s Knuckle. Those tones, those voices, whoever they were, Sky knew they were watching and directing an operation in progress.

    She started to hurry forward, clinging to whatever handholds she could find.

    But then a figure stepped around one of the last turns before the control room.

    White hair, long and straight all the way down to her waist. Copper-brown skin, wrapped in tomb-grey clothes, rippling with the subtle motions of tight, toned, compact muscle, held still and ready with all the practice of a career soldier. Purple eyes burned with intelligence and amusement at the sight of Sky, but no surprise.

    The woman paused, left hand grabbing a piece of machinery to brace herself. Her right forearm was missing, just a stump wrapped in fresh bandages.

    Sky was used to often being the tallest person in a room, but this woman had a whole head on her. She was massive. A bio-mod job, surely?

    The bio-mod soldier-girl said nothing. She waited, as if for Sky to make the first move.

    Sky straightened up, despite the pain. She lifted her chin. She made sure to cock her hips, showing the pistol in her waistband.

    ¡° ¡­ Elpida, right?¡±

    A curious smirk crossed those lips; she didn¡¯t even glance at the gun. ¡°Nah. Not right now, anyway. Elps is busy.¡±

    Sky frowned. She didn¡¯t want to be rude, not right away, but she wanted to talk to the Commander, not the Commander¡¯s internal sub-selves. ¡°You¡¯re a partition?¡±

    ¡®Elpida¡¯ raised her eyebrows. ¡°Funny word. Partition, huh?¡±

    Sky nodded. Partitioning had been common enough on Ganymede, especially among techs and synth-workers; some of her comrades in the Dogs had practised it too, with one partition for combat, one for everything else. That always gave Sky the shivers. Combat-partitions got weird, twitchy, aggressive.

    ¡°Partition, yeah,¡± she repeated. ¡°Are you not Elpida? Are you not the one in charge here?¡±

    The smirk grew wider. ¡°I¡¯m Howl. I share the Commander¡¯s head. While she¡¯s busy, I¡¯m what you got. Sky, right? We got your name from the others. Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d wake up so fast.¡±

    ¡°Sky, yeah. You can just call me that.¡±

    ¡°Sky. Nice name. Simple name. Pick it yourself?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, actually.¡± Sky bristled; she didn¡¯t want to talk about herself, about her birth name, or anything else. She placed a hand on her hip, next to the pistol. This was a nobody, then ¡ª a combat partition, or something else. ¡°I want to speak with the person in charge. Your commander.¡±

    Howl started to laugh. ¡°You¡¯re a hot-head, aren¡¯t you? Me too, bitch.¡±

    Sky allowed herself to smile. ¡°Glad we understand each other.¡±

    Howl snorted. ¡°Actually, we don¡¯t. You sure do seem confident for somebody who¡¯s never been a zombie before. You up to speed? Shilu said you were, but Shilu¡¯s a bit cracked in her own way. Am I right, or am I right?¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Sky grunted. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m up to speed. World¡¯s dead. We¡¯re all dead. Whatever. Where¡¯s your commander?¡±

    Howl said nothing, turning her head to one side, as if examining Sky from multiple angles. Sky didn¡¯t like that. This ¡®Howl¡¯ was giving her the shivers, and she still didn¡¯t spare even one glance for the handgun in Sky¡¯s waistband. This was not a subordinate she could beat up in a secluded corridor. She doubted she would be able to draw the gun. This was real shit. This was like her early days in the Dogs.

    She kept her mouth shut. Tried to stand straight. Look smart, look confident, look sane.

    ¡°You¡¯ve adapted real fast,¡± Howl said. ¡°Haven¡¯t you?¡±

    Sky grinned; now this, this felt familiar enough ¡ª Earth-bound dickheads and civvies looking at her like she¡¯d stepped out of a movie.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen worlds die before,¡± Sky said, sneering. ¡°I was on Ganymede.¡±

    Howl didn¡¯t react. She waited, eyebrows raised. Sky hesitated. She had no idea what else to say.

    Eventually Howl said, ¡°Oh yeah? What¡¯s that?¡±

    A void opened up inside Sky¡¯s chest.

    ¡®I was on Ganymede¡¯.

    Since Sky¡¯s home was murdered, those words were the only thing she¡¯d ever needed to establish her place in another person¡¯s mind. ¡®I was on Ganymede¡¯ earned her instant respect from the others in the Black Dogs, a leg-up the ladder, a way into the established cliques. ¡®I was on Ganymede¡¯ turned heads in the Outer System, on Titan, on the Neptune habs, on any rock or metal where she set foot, even out in the Oort with the freaks on Furthest. ¡®I was on Ganymede¡¯ got her mountains of pussy on Mars, showered in attention, in drinks, in whatever she wanted. ¡®I was on Ganymede¡¯ got her into the Commune. ¡®I was on Ganymede¡¯ got her a job on Earth, free passage, room and board.

    ¡®I was on Ganymede!¡¯

    Sky had been there on the ground at the death of a world ¡ª a little world compared with Earth or Mars, but a world all the same, the world where she had been born, the world where her parents had raised her. Those four words had never before failed to impress, to quieten, to bludgeon, or at least to lead to follow-up questions and a round of drinks.

    What was it like, Sky? Hell, to her comrades in the Black Dogs, embellished with adventure and danger and dozens of kills. Hell, to Onira, when Sky had spoken about the reality. Did you fight the machines, Sky? You must have done, you lived, right! The fractal nanomachine monsters everybody¡¯s seen in old news broadcasts? Sure did. How many did you kill, Sky? Dozens! No, that was a lie. Just one, a three-meter pale thing all made of arms and mouths, and the kill had been a screaming panicked mess of blood and horror and dead friends. Did you see the Tros dome collapse? Sky sometimes said yes, sometimes no. She¡¯d been there, Tros was her home, and she¡¯d been in a voidsuit when the bubble had popped. Three million had died from atmospheric exposure; millions more in the ninety percent of the city which lay underground, buried in the ice layers, they¡¯d died differently, killed by the machines. She tried not to think about that very often in the years which followed.

    ¡®I was on Ganymede ¡­ ¡¯

    She¡¯d fought machines on the frozen surface for four weeks in the retreat to Eshmun ¡ª never saw what she fired at, never got the enemy up close, kept herself alive by stuffing chunks of dead people into her voidsuit nutrient intake ports, rendered down to slurry, tasting like pork. She¡¯d been there on the surface when ships had turned up from all over Sol ¡ª Earth, Mars, Luna, Titan, even a single black hulk from the Oort. Io and Europa and Callisto had been fucking about in orbit for months by then, for all the good they could do popping nano-hive masses from over the horizon. She¡¯d been in the wrecked bubble-fields of Eshmun when the Lunarian scum had broken cordon and sent actual ground troops to start ¡®mopping up¡¯. Sky had killed three Lunarian soldiers herself; she never told that to anybody, not outside of the Dogs. Luna had a long memory and held grudges hard. If journalists could track her down, a Lunarian wetwork sleeper sure could do the same.

    She¡¯d been on the surface when Titan started dropping the nukes. She¡¯d seen the machines pull a starship from orbit and drown it in the subsurface oceans. Sometimes she still dreamed about that, the great bulk of a Martian warship screaming like the end of the world as it came down.

    She¡¯d been on Ganymede; she¡¯d seen a world murdered.

    And now that meant nothing.

    Two hundred and fifty to three hundred millions years in the future. Until this moment, staring into these uncomprehending purple eyes, that time had been only a number. But this partitioned woman ¡ª Elpida, Howl, whatever she was ¡ª had never even heard of Ganymede, let alone its end.

    Howl grinned. ¡°Hitting you, is it?¡±

    Sky tried to speak, but her mouth was numb.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Howl purred. ¡°There you go. Take a moment. Sit if you gotta. No shame.¡±

    ¡°G-Ganymede was a ¡­ a world. A moon, technically. Jovian. It ¡­ I was born there. It died. The world died.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Howl said. ¡°Another space case.¡±

    Sky felt her chest lurch and her vision blur. The most important thing about her is that she was born off-Earth? That was it? Really?

    She grabbed the gun in her waistband.

    Howl just watched as Sky drew the weapon; she could barely grip it, her fingers felt so numb. Sky didn¡¯t flick the safety off, she didn¡¯t even point it. The pantomime of aggression seemed meaningless now, robbed of all context. She just held the gun out.

    ¡°I picked this up,¡± she said. ¡°When I woke. You left me in a room full of guns. Why?¡±

    Howl eyed Sky up and down, then sighed. She shook her head. ¡°You gotta talk to Elps, right. You¡¯re up to speed, but you are one hell of a mess. Tell you what, why don¡¯t you come join us up in Pheiri¡¯s noggin? Watch what we¡¯re up to. Meet the crew. C¡¯mon.¡±

    Howl didn¡¯t even take the gun from her. She just turned away, showing Sky her back.

    Sky stumbled forward, trying to put the gun away and follow Howl, both at the same time. She¡¯d not felt this clumsy since she was a teenager.

    ¡°What¡ª what happened to your arm?¡± she asked. ¡°That¡¯s real fresh. I can¡ª I can tell that much.¡±

    Howl glanced back with a smirk on her lips.

    ¡°Elpida ¡ª the Commander,¡± she purred. ¡°She got it saving another clueless little bitch like you. Welcome aboard, meat-brains. Welcome to all that¡¯s left.¡±

 tenebrae - 13.7

    ¡°We¡¯re not lost,¡± said Leuca. ¡°We know exactly where we are. We can retrace our steps back to Pheiri any time we like, with no need to deviate or change our path. Comms are uninterrupted. Our maps are detailed. I repeat, we are not lost.¡±

    Ooni knew that Leuca was correct. Leuca was always correct. She¡¯d always been wise where Ooni was foolish.

    But being lost or not was beside the point; Ooni couldn¡¯t stop shaking.

    Leuca¡¯s voice hissed and crackled across the comms network, dousing the sparks of a nervous argument which had just begun to flare with Kagami and Victoria, safe and sound back in Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit, observing the feeds from the drones. Before Kagami could rally a reply, Leuca reached up with one dirty grey gauntlet and removed her helmet, releasing the seal and slipping the armour off her head. A waterfall of flame-red hair fell across the gorget about her neck and over the narrow plates on her shoulders; her hair was dimmed by the heavy shadows of the tomb, dyed a sickly turquoise by the glow from the monitor screens, and pinned by the comms headset strapped to her skull.

    Eyes the forgotten blue of a cloudless sky flashed about the chamber, ringed by dark bags of stress, framed by pale skin dusted with freckles. Leuca filled her lungs with a breath of stagnant air.

    When Leuca spoke again, her voice melded with the distant hailstones and hellish wind of the hurricane beyond the walls.

    ¡°But I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯re being followed.¡±

    Ooni wanted to tell Leuca to put her helmet back on. She hesitated for three reasons: one, the bland confidence on Leuca¡¯s face did more to calm Ooni¡¯s nerves than any words possibly could; two, Ooni was not in charge of this fireteam and had no right to give orders; and three, she had to actively remind herself to call Leuca ¡®Pira¡¯ in front of the others. Leuca had made that clear as they had stood in Pheiri¡¯s rear airlock together, just after Ooni had made the mistake of trying to kiss her, before they¡¯d donned their helmets. Leuca had rejected that kiss with a turn of her head, pushed Ooni against the wall of the airlock, and given her three very clear instructions.

    Concentrate on the mission. Come back in one piece ¡ª I do love you, Ooni, I do, but you have to concentrate. And stop confusing the others by using the name of a woman who died three hundred million years ago.

    Professionalism and discipline, until they returned.

    Not that Leuca had accepted any of Ooni¡¯s prior attempts to kiss her, either. Ooni told herself that was okay. Twenty three years of companionship had been drowned by decades of resurrection and the shame of both their betrayals. Leuca was not the same person she had been in the era of The Fortress, and neither was Ooni. They both still loved each other, but that love was different now, bruised and tender and shivering. It might take a long time to come round. But at least it was sheltered now, within the walls of Telokopolis.

    Ooni did her best to swallow her complaint about the helmet. There were no clear lines of sight into the circular chamber where the fireteam had paused. All four routes into the room were covered by Kagami¡¯s drones, out there in the corridors beyond, blocking any undetected intruders. No secret sniper or sudden ambush could draw a bead on Leuca¡¯s unprotected skull. The innards of the tomb were not like the streets and buildings of the corpse-city, rife with an infinite proliferation of firing angles and tangled cover. Here the exits were limited and verticality was rare.

    But Ooni¡¯s armoured gloves tightened on her firearm all the same; she could not bear the thought of losing Leuca again.

    Which was why she was here, deep in the lightless bowels of the tomb, not yet lost.

    Kagami¡¯s voice crackled over the comms network, speaking to the whole fireteam. ¡°I never said you were lost. I literally never used that word. There is no need to waste your limited attention stating the obvious, I can see the map right in front of me, just as well as you can, thank you.¡±

    A second voice muttered, a little further from the audio pickup inside Pheiri¡¯s cockpit ¡ª Victoria. ¡°Kaga, Kaga, don¡¯t rant at them¡ª¡±

    Kagami carried on. ¡°What I did say is that this structure makes no fucking sense! The layout of this place is a nightmare, designed by an insane intelligence, and we just keep going deeper and deeper. What are we going to find, hm? Because I¡¯m starting to think we¡¯re not following the fucking Death¡¯s Heads at all! And now that ¡­ that thing! That is a mockery aimed directly at us. It¡¯s a provocation! Don¡¯t assume I can¡¯t see that, I¡¯m not stupid. We can hardly leave it unanswered.¡±

    Victoria again: ¡°Kaga, stop, please¡ª¡±

    ¡°It has to be destroyed!¡± Kagami snapped, voice wavering as she whirled away from the microphone, presumably raving at Victoria. ¡°Order it destroyed, or I¡¯ll take responsibility myself.¡±

    Ooni couldn¡¯t swallow, let alone speak, the lump in her throat was so tight. She¡¯d been trying not to think about this, to stay focused on Leuca.

    But she agreed with Kagami, totally and completely.

    Over by the ¡®provocation¡¯ in the centre of the room, Ilyusha growled, then spat on the floor. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ right. Fuckin¡¯ burn it. Rip it up! Fuck!¡±

    Shilu, hands in the pockets of her armoured coat, said the first words she¡¯d spoken since leaving Pheiri. ¡°I concur. This is bait.¡±

    Ooni tried to keep her eyes off the effigy in the middle of the room. If she thought about the implications, she might start shaking again.

    She had to stay alert, lest some undetected ambush force its way through one of the entrances.

    She knew her vigilance was pointless. If the drones couldn¡¯t detect an ambush and their firepower couldn¡¯t deter it, Ooni had no hope. But the ritual of discipline and the weight of the gun in her hands helped her fight the terror.

    Ooni was under no illusions as to her own utility. The three-strong fireteam ¡ª herself, Leuca, and Ilyusha ¡ª were surplus to the actual mission of hunting down the remnants of the Deaths Heads, the Sisterhood of the Skull, Ooni¡¯s former ¡®comrades¡¯. If the fireteam made contact then the drones would do all the real fighting, and any confrontation would likely be over in moments. Ooni and the others were there for show, a visible human component at the core of the remote combat machine, controlled by Kagami and Pheiri, directed from the enclosed safety of the cockpit. Ooni and the others had only mattered at the start of the operation, when they¡¯d stomped down Pheiri¡¯s rear ramp and set out before an awestruck audience, watched by all the zombies who had remained in the tomb chamber before Pheiri.

    The decision to send them along with a dozen of Kagami¡¯s drones had been debated for over two hours, with everybody crammed into Pheiri¡¯s main crew compartment.

    Kagami had been firm that she could carry out the operation with nothing but the drones. Howl had insisted that they needed to send soldiers, with faces, holding guns. The gesture was just as important as the hunt. They had to show that Telokopolis ¡ª the promise of Telokopolis which Elpida had made ¡ª would not let the attempted suicide bombing go unanswered. They couldn¡¯t do this with drones alone, like a mechanical arm reaching into the dark. They had to show they cared.

    Listening to Howl speaking through Elpida had been an unsettling experience, even though Ooni knew she had spoken to Howl before. Howl kept smirking in a way that made Ooni shiver. But she spoke the same basic truths as Elpida, and Ooni agreed with all her points, even though she had not spoken up. Ooni¡¯s sole contribution to the discussion was to repeat the only thing she was confident of ¡ª ¡°Telokopolis is forever.¡±

    Whenever Ooni saw Sanzhima lying in the infirmary ¡ª the girl the Death¡¯s Heads had captured and sent against Pheiri with a bomb strapped to her ¡ª Ooni saw herself.

    Howl had easily won the debate and the ensuing vote. Victoria had asked for volunteers. Leuca had raised her hand.

    Ooni had volunteered as well. She didn¡¯t want to let Leuca go alone, even surrounded by drones. The others had exchanged silent glances, followed by not-so-silent suspicions. Victoria was polite about it. Atyle was dismissive and cryptic. Amina stared in that disconcerting way. But Kagami and Ilyusha both said it out loud, with varying degrees of vehemence; Pira was a turncoat twice over, and Ooni had been a member of the very group they were hunting, up until her so-called conversion at Elpida¡¯s hands. A ¡®reptile fuck¡¯, as Ilyusha had said.

    An argument had started, loud and awkward. Ooni had wanted to withdraw herself from consideration and apologise for her arrogance. To be sent on such a mission was an honour she did not deserve. But Leuca had not withdrawn, and so Ooni was nailed to her mast.

    In the end, Howl had overruled the others.

    ¡°Pira and Ooni are Elps¡¯ bitches too, right? Just like the rest of us? They any different to any of you? Ooni alerted us to the bomb and told us how it would be trapped. Pira¡¯s made her beliefs clear. Trust ¡®em now, or shoot ¡®em dead. Like, right now! Shoot them both! No? Chickenshits. Trust them, then.¡±

    Ilyusha had volunteered after that. Everybody knew she was itching for a real fight, and she was the perfect candidate to keep an eye on the distrusted. Ooni had been concerned that Ilyusha would be too distracted by that to focus on the mission, but the moment they¡¯d all gotten beyond Pheiri¡¯s hull Ilyusha had slipped into an easy, alert, natural professionalism.

    Shilu joined as insurance. If everything went wrong, the Necromancer would handle it.

    Both Ooni and Leuca were armoured in the best carapace suits that the cadre had looted from the tomb armoury ¡ª chunky plates of grey-white armour, strapped to their limbs and torsos, locked together with articulated joints, with external hard-points for supporting heavy weapons. The helmets offered basic atmospheric protection and low-light vision, both pointless for the undead.

    Leuca was armed with a pump-action shotgun locked to her back and an automatic rifle slung up front. Ooni carried a ballistic shield strapped to the rear of her armour, and a heavy submachine gun in her hands, straps looped over one shoulder. Both of them had side-arms and a couple of grenades, just in case.

    Ooni was surprised by the trust the cadre had placed in her, even after Howl¡¯s words. It was only yesterday that Elpida herself had pressed a gun into Ooni¡¯s hands; now, after the bombing and a restless night and half a day of debate and planning and preparation, she was wearing carapace armour again, carrying a gun into battle, wearing the symbol of Telokopolis.

    Ilyusha had rejected most of the heavier armour, but she wore a comms headset, a stripped-down helmet which was mostly just visor, and a grey bulletproof vest over her torso, leaving her red-and-black bionic limbs free. Another ballistic shield was strapped to her back.

    Shilu wore no protection except the armoured coat over her clothes; she had accepted a comms headset, but Ooni was convinced it was purely for appearances. She had gone unarmed, in her human disguise.

    Prep was awkward. Howl had joined them at the airlock, acting funny. When they¡¯d all been ready to leave, she¡¯d paused and said, ¡°Good hunting. Hurry home, sisters. Sisters, ha! Guess you are ¡­ ¡±

    They had set out from Pheiri ¡ª three heavily armed zombies and one disguised Necromancer, surrounded by a bristling phalanx of a dozen heavy combat drones, supported by constant comms chatter and regular updates from the control cockpit. For four hours they had descended into the lightless corridors of the tomb, with drones leading the way, drones bringing up the rear, drones guarding the flanks, and drones piercing the gloom ahead with blood-red lights, sending stray zombies scuttling for the shadows. Shilu had strode near the front of the group, following Kagami¡¯s directions with wordless obedience. Ilyusha had struck out, often circling around the drones themselves, leapfrogging their progress, pausing to pat their matte-black armour as if they were war hounds; she checked each corner manually, automatic shotgun rising and falling, claws clicking on the tomb¡¯s black metal. She cast only the occasional glance at Ooni and Leuca.

    Ooni had felt confident, strong, protected, and right. She wore the crescent-and-double-line of Telokopolis daubed on her armour¡¯s chestplate, same as Leuca and Ilyusha. Shilu was the odd one out, but that didn¡¯t matter.

    The prospect of going up against her former ¡®sisters¡¯ filled Ooni with an excitement she could not share, not even with Leuca. In brief fantasies she imagined herself presenting Yolanda¡¯s head to Elpida and Howl. Cantrelle in chains, dragged along the floor. Kuro peeled out of her armour and peeled out of her skin and¡ª

    Ooni had swallowed those fantasies. She knew they were not worthy of the Commander. Elpida did not approve of needless torture.

    But were they worthy of Telokopolis? Surely the enemies of the promise had to be humiliated, paraded in their defeat, killed for this offensive transgression. Ooni hoped an opportunity would fall into her lap. If it happened, and it wasn¡¯t her fault ¡­

    For the first two hours of the journey the fireteam found themselves with an escort; about thirty stray zombies from the tomb chamber picked themselves up and formed an improvised rearguard, hooting and cheering, jeering for the Death¡¯s Heads to be destroyed, begging for more meat, thumping their chests to pledge eternal allegiance. Most of them were the bottom-feeders and half-starved wretches, daubed with the symbol of Telokopolis in imitation of Elpida. Most of them didn¡¯t even have weapons, but a few carried knives or battered firearms. The others had not approved of this behaviour, but Ooni¡¯s chest tightened with joy; these ragged undead were hardly a suitable auxilia, but if they were armed and given meat, maybe, just maybe ¡­

    Most of them had turned back when Kagami¡¯s voice had boomed from one of the drones ¡ª ¡°If you foul our shots, we won¡¯t hesitate, you band of morons! Get clear, or it¡¯s your own skin at risk! Nobody will pause to help you if you get filled with holes!¡±

    The bravest few had held on until about the two-hour mark. As the innards of the tomb had grown more tortuous and serpentine, even those few faithful had fallen behind.

    The fireteam had plunged onward, accompanied by the winking lights of the drones, the hiss of the comms network, and the fury of the hurricane beyond.

    Ooni could tell that something was wrong with the tomb.

    Her time in The Fortress, when Leuca had been proud of her name, was many subjective decades in the past now, but Ooni had not yet lost the clear memories of the tomb they had managed to clear and occupy for so long. Any two given tombs only shared certain parts in common ¡ª the top levels around the resurrection chamber, the route to the armoury, and the route to the front gates. Beyond that each tomb was unique. The inside of the Fortress had been confusing and strange, full of airy, echoing, mysterious vaults, built on a scale larger than human, shot through with vertical shafts, riddled with hidden spaces behind the walls, like the structure contained a secondary lymphatic system. The revenants of The Fortress had mostly stuck to the areas they had understood fully ¡ª the few dozen rooms close to the gates and the armoury, and the outer shell of the building, where windows and corridors were sensibly human-sized. But even when they had ventured into the twisting innards of The Fortress, seeking controls and machinery and resources, it had never been like this.

    The corridors in this storm-bound tomb seemed to double back on themselves over and over, forming intestinal layers in a tight warren of lightless curves and dizzying twists, sometimes spiralling up and down as if ejecting effluvia from rotten organs. Cavernous rooms came upon the fireteam suddenly, with no warning, emerging from the mass of narrow corridors like gas-bloated abscesses bulging in rotten flesh. Slick machinery, dripping oil, naked circuitry, bundles of cable warm to the touch ¡ª all of these bulged from slits and rents in the walls, like herniae in a ripening corpse.

    A few side-passages bristled with automatic gun emplacements, blocking the routes to areas where the inner configuration of the tomb changed form yet again. This was not unexpected; Ooni and Leuca had warned the others, any tomb was full of dead guns, guarding empty graves.

    But these guns were active, twitching back and forth, like cilia waving in the air; they threatened with target-locks and IR-beams if approached, but did not open fire at a distance. Luckily none of them blocked the route the fireteam needed to take. Shilu and the new arrivals had claimed the passage to the armoury was like this. Ooni had not really believed them.

    Who had turned on the guns? And why? There was nothing to defend down here, was there?

    The fireteam had made their way through this endless, lightless, echoing tangle in near-silence, communicating by whispers over the comms network. They had paused often, waiting for the drones to scout ahead down some particularly twisty corridor, or check each branching side-passage for potential ambushes. They had paused again for Kagami and Victoria and Howl to debate the best way forward. They had paused yet again when one of the new arrivals on board Pheiri had joined the others in the cockpit ¡ª Sky, apparently, finally awake. Sky had contributed nothing but some curious grunts, then fallen silent.

    Ooni¡¯s helmet contained a basic heads-up display, nothing fancy, just a simple IFF tracker for the other members of the team, some built-in comms in case she lost the separate headset, and a data uplink back to Pheiri; Kagami could use the latter to display anything the team might find useful, or plug drone feeds into their vision. She was currently using it to display a map for the whole fireteam, tracking their progress through the tomb, laying a trail of electronic breadcrumbs along the route home.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Ooni did not like to glance at that tiny map in the corner of her visor. It showed a fragile thread of known territory twisting and turning through great yawning darkness, surrounded by blind corners and empty voids, pressed tight by the fossilised tangle. She felt like a morsel of food, trapped and squeezed by peristalsis.

    The earlier rooms and spaces, those closer to Pheiri, had not been like this. Why had the Death¡¯s Head fled into such a place?

    Ooni¡¯s confidence had begun to flag; this didn¡¯t seem like a course of action Yolanda would willingly endorse. As leader of the Sisterhood of the Skull, Yola was not above ambushes and underhanded tactics, not when presented and bracketed with the right rhetoric. But to withdraw so deep into a maze, without showing resistance, without leaving traps, without even a rude message scrawled on a wall? Ooni¡¯s gut had clenched and her mouth had gone dry. She smelled a rat.

    She whispered this concern over the comms network, to Leuca, to Kagami, to the others. They agreed without argument ¡ª this was all very odd. But the drones were functioning normally, and they had not yet reached their destination. Ambush was impossible. Keep moving.

    Five hours into the journey, Ooni had started to hear the sounds.

    At first she had doubted her own ears, or perhaps the pick-ups on the outside of her carapace helmet. A scuff of distant feet there, a shuffle of armour here, a soft hum echoing down the twisted corridors from far away, back on the route the fireteam had already crossed. This mangled mass of passageways played funny tricks with sound, perhaps she was only hearing the fireteam¡¯s own echoes, or illusions created by the storm outdoors. Kagami¡¯s drones would surely pick up anybody trying to follow the fireteam. Leuca and Ilyusha were perfectly competent, and they didn¡¯t say anything. And Shilu was a Necromancer.

    All in Ooni¡¯s head.

    Except, when she concentrated, those sounds seemed so familiar. They made Ooni¡¯s heart rate climb. Cold sweat broke out on her skin. She felt small and hunted.

    She ignored the reason for that anxiety.

    At six hours, twelve minutes, and fifteen seconds since leaving Pheiri ¡ª according to the small clock in Ooni¡¯s HUD ¡ª the fireteam reached their destination.

    They knew the Death¡¯s Heads would not be there anymore. Ooni had offered that advice during the debate about what to do. She knew that Yolanda and Cantrelle were not stupid, they would not have accepted the radio contact from Elpida only to then wait for death. They would leave booby-traps in their wake, or set up an ambush from which they could melt away. They would not be here. They would be gone.

    As the fireteam approached the contact point, Ooni found herself hoping she was wrong.

    As the drones moved forward and the fireteam crouched silently in a pitch-black corridor, Ooni¡¯s lips peeled back from her teeth, hidden inside her helmet. All those years at the bottom of the pile, all that abuse and hate shovelled on her head. Let Yola be there, she prayed to the old gods who she had once believed in, trying to dredge their names from the sunlit world she could not even remember. Let Yola be there. Let her try to fight. Let her struggle!

    Ooni felt a war cry clawing at the base of her throat. She hadn¡¯t felt that since true life ¡ª never with the Death¡¯s Heads. Where was this feeling coming from? Had some speck of life¡¯s bright memory returned to her? For a second she felt like she was poised to charge uphill, a smear of woad on her sun-kissed face, an axe raised high in one hand, descending toward the gormless scream of some Roman teenager cowering behind his steel shield.

    She panted inside her helmet, comms off. When the moment came, she would cry at the top of her lungs ¡ª ¡°Telokopolis is forever!¡±

    Kagami¡¯s drones advanced those last hundred meters with great care, scanning every surface, fanning out further than before, checking and rechecking for bombs or traps or hidden surprises.

    Nothing.

    The big room up ahead was unoccupied. The fire-team had entered on foot, weapons raised, following the drones, into what Kagami had laughingly called a ¡®planetarium¡¯.

    The room was a large circular space about one hundred feet across, with rings of wide tiered steps dropping down into a shallow pit in the middle. The outer wall was encrusted with a thick layer of computer terminals made of dull metal and grey plastic; surprisingly for the tomb, many of the terminals were aglow with toxic light, though the data on the screens was a meaningless jumble of corrupted symbols and system glitches. Masses of cable ran from the computers and snaked up the walls, gathering across the high ceiling of the chamber into a heavy bundle which hung over the pit, from which dangled a vast array of shattered projectors. According to Kagami¡¯s distracted explanation this room was meant to display a three-dimensional picture of the spheres beyond Earth.

    The Death¡¯s Heads had ripped down vast quantities of cable, so it hung from the ceiling in ragged masses, trailing across the floor in loops and coils of rubber-sheathed metal, like vines in a deep forest. In the centre of the room they had woven the torn cables together into a rough sphere about fifteen feet wide, with an open base. It was a lattice punctuated by two large holes high up and a curved slash lower down.

    A black skull, grinning wide.

    Ooni¡¯s battle fever had been extinguished by a wave of cold in her blood. She had started to shake. She couldn¡¯t breathe.

    Beneath the black skull of the Death¡¯s Heads, a partial corpse lay on the floor in the middle of the shallow pit ¡ª a skeleton, just a chest and a right arm, picked almost clean, with only the most inedible scraps of gristle left clinging to the bloody bones.

    This was the provocation, a message from Ooni¡¯s former ¡®sisters¡¯.

    None of the others understood. Not even Leuca.

    Shilu was standing a few feet from the massive black skull, hands in her pockets, impassive eyes staring back into the empty sockets. Ilyusha stood a little further back, cradling her automatic shotgun in folded arms, cutting the air with the swishing tip of her bionic tail. Leuca had not yet approached the Death¡¯s Head effigy; Ooni stayed close to her side. It was a good excuse to avoid the gaze of those dead eyes.

    All but two of the drones were covering the four exits to the room. The remaining pair of drones had drifted close to the wire skull, running their invisible scanners up and down the construct. They were big, black, bulky combat drones, bristling with sensors and weapons, floating on their tiny gravity-engines, all under Kagami¡¯s remote control.

    Kagami and Victoria were arguing on the comms.

    ¡°¡ªdon¡¯t make me repeat myself, Victoria! Order it destroyed, or I will¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kaga! Fucking¡ª give me time to¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in command! Make the decision!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha took a step toward the skull and raised one red-clawed bionic hand as if to rip through the wires.

    Shilu put out an arm to block her. ¡°No.¡±

    Ilyusha whirled on the Necromancer, gesturing with her shotgun. ¡°Fuck you, reptile! You¡¯re not in charge, you¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a trap,¡± Shilu said. ¡°I suggest you don¡¯t touch it.¡±

    Ilyusha shut her mouth with a click of her teeth, grimacing at Shilu, then up at the wire skull. On the comms, the argument died away.

    Ooni felt her throat closing up. Of course it was a trap. But it was so much more.

    Leuca spoke into her headset microphone: ¡°Kagami, please confirm that.¡±

    Kagami sighed loudly. The two drones she had been using to scan the skull backed away from the effigy. Silence reigned for a few moments.

    Victoria said: ¡°There, see?¡±

    Kagami sighed again. When she spoke, she sounded very grumpy. ¡°Yes, yes, the Necromancer is probably correct. There¡¯s a current running through those wires, projecting a sort of electromagnetic cone inward, over the body. I don¡¯t have a clue what it would do, and I don¡¯t think we want to find out. Don¡¯t step inside, don¡¯t touch it at all.¡±

    Ooni wanted to sob.

    Another voice spoke over the comms network, slightly behind Kagami.

    ¡°Free finger-bangs all week to anybody who can figure out how to destroy it anyway,¡± said Howl.

    Ooni¡¯s heart soared. Tears prickled in her eyes. Howl was not Elpida, but Howl understood almost as well. This symbol had to be destroyed. It had to be burned, wiped out, ruined and wrecked and¡ª

    Shilu was speaking, staring up at the skull. ¡°Those coils of wire, where it¡¯s been wrapped into spirals. See those? Those are jury-rigged electromagnets. And the spacing is expert. Whoever made this created a perfect cone of electromagnetic interference. I¡¯m not sure what it would do to a revenant. I¡¯m not willing to speculate. But this is challenging work, performed by an expert. I am confident in that.¡±

    Ooni bit her lower lip so hard she tasted blood. She knew, she knew, she knew who had made this, she knew what this meant, she knew it was¡ª

    Ilyusha snorted. ¡°Saying we can¡¯t tear it down, necro-bitch?¡±

    Shilu didn¡¯t move. ¡°I didn¡¯t say that. I could disarm this. But it might take an hour or two.¡±

    Howl chuckled down the comms. ¡°Ever the pessimist, cheese-grater. Worst comes to worst, we can have the drones shoot it up.¡±

    Ooni swallowed her plea of agreement. Leuca was staring at her, blue eyes boring into her helmet. Could Leuca see her distress? She wouldn¡¯t be surprised.

    Ilyusha growled behind her teeth, gesturing at the skull with her shotgun. ¡°Why fuckin¡¯ do this, then?! Shitfuck reptiles can¡¯t ambush us, can¡¯t get us to blunder into a trap neither.¡± She jerked her chin toward one of the drones. ¡°Not with the doggies here. Why do it? Just to piss us off? Fuckers! Shit eating fuck, bitch, fuck!¡±

    ¡°A statement of power,¡± Shilu said, still staring up into the eye sockets.

    Leuca said, ¡°Are we certain this is the origin point of the signal?¡±

    Shilu nodded. ¡°I am.¡±

    Kagami concurred over the radio, ¡°Yes, Pira, this is where they made contact with Pheiri, via their own comms network. He¡¯s totally confident about that.¡± She sighed through gritted teeth. ¡°If that corpse was even slightly less devoured, we could probably identify it. I would bet a handful of lunar soil it¡¯s one we gave out yesterday.¡±

    Ilyusha frowned. ¡°What? The fuck?¡±

    Leuca grunted. ¡°Mm. Likely enough.¡±

    Kagami tutted. ¡°The Death¡¯s Heads probably scouted us by disguising one of their number as a starving zombie, then accepted the meat. The remains beneath that trap look like half a torso with one arm attached. There¡¯s only three possible matches who we gave that exact portion, but all three of them are zombies who then left Pheiri¡¯s tomb chamber. Not that tracing them would help us. We¡¯re not looking for them in the middle of a city, among a crowd. That would be easy compared to this ¡­ crawling nonsense.¡±

    She huffed and made her chair creak, back in Pheiri¡¯s control cockpit.

    Silence fell, both on the comms and in the flesh. Ilyusha snorted as she stared at the skull made of twisted wires, tilting her head from side to side as if she could see the invisible cone of electromagnetic power. Leuca ran her naked eyes across the consoles and computers around the edge of the room, but she didn¡¯t move. Kagami¡¯s drones hovered in the four doorways, still and steady, eyes and weapons turned outward.

    Beyond the walls, muffled by distance and the black metal of the tomb, the hurricane raged on.

    The comms network crackled. Victoria spoke.

    ¡°Hey, Ooni, I¡¯ve got a question for you, since you¡¯re our expert,¡± she said. ¡°Do you think the Death¡¯s Heads would have done that? Sent somebody in disguise, to beg for meat?¡±

    Ooni didn¡¯t speak for a long moment. She wished she could give the useful answer, but that would be a lie.

    ¡°I ¡­ I don¡¯t think so,¡± Ooni said, speaking slowly inside her helmet. ¡°Yola would never allow it, it would be too humiliating. But ¡­ but maybe they¡¯ve grown desperate. I ¡­ I¡¯m sorry. I know I used to be one of them, but ¡­ but I don¡¯t know. Sorry. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Victoria grunted.

    ¡°Bodes well for us,¡± Kagami muttered.

    Shilu turned away from the skull and looked directly into the visor of Ooni¡¯s helmet. Ooni flinched; it was like the Necromancer could see through the steel-glass.

    ¡°Ooni,¡± she said. ¡°Why do you think this skull is here?¡±

    Ooni felt her whole body go stiff. She couldn¡¯t speak, couldn¡¯t swallow, couldn¡¯t make herself think. She knew exactly why the skull was here, but the thought made her want to run.

    She did the only thing she could. She reached up, unsealed her neck-ring, and pulled the helmet off her head. Her hair slid down her neck. The air was cold and stagnant and reeked of wet metal. She glanced at Leuca; this way she was that little bit closer to her, breathing the same air, their bare skin both exposed to the same flickering toxic shadows from the computer monitors.

    Leuca held her look, but said nothing.

    Hissing voices whispered on the comms network. Ilyusha barked something, perhaps a rebuke. Ooni couldn¡¯t process any of it. She raised her eyes from Leuca¡¯s blue gaze and forced herself to acknowledge the skull.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡ªit¡¯s aimed at me, it¡¯s aimed at me, it¡¯s aimed at me¡ª

    ¡°¡ªa message,¡± Ooni managed to say. ¡°A statement, that we can¡¯t ¡­ dislodge them, remove them, get rid of them. That¡¯s why it¡¯s such an obvious trap. We can¡¯t remove their symbol without hurting ourselves.¡±

    Ilyusha spat on the floor again. Shilu nodded and said, ¡°Thank you.¡± On the comms network Kagami tutted, and Howl snorted with derision.

    ¡°And¡ª¡±

    ¡ªshe¡¯s going to catch me, she¡¯s going to pin me to the floor and rip chunks off my back with her bare teeth and pull my skin off and¡ª

    ¡°¡ªand¡ª¡±

    ¡ªit was her it was her it was her¡ª

    ¡°¡ªuh¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ooni,¡± said Leuca. ¡°Concentrate.¡±

    Ooni took a deep breath and tried again. ¡°I think I know who made it. The skull, I mean.¡±

    Shilu raised her eyebrows. On the comms, Kagami said: ¡°Go ahead. Explain. Quickly.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ Kuro,¡± Ooni said, forcing the name past her lips. ¡°The big one, in powered armour. The bomb-vest was her design, too.¡±

    Howl made a contemplative noise on the comms. ¡°Hrrrrrm. The big bitch. She¡¯s the one who strung up Elps. Locked into her armour or something, right?¡±

    Kagami was muttering ¡ª ¡°Great. Wish she had a different name.¡±

    Ooni struggled to keep speaking. ¡°Kuro has always been Yola¡¯s ¡­ dog. She¡¯s very technically minded, good with jury-rigging machines, making things from scrap, that sort of thing. I think she was some kind of engineer, when she was alive. She pretends to be stupid, but I know she¡¯s not. And she ¡­ she likes to be cruel. She knows how to get inside your head. Yola would just have painted a skull and written some words, then been done with it. But Kuro, she likes this sort of thing. This is how she thinks. It¡¯s meant to ¡­ bother us.¡±

    Ooni couldn¡¯t express what she really meant. She didn¡¯t have the words.

    Victoria spoke over the comms: ¡°But it was Cantrelle on the radio. That implies she¡¯s in charge now. Would she do this?¡±

    Ooni shook her head, then remembered the crew in the cockpit couldn¡¯t see the gesture. ¡°This is Kuro¡¯s work. I¡¯m certain of it. And¡ª and¡ª¡± The fear was too much; Ooni started shaking again. ¡°And I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m certain we¡¯re being followed. I agree with Leuca¡ª Pira. Pira! I agree with Pira. We¡¯re being followed.¡±

    High winds howled far beyond the tomb¡¯s outer walls.

    Ilyusha snorted. ¡°Scared?¡±

    Ooni finally looked away from the skull. She met Ilyusha¡¯s iron-grey eyes, then averted her gaze. She found it so hard to maintain eye contact with Ilyusha.

    ¡°Of Kuro? Yes.¡± Ooni swallowed. Her body remembered Kuro¡¯s hands. ¡°She¡¯s like a ¡­ a cat. She likes to play with her food.¡±

    Kagami sighed. ¡°You¡¯re not being followed. The drone sensor suites haven¡¯t picked up anybody in hours, let alone a revenant wearing powered armour, glowing like a fucking lantern. I would know. Pheiri would know. Nobody is going to sneak up on me.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°I haven¡¯t seen or heard anything either.¡±

    Leuca shook her head. ¡°I have.¡±

    Ooni was shaking now, hands creaking on the grip of her submachine gun, teeth threatening to chatter. ¡°I¡¯m certain¡ª certain we¡¯re being followed, yes. It¡¯s the¡ª the little sounds! I know them because they¡¯re her sounds, the ones you always had to listen for in the Sisterhood. She blends in with the echoes and footsteps, she¡¯s so good at it. Don¡¯t you see? That¡¯s how she does it, it¡¯s how she always does it! Even in powered armour she moves like a cat. I should know, she¡ª¡± Ooni felt her throat closing up. Kuro always used to like tormenting Ooni, but the words wouldn¡¯t come. ¡°She¡¯s so good at sneaking up behind you, at the times you¡¯re not thinking about it, the exact times you think she¡¯s elsewhere. And you can never tell she¡¯s coming. And then she¡¯ll be in the corner of a room, or blocking a door, and you can¡¯t escape, and she¡¯ll just¡ª just stand there until you move, making you think about what she¡¯s going to do to you, and she wants you to make the first move, she wants you to feel it and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ooni,¡± said Leuca.

    ¡°She¡¯s doing that to us right now! She is! That¡¯s what this skull is about! It¡¯s a statement, there¡¯s no escape, there¡¯s no¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ooni!¡± Leuca snapped. ¡°Stop.¡±

    A moment of silence. Ooni took a deep breath, trying not to sob. She couldn¡¯t look at anybody. She had shamed herself.

    She touched the symbol of Telokopolis on her breastplate.

    Kagami muttered, ¡°I¡¯ll adjust the pick-ups on the drones. Get Pheiri to run the audio through a different algorithm, whatever. Fine?¡±

    Ooni wanted to say no, but she said nothing.

    Shilu turned back to the huge wire skull. ¡°They¡¯re attempting to goad us. I agree with that.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Kagami grunted.

    Victoria said, ¡°They can¡¯t hope to mount an ambush against all the drones. What are they drawing us deeper for?¡±

    Leuca asked: ¡°Are we pulling out?¡±

    Kagami snorted, ¡°That would be my advice. The tangle only gets more dense from here. This was a mistake. This operation should have been drones only.¡±

    A long moment of silence passed over the comms. Distant hailstones drummed on the tomb.

    Eventually, Victoria said, ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°With drones alone, perhaps¡ª¡± Kagami started.

    Victoria cut over her. ¡°Kaga, let me think.¡±

    Howl said, ¡°Can¡¯t come crawling back with no trophies, hey. That¡¯s a fail. A big one.¡±

    Shilu said, ¡°I could go ahead alone. Follow the signal ghosts, whatever spoor they left, sounds, breathing, heat signatures.¡±

    ¡°Nobody goes off alone,¡± Victoria ground out between clenched teeth. ¡°We still haven¡¯t made contact with Iriko and Serin. Anything could have happened, anything. Nobody wanders off. Understood?¡±

    ¡°Kuro?¡± Ilyusha snapped, jerking her head; Ooni looked up in surprise, because Ilyusha was talking to her. ¡°She¡¯s behind us? Then let¡¯s hunt some big cat, huh?!¡±

    Ooni shook her head. ¡°You can¡¯t. You can¡¯t. You can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Can!¡± Ilyusha barked, then grinned ¡ª actually grinned, right at Ooni.

    For the first time since they¡¯d met, Ooni felt an inkling of affection for the little berserker cyborg. If anybody had the courage to hunt down Kuro, maybe it was her? Or maybe she would just go missing in the tunnels, never seen again. Ooni shook her head. Ilyusha snorted.

    A tiny voice spoke up ¡ª ¡°I think they should come back. I think they should.¡± That was Amina. Ilyusha grimaced and looked away.

    Victoria rattled on. ¡°I agree with Amina. It¡¯s not worth the risk. We should pull back. Pull back out. They¡¯ve fled too far. Maybe Iriko and Serin will get them, or maybe not. But ¡­ we can¡¯t ¡­ we can¡¯t risk ¡­ ¡±

    Leuca said, clean and crisp: ¡°You need to make a decision, Victoria. If we stay here too long, that could also be a problem. Your orders, commander?¡±

    Ooni heard Victoria¡¯s tense breathing down the comms uplink. She didn¡¯t envy her.

    ¡°A ¡­ vote,¡± Victoria said.

    Kagami hissed between her teeth. ¡°You can¡¯t hold a fucking vote, Victoria, this isn¡¯t one of your NorAm commune meetings, you dirt-brained¡ª¡± Kagami cut off with a huff, then: ¡°Command, or I will! Take charge, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡±

    ¡°I am taking charge!¡± Victoria snapped. ¡°And I¡¯m ordering a vote. We¡¯re not in combat. We can vote. All for pulling out?¡±

    The ayes ¡ª Leuca, Victoria, Kagami, and Amina too, in a small voice.

    ¡°All for pushing on?¡±

    Howl, Atyle ¡ª who had not spoken until then, tucked somewhere inside Pheiri¡¯s cockpit ¡ª plus Shilu, and Ilyusha.

    Pheiri himself abstained from voting. Sky, if she was still in the cockpit, didn¡¯t make a sound. Nobody else seemed to be present.

    Leuca, Ilyusha, and Shilu all looked at Ooni. She felt the silence waiting on the other side of the comms uplink.

    Victoria said, ¡°Ooni? I didn¡¯t catch you on either side of that.¡±

    Ooni felt tears gathering in her eyes. She raised her face and stared at the wire skull, at the grinning provocation of the Death¡¯s Heads.

    Kagami was hissing something about how they couldn¡¯t put that decision on her, about how Victoria was being irresponsible, about how they had agreed not to manage the operation like this. Victoria tried to shush her, saying it was all a formality, Ooni did not have to decide, of course not, of course. Leuca sighed and said Ooni¡¯s name. Howl started laughing. Shilu stepped away from the skull, preparing for the inevitable, preparing to leave before Ooni even spoke. Ilyusha spat on the floor and looked disgusted.

    Ooni knew that this decision was not actually down to her ¡ª if she pushed the matter at all, Victoria could easily be forced to take responsibility, to take command properly. It was already happening, without any effort on Ooni¡¯s part; Victoria was drawing breath to give the order. The drones were pulling back. Everyone was resigned to retreat, before Ooni even spoke.

    Ooni wanted to feel that courage again, that moment of sunlit triumph when she had dreamed of laying Yolanda¡¯s head at Elpida¡¯s feet.

    But when she glanced over her shoulder into the flickering shadows of the tomb, she could only imagine Kuro¡¯s hulking form looming out of the passageway. She felt the sticky heat of Kuro¡¯s grasping hands on the back of her neck, peeling away her armour, pinning her down, slapping her when she squealed. She felt Kuro¡¯s reeking breath on her shoulders, teeth getting ready to teach her her place. Her nerves remembered it all too well, and her nerves were shot to pieces.

    Ooni put her helmet back on, so Leuca would not see her tears.

    ¡°Alright, Kaga, alright! Fuck! Fine!¡± Victoria said over the comms. ¡°We¡¯re retreating. That¡¯s your order. Same route as before. Nothing¡¯s in the way. Come home, all of you. We¡¯ll figure something else out.¡±

    Howl purred: ¡°And the skull?¡±

    Victoria sighed. ¡°We¡¯ll shoot it from the doorway. First, everybody out.¡±

    In the end, Ooni didn¡¯t even cast her vote.

    As the drones drifted back across the chamber and the fireteam formed up to plunge back into the twisted innards of the tomb, Ooni cut her comms and whispered to herself in the privacy of her own helmet.

    ¡°Telokopolis is forever, Telokopolis is forever, Telokopolis is forever¡ª¡±

    The words were blurred by the static of the storm, and marred by the chattering of Ooni¡¯s own teeth.

 tenebrae - 13.8

    Ooni knew the others felt humiliated by the necessity of retreat.

    So did she. Turning tail to flee from the grinning skull of the Sisterhood made Ooni feel weak and wretched. But she was used to swallowing her humiliation, washing the bitter taste down her constricted throat with an addictive cocktail of fear and relief. This was not the first time she had run from Kuro, nor from other members of the Sisterhood of the Skull. She had thought those days were over. The armour of Telokopolis now stood between Ooni and her own unclean past ¡ª imperishable, unblemished, and true. Telokopolis was for all. Telokopolis rejected nobody. Telokopolis protected her own.

    ¡°Telokopolis is forever,¡± Ooni whispered inside her carapace helmet, off-comms, one final time.

    Telokopolis was not here.

    The others tried not to show their humiliation as they scurried back through the intestinal tangle of the tomb. The fireteam had paused before setting off, just outside the circular planetarium chamber, so Kagami could shoot down the wire-skull effigy with one of the escort drones; she had used some kind of heavy energy weapon to target the bundle of wires at the apex of the ceiling. A trio of bright purple bolts had melted the plastic and turned the metal to slag. The whole sordid assembly had crashed to the floor in a slithering slump of cables, the outline of the skull crumpling into chaos. The electromagnetic trap had fizzled out.

    Ooni had struggled to summon spite or satisfaction at the destruction of the symbol, but she felt nothing at all. Her head pounded in time with her heart, her hands were slick with sweat inside her armoured gloves, and her shoulder blades itched. The others had muttered some hollow celebration over the comms. Somebody had laughed and made a pun about skulls ¡ª Atyle, perhaps; Ooni couldn¡¯t concentrate on the words.

    But then Ilyusha had stomped forward and spat on the ground, right in front of the ruined skull.

    Ooni had felt a rush, a brightening of her senses, a light in her chest. She had twitched inside her armour, ready to move forward and follow that example. But her first step faltered.

    The Sisters would know of this desecration. They would be angry and offended, and they were all so much more dangerous when their dignity was wounded.

    Kuro might be watching.

    Ooni had donned her helmet and fallen in for the retreat.

    The fireteam spoke very little as they retraced their steps through the twisted passages and lightless tubes of this knotted tumour within the tomb. Leuca didn¡¯t complain out loud, but Ooni could read the frustration in her body language, even more curt and blunt than usual, despite Leuca¡¯s own vote for pulling out. Shilu said nothing at all, but she moved to stride at the head of the formation, just behind the vanguard of the forward drones, pre-empting Kagami¡¯s orders and directions. On the comms Victoria and Kagami both sounded tense and grumpy; their usual sniping at each other was cut off mid-sentence multiple times. Kagami¡¯s comments turned monosyllabic, while Victoria¡¯s orders grew simple and clear. Howl didn¡¯t speak at all. If Amina and Atyle were still in the cockpit they weren¡¯t saying anything. Pheiri himself sent the fireteam a couple of soft acknowledgement pings over the comms uplink, but that was all.

    Only Ilyusha managed to turn the humiliation into clean anger. She made no attempt to control herself, scraping the black metal floor with her clawed footsteps, banging the sharp spike of her bionic tail against the walls, unslinging her ballistic shield from her back and swinging it about. She hurried to every junction and side-passageway so she could stick her shotgun in there before the drones got into position, baring her teeth into the shadows.

    She spat and snapped and howled insults into the darkness beyond the drone escort ¡ª ¡°Come out and play, fuckwad coward!¡±, ¡°Piss drinking reptile rot-cunt!¡±, ¡°Cowering in a puddle of your own piss?! Come and fucking fight me! Rancid cunt bitch fuuuuuck! Come fucking fiiiight!¡±

    The lack of response did not dissuade her efforts. Kagami and Victoria gave token orders for her to cease. Once, Amina said something soft and worried over the comms.

    Ilyusha didn¡¯t care. She just kept going.

    Ooni wished she could be like that, free and wild and without fear. Her gun felt like a lump of iron in her hands; her own ballistic shield felt little better than a turtle¡¯s shell strapped to her back.

    As the fireteam crawled along the slow and winding path through the hidden guts of the tomb, guarded by the unblinking eyes of the drone escort, following the slender umbilical of a white line on the map in their heads-up displays, Ooni found herself beginning to admire Ilyusha.

    The petite cyborg berserker had terrified her at first, when Elpida had claimed Ooni and Leuca and brought them back to Pheiri. Ilyusha wasn¡¯t the only one who had shown open animosity, of course: Kagami had voiced her opinion several times, that Ooni and Leuca should both be shot out of hand, and probably eaten; Amina was obviously a born killer and wanted to cut out Ooni¡¯s guts, at least at first. Ooni¡¯s own growing respect and devotion to the ideal of Telokopolis had seemed to soften Amina¡¯s attitude somewhat, though they had not exactly shared a polite conversation since then.

    But Ilyusha?

    The way Ilyusha had looked at Ooni in those first few days was pure hatred. Only Elpida¡¯s orders had kept Ilyusha from tearing Ooni limb from limb. Ooni didn¡¯t complain. When Ilyusha looked at her, Ooni turned her eyes down. When Ilyusha shoved past her, Ooni apologised for being in the way. When Ilyusha insulted her, Ooni swallowed the venom and accepted that she deserved the mockery.

    After all, Ilyusha had never been so weak as to become a Death¡¯s Head.

    Yet, over the long weeks of companionship and close proximity before they had reached this tomb, Ilyusha¡¯s potent hate had curdled into mere contempt and dismissal. The insults didn¡¯t stop, but sometimes they were less aggressive. Ilyusha no longer glared with open desire to rip out Ooni¡¯s heart.

    And now she was trying to draw Kuro out of the shadows, into a stand-up fight.

    Ooni felt such gratitude. She had not shared a single kind word with Ilyusha ¡ª not least because Ilyusha would probably not want it from Ooni ¡ª but she resolved to thank Ilyusha when they were all safely back inside Pheiri, even if Ilyusha sneered at her and slapped her across the face.

    This was what it meant to be inside Telokopolis. Ooni clung hard to that new clarity. She felt her spine stiffen again.

    Three hours crept by, time measured in footsteps and junctions and the flex of armoured hands on steady guns. Three hours of progress through the pitch-dark innards of the tomb, lit by the blood-red illumination from the drones, following the thin white band on the map through the vast unknown patches of empty void, retracing their steps back toward the open spaces, back toward Pheiri, back to safety.

    Slowly, Ooni¡¯s relief turned to confusion.

    At three hours, twenty minutes, and forty seven seconds, in the middle of a single narrow corridor which curved away to the left, Kagami called for a halt.

    The fireteam was lost.

    ¡°Kaga, Kaga, hey, hey,¡± Victoria was saying over the comms. ¡°Calm down, just calm down and talk to me. Surely there¡¯s some explanation for this, a glitch in the mapping software, a mistake we made somewhere on the path, something we overlooked. Just talk to me. This¡ª this can¡¯t be right. They¡¯re not lost, that¡¯s impossible. They¡ª¡±

    ¡°The software is fine!¡± Kagami was shouting, thumping on something, probably the arm her chair. ¡°We did not fuck up! Pheiri did not fuck up!¡±

    ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know where my drones are, Victoria! They are exactly where they are supposed to be! I have been measuring every step of the way, mapping and scanning and recording, and it is all so much fucking bullshit!¡±

    ¡°Kagami!¡± Victoria snapped. ¡°I need solutions, not more of this tantrum¡ª¡±

    ¡°All the corridors are all fucking wrong! They¡¯ve changed!¡±

    The sounds of a brief struggle came over the comms. Kagami snapped and squealed. Victoria said something about how Kagami needed to not pull on her own hair. Howl stepped in with a soft growl through Elpida¡¯s throat.

    A moment of silence was filled by the distant static of the hurricane outside, and the gentle hum of the drones in front and behind.

    Shilu, up ahead, said nothing, staring past the drones. Ilyusha hissed and rolled her eyes and stamped her clawed feet. Ooni tried to stay silent, this was not her place to say anything.

    Leuca said, inside her helmet: ¡°Fireteam still holding position. Requesting orders.¡±

    Victoria¡¯s voice returned to the comms a moment later. ¡°Uh ¡­ okay. Pira, Pira do you, uh, do you read me?¡±

    ¡°Loud and clear,¡± Leuca replied. ¡°Go ahead, Victoria.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Uh ¡­ can you confirm that you¡¯re still on the same route you took on the way out there? According to the map in your heads-up display. You¡¯re still on the same path back, right? Does it look right to you?¡±

    Ilyusha snapped into her comms headset, ¡°¡®Course we are, Vicky!¡±

    ¡°Confirmed, yes,¡± Leuca said. ¡°We¡¯re in a long corridor, curves to the left. Pheiri has this corridor marked as e-dash-forty-four. Junction up ahead is labelled jay-dash-seventeen, junction we just passed is jay-dash-eighteen.¡±

    Kagami shouted, further away from Victoria¡¯s mic: ¡°But the junction wasn¡¯t there! And neither is the one up ahead. I can¡¯t see it on the drones! And the corridor should be going right, not left! It¡¯s all fucked!¡±

    Victoria took a deep breath. ¡°Okay, so, the interior layout of the tomb has changed¡ª¡±

    ¡°How!?¡± Kagami raged. ¡°I haven¡¯t detected a single sign of that! You¡¯re telling me the innards of this place can rearrange without any detectable motion, or sound, or energy signatures, just nothing?! Just fuck you, just like that?!¡±

    Ilyusha snorted. ¡°Yah! Just fuck you!¡±

    Victoria said, ¡°Kaga, it¡¯s a tomb, it¡¯s a giant nanomachine construct¡ª¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ve been watching it since the moment we got stuck in here!¡± Kagami screamed back. ¡°Me and Pheiri both! There¡¯s machinery inside the walls, gears and circuits and everything you can fucking imagine, and it¡¯s all right there! Visible! I can see what it¡¯s doing! How can it be moving, hm?! Explain that to me, Victoria, explain¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± Victoria thundered.

    Kagami fell silent. Somebody cleared their throat. Howl grunted. Ooni heard a sound which might have been Victoria wetting her lips.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Victoria said, calm again. ¡°We need to get them out.¡±

    Howl said, ¡°Enough flirting. Ideas?¡±

    In the cramped tomb tunnel, Ilyusha gestured with the butt of her shotgun. ¡°Hey. Corpse-fucker.¡±

    Shilu turned away from the drones. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You can see through walls, right?¡± Ilyusha shrugged, then tapped the black metal wall with the tip of her bionic tail. ¡°What do you see?¡±

    Shilu looked away from Ilyusha and stared directly at the nearest section of black metal wall. Her brow furrowed very slightly. She stepped up to the wall, raised her right hand, and made it turn into a blade. Ooni flinched, hidden inside her armour; the Necromancer¡¯s shape-shifting was so sudden and silent.

    Shilu put the point of her blade against the wall, then frowned harder. She pushed, first with her arm, then her whole body weight. The blade sank into the blank metal, then stopped, only about an inch deep. Shilu grunted with effort, then withdrew the blade and straightened up.

    ¡°The hell ¡­ ¡± Victoria muttered over the comms. ¡°You cut through powered armour earlier, what the ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°The metal has been densified,¡± said Shilu. ¡°I can¡¯t see through this, not more than an inch or two. Can¡¯t cut through it either. It wasn¡¯t like this before.¡±

    ¡°Fuck¡±! Ilyusha spat.

    Kagami hissed; several of the drones turned their sensor arrays to examine the walls. ¡°She¡¯s right. She¡¯s right! The metal here is dense now, much denser than before. It¡¯s almost like synthetic diamond. Pheiri¡ª¡± Kagami paused. ¡°Yes, Pheiri¡¯s scans confirm that hasn¡¯t happened out here, back in this chamber. Whatever we¡¯re looking at is a local phenomenon.¡±

    Leuca said, ¡°To stop us from cutting our way out.¡±

    Kagami barked. ¡°Ha! Absolutely not. Even at that density I could still cut through this with a drone¡¯s laser. It would take us a while. Twenty minutes for a hole, perhaps ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°There are a lot of walls between us and Pheiri,¡± Leuca said. ¡°It would take tens of hours. Not viable.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I know that,¡± Kagami hissed.

    Victoria said, ¡°Shilu, could the gravekeeper be doing this?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Shilu answered without hesitation. ¡°The gravekeeper has no reason to care. Gravekeepers are not controlled by Central. They cannot be suborned by Necromancers. They don¡¯t give a shit about us, not unless we bother them. This is something else. I don¡¯t know what.¡±

    Ilyusha snapped, ¡°Don¡¯t sound like you care much!¡±

    Shilu replied. ¡°I don¡¯t panic.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Kuro,¡± said Ooni.

    The others all looked at her, Leuca through her visor, Ilyusha swishing her tail with frustration, Shilu an unreadable corpse. It had taken Ooni so much effort to squeeze out those words, as if speaking them would make it true.

    A moment of silence passed on the comms, filled with static from beyond the walls.

    Ooni cringed inside.

    Kagami tutted, then said, ¡°We¡¯ve not picked up any of the audio Ooni described. Even if you were being followed by something on the way in, it¡¯s gone now, I can¡¯t detect any sign of it, nothing. And I don¡¯t think it was there in the first place. Let¡¯s stick to things we can confirm with sensors, yes?¡±

    It didn¡¯t sound like a question. It sounded like an order.

    But Ooni couldn¡¯t stop. Her jaw shivered and her teeth chattered, but the words poured out of her.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t hear the walls moving, but they¡¯re different now, aren¡¯t they?¡± Ooni¡¯s hands were shaking around the forward grip and stock of her submachine gun. She didn¡¯t need to breathe with her undead lungs, but she was panting now. ¡°Kuro must be using the same method. Whatever it is, she¡¯ll be using it to hide. She¡¯s hiding from your sensors, so she can follow us. It¡¯s her. It¡¯s her. It is her. It is her!¡±

    Victoria sighed. ¡°Ooni, Ooni, look, I know you¡¯re afraid, but that doesn¡¯t make any sense. For the sake of argument, let¡¯s assume you were being followed, and whatever it is can adjust the insides of the tomb. Why reveal that to us, rather than saving it for an ambush? We¡¯re tipped off now, we know to be cautious. Right? If ¡­ ¡®Kuro¡¯ was doing this, wouldn¡¯t she have set up an ambush before revealing that she can change the local geography?¡±

    Kagami grunted. ¡°Right, right. Exactly, Victoria.¡±

    Ooni shook her head. Her eyes flashed up and down the dark corridor in which the fireteam had paused, past the winking running lights of the drones, to where their floodlight illumination splashed crimson and scarlet up the walls. The visor of her carapace helmet tried to fill the darkness with night-vision green. Beyond that lay mile after mile of compressed shadows and tangled passageways.

    ¡°I already told you,¡± Ooni said; her voice felt so tiny. ¡°She likes to play with her food.¡±

    On the comms, Kagami snorted. Victoria drew in a breath, then said: ¡°Ooni, I¡¯m listening to you, but I need you calm down¡ª¡±

    An unfamiliar voice broke in, rough and tired.

    ¡°Listen to your point woman, hey? She¡¯s out there, down in the shit. You¡¯re in here, leading from the rear.¡±

    Was that ¡ª Sky, the newcomer?

    Kagami started to snap at Sky, telling her to shut the fuck up, she didn¡¯t even know them, what was she even doing in the control cockpit. Victoria sighed heavily and raised her voice too, arguing half against Kagami, half for everybody to stop. Howl joined in as well.

    Ooni couldn¡¯t take it.

    ¡°Please!¡± she shouted into the comms, her own voice deafening inside her helmet. The argument halted. ¡°Please, listen to me. This is how Kuro works. This is what she does. I know this pattern! She didn¡¯t hide this from us, because she wants us to be afraid! She wants us to be scared, so we make mistakes. She torments her targets, exactly like this, this is just on a bigger scale than ever before! She made the noises earlier on purpose, so I would know it was her, so I would know! Now she¡¯s got control of this area somehow, and she doesn¡¯t need to keep showing herself, she just needs to trap us and tire us out and terrify me¡ª us, I mean! Or just me! I don¡¯t know! I don¡¯t know what comes next. But it¡¯s her! Please ¡­ please. She¡¯s going to kill us ¡­ ¡±

    Ooni¡¯s courage drained away.

    Elpida would have believed her. Elpida would have listened.

    Leuca reached out and touched the shoulder plate of Ooni¡¯s armour, just a brush of fingertips, before returning her hand to her own weapon. Ilyusha started to nod, chewing on her own tongue, then said, ¡°Yeah! I¡¯m with fucknuts here.¡±

    On the comms, a second of silence passed. Then Victoria spoke.

    ¡°Alright. Alright, Ooni. Pira. Ilyusha. Shilu, you too.¡± Victoria swallowed and blew out a breath. ¡°We¡¯re going to proceed with the assumption that Ooni is correct¡ª¡±

    Kagami interrupted. ¡°My drones still don¡¯t see or hear anything out there¡ª¡±

    ¡°We will proceed with the assumption that Ooni is correct,¡± Victoria repeated herself, slow and clipped. ¡°Those are my orders. Do you want to take command, Kaga? Because you can. Come on. You want this seat? No? Didn¡¯t think so. Okay then, help me.¡±

    Ooni felt like her head was ringing. They ¡­ believed her?

    Victoria was talking again. ¡°We are going to assume that a hostile is hunting the fireteam, and that the hostile is capable of adjusting the corridors in that section of the tomb. Which means you four need to stick close together. I mean like real close together. Close enough to touch. Shilu, that means you too, I don¡¯t care if you can turn into metal and wriggle your way out. And try to keep each other visible at all times. If the corridors adjust fast enough, they might be able to cut you off from each other. We don¡¯t have any idea how it¡¯s achieved or how fast it can be done, and I¡¯m not losing any of you down there. Close formation, now.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Leuca replied. She took a step close to Ooni and shrugged her shoulder. ¡°Ooni, left hand. Hold onto me.¡±

    Ooni grabbed Leuca¡¯s shoulder plate, as ordered.

    Ilyusha snorted and shook her head, but she stomped over. She eyed Ooni through the carapace helmet faceplate for a moment, tail swishing, then pulled a nasty grin. ¡°Better watch my back good, shitbrains.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Ooni said. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Ilyusha narrowed her eyes, then turned around, tail spike waving only a foot from Ooni¡¯s face.

    Shilu strode over without a word, until all four were close enough to touch, shoulder to shoulder. The drone cordon was already pulling inward as well, retracting the scouts and narrowing the circle of protection.

    Kagami muttered, ¡°This reduces our forward scouting and limits any early warning, but sure, it¡¯ll stop me from losing any drones if the walls all start playing musical chairs.¡±

    Victoria said, ¡°Kaga¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m turning their cameras on each other. A nice little circle of drones, all watching each other¡¯s backs. I¡¯ve got eyes in every direction, including up my own backside. Don¡¯t tell me how to do my job, Victoria. I¡¯m three steps ahead.¡±

    ¡°Just keep doing it, Kaga.¡±

    Leuca cleared her throat. ¡°Commander, orders?¡±

    ¡°For now, keep moving,¡± Victoria said. ¡°Your directional orientation relative to Pheiri is still correct, so keep taking turns that lead you toward us. Ignore the map, we¡¯re going to refresh it in a sec. Keep moving, stay tight. We¡¯ve got you. We¡¯ll bring you home.¡±

    Ilyusha snorted. ¡°No vote this time, Vicky?¡±

    Victoria tried to laugh. ¡°No vote.¡±

    She was trying to sound like Elpida, but she couldn¡¯t quite get there. Ooni wished she couldn¡¯t hear the tremor in Victoria¡¯s voice.

    The fireteam set off again, advancing along the narrow tunnel, following the leftward bend. They reached the spot where the next junction should be, but there was only more passageway, interrupted further along by two entirely new junctions. They used the drones to scout ahead, then took a right-hand fork, heading in Pheiri¡¯s general direction.

    Progress was slower than before, bogged down by the necessity of the tighter formation, sticking close together, hands on each other¡¯s shoulders, walking right on each other¡¯s heels. The two dozen drones still took point, brought up the rear, and ducked into side-passages to confirm they were clear; but the drones¡¯ range was narrower now, barely leaving visual of the fireteam for more than a few seconds each, and always watched by at least one other drone. Kagami removed and refreshed the map in the fireteam¡¯s comms-uplink data-stream, to show only the areas they had visually confirmed since leaving the planetarium chamber.

    Ooni didn¡¯t like the new map. An ocean of darkness lay between her and Pheiri, a sprawling web of cancer in the tomb¡¯s dead flesh.

    The storm raged and screamed far beyond the walls, filling the air with heavy static, even this deep inside. The darkness crept up behind the fireteam as they moved, squirming back across the black metal as the drones withdrew their light. The corridors seemed to narrow and tighten as the fireteam took turns and branches, but they were still moving toward Pheiri, back toward the sane and sensible parts of the tomb; this realisation was the source of much unspoken relief. Whoever or whatever had adjusted the maze of twisted tunnels, they were unable to force the fireteam back into the depths. Ooni took heart from Leuca at her side and Ilyusha right in front of her, and from the now constant chatter back and forth with the control cockpit. Kagami slipped into a quiet professional tone, cataloguing each side-corridor anew, marking them on the map, directing the drones with all her wordless skill. Victoria kept up a nervous pep talk, reassuring herself as much as everybody else, but growing in confidence as the minutes stretched out.

    After an hour of creeping progress, the ocean of darkness narrowed to merely a wide river. Ooni was exhausted, but Pheiri was close.

    The fireteam exited a complex junction, with several separate chambers like the valves and pockets of a heart. They stepped out into a long corridor which seemed to twist back on itself up ahead, perhaps in a hairpin bend.

    Kagami was saying: ¡°I calculate you¡¯re no more than five hundred meters from where you went in. I¡¯ve dispatched a pair of drones to where the corridors narrow, and I can literally see the walls where it gets denser, though the density isn¡¯t as bad as it was. Here, coming up in your hud, bottom right.¡± Kagami sent the team a visual feed; it showed a much larger corridor, with a high ceiling and sharp corners, as expected from the less tangled part of the tomb. A series of narrow entrances punctured the wall ahead.

    ¡°I recognise that!¡± Ooni said. She couldn¡¯t help herself, the relief was too great.

    Kagami snorted. ¡°I should hope so, that¡¯s where you went in. That, at least, has not changed.¡±

    ¡°Fuck yeah,¡± Ilyusha growled.

    ¡°Stay sharp,¡± said Leuca.

    Victoria spoke over the comms too: ¡°We¡¯ve got a few stragglers from the tomb chamber who¡¯ve followed the drones ¡ª zombies, you know, our, uh, ¡®friends¡¯. So be careful when you exit, don¡¯t fire on them.¡±

    Kagami tutted. ¡°Fools and dirt should keep clear.¡±

    Victoria spoke with a smile in her voice. ¡°You¡¯re almost out. Keep going. Take the corner around, then the left branch up ahead, that should bring you closer to¡ª¡±

    Bang-bang-bang!

    Large calibre shots rang out, far to the fireteam¡¯s rear.

    The passageway exploded with sound and fury.

    Ooni swept the ballistic shield off her back, brought it around in a narrow arc, planted the base against the floor, and braced her shoulder against the rear of the mobile cover. Her other hand was firm and steady on her submachine gun. Her body had reacted before her mind had time to panic, the fear finally transmuting to action. Leuca slammed into a kneeling position behind the shield, rifle in both hands. Ooni felt something bump against her back and something hard and flexible wrap around her leg ¡ª Ilyusha¡¯s tail anchoring the team together, Ilyusha¡¯s back against Ooni¡¯s own, Ilyusha¡¯s ballistic shield covering the fireteam¡¯s other side.

    The passageway rang with the thump-crack and ratatatatat of firepower, energy weapons and solid-shot guns blasting away, the noise and back blast shaking Ooni¡¯s helmet. Green IFF indicators on her HUD confirmed all the shooting was outgoing ¡ª Kagami was drowning the rear of the corridor with bullets and bolts and laser beam stabs into the darkness. A drone shield flared, then went out in a burst of electric crackles.

    The firing ceased. The corridor was full of smoke and heat, trapped by the sudden silence.

    Ooni was panting, wild with adrenaline and shock, sweat running down her face inside her helmet. But her hand was steady on her submachine gun, and she was grinning like mad.

    Not Kuro! It wasn¡¯t Kuro! Kuro would never do something so overt and stupid as firing on a bunch of drones. It couldn¡¯t be her!

    Ooni felt like laughing. A firefight, that she could handle. A firefight with Ilyusha¡¯s tail wrapped around her shin? Even better. She couldn¡¯t believe this was happening, she couldn¡¯t believe her luck.

    Everyone was shouting on the comms. ¡°What was it?! Kagami, what was that, what were you firing at? What was it? What was¡ª¡±

    ¡°Nothing!¡± Kagami snapped, cold with panic.

    ¡°What?¡±

    Leuca said: ¡°Orders? Commander? We¡¯re sitting still here.¡±

    But Kagami was already rattling on: ¡°Nothing. Absolutely nothing on the sensors except the bullets themselves. Three armour-piercing rifle rounds from apparently nowhere. No motion detected, no heat, no infra-red, nothing. Like they came out of the fucking wall!¡±

    Ooni¡¯s heart went cold.

    ¡°It¡¯s her,¡± she whispered.

    Leuca said: ¡°Victoria, we have to move¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Victoria snapped. ¡°Go! Follow the drones! Keep those shields up, we¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    Bang-bang-bangbangbang-brrrrrt¡ª

    A fresh hail of surprise gunfire erupted from the dark ¡ª this time from the fireteam¡¯s front. This barrage was not a few rounds from a solid-shot rifle, but a full-auto trigger-squeeze from a heavy weapon, spraying a storm of bullets down the passageway, loud enough to drown out the hurricane outside. Ilyusha yelled an insult as rounds pinged off her ballistic shield, the impacts forcing her backward with a squeal of claws on the metal floor; Ooni felt a piece of shrapnel deflected by the rear plates of her carapace armour, bracing herself to support Ilyusha¡¯s weight as she pressed against Ooni¡¯s back. Drone shielding crackled to life a split-second later, soaking up the worst of the bullets.

    Kagami¡¯s drones woke up and returned fire, filling the corridor with deafening fury, followed by Kagami¡¯s shout over the comms: ¡°Nothing, again! There¡¯s nothing there!¡±

    Victoria snapped, ¡°We need to get them out! Can we advance under fire, can we¡ª¡±

    Howl interrupted: ¡°Fuck no, that¡¯s high-velocity autocannon fire. Those drone shields are scrap in under a minute.¡±

    ¡°The walls here aren¡¯t as dense,¡± Kagami rattled off. ¡°I¡¯m detaching a drone to start cutting. At least we can get them out of this trap.¡±

    One of the heavy drones jerked past Ooni¡¯s shins and turned to the wall, extending a pair of bright cutting lasers. The black metal began to glow and melt beneath the lasers¡¯ touch.

    Victoria snapped: ¡°Everybody around the drone! Get in close, keep those shields up!¡±

    Ooni followed her orders, shuffling sideways, Ilyusha¡¯s tail still wrapped around her shin, Leuca sheltered by the shields. A few stray bullets got through the drone cordon, pinging off the walls and leaving dents in Ooni¡¯s armour.

    Leuca asked, ¡°How long to cut¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fifty, sixty seconds!¡± Kagami said, then laughed. ¡°It¡¯s still dense. This¡¯ll be close, unless¡ª¡±

    Shilu strode past.

    The Necromancer had abandoned her human disguise, once more a scarecrow of black metal and sharp angles, her face a perfect white mask, stray rounds bouncing off her body like raindrops on concrete. Shilu stepped up to the drone cutting through the wall, made both hands into blades, and added her own strength to the task. She punched through the weakened metal left behind in the wake of the drone¡¯s cutting lasers.

    ¡°Alright, maybe twenty seconds,¡± Kagami admitted. ¡°Work fast, Necromancer!¡±

    Perhaps it was twenty seconds. To Ooni it felt like an hour, sheltered from a storm of lead pounding down the passageway.

    The drone finished cutting and jerked backward. Shilu rammed both sword-arms into the remaining scraps of metal, then kicked at the weakened outline. The metal popped out and fell down on the other side, falling through lightless air for a couple of feet, before landing with an almighty clang. The gap was just large enough for the team to duck through, edges glowing with residual heat.

    ¡°Hold position, hold!¡± Kagami snapped. The escort drones pulled close around the fireteam, a hail of bullets still slamming into their forward shielding. Half of the drones whizzed through the hole cut into the wall, throwing crimson light and shields up on the other side. ¡°Okay, it¡¯s clear! Three foot drop, do not break your fucking ankles! Go, move, now!¡±

    Shilu was closest; she folded herself up and leapt through the hole like a diver into water. Leuca scurried out from behind Ooni¡¯s shield, then scrambled through the gap, booted feet vanishing through the wall. Ilyusha was turning to cover Ooni¡¯s back, shouting ¡°Go, fucknuts, go next!¡± Ooni started to duck, to turn, to awkwardly lower her ballistic shield to get it through the opening¡ª

    A passageway had appeared ¡ª opposite the hole cut into the wall, where no passageway had stood before.

    The drones were not covering it, because it had not been there a split-second earlier.

    Pitch black, filled with shifting shadows, like a tongue in a yawning mouth.

    Ooni was the first to see this new passage, because she had been turning to get through the hole. Ilyusha was looking the wrong way; Shilu and Leuca were already through. Kagami¡¯s drones took a moment of machine-confusion to register the silent, unseen, inexplicable change to local topography.

    Ooni raised her submachine gun, aimed into the shadows of this surprise passageway, and pulled the trigger.

    The gun bucked in her hand, rocking against her elbow, spitting out half the magazine before she could stop herself. Bullets sprayed into the darkness, bouncing off walls, finding no target.

    Empty.

    Comms was full of shouting.

    ¡°Fucking what!?¡± Kagami screamed. ¡°That wasn¡¯t there a second ago! I told you, I told you the walls were moving¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ooni, Ooni!¡± That was Leuca, calling her name. ¡°Follow me, Ooni!¡±

    ¡°Get out of there!¡± Victoria shouted. ¡°Both of you get through that wall, right now!¡±

    The drone escort was already turning to cover this new passageway mouth, lighting it up with crimson beams and throwing temporary shields to block any ambush. A clawed hand grabbed Ooni¡¯s shoulder and yanked her back; she almost turned her weapon on Ilyusha before she realised who it was.

    ¡°Got my back, ha!¡± Ilyusha barked with laughter as she dragged Ooni toward the hole in the wall, shield up, tail unwinding from Ooni¡¯s leg and wagging in the air. ¡°Nice one, fucknuts! Nothing there though! Hahaha!¡±

    ¡°Nothing there ¡­ ¡± Ooni panted, heart pounding; she realised the rest of the gunfire had ceased, the autocannon had stopped, the silence was so sudden. ¡°Nothing there, nothing¡ª but¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha ducked to scramble through the drone-cut hole. She shoved her shield through before her, then¡ª

    The hole closed like a sphincter slamming shut, inches shy of Ilyusha¡¯s skull. Her ballistic shield was cut in half with a hollow thunk of severed metal.

    Part of the wall to Ooni¡¯s left moved ¡ª detaching, folding forward, striding free.

    A human figure slid from within the wall itself, as if out from behind a curtain of silk and oil. A thin sheen of black metal clung to the figure¡¯s surface like a coating of water, as if the metal of the tomb itself was a pool from which it had emerged; the effect was similar to Shilu¡¯s true form, a human outline wrapped with metal. But where Shilu was sharp and spiked and covered with edges, this figure was tall and blocky, heavyset, angular.

    But this was no Necromancer. It was a suit of powered armour wrapped in tomb-metal.

    Ooni knew the outline of that suit.

    Kuro.

    Yolanda¡¯s hound, the Sisterhood¡¯s strongest muscle, the worst sadist among all who followed the skull, was wearing the metal of the tomb like a second skin.

    Ooni raised her submachine gun in shaking hands, fingers suddenly slick with sweat, her own ballistic shield falling with a clatter. The comms was screaming in her ears, the drones were turning and throwing up shields and extending weapons. But she heard nothing, saw nothing, nothing except Kuro, looming over her, featureless behind a mask of black metal. If only Ooni could get her finger on the trigger, if only she could¡ª

    Ilyusha was faster.

    The cyborg berserker whirled to her feet, fouling Ooni¡¯s shot, confusing half the drones. She rammed the muzzle of her shotgun into the black metal of Kuro¡¯s face, lashing toward her with the tip of her bionic tail.

    ¡°Fuck you! Reptile fuck¡ª¡±

    Kuro¡¯s hand shot out, wrapped in the black metal of the tomb, and grabbed Ilyusha by the throat. Ilyusha pulled the trigger on her shotgun, three times in rapid succession ¡ª boom! boom! boom! ¡ª discharging slug-rounds point blank against the front of Kuro¡¯s metal-shrouded helmet.

    Kuro didn¡¯t even stagger.

    She lifted Ilyusha by the throat, ignoring the whirling of razor-sharp claws and red-tipped tail, and hurled her against the nearest drone, hard enough to send the machine crashing into the wall. Ilyusha hit the floor with the sound of breaking bones and snapping bionics. Kuro lashed out again and caught Ilyusha¡¯s tail, lifted her up like a flail on the end of a chain, and smashed her against the next drone. The machine careened off, firing wildly. The drones were peppering this metal-clad Kuro with firepower, but nothing was happening, as if the tomb itself protected her with imperishable metal, unblemished and true.

    Ilyusha tried to lurch back to her feet, spitting and hissing, clutching for her shotgun. Kuro backhanded her across the jaw so hard that Ilyusha slammed off the wall and slid to the floor.

    Ooni raised her submachine gun again ¡ª when had she lowered it? Why? ¡ª and curled her finger around the trigger.

    Kuro turned to look at her, ignoring the bullets from the drones, paying no attention to Ilyusha lurching upright and screaming obscenities. Even with her helmet and powered armour hidden behind that sheen of black, Ooni felt Kuro¡¯s gaze like a fist in her gut.

    Her trigger finger froze.

    Click-buzz; Kuro opening her exterior broadcast.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare,¡± said Kuro, high-pitched and girlish, muffled by static interference from her suit. ¡°Put it down.¡±

    Ooni hesitated ¡ª then yanked the trigger, screaming at the top of her lungs.

    The bullets did nothing.

    Kuro reached out, ripped the gun from Ooni¡¯s hands, and clubbed her across the helmet with the butt of her own weapon; Ooni¡¯s world went red, then black, then spiralled down into darkness.

    The last thing she saw was Ilyusha, striking like a bird of prey.

 tenebrae - 13.9

    Ooni woke slowly, in fitful halts and choking lapses, to the muffled static of the storm, an iron grip around her belly, and a painful throbbing in her head.

    For the span of several dozen laboured breaths, Ooni stared at the black metal floor between her own outstretched legs. Each and every beat of her heart pounded on the drum of her skull with a dull thump of oblivion. Her vision blurred and swirled. She grew dizzy for a time, tossed about on the tides of her own bloody pulse, until the dizziness receded; but then it would return in a slow creep, before pulling back again. Ooni¡¯s body was a rocky beach beneath the cold waves of a winter ocean. When that metaphor entered her mind, Ooni could almost see that winter-bound shore in her memory ¡ª the heavy grey skies, the dead grass on a headland, a line of withered seaweed on the rocks below, a warm arm around her shoulders. A memory of true life, shaken loose by a head wound. She struggled to hold onto the memory, but it slipped away as the waves scoured her empty.

    The static of the storm went on and on and on. The throbbing and the spinning and the static seemed eternal.

    Ooni was sitting on the floor, with her back rounded against a wall, sagging forward from her hips. An uncomfortable support around her stomach kept her from slumping face-first onto the black metal.

    She couldn¡¯t remember where she was, or how she¡¯d gotten there.

    Ooni knew she was concussed. She had been concussed before, more than once. Nanomachine biology would recover from this condition quicker than a live human being, though there was nothing Ooni could do but wait and breathe.

    Time trickled over Ooni¡¯s body. She must have passed into unconsciousness again, because she roused to find that she had drooled a little, her cold saliva pooling on the floor. After a while, perhaps minutes, maybe an hour, she grew used to the dizziness and the pain, though she could not tell if they had receded. Ooni realised there was another sound, beside her own instinctive breathing and the far-off roar of the hurricane ¡ª a gentle metallic ticking and scratching and clicking, like somebody nearby was working on a delicate machine.

    Ooni blinked several times to clear her vision, but the darkness was near total. When she tried to sit upright she discovered the source of the grip around her belly. A smooth band of seamless black metal encircled her waist at the narrowest point, exactly the same colourless void as the floor, pressing against the fabric of her tomb-grey t-shirt.

    She was pinned to the wall with a metal bracket.

    ¡°Unnhh ¡­ uhhn?¡±

    Ooni pawed at the bracket, but her hands were weak and the metal was strong. She pushed herself into a sitting position with the support of her booted feet. The effort sent a wave of dizziness and nausea washing upward from her guts and downward from her throbbing skull. She closed her eyes for a long moment to weather the storm, gasping and whining, leaning against the wall at her back. A deep chill seeped out of the metal and through her clothes, invading her shivering flesh.

    When the pain and dizziness had passed, Ooni opened her eyes and raised her head.

    A grey-white carapace helmet lay just beyond her boots. The visor was shattered. The forehead had been crushed inward.

    Her helmet? But how¡ª

    Kuro!

    Ooni jerked forward, trying to lurch to her feet, forgetting the metal band around her waist; the bracket dug into her guts and forced the wind from her lungs. She sagged forward with pain, head pounding with pressure, sobbing dry and breathless. She quickly swallowed her sobs and tore at the bracket; she keened through her teeth and pulled until her fingers felt like they might fracture. But the metal would not give, it was part of the wall, or else buried too deep for her to dislodge. She pulled herself upright again, panting rapidly, sweat beading all over her skin, eyes thrown wide.

    She was in a small, circular, black room; the floor, the walls, the curved dome of the ceiling ¡ª all were made from the same featureless, seamless, smooth, black tomb-metal. There were no doors or hatches or holes, no way in or out. The only interruption to the perfect inner surface of the room was a long table at the opposite end, also made of black tomb-metal. The table looked like it had been extruded from the wall and floor, with curved, half-melted edges, and simple flat sides instead of distinct legs.

    Kuro was standing at the table, with her back toward Ooni.

    Eight feet of silver-grey powered armour, blocky, angular, and functional. The suit bristled with weaponry set into every surface ¡ª short-range guns sunk-mounted on her arms, digital weapons inside her gauntlets, mechanical braces on her shoulders carrying plasma rifles, and the heavy weapon she kept mounted on her back, currently folded down and away. The massive reactor pack on Kuro¡¯s back whispered and hummed as it drank the air through armoured ventilation grilles.

    Kuro no longer wore the outer layer of black tomb-metal, which had been wrapped around her armour like a second skin. This was the Kuro Ooni knew.

    She was holding up a long mechanical object of some kind, poking at it with her other hand. Ooni didn¡¯t comprehend what she was looking at for a moment. The object was a slender mass of black and red, meaningless curves and angles, blurred by the pain in Ooni¡¯s head and the lack of illumination in the room. The only light came from the tiny overspill from within Kuro¡¯s suit reactor. A living human being would have been blind in this darkness.

    Three similar long objects lay on the table in front of Kuro; beside the table was a pile of carelessly discarded carapace armour plates, including the chest-plate from Ooni¡¯s armour, which still bore the crescent-and-double-line symbol of Telokopolis, green paint catching what minimal light it could. At the end of the table a set of weapons sat in a line, next to a pair of comms headsets ¡ª a sidearm, a trio of grenades, a submachine gun, and a big automatic shotgun. The first three belonged to Ooni, but the shotgun¡ª

    Ooni lowered her eyes.

    Ilyusha was lying about ten feet to Ooni¡¯s left, on her back, eyes closed. Sticky wet blood was smeared all over her face and matted into her hair. She still wore her bullet-proof vest. She wasn¡¯t breathing, but that didn¡¯t mean anything with zombies.

    Ilyusha had been dismembered.

    One of her bionic legs, both of her bionic arms, and the full length of her bionic tail had all been pulled from their sockets. Ooni stared into the exposed socket of Ilyusha¡¯s left shoulder ¡ª a spheroid cradle of black bio-plastic and hardened circuity in bloody crimson. Soft membranes fluttered deep inside, wet and red, leaking clear plasma from the violated joint.

    Ooni realised what Kuro was holding ¡ª Ilyusha¡¯s left arm.

    Ooni felt herself begin to withdraw, seeking the safety of Telokopolis within the confines of her own mind, all other thoughts receding behind a thick grey fog. She fought the impulse for a while; she told herself that such surrender would disappoint Elpida, would disappoint Leuca, and bring shame upon the very ideals of Telokopolis to which she now clung. But those ideals turned to dust, as grey and hazy as everything else. What point was there in struggling against the inevitable? Fighting would only make the pain worse, force Ooni closer to the surface of herself, to feel the torment all the sharper. At least if she pretended she was not here, she would not feel the bite of Kuro¡¯s teeth and the invasive probing of Kuro¡¯s fingers quite as much. Fighting would avail her nothing. She was stapled to a wall and stripped out of her armour; her companions were elsewhere or defeated or dead; she was an apostate and traitor, at the mercy of the one most of the terrifying members of the Sisterhood of the Skull.

    Telokopolis had been a brief and brilliant illusion, but nothing more.

    Ooni felt herself dwindle to a single cold point. A moment longer, and she would be extinguished.

    On the other side of the small black room, Kuro lowered the severed bionic arm back to the table with a faint scrape of Ilyusha¡¯s red claws.

    Click-buzz. Kuro¡¯s external broadcast speakers.

    ¡°Holding your breath won¡¯t help,¡± Kuro said. Her high-pitched, airy, girlish voice filled the small black chamber. ¡°I can hear that you¡¯re awake¡ª¡±

    ¡°Telokopolis is forever.¡±

    Ooni had not meant to speak; it was as if some alien force had squeezed her lungs and gripped her tongue, to make her say the words. The dying ember in her chest flared with sudden life again. She sobbed once, swallowed a second, then bit her own lips until she tasted blood. Her eyes found the gentle green glint of the crescent-and-double-line on the discarded chestplate of her armour, shadows threatening to swallow it up.

    Kuro turned around.

    The faceplate of Kuro¡¯s helmet was a blank grey slab. The grinning skull painted in the middle of her chestplate had been added to, with fangs and horns and additional eyes.

    Seconds stretched on, filled with the distant static and whipping winds of the hurricane. At first Ooni whimpered, fighting against her sobs, feeling the tears running down her cheeks, kicking with her boots as if she could somehow push herself through the wall, scrabbling at the metal band around her belly with both hands, until her fingers were sore and her nails broken and bloodied with fruitless effort. Moments became minutes; Ooni sobbed out those words again, holding them up like a shield ¡ª ¡°Telokopolis is forever, Telokopolis is¡ª forever¡ª Telo-telo-t-t-Telokopolis is f-forever¡ª¡±

    But as minutes lengthened and Kuro¡¯s silence continued unbroken, Ooni realised something was not right. Her sobs dried up, her words fell quiet, and her terror coiled back, held briefly in check by bewilderment.

    Kuro liked to play with her food, but Kuro wasn¡¯t playing.

    And Kuro was alone.

    Ooni had to swallow several times before she could talk. She spluttered, stammered some meaningless sounds, then said: ¡°Uh ¡­ where ¡­ where are ¡­ Yolanda, and Cantrelle? I thought I would be ¡­ t-taken to them.¡±

    Click-buzz.

    A long pause. Kuro left her exterior broadcast line open, without speaking.

    ¡°I ¡­ I mean,¡± Ooni added. ¡°If Yola ordered you to just kill me, then¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yolanda and Cantrelle went on ahead,¡± said Kuro.

    More silence. Was this bait? Ooni had no choice but to bite.

    ¡°W-without ¡­ you?¡±

    Kuro didn¡¯t answer. Seconds ticked by. Ooni expected Kuro to close the external broadcast line with a soft click, but none came.

    Through the dregs of a concussion and the terror of impending torture, Ooni realised this situation was upside down. Ooni should have found herself bound and gagged and tossed at Yolanda¡¯s feet, or already being skinned and eaten alive by Kuro, or simply dead, waking up in another resurrection coffin, decades or centuries apart from Leuca once again, never to find Telokopolis a second time.

    Kuro had never acted like this before, not towards her, not towards any other members of the Sisterhood, not that Ooni knew. Silences, stalking, savouring the fear of her prey, whether for food or simple pleasure ¡ª certainly, often, always.

    But Kuro was talking to her.

    Ooni was baffled, but she knew she had to keep Kuro talking.

    ¡°Did they ¡­ ¡± She swallowed, rough and hard. ¡°Yola and Cantrelle, I mean. Did they leave you behind?¡±

    Kuro¡¯s helmet turned to the featureless wall, as if looking at something far away. ¡°I¡¯m playing at being rearguard.¡±

    ¡°P-playing ¡­ at? You mean, not ¡­ not rearguard for real?¡±

    Kuro did not respond.

    A strange thought crept into Ooni¡¯s mind, a possibility she never would have considered during her days in the Sisterhood, let alone risked voicing out loud. But Kuro was acting in a way she never had before, as if she had been replaced, or changed, or had never been Kuro at all.

    ¡°H-how did you¡ª uh!¡± Ooni flinched when Kuro looked back at her, faced by the blank plate of Kuro¡¯s helmet. Ooni took a moment to find her words again. ¡°How did you do that, back there, with the walls and the black metal? Have you ¡­ made a deal with a ¡­ a Necromancer?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Kuro answered instantly. ¡°Don¡¯t insult me, Ooni.¡±

    ¡°Okay, okay, okay,¡± Ooni hurried to say, making a placating gesture with both hands. Kuro¡¯s voice had not sounded angry, but Ooni did not wish to risk her wrath. ¡°I-I just thought, that kind of control. When you came out of the wall, I thought you were a Necromancer or something, or¡ª or¡ª not really you, or ¡­ ¡±

    Kuro reached toward the nearest wall with her gauntlet and touched the black metal with a soft click of her armoured fingers.

    When she withdrew her hand, the metal followed.

    Black filaments adhered to Kuro¡¯s fingertips, stretching out from the wall like loops of hot tar, first sagging toward the floor, then pulling taut as Kuro dragged them further. With a flick of her wrist, Kuro detached the lines of flowing black goo from the wall; the separate strands waved in the air like seaweed in the shallows. Kuro twitched her fingers and the strands suddenly leapt together, combining into a single shard of black, long and straight, with a sharp point at the end.

    Kuro held the slender metal pick in her massive grey gauntlet. Ooni stared at the point and tried not to shake. Kuro tilted her helmet. Ooni knew Kuro was thinking dark thoughts.

    Kuro was going to ram that spike through Ooni¡¯s eyeball and into¡ª

    Kuro dropped the metal spike. It hit the floor without a sound, absorbed back into the black metal, like shadow joining shadow.

    ¡°Ferrofluid.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ w-what?¡± Ooni looked back up at Kuro¡¯s blank faceplate. Kuro did not repeat herself. ¡°Ferrofluid, right, yes. Uh¡ª I-I know what that means, magnetic fluid, right, yes¡ª¡±

    ¡°The tomb metal,¡± Kuro said. ¡°The black stuff. It¡¯s a kind of ferrofluid. It¡¯s held in place by internal fields, projected from the nanomachines themselves. The tomb is a magnetic sandcastle.¡±

    ¡° ¡­ okay.¡±

    Kuro raised the fingers of her right gauntlet again. ¡°Magnetic actuators in my suit. Code injection to take control of the fields. Just have to know how.¡±

    Ooni shook her head. ¡°The Sisterhood has been inside tombs before. You never ¡­ you never did this before. Were you ¡­ hiding this?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know how. Not until last night. Night? Is it night?¡±

    Ooni blinked several times before realising that Kuro had asked her a direct question, and was waiting for a reply. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    Ooni was terrified that the show was over; Kuro would lose interest now she had revealed her bizarre little trick. Ooni had to keep her talking, no matter what. Perhaps rescue was already on the way. Perhaps Kuro would present an opening that Ilyusha could use ¡ª but Ilyusha was in pieces, and Ooni was alone. Nobody was coming. Telokopolis was just¡ª

    Telokopolis is forever.

    Ooni swallowed, and said: ¡°But how¡ª how did you learn to¡ª¡±

    ¡°A ghost.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Ooni paused. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°A ghost taught me how,¡± Kuro said. Her voice crackled, as if she was breathing hard inside her helmet. She raised a hand and gestured at the ceiling. ¡°This storm, it¡¯s full of ghosts.¡±

    Ooni didn¡¯t know what to say. She opened her mouth anyway, hurrying to say something, anything, anything at all to keep Kuro talking.

    But then Kuro suddenly turned toward the wall on the right side of the chamber, striding away from Ooni and Ilyusha.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go anywhere,¡± Kuro said. Then she stepped through the wall, as if the black metal was nothing but a layer of falling water.

    Kuro was gone. The room was plunged into near-complete darkness, buried beneath metal and storm.

    Ooni let out a quivering breath, swallowed a dry sob, and struggled to hold back a tidal wave of fear, whimpering softly. Why had she not retreated into herself when she had the chance? Her mouth could have spewed any lies she needed to beg Kuro for her life ¡ª that she had left the Sisterhood under duress, that she intended to act as a spy, that she was sorry, that she wished for the symbol of the skull to be carved back into her flesh once more. But instead she had shown defiance, she had refused surrender. She had pledged herself to Telokopolis anew.

    But she did not want to be a martyr. She wanted to be safe.

    She had to get out of here, had to find a way to free herself, but the metal band around her belly was so hard and strong she couldn¡¯t shift it even with all the strength in her hands and¡ª

    Ilyusha¡¯s eyes snapped open, staring right at Ooni, blood-pale circles in the dark.

    ¡°Illy!¡± Ooni almost wailed, catching herself at the last moment, in case Kuro might hear. She tried to reach out toward Ilyusha, but the gap between them was too wide. ¡°Illy, you¡¯re alive! Okay, okay, we can, we can ¡­ ¡±

    Amid a mask of drying crimson, Ilyusha¡¯s lips peeled back from clenched teeth. Bloodshot eyes blazed with fury. She twitched her single remaining bionic leg against the floor, claws scraping on the metal; but she couldn¡¯t move herself, not at that angle, not with only one leg.

    ¡°Put my limbs back in!¡± she spat. ¡°Ooni! Put my limbs back in!¡±

    Ooni pulled at the metal band around her gut. ¡°I¡ª I can¡¯t, I¡¯m trapped here, I can¡¯t get out of this!¡±

    ¡°Try harder!¡±

    Ooni tried harder. She pushed and pulled at the metal band, then felt for where it joined with the wall, but she could not find even an inch of give. She tried to pull her hips upward through the bracket, but the opening was far too narrow. She tried to wriggle her ribcage downward through the metal, but that was impossible too.

    ¡°I-I can¡¯t!¡± she said. ¡°Illy, I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t pull myself out of here, I¡¯d have to break my pelvis just to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then break it!¡± Ilyusha hissed, spitting between her teeth, face a mask of rage.

    ¡°How?!¡± Ooni wailed. ¡°I don¡¯t have the strength to do that! I can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll fucking break your pelvis for you, you reptile fuck!¡± Ilyusha spat. ¡°Get my arms back on! Get them from the table! Put them back in the sockets!¡± Ilyusha kicked at the metal floor with her one foot, claws extended and clutching air, but she couldn¡¯t move, just wriggling on the spot.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up! Shut! Up!¡±

    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Get me closer!¡± Ilyusha raised her leg and waggled it in Ooni¡¯s direction. ¡°Might be able to cut you free! Grab! Grab!¡±

    Ilyusha strained as far as she could. Ooni did the same, both arms outstretched, compressing her belly against the metal until her insides were screaming. Her fingertips brushed one razor-sharp metal claw. Ilyusha grunted and stretched and¡ª

    Ilyusha yanked her leg away, went limp on the floor, and closed her eyes.

    ¡°Bitch is coming back!¡± she hissed.

    Ooni collapsed against the wall again, panting for breath.

    A moment later Kuro strode back into the room. She entered from a different direction to the one she had taken, appearing through the wall as if walking through a sheen of water. The metal closed behind her without a hint of whatever lay beyond, leaving the seamless circular room unblemished once again.

    Kuro stood still for a moment, staring down at Ooni and Ilyusha. Ooni held her breath, expecting retribution to be swift and final.

    But then Kuro stepped over to Ooni, moved the ruined carapace helmet aside, and sat down in front of her.

    Sitting cross-legged in a carapace suit was difficult enough; in powered armour the process seemed almost impossible, but Kuro made it look easy and natural. Ooni did not understand the details, but she knew from her time in the Sisterhood that Kuro lived inside the armour; she was physically bonded with it in some way, reliant on it for her biological processes. She sat down cross-legged as if wearing nothing more awkward than simple cloth.

    Ooni was so shocked; she didn¡¯t even flinch when Kuro reached for her face.

    Cold grey gauntlet fingertips touched Ooni¡¯s brow, then ran around the orbit of her right eye, pressing cold metal to fragile bone.

    Ooni began to shake as she realised what was happening. Kuro had grown bored of her, or was more interested in moving on to the next phase of her usual games, and was about to hurt Ooni very badly, with her fingers in Ooni¡¯s face. Ooni resisted the urge to screw her eyes shut as tears brimmed against her lids; that would only make it worse, inviting Kuro to yank her eyes open and stick her fingers into the sockets. Kuro¡¯s blunt armoured fingertips brushed across Ooni¡¯s nose and down to her lips. One questing digit pressed against her cheek. Ooni braced for her teeth to be broken, or perhaps her jaw. She whimpered, and knew that was a mistake. Don¡¯t show fear, never show fear, it makes Kuro so much worse.

    Kuro removed her hand.

    Click-buzz.

    Ooni stared at Kuro¡¯s empty grey faceplate. The heavy static of the storm was joined by the gentle static of Kuro¡¯s open line. The moment ended in a soft click as the line lapsed shut.

    Then, Kuro opened her helmet.

    The blank faceplate slid upward into the armour, revealing a glowing recess inside, flooding Ooni with gentle yellow-red light. Kuro¡¯s head was cradled by feather-soft layers of white bio-plastic membrane, as if held amid the diaphanous folds of an oceanic mollusc. Her face was briefly obscured behind layers of holographic readout, but those swiftly vanished, their lights fluttering off, leaving nothing between Ooni and Kuro but the shadows and the air.

    In all her time in the Sisterhood of the Skull, Ooni had rarely seen Kuro open her helmet. Kuro made no special secret of her face, but she preferred to stay sealed within her armour as much as possible.

    Kuro had always looked weird to Ooni, a human monster from the far future. Her skin was neon pink, dyed like plastic, patterned with deep orange spirals, and oddly poreless. Her facial features were small and delicate, with a neat little nose and bow-shaped lips. Her hair was a strange bronze-orange colour, like frozen rust, swept back in a smooth wave, vanishing into the feathery folds inside the helmet. Her eyes were both bionic, but of a kind that Ooni had never encountered elsewhere in the nanomachine ecosystem ¡ª red sclerae with no irises, just huge black pupils in the middle of each eye, flickering with tiny lenses.

    Ooni dared not speak first.

    Kuro said: ¡°Do you believe in ghosts?¡±

    Without her helmet and the comms, Kuro¡¯s voice was sweet and melodic, but clipped and short; she let words trail off into murmurs, as if growing unsure of them the moment they left her mouth. Her teeth were pointed and made of metal, shiny chrome behind soft lips.

    ¡°Um ¡­ ¡± Ooni answered eventually. ¡°Ghosts? I don¡¯t know. Maybe.¡±

    Kuro nodded slowly, her helmet unmoving, her head brushing against the delicate membranes inside.

    ¡°I was twenty one,¡± she said ¡ª then paused, eyes wandering up and to the left. ¡°Or ¡­ maybe I was twenty two. It¡¯s so long ago, I struggle to remember. But it was the year after the floods at the coast, when the trailing edge of the factory got washed away. I remember that sight, all those millions of tons of metal, washed downstream and out to sea ¡­ so much ¡­ waste ¡­ ¡±

    Kuro trailed off. Ooni swallowed; Kuro¡¯s eyes jerked back to Ooni.

    ¡°Twenty one or twenty two,¡± Kuro said. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Does it?¡±

    Ooni shook her head. ¡°No. No, it doesn¡¯t matter ¡­ ¡±

    Kuro nodded. ¡°Twenty one, then. That was the age I killed my first human being.¡± Kuro lowered her eyes to a spot on the floor, lost in places Ooni could not follow. ¡°I¡¯d killed plenty of factory jacks by then. Maybe one or two dozen. I¡¯d lost count. Started when I was seventeen, ish. Each of those kills just blurred into the next, because the factory jacks were so ¡­ ¡± Kuro sighed. ¡°They felt pain. I knew they felt pain, because if I wanted to kill one, I had to rip it off the factory systems first. I had to dump its log into my local terminal so I could lead it off somewhere quiet, else the factory would detect a malfunctioning part and send the recycling bots, and then I would be interrupted. Not that they cared, but it was a bother. So I always had all the readouts, I knew the jacks felt pain, but they never reacted to anything I did to them. A factory jack doesn¡¯t complain, doesn¡¯t scream, doesn¡¯t do anything. Just stands there and takes it. Once or twice I even got bored and let them go, rather than finishing them off. And you know what they did? They just shuffled back to their places in the factory, dragging their guts along behind them. Recycled for parts an hour or two later. It was ¡­ boring. Boring, boring, boring. Just nothing.¡±

    Kuro fell quiet for a moment. Ooni wasn¡¯t sure if she should respond. Eventually Kuro raised her eyes and frowned.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t kill an actual human being, you understand?¡± Kuro said. ¡°You understand?¡±

    Ooni swallowed and nodded. This seemed to satisfy.

    ¡°There were eighty million jacks in the factory,¡± Kuro went on, ¡°and more being spat out every hour of every day. But in Factory Head there were only three thousand actual human beings. Every single one of us was chipped, tracked, catalogued, all that, traced and monitored and looked after all the time. I could hack the system to hide myself from Factory Head, move around unrecorded, hide other people, do whatever I wanted. And I did, several times. Did things, stole stuff, went places people weren¡¯t meant to go, though everybody had forgotten why.¡± Her lips curled upward at the corners, in fond nostalgia ¡ª then collapsed back into a frown. ¡°But a missing person? A body?¡± Kuro shook her head. ¡°Impossible. Every human being at Factory Head was of incalculable value. There were no ¡®undesirables¡¯, no ¡®subhumans¡¯. I could not have gotten away with it. Had to go elsewhere.¡± She began to nod, taking a deep breath. ¡°Had to go kill a hiver.¡±

    Ooni nodded along. She had no idea what Kuro was talking about, but nodding seemed the right thing to do.

    Kuro carried on, eyes drifting aside as she continued.

    ¡°I started by stealing a lifter, for transport, from the factory systems. Could have taken a bike or a real hopper pod, but those would have drawn more attention from actual people. So, pulled a lifter, erased all the logging. Didn¡¯t tell anybody where I was going, or that I was going at all. I had to pull a complex hack, make the systems think I was in my quarters for two whole days. Had a circle of fuckbuddies and special friends, kept them out with a lie about being deep in meditation. Once I was ready, I had to pilot the lifter past the perimeter on manual.¡± Kuro¡¯s lips curled upward again. ¡°Nobody had touched the perimeter systems for decades. All those guns and walls and anti-air bubbles, all pointing outward, not fired a shot in half a century. Minefields, hidden bunker complexes, whole legions of combat bots on standby. But I made it through alright. Didn¡¯t wake up any killer robots. Got pinged by a concerned Def-Syst Agent, all worried about a human heading out alone. But I hacked it and made it not see me. That was fine. Then I went north.¡±

    Kuro fell silent, staring at the black metal wall, her strange red eyes very far away. Ooni swallowed. Kuro still didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°North?¡± Ooni risked.

    ¡°North, yeah,¡± Kuro said softly. ¡°North. Into the empty. Did three hours on manual just for the hell of it, then set the lifter to auto and drifted off in the driver¡¯s seat. There wasn¡¯t much to see, just scrub and bush, red soil for mile after mile, low hills. After a few hours I got a good view of the coral mountains to the west, but you could see those well enough from Factory Head.¡± Kuro shrugged, the shoulders of her powered armour rising and falling with a gentle whine. ¡°That wasn¡¯t what I was there for. I was there to find a hiver.¡± Kuro took a deep breath and sat up straighter, towering over Ooni inside her armour. ¡°Rode the lifter for about twelve hours when I realised I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. Nobody from Factory Head had come that far north in generations. I started to feel ¡­ odd. Like I was a space traveller or something, out there in the stars. What was I expecting? Hivers just wandering around, ripe for the picking?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I didn¡¯t go far enough to see the hives themselves. I wasn¡¯t that stupid, or that desperate. It would be another ¡­ thirty years? Mm. Another thirty years before I¡¯d see the hives themselves. I just wanted to catch a stray.¡±

    Kuro took a deep breath and let it out slowly; Ooni realised with numb shock that Kuro¡¯s lips were trembling.

    ¡°It was dawn when I spotted them.¡± Kuro¡¯s voice trembled too, just like her lips. ¡°I assumed they were out foraging, or hunting wild game, something like that. A fool¡¯s assumption. The hives didn¡¯t need to hunt and gather. But I thought ¡­ hunting, right, because they all had these spears made of extruded chitin. I thought they were just bone or something. They were standing on a low ridge, silhouetted against the sky.¡± Kuro raised a gauntlet and gestured at nothing. ¡°They didn¡¯t have to fear predators. They didn¡¯t fear anything. This was their domain, and they¡¯d seen nothing like me for decades.¡±

    Kuro¡¯s eyes were wide. When she stopped speaking, her lips hung open.

    Ooni said: ¡°And?¡±

    Kuro swallowed. ¡°When I looked at them through the lifter¡¯s cameras, I was ¡­ confused.¡± Kuro squinted and shook her head inside her helmet, as if reliving the moment. ¡°They didn¡¯t look like the pictures and videos of hivers I¡¯d seen. I don¡¯t mean that I¡¯d found something else, they were hivers, I wasn¡¯t mistaken. But they just weren¡¯t ¡­ weren¡¯t what I¡¯d expected to see, and I wasn¡¯t sure what I¡¯d expected. They were standing upright, backs straight, expressions composed, watching me approach in the lifter. They had this mottled skin, red and white, with fur down their backs and all over the rear of their legs and arms. It took me a long time to realise why they looked so odd to me.¡± Kuro suddenly turned her head and stared directly into Ooni¡¯s eyes. ¡°Do you know why?¡±

    Ooni shook her head. ¡°No. No, I-I don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d never seen an unaugmented human before.¡±

    ¡°Oh ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Everyone at Factory Head was augmented. I had two extra arms, skin art, some bionics. Everybody was covered with them. The most recent birth was seventeen years ago, so I¡¯d never seen a fresh baby, either. The factory jacks, they were encrusted with machinery too. But the hivers?¡± Kuro¡¯s voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°Nothing. Untouched. Natural.¡±

    Ooni stayed silent. Kuro trailed off, then sat up straight again, nodding to herself.

    ¡°I drove the lifter right at the hivers on the ridge. Straight on, charging them. They scattered. I picked one to run down. Not the slowest or the weakest, that wasn¡¯t what I wanted. I picked one who ran fast. A female, young, fit. If hivers were humans, she would have been in her twenties. I turned the lifter and ran her down. I¡¯d planned to bump her with the front of the machine, just enough to knock the wind out of her and keep her down for long enough so I could get to her. But she turned at the last second and levelled that spear. Bone against metal, I thought. Or I didn¡¯t think. Ha ¡­ ¡±

    Kuro smiled to herself, flashing metal teeth, eyes distant.

    ¡°The spear wasn¡¯t bone, it was hiver chitin. She rammed the end into the ground and let the momentum of the lifter carry it onto the point. Tore through the front bumper like a blowtorch through butter. Punched the chassis, went right into the engine block, then out into the driver¡¯s compartment. Missed me by a foot or two. I panicked, slewed the lifter, hit her with the side, harder than I¡¯d intended to. Broke one of her legs. She went down, but the lifter was broken too.¡±

    Kuro let out a huge sigh. The smile was gone.

    ¡°I¡¯d had a plan, you see. Tranq the hiver, pull her onto the lifter, then speed back south. Find somewhere quiet, wait for her to wake up, then do to her the kinds of things I¡¯d done to the factory jacks. But this time with screaming and ¡­ and ¡­ and all of it.¡± Kuro¡¯s eyes were wide and staring, her breath ragged, almost panting. ¡°But she¡¯d wrecked the lifter, and she was screaming, and ¡­ and when I jumped down out of the lifter ¡­ ¡± She shook her head. ¡°We¡¯d always been taught the hivers were small, stunted, muties. That¡¯s how they made them look in all the old footage. And they were short and small, that¡¯s true. She ¡­ ¡± Kuro faltered. ¡°She was no more than four feet tall. But she was muscled like a crocodile. Must have weighed a hundred and fifty pounds. Dense bones, lots of muscle. Long hair, real long. Purple, like oil on water. She was beautiful. And she¡¯d wrecked my ride. She¡¯d already won.¡±

    Kuro went silent. The silence stretched on, filled with the static of the storm beyond the tomb.

    ¡°Did you ¡­ ?¡±

    Kuro looked right at Ooni again. ¡°I couldn¡¯t do it. Not in the way I wanted. She was a human, you understand? Hivers, they were just human beings. Different. Drifted far from factory stock. Eusocial, whatever. But they were humans. She, the hiver, she fought like a human. I didn¡¯t expect that, and I wasn¡¯t ready for it. All I¡¯d done were factory jacks. She fought like a cornered animal, ¡®cos that¡¯s what we all are. Cornered animals. And I couldn¡¯t do it. She spat and hissed and bit. Got my hands around her throat, but then she ¡­ she spoke. Spat words at me. Insults, probably. But words.¡± Kuro shook her head again, cushioned inside her armour. ¡°Couldn¡¯t do it. Couldn¡¯t do it.¡±

    ¡°But ¡­ you did kill her.¡±

    Kuro pulled her lips back, hesitant and jerking, as if in memory of a snarl. The expression subsided. ¡°Mm. Left her on the ground. Got my gun from the lifter. Shot her in the head. Felt like nothing. By that point the other hivers were sprinting back, waving their spears. I shot at them to drive them away. They followed me for a week, back south. That was ¡­ a different story. Too long. I made it back, but ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°But?¡±

    Kuro eased back, growing calm again, eyes still far away. ¡°The hive remembered me. That¡¯s how it worked. Not those ones, those specific hivers, but the hive itself. The hive had a long memory. That¡¯s how I died in the end. Hive got me. Revenge for a murder.¡±

    Kuro lapsed into a heavy silence, then suddenly jerked upright and stared at Ooni, eyes wide and manic.

    ¡°Last night, I saw her ghost,¡± Kuro said. ¡°The hiver woman I killed, an eternity ago.¡±

    ¡°T-that¡¯s¡ª okay, Kuro, okay¡ª¡±

    ¡°She came to me. The others couldn¡¯t see her, not even Yolanda. I thought she was a hallucination, but she was real. She spoke to me in that hiver language, and this time I understood every word. She gave me the code structure for this.¡± Kuro tapped the black metal floor with a fingertip of her gauntlet. ¡°Told me the secrets of moving the ferrofluid. And then she forgave me. Imagine that, Ooni. Forgiving a serial killer. Forgiving your own murderer.¡±

    Ooni expected Kuro to laugh; the old Kuro would have laughed, cruel and sadistic, hissing with static inside her helmet.

    This Kuro just stared, and somehow that was worse.

    Ooni struggled for words. ¡°I ¡­ I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Kuro leaned forward. Ooni cringed away, pressing herself against the wall, trying to turn her head aside. Kuro reached out and took Ooni by the chin, gently but firmly, the strength of her suit impossible to resist. She turned Ooni until their eyes met again. Her lips were parted, showing those metal teeth.

    ¡°This storm is full of ghosts,¡± Kuro said. ¡°They¡¯re all around us, all the time, watching us, inside us. Ghosts, Ooni. Ghosts.¡±

    ¡°Okay, okay, okay, I believe you, I believe¡ª¡±

    ¡°They want things from us. I don¡¯t understand what, or why. Why would my first victim forgive me? Why would she think that was something I wanted? Why would she do that? Why?¡±

    Ooni whimpered, trying to turn her head away, but Kuro would not let her.

    Kuro had not truly changed; she had simply been using Ooni, unburdening herself of the irreconcilable contradiction caused by the appearance of this ¡®ghost¡¯. Now the process was reaching a climax ¡ª the responsibility for resolving this paradox was passed to Ooni, and Kuro demanded an answer.

    ¡°Why did she do that, Ooni? Why did she do that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t, I don¡¯t know, Kuro,¡± Ooni panted. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Kuro yanked Ooni¡¯s head forward, then slammed it backward, against the black metal of the wall.

    Pain blossomed in Ooni¡¯s skull like a wave of fire, chased by a heave of nausea, leaving behind a scoured landscape as her vision blurred with tears. She gasped for breath, straining against the metal band around her belly, but there was no escape.

    Kuro¡¯s face filled Ooni¡¯s vision, metal teeth parted, red eyes burning.

    ¡°Why would a ghost forgive me, Ooni? Why would she give me the secrets of the tomb? Why do that, why give me anything?¡± Her hand tightened on Ooni¡¯s jaw; if Ooni could not answer, Kuro would start to break her. ¡°Why? Ooni? Why? Why would she¡ª¡±

    ¡°Because¡ª¡± Ooni spluttered.

    Kuro¡¯s grip loosened. ¡° ¡­ yes?¡±

    ¡°Because ¡­ because ¡­ ¡±

    Kuro¡¯s grip tightened again; she could tell Ooni was just stalling. ¡°Ooni. Why?¡±

    ¡°Because, I¡ª I don¡¯t¡ª Kuro, st¡ª I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Kuro¡¯s face loomed closer, blotting out the little black chamber, filling Ooni¡¯s vision with her pinkish skin. Her metal teeth parted, jaw opening wide; she was going to clamp down on Ooni¡¯s offending lips and bite them off Ooni¡¯s face. A scream started to claw its way upward from Ooni¡¯s guts. Ooni pushed at the band of metal around her belly and slapped at the front of Kuro¡¯s armour, but she was so weak. She tried to get her fingers inside Kuro¡¯s helmet, but Kuro¡¯s other hand shot out and clamped around her wrist. In her peripheral vision Ooni saw Ilyusha¡¯s eyes snap open with alarm, but Ilyusha could not do anything to help.

    Ooni screamed, right into Kuro¡¯s open maw.

    ¡°Because Telokopolis is forever!¡±

    Kuro paused.

    Ooni panted for breath. She did not know where the words had come from.

    Kuro closed her mouth, withdrew her hand, and sat back.

    ¡°Telokopolis,¡± Kuro echoed. ¡°You said that earlier. Yolanda¡¯s superhuman said it as well. ¡®Elpida¡¯. Telokopolis. What does that mean, Ooni? Tell me what that means.¡±

 tenebrae - 13.10

    ¡°Telokopolis was a¡ª¡±

    Ooni winced, biting her bottom lip until she tasted the blossom of blood on her offending tongue. She refused to blame her mistake on the concussion, or the fear, or the static haze of the storm, or the unblinking focus of Kuro¡¯s stare.

    The mistake was her own. Her faith felt so fragile.

    She tried again.

    ¡°Telokopolis is a city. A living city, with meat and bone and brains on the inside. Alive, with a mind, and a¡ª a soul, I guess. It¡¯s built in the shape of a spire, like ¡­ like this.¡± Ooni raised both hands and put her fingertips together to form a sharp wedge, pointing toward the occluded heavens beyond the tomb. The gesture helped to steady her shaking hands. ¡°It¡¯s a very¡ª very special city. Unique, in all¡ª all the ages before this, before us. It¡¯s where Elpida came from. She was, uh ¡­ it¡¯s hard to explain, and I don¡¯t understand all the details, but she¡¯s a daughter of the city. Literally, physically, biologically. The city made her, and gave birth to her, and all her sisters. And¡ª and Telokopolis still exists, that¡¯s the important part. Even in this afterlife, it¡¯s still out there. It¡¯s on a plateau, very far away, but we know where it is. We have proof of that¡ª¡±

    ¡°We?¡± Kuro echoed.

    Ooni choked on the rest of her sentence.

    Kuro¡¯s expression was unreadable, eyes wide inside the open faceplate of her helmet, pink skin framed by the feather-soft folds which cradled her skull, her powered armour a grey smear against the featureless black wall of the small circular chamber. If Ooni turned her gaze aside, Kuro was reduced to a face floating in the black, emerging from a bloom of pale-flesh petals.

    ¡° ¡­ w-we, yes,¡± Ooni confirmed. ¡°Elpida ¡­ and ¡­ and the others. Elpida¡¯s comrades. Her ¡­ girls. Her ¡­ ¡±

    Ooni trailed off. Her words felt so inadequate. She longed to express herself with the same clarity and charisma as Elpida; if only Elpida was here, then even Kuro would be forced to understand.

    ¡°You belong to her now,¡± said Kuro.

    It wasn¡¯t a question, but Ooni shook her head. ¡°No, no, that¡¯s not¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to mislead me with something so simple, Ooni.¡± Kuro¡¯s high-pitched voice filled the small chamber with airy irritation. ¡°You¡¯re not smart enough for that. You¡¯re no double-agent, playing both sides. That way out is closed. You are no longer one of us, no longer a Sister of the Skull. That¡¯s a statement of fact.¡±

    Kuro reached for Ooni¡¯s face again, armoured gauntlet rising through the shadows, fingers curling to cup Ooni¡¯s chin, to deliver punishment and correction for the wrong answer. Ooni¡¯s hands fluttered with surrender and submission. She squeezed against the wall at her back, trapped by the metal band around her belly. Her lips tried to form an apology¡ª

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that, Kuro!¡± she spat. ¡°You don¡¯t understand!¡±

    Ooni was stunned by the fire in her own voice. She didn¡¯t sound like herself, as if a hidden passenger had crawled up her throat and spoken the truth in her defence.

    Kuro¡¯s hand paused, then returned to her armoured lap. She tilted her head, helmet unmoving, skull brushing through the layers of feathery white flesh-folds.

    ¡°You¡¯re right!¡± Ooni said, clinging hard to this sudden hot spark in her mouth, though her words quivered and her chest was shaking. She lowered her own hands and wrapped them around the metal band which held her pinned to the wall. ¡°I¡¯m not a Sister of the Skull anymore. Not a ¡®Death¡¯s Head¡¯. I ¡­ I don¡¯t want to be. I don¡¯t want to be! I wouldn¡¯t come back if you begged me! But that¡¯s not what I meant. Not what I meant at all. It¡¯s not about Elpida, not about the others. Not even¡ª not even Leuca! I-I haven¡¯t been seduced or coerced or corrupted. That¡¯s not how it works. It¡¯s about Telokopolis.¡±

    ¡°A city.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Ooni hissed. ¡°More than a city, more than her physical body. I am inside Telokopolis, right now. Even here, alone in the dark, as your captive, I am armoured by her walls. I am inside Telokopolis. I am one of her daughters, no matter what I was born as, no matter what I¡¯ve done in the past. No matter what. I am inside Telokopolis! Right now!¡±

    Kuro just stared.

    Ooni shook all over, panting hard, throat closing up. She knew her words were not enough, her passion meant nothing. Her eyes flickered past Kuro, to where the discarded plates of carapace armour lay against the opposite wall. The crescent-and-double-line of Telokopolis, daubed in green on the chestplate, still glistened despite the near total darkness.

    Kuro turned her head to look. ¡°That¡¯s what the symbol means? That¡¯s Telokopolis?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes. Yes. The spire, and ¡­ and the world. I-I think.¡±

    Kuro started to turn back to Ooni, but then paused halfway, to stare down at Ilyusha lying on the floor, a dismembered torso with only one bionic leg left attached; Ilyusha had already closed her eyes again, pretending to be unconscious or dead.

    Kuro spoke without looking up. ¡°You think?¡±

    Ooni swallowed, then nodded. ¡°Some of the others say it¡¯s ¡­ t-the moon, or a symbol for unity, or infinity, or a zero, or ¡­ or other things. But I think it¡¯s the world.¡±

    ¡°You think.¡±

    Ooni¡¯s words ran out; the brief fire she had felt upon her tongue was fading back to an ember, slick with blood and chilled by fear. The black metal wall was so cold against her back and legs. The band around her waist seemed tighter than ever.

    Kuro gestured toward Ilyusha. ¡°Is she a daughter of Telokopolis as well?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Yes, of course. We all are, we¡ª¡±

    Kuro reached down to Ilyusha¡¯s helpless body and stuck the fingers of one armoured gauntlet into the exposed bionic socket of Ilyusha¡¯s left shoulder. She yanked hard, dragging Ilyusha sideways by several inches, pulling her by the softly fluttering innards of the violated cybernetic implant. Ilyusha let out a strangled gasp of pain, eyes rolling behind closed lids, cold sweat breaking out on her face. But her eyes stayed shut. After a moment her breathing settled, then ceased once again.

    Kuro raised her head, finally looking back up at Ooni.

    ¡°Not very good armour, this Telokopolis,¡± she said.

    Then Kuro smiled.

    Ooni fought down the urge to scream; that would only inflame Kuro¡¯s desires. Ooni knew that smile ¡ª wide and sweet, accompanied by a crinkling in the corners of the eyes, like Kuro really was nothing more than a young girl playing in a meadow, showing all her shiny, sharp, metal teeth. This was just another one of Kuro¡¯s cruel games, like every other time she had cornered Ooni in a dark, cramped, lonely place. How could Ooni have been so naively optimistic, to believe that Kuro really wanted to know about Telokopolis? Whatever Ooni said, her chances of survival were still slim to none.

    Her words did not matter. She was already dead.

    For the first time ever, it didn¡¯t matter what she said to Kuro; there was no Sisterhood here, no slender excuse of greater purpose to keep her alive. No matter how much she wanted to make it out, she was not going to. Avoiding pain was impossible; Kuro would do worse to her before the end than sticking fingers into her sockets. Fear would have left her crippled and muzzled, but for a single handhold.

    Ooni had spoken the truth ¡ª even now, she was still within the embrace of Telokopolis.

    Ooni swallowed and took a deep breath. She was shaking all over, covered in cold sweat, and completely powerless. She did not want to be a martyr, but the choice was not her own. The only thing she could do was ruin Kuro¡¯s fun, and that was cold comfort.

    All Ooni had was the truth, and the truth felt like victory.

    ¡°Telokopolis is greater than the sum of its parts!¡± she hissed. ¡°Me, her, Elpida. It doesn¡¯t matter! Telokopolis rejects nobody, leaves nobody outside. It¡¯s for everybody, everybody! Even me! That¡¯s what Elpida has been doing. She did it with the others, then with Pheiri, the tank. Then with me! That¡¯s what it means, Kuro! Nobody gets left behind!¡± Ooni¡¯s voice rose to a reedy shout, echoing off the walls of the little black chamber; her head throbbed with every word, but her veins rushed with fire and thunder, in a way she had not felt since true life. ¡°Nobody gets left behind, or eaten because they¡¯re weak, or cast out because they can¡¯t measure up! It¡¯s nothing like the Sisterhood, nothing like you!¡±

    Kuro opened her mouth ¡ª but Ooni already knew what she was going to say, and shouted over her.

    ¡°And it¡¯s strong!¡± Ooni almost screamed, straining forward across the band of metal around her belly, pushing at it with both hands so hard her fingers ached. ¡°It¡¯s a hundred times, a thousand times, a million times stronger than the Sisterhood, than any Death¡¯s Heads! It¡¯s stronger than Yolanda could ever be. It¡¯s stronger than you, Kuro! Telokopolis is stronger than you!¡±

    Ooni paused, heaving for breath, tears running down her cheeks.

    Kuro waited a moment, almost as if for Ooni to continue. Then she said: ¡°And yet I am free, and you are bound.¡±

    A strange laugh clawed up and out of Ooni¡¯s throat. ¡°You think that matters? You know why Telokopolis is strong? Because it¡¯s united! We! We! We! Me and Leuca and Elpida and Ilyusha here and all the others! Even the ones who think I¡¯m a traitor and a coward and a weakling, they¡¯re all one with me and I¡¯m one with them! Because we¡¯re not in competition with each other! We¡¯re together! Together!¡±

    ¡°Like a hiver,¡± Kuro muttered.

    ¡°And we¡¯re strong!¡± Ooni shouted again. ¡°We¡¯re strong!¡±

    ¡°We were strong,¡± Kuro said. ¡°We could do whatever we wished, to whomever we wanted. The Sisterhood was¡ª¡±

    ¡°We were never strong!¡± Ooni spat, rage taking her, face burning, kicking out at Kuro in a way she never would have dared before, though her boots could not reach Kuro¡¯s armour. ¡°We picked on weak targets and ate those who couldn¡¯t defend themselves. You call that strong?! Scavengers, carrion-eaters, and weak! We ate each other! I remember you, Kuro, eating bits of me, because I couldn¡¯t stop you! Does that make you strong, or a coward?! You don¡¯t have the courage to face Telokopolis, because you¡¯re weak and you¡¯re alone!¡± Ooni¡¯s voice dropped to a cold point, squeezed out between panting breaths. ¡°Don¡¯t think I can¡¯t see that.¡±

    Kuro¡¯s face flickered with a delicate, girlish frown. ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s Yolanda, hmm!?¡± Ooni said. ¡°Where¡¯s your beloved mistress with her orders and her punishment and her hands all over you?! Where are the others? They¡¯ve abandoned you, haven¡¯t they? Or you¡¯ve abandoned them. And I¡¯m not abandoned. I¡¯m not alone.¡±

    Kuro¡¯s frown darkened with something Ooni had never before seen on her face ¡ª real anger. ¡°Your friends won¡¯t find you, Ooni. They¡¯re not going to¡ª¡±

    ¡°But they¡¯re trying!¡±

    ¡°And they won¡¯t succeed. So much for Telokopolis.¡±

    Ooni barked with laughter. ¡°You still don¡¯t understand, Kuro. Telokopolis is forever! You can¡¯t kill her, you can¡¯t even wound her. Killing one of us does nothing. Nothing!¡±

    ¡°What if I kill Elpida?¡±

    A brief tremor of disgust gripped Ooni¡¯s bowels. She knew better than almost any of the others that Elpida was not invincible. She had watched Leuca empty a magazine of bullets into Elpida¡¯s gut, and had witnessed Elpida chained and tortured by the Sisterhood. Elpida could bleed and die, just like any other zombie.

    ¡°Elpida is not Telokopolis,¡± Ooni said. Her courage rallied to the words. ¡°If she falls, the rest of us carry it on. Me and Leuca and¡ª¡±

    ¡°What if I blow up your tank? Kill all your companions? Eat the flesh, eat all of you, turn you into more of me. What if I wipe out the whole group? What then, Ooni? What¡¯s ¡®forever¡¯ then? Your meat in my gut?¡±

    Ooni forced herself to laugh through the fear; it helped more than she had expected, and the laugh became real. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter! Others would take up the mantle! We¡¯ve converted so many now, Kuro. All those zombies we gave meat, all the zombies Elpida spoke with, even if they don¡¯t get it like we do, not yet. But they will. Are you going to kill all of them, too?! Hunt down any whisper of Telokopolis? What about when Elpida is resurrected again, are you going to go from worm to worm, looking for her, specifically? You can¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°No zombie can sustain such¡ª¡±

    ¡°She can!¡± Ooni shouted. ¡°I can too! We all can! You cannot fight Telokopolis, Kuro. She is larger than you. You can¡¯t kill this with guns and strangling and- and- eating flesh, and- and all of it! She is more than this.¡± Ooni raised one booted foot and thumped her heel on the black metal floor. ¡°More than this! More than this!¡±

    Kuro said: ¡°And what if I just kill you?¡±

    Fear stopped up Ooni¡¯s throat.

    She thought she had accepted the inevitable ¡ª that her death did matter. But still she faltered, trying and failing to swallow.

    Kuro snorted softly; her frown turned back into a little smile. ¡°Abstract principle is all well and good. But practical reality is meat and bone, and you are both¡ª¡±

    Telokopolis is forever.

    Kuro stopped.

    ¡°Telokopolis is forever,¡± Ooni repeated; she was so numb she wasn¡¯t sure if she¡¯d said the words the first time. ¡°If you kill me, it doesn¡¯t matter. She will find me again.¡±

    ¡°Elpida?¡±

    Ooni laughed ¡ª a hacking, wheezing, desperate sound, as if a fraction of the tempest outside had entered the quiet dark of the tomb via her lungs. ¡°No! You still don¡¯t get it! Telokopolis will find me again. Maybe it won¡¯t be Elpida, or Leuca, or Pheiri. Maybe ¡­ maybe I¡¯ll never see any of them, ever again. Maybe it¡¯ll be a thousand years, or a million years. Or ¡­ or longer. But Telokopolis is forever. She will find me again. Or ¡­ or I will be how others find her.¡± Ooni¡¯s voice dropped to a whisper, as if speaking it too loudly might force Kuro¡¯s hand. ¡°You can kill me. I can¡¯t stop you. But it simply doesn¡¯t matter. It changes nothing but the details. Telokopolis is forever.¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Kuro stared into Ooni¡¯s eyes; Ooni stared back.

    The hurricane howled beyond the walls of the tomb, a chorus of the dead turned to static by the drumming of rain and hail upon the black metal hide. Ooni tried to keep her expression hard and defiant, but she couldn¡¯t stop herself from bracing for the moment that was surely approaching. Kuro was going to reach forward and hurt her, perhaps for a very long time, and then finally kill her. She had thrown the truth in Kuro¡¯s face, spited her with the impossibility of her victory; the future would turn to ash in Kuro¡¯s mouth, but for Ooni there was no escape but death.

    Kuro moved like a striking snake ¡ª a flash of motion against the dark. Ooni winced, teeth clenched, eyes scrunching up, not ready, not ready, not¡ª

    But Kuro simply stood up.

    Powered armour towered over Ooni, grey-on-grey in the black chamber, Kuro¡¯s face a bright blossom of pink and white.

    Ooni drew a shuddering gasp of relief; she couldn¡¯t help herself.

    Kuro muttered, ¡°All this for a city you¡¯ve never even seen.¡±

    Kuro turned away and walked over to the opposite side of the room, where Ilyusha¡¯s detached limbs and the confiscated weapons waited atop the table extruded from the wall. She picked up the chestplate of Ooni¡¯s armour, then returned, sitting back down again. She held up the carapace plate, examined the symbol of Telokopolis for a moment, then propped it next to her, so that the symbol faced toward Ooni. She traced the crescent-and-double-line with an armoured fingertip.

    ¡°You still haven¡¯t answered my question,¡± said Kuro.

    Ooni blinked, confused. ¡°I ¡­ I have? I have. You asked about Telokopolis, and I answered. I answered, I told you. If you can¡¯t understand it, then that¡¯s your fault.¡±

    Kuro looked up from the armour plate, eyebrows raised, almost as if surprised. ¡°I saw a ghost. She forgave me. Why? You said ¡®because Telokopolis is forever¡¯. What does that have to do with the ghost of a hiver I killed, back in another life?¡±

    Ooni slumped against the metal band around her belly. She didn¡¯t care; Kuro¡¯s question was nonsense, and Kuro knew it. Kuro was going to kill her anyway, and Kuro refused to understand.

    ¡°I¡¯m not playing your games anymore,¡± Ooni muttered. ¡°Just kill me or let me go. Torture me. Rape me. Eat me. I am inside Telokopolis, and I don¡¯t have to do this anymore, I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Kuro slapped the black floor with an open palm, armoured gauntlet ringing against the tomb-metal. ¡°No!¡± she shouted.

    Ooni shot upright, cramming herself against the wall. Kuro¡¯s eyes were ablaze with frustrated anger, her lips peeled back from her metal teeth.

    ¡°W-what? I won¡¯t, I won¡¯t play anymore¡ª¡±

    ¡°When you said ¡®because Telokopolis is forever¡¯, you meant it.¡± Kuro¡¯s voice was rushed and urgent. ¡°You weren¡¯t just blabbering to save your skin. You meant what you said. I could hear you meant it. Tell me what you meant. Tell me why that ghost forgave me.¡±

    Ooni didn¡¯t know what to say. She¡¯d never seen Kuro lose her temper like this. Even through the pounding of her head and the resignation of death, Ooni realised she had been wrong.

    This was more than one of Kuro¡¯s cruel games.

    ¡° ¡­ K-Kuro, are you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Answer the question. Why would the ghost forgive me? Why would she do that? What does that have to do with Telokopolis? Explain the connection.¡±

    Ooni opened her mouth to answer ¡ª then hesitated.

    Kuro wasn¡¯t quite correct; when Ooni had blurted out the words, she had been grasping for any handhold, any statement which would stop Kuro from eating her face. But now that she had been given time to explain what Telokopolis was, to turn her inner turmoil into concrete statements, she knew exactly what she had meant. She also knew that she had already said it to Kuro, but that Kuro had not understood. She would have to spell it out, but she didn¡¯t want to. The bright spark in her mouth was turning toxic and dark. Her heart curdled. Her tongue tasted of blood.

    She did not want to give this truth to Kuro.

    Did this make her unworthy of Telokopolis? No, nothing could do that now, nothing but betrayal. Would Elpida have agreed with this desire? Probably not, but she would have understood, she would have talked it through, and found a way.

    What would Elpida do?

    ¡°Tell me,¡± Kuro said. ¡°Tell me!¡±

    Ooni swallowed. ¡°When ¡­ when Elpida took me, she ¡­ she cut the Skull symbol off my flesh. She ate it, right in front of me. Destroyed it by eating it! She ¡­ she brought me into Telokopolis. Made it so what I¡¯d done in the past was ¡­ washed away, made clean. It took the others time to accept me, and some of them ¡­ maybe they¡¯re right, maybe I don¡¯t deserve it, but ¡­ but they did let me stay. I¡¯m not pretending they accepted me instantly. If it was easy, it wouldn¡¯t be so ¡­ so ¡­ important, because we¡¯d all be doing it already, and there would be no Death¡¯s Heads, no Sisterhood.¡±

    Kuro frowned delicately, girlish face scrunched up. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°I already told you. Telokopolis rejects nobody. Nobody is abandoned, or left behind, or cannibalised. Not Elpida, and not even me.¡±

    Kuro¡¯s frown relaxed. ¡°Ah.¡±

    Ooni grimaced. Kuro had worked it out. But she said the words anyway. ¡°I was forgiven, when I didn¡¯t deserve to be forgiven. Telokopolis rejects nobody.¡± She swallowed the taste of blood and bile. ¡°You included.¡±

    Kuro shook her head slowly, face and hair brushing against the cradle of fleshy white folds inside her helmet. ¡°And you think that¡¯s why the ghost of the hiver forgave me?¡±

    Ooni shrugged. Earlier, with the fire on her tongue, she had felt almost like Elpida, like the voice of the city was speaking through her; now she was spent and cold, and had little more to say. She had no power over Kuro anymore, nothing more to offer. She was going numb, retreating to the walls inside herself.

    ¡°Answer the question,¡± said Kuro.

    ¡°Whether she knew it or not,¡± Ooni said, weak and quiet. ¡°She was embodying it. You¡¯re ¡­ you¡¯re forgiven too, Kuro.¡±

    Kuro broke into another smile, sweet and girlish and full of sharp metal teeth. A shiver shot straight up Ooni¡¯s spine. She tried not to whimper or squirm.

    Kuro said, ¡°And what about you? Do you forgive me, Ooni? For all those moments we shared?¡±

    Ooni shook her head. She whispered the truth, ¡°No.¡±

    Kuro nodded. ¡°Good. I don¡¯t want to be forgiven.¡±

    ¡°A-ah?¡±

    Kuro straightened up in her armour. She let the carapace chestplate fall, so the crescent-and-double-line of Telokopolis lay face down on the black metal floor. ¡°What does Telokopolis do with things like me?¡±

    ¡°I ¡­ I don¡¯t understand?¡±

    Kuro filled her lungs with a deep breath; the bulk of the suit hid the rise and fall of her chest, like a body entombed behind metal and stone.

    ¡°I like being what I am,¡± Kuro said, still smiling. ¡°Being what I was before this reincarnation. I know what I am, and I don¡¯t pretend to be otherwise. I am a serial killer, Ooni. I am a monster, and I love it, because it was meant to be. I found it very hard to accept at first, for most of my twenties, after that first hiver woman, when I had to hide what I¡¯d realised about myself. I felt ¡­ alone, and confused. Like maybe I shouldn¡¯t exist, like I didn¡¯t have a place in the finely tuned systems of Factory Head, no matter how many holes I hacked and vulnerabilities I exploited. But over time I came to realise that it was the systems which were wrong. I belonged to the natural order of things, and I found a place for myself as the systems broke down. I know what I am, and I am not ashamed. What does Telokopolis do with things like me?¡±

    ¡° ¡­ I-I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°You do know. Your Elpida did plenty of it already. What does Telokopolis do with things it cannot contain?¡±

    ¡° ¡­ Telokopolis should kill you,¡± Ooni whispered. ¡°Elpida should kill you. I would¡ª I would kill you. If I¡ª if I could.¡±

    Kuro smiled wider, cheeks dimpling, delight sparkling in her black-on-red eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t need forgiveness, it makes me feel ¡­ stifled. Yes, stifled! Like my early life in Factory Head. Thank you, Ooni. Talking to you has helped me figure that out.¡± Kuro shook her head; faint tears shone in her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t want any ghosts to forgive me, no matter what they teach me in return. I would have preferred if she had fought. I would gladly fight a ghost, even if she won. That would be interesting.¡±

    Ooni didn¡¯t know what to say. She would never understand Kuro.

    But then Kuro tilted her head, inside her helmet. ¡°Would you fight, Ooni?¡±

    ¡°I ¡­ I already said, I would ¡­ kill you if I could.¡±

    ¡°Would you?¡± Kuro sighed. ¡°If I let you go, right now, would you forgive me, and feed me secrets, trying to get me to do your bidding? You got halfway there, before I made you tell the actual truth. You gave me the secrets of Telokopolis. But you couldn¡¯t forgive. And that¡¯s much better, I think it¡¯s much more honest. No, I think you would fight. Even if the odds were nothing. Especially if the odds were nothing.¡± Kuro¡¯s smile died down, still burning behind a curious little frown. ¡°You were never like this before. You were always the first to run and hide, trying to stay unnoticed, laughing at jokes you didn¡¯t understand. Even when I caught you, you never fought back properly, because you knew I wouldn¡¯t finish you off. Even just now, you tried to hide behind the skirts of Telokopolis. But I drew you out. And here you are. Declaring that you will kill me. You¡¯ve changed, Ooni.¡±

    Ooni found her voice. ¡°Telokopolis changed me.¡±

    ¡°A city you¡¯ve never seen, and never will.¡±

    ¡°I will. We all will.¡±

    ¡°No. You changed you, Ooni. This dream of an immortal city, that¡¯s just a catalyst. I¡¯m almost impressed. I think I¡¯d have you¡ª¡±

    Kuro suddenly sprang to her feet, moving so fast her grey armour became a blur.

    Ooni thought this was it, this was the moment Kuro was going to kill her. She yelped and jerked back against the wall, hands pushing at the metal band around her waist.

    But Kuro twisted on one ankle, toward the right-hand wall. The faceplate of her armour descended from inside her helmet and snapped back into place with a soft hiss, giving Ooni a momentary glance of the holographic readouts, flickering back to life before Kuro¡¯s eyes. Guns extended from the forearms of her suit, as one of the plasma weapons on her shoulder twitched and jerked to life, barrel glowing with a gathering charge. Kuro¡¯s suit reactor ramped up with an audible rush of air through the armoured intakes.

    Kuro broke into a sprint from a standing start, powered armour joints slamming through the dark like pistons, boots ringing against the floor. She hit the black metal wall and vanished as if plunging through the placid surface of a dark pool.

    But this time the gap did not close behind her.

    Kuro¡¯s passing left a ragged hole in the curved wall of the little black room, streamers of ferrofluid freezing into long spikes in her wake. A way out ¡ª into the lightless dark beyond.

    Kuro¡¯s racing footsteps vanished a few moments later, sprinting off into the corridors of the tomb. Ooni gaped at the hole in the wall.

    Ilyusha¡¯s eyes snapped open, little bloodshot circles in her crimson-caked face. Her lips peeled back from her teeth, clenched with rage and pain. Kuro¡¯s momentary torture had dragged Ilyusha a few inches closer to Ooni; when she raised the clawed foot at the end of her one remaining leg, she was now almost within range of the metal band around Ooni¡¯s belly. She reached for the metal, hissing with effort.

    ¡°Pull me! Ooni, pull me in! Pull me!¡±

    Ooni reached out and grabbed Ilyusha¡¯s bird-like bionic foot, gripping the thick joints of her toes, trying not to touch the dark red talons.

    But she didn¡¯t pull Ilyusha in; she held her back.

    ¡°Illy, Illy, we can¡¯t! We can¡¯t!¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s eyes blazed with fresh fury. She shoved hard, kicking at Ooni with razor-edged claws, forcing Ooni back against the wall. Ooni¡¯s fingers slipped on the complex joints of Ilyusha¡¯s foot, opening a shallow cut down the back of her right hand. She winced with the pain and scrambled for a better grip on Ilyusha¡¯s ankle, trying to hold her steady as she jerked and bucked.

    ¡°Illy! Illy! Listen, listen¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuck you, reptile! Fucking¡ª let me cut¡ª cut you out! Put my limbs back¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ilyusha, please! It¡¯s a trap!¡± Ooni hissed, trying not to raise her voice, because surely Kuro was still listening. ¡°She left the hole there on purpose, she¡¯s testing us, or testing me! This is what Kuro does! She didn¡¯t get what she wanted, so now she¡¯s drawing me into another game! She¡¯s playing with us, playing with her food, she¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know!¡± Ilyusha spat, pulling her head up off the floor. ¡°I know!¡±

    ¡° ¡­ t-then you know we can¡¯t, we can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°We have to get her! Fuck her up!¡±

    ¡°I-I-I c-can¡¯t,¡± Ooni stammered. Standing firm with Telokopolis at her back was one thing, but fighting Kuro? ¡°It¡¯s impossible, I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t fight her, I¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s lips ripped into a manic grin. ¡°Yeah, but we can! You and me! Come on!¡±

    Ooni froze. Surely Ilyusha was wrong. Kuro had beaten her once already. Kuro could beat them all. Kuro could not touch Telokopolis itself, because Telokopolis was beyond harm, but Ooni and Ilyusha were doomed. Any zombies would be doomed in their position. Leuca, Elpida, even all the others, with Pheiri to protect them, would be nothing more than meat, for sport and¡ª

    Telokopolis is forever.

    Ooni felt a spark catch in her gut.

    Ilyusha was talking: ¡°Got me once with her magnet bullshit tricks but I¡¯m dialled in for that bitch now! Won¡¯t get me twice! Won¡¯t get me again! Come on, Ooni! Come¡ª¡±

    ¡°We,¡± Ooni echoed, nodding. ¡°You and ¡­ and me! Right, right, okay. Okay! Okay, Illy!¡±

    Ilyusha flexed the toes of her taloned foot. ¡°Let go?¡±

    Ooni released Ilyusha¡¯s talons. Ilyusha lowered her foot toward the band of metal around Ooni¡¯s stomach, gritting her teeth with the difficulty of aiming; Ooni grabbed Illy¡¯s toes again, guiding the sharp cutting edges around the band of black metal. She sucked in her gut as much as possible, pressing herself against the back wall of the little chamber, to make room for Ilyusha¡¯s claws. Even with her best efforts Ooni still ended up with Illy¡¯s thick bionic toes digging into her belly. One wrong jerk and Ilyusha¡¯s talons would spill Ooni¡¯s intestines.

    Ilyusha grunted and strained, clenching her foot, bearing down on the metal bar with her claws. Crimson edges bit into the black steel; Ilyusha wiggled her foot from side to side, working the notch deeper and wider. Ilyusha relaxed, strained again, relaxed a second time ¡ª then flexed so hard that her whole limbless torso rose up from the ground, arching with her skull as support, as she exerted every muscle in her bionic leg.

    Snikt!

    The metal band snapped with a loud twang. Ilyusha collapsed, her foot slamming into Ooni¡¯s abdomen, knocking the wind from Ooni¡¯s lungs; luckily her claws were already curled inward. Half the metal band flew across the room, somehow broken from the wall with the tension of the cut ¡ª it bounced away with a deafening chorus of metal-on-metal, clang-clang-clang. The second half of the band jabbed Ooni in the gut as she scrambled forward.

    She was free, and she wasn¡¯t wasting a single second.

    Ooni didn¡¯t even pause to thank Ilyusha. Winded from the kick, head spinning with fresh nausea, adrenaline and terror pumping in her veins, Ooni shot forward on her hands and knees, crawling across the room to the little table with all the equipment and Ilyusha¡¯s severed limbs.

    ¡°Arm first!¡± Ilyusha was shouting. ¡°Arm first, right arm! Right arm!¡±

    Ooni grabbed the edge of the table and hauled herself upright. She didn¡¯t reach for Ilyusha¡¯s limbs. That could wait.

    Ilyusha didn¡¯t know Kuro like Ooni did.

    Ooni grabbed Ilyusha¡¯s automatic shotgun. Her hands shook so hard she almost dropped it; the weapon weighed a lot more than she expected, bulky and awkward and hard to get her grip around. She slapped at the breech to check the shells ¡ª still loaded! ¡ª then made sure the safety was off. She jammed the weapon against her shoulder, then twisted to face the opening which Kuro had ripped in the wall of the little black room.

    Ilyusha was screaming: ¡°What are you doing, you reptile fuck!? Get my limbs, get my fucking arm! Put my arm back¡ª¡±

    The makeshift doorway was empty, a wide black void fringed with frozen streamers of metal, like molten rock in black seawater.

    Ooni kept the shotgun trained on the opening. She braced the weapon against the crook of her arm as best she could, and took her left hand off the forward grip. Eyes on the gap, ears tuning out Ilyusha¡¯s screaming anger, she groped for one of the two comms headsets next to the guns. She found one, fumbled it over her head, pressed the mic to her mouth, and toggled the activation switch.

    ¡°Kaga? Kaga!? Elpida? Victoria? Leuca!¡± she stammered. ¡°Anybody there, Pheiri! Pheiri, record¡ª¡±

    Ping-ping!

    Pheiri¡¯s wordless reply dinged in her ear ¡ª emergency acknowledged. The comms network was still online. This headset was still connected.

    Ooni felt herself almost sag with relief, but she couldn¡¯t afford that, not yet. She blinked hard, eyes on the dark opening in the wall before her, both hands back on the gun, stock against her shoulder.

    A voice crackled in her ear a split-second later ¡ª Kagami: ¡°Ooni! Where the fuck¡ª no, don¡¯t waste your breath, I¡¯m tracing the signal. Is Ilyusha¡ª¡±

    ¡°Listen!¡± Ooni hissed. ¡°Kuro is using magnetic fields to move the material of the walls around. The black metal is a ferrofluid. She¡¯s coming back any moment, you need to get that, you need to understand! Ferrofluids, magnetics in her suit. Illy¡¯s here but she¡¯s hurt and Kuro will be¡ª¡±

    The comms cut out with a burst of static.

    Ooni pulled the trigger.

    The recoil almost dislocated her shoulder; Ilyusha made it look easy with her bionic arms, but the weapon was not designed for unaugmented human beings. The impact slammed the breath from Ooni¡¯s lungs and threatened to jerk her aim off-target.

    Kuro appeared in the opening a split-second later ¡ª a grey-on-grey blur moving at high speed, returning at the same dead sprint with which she had left the room. The burst of static had given Ooni the warning she needed, the near-field interference from Kuro¡¯s suit arriving a moment earlier than Kuro herself.

    This time, Kuro wasn¡¯t wearing the tomb metal.

    The early shotgun blast hit Kuro like a brick to the gut, slamming her to an instant halt, jerking the suit back through the opening. Ooni clamped her muscles and pumped the trigger ¡ª boom! boom! boom! ¡ª chasing Kuro out of the room with round after round, knocking the suit away until it was nothing more than a shadow in the outer darkness. The recoil felt like being punched in the shoulder over and over by an iron fist. Ooni screamed and kept firing and¡ª

    And then Kuro was gone.

    The final shotgun blast caught the black walls beyond. No Kuro, no armour, no trace.

    A moment of silence fell, filled with Ooni¡¯s ragged breathing and the distant static of the hurricane. Her right shoulder was on fire and her head rang like a cracked bell.

    Ilyusha broke into a war cry, down on the floor. ¡°Yeeeeeah! Fuck her! Get fucked! Fuck! Fuuuuuck!¡±

    Ooni lowered the shotgun in numb fingers, wincing at the pulped bruise on her shoulder. She tapped the comms headset, but the line was dead, blocked by jamming from Kuro¡¯s suit. Kuro hadn¡¯t expected Ooni to do that, or she would have simply trashed the headsets. Or maybe this was what she wanted, drawing more victims into her web.

    ¡°You did it, Ooni! Hahahahaaaa!¡± Ilyusha was cackling, grinning, kicking out with her one leg. ¡°You fucked up that shit-eating bitch cunt¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t.¡± Ooni shook her head. ¡°I didn¡¯t. Those rounds didn¡¯t even penetrate her suit, all I did was knock her around. And she wanted it. She wanted that. She wanted me to do that, I knew she was going to come back, I had to do it! She could have armoured herself in the black metal, she could have killed me with a hail of bullets, but she didn¡¯t. She¡¯s playing with her food. This is just another game. We¡¯re not¡ª we¡¯re not free.¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s face fell, then twisted with rage, lips pulling back from her teeth. ¡°Fuck!¡±

    Ooni put down the shotgun and lifted Ilyusha¡¯s detached right arm from the table. The limb was incredibly heavy and awkward to carry, especially with the fresh bruise blossoming deep in Ooni¡¯s shoulder; the claws would easily slice through her t-shirt and skin if she brushed against them at the wrong angle. She hefted the arm and staggered over to Ilyusha.

    ¡°Yeah! Yeah!¡± Ilyusha said. ¡°Arm, do it! Do it!¡±

    Ooni fell to her knees at Ilyusha¡¯s side, cradling the arm, turning the exposed joint toward the open socket.

    ¡°R-right. Right. We need to get you back together, Illy. We need to get you back together. I can¡¯t do this alone.¡±

 tenebrae - 13.11

    Reattaching Ilyusha¡¯s bionic limbs was not as easy as Ooni had hoped.

    Ooni¡¯s role in the process was simple. All she had to do was lift the ragged ball-joint ¡ª a partial sphere of black bio-polymer, encrusted with dark red circuitry, smeared with sticky clear fluids and pinkish froth ¡ª and jam it into the socket of Ilyusha¡¯s right shoulder, where the interior circuitry waited to re-establish the connection, wet membranes fluttering with delicate urgency deep inside. But Ooni was not strong enough to shove the joint into place; her own right shoulder was growing stiff and sore, still blossoming with the bruise she had taken by firing Ilyusha¡¯s shotgun to drive away Kuro.

    She fumbled with Ilyusha¡¯s joint for a moment, pushing and twisting at the socket, the bionic muscles slipping in her sweaty hands. ¡°I-I don¡¯t think I can get it in, it¡¯s not¡ª¡±

    ¡°Knees!¡± Ilyusha snapped. ¡°Knee it in! Grab me and knee it in!¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? I-it feels like it¡¯s going to snap and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do it! Shove! Do it!¡±

    Ooni did as Ilyusha instructed. She had to lean over Ilyusha¡¯s prone, helpless torso, bracing both hands against Ilyusha¡¯s opposite flank, fingers sinking into the padding of Ilyusha¡¯s bulletproof vest. Ooni wedged her knees against the shoulder of the detached bionic arm, then tensed her legs and core muscles all at once, squeezing harder and harder, until¡ª

    Clunk!

    Ilyusha¡¯s right shoulder joint slammed home. Ooni almost sprawled onto Ilyusha¡¯s face, catching herself at the last moment, then scrambling upright.

    Ilyusha screamed.

    She gritted her teeth and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed ¡ª eyes bulging, blood-flecked drool running from one corner of her mouth, tendons standing taut on her neck. Her one remaining leg thrashed and stamped, crimson talons scraping and squealing against the black metal floor. Thin fluid leaked from around the reattached shoulder joint. The arm twitched, claws flicking in and out, bionic muscles trembling.

    Ooni had witnessed so many kinds of terrible pain across her long afterlife in the nanomachine ecosystem, most of them blurred by the haze of endless memory, some the result of ruined bionics or botched attempts at nanomachine-driven self-modification. But this was new. Ilyusha¡¯s bionic limbs had not been designed for removal and reattachment. Whatever Ilyusha was doing, she did it without anaesthetic, wide awake and screaming, reconnecting bionic nerve pathways and cybernetic synapses.

    If Ilyusha passed out from the pain, Ooni would be alone.

    ¡°Ilyusha?! Illy!?¡± Ooni¡¯s hands hovered over Ilyusha. ¡°What¡ª what can I¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s screams subsided, replaced by heaving breaths hissing through her clenched teeth. Bloodshot eyes whirled in Ilyusha¡¯s bloodstained face, open but blind with pain ¡ª then suddenly blazing up at Ooni.

    ¡°Get¡ª¡± Ilyusha croaked. ¡°¡ªnext¡ª get¡ª¡±

    ¡°The next limb? The other arm? B-but you¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    ¡°Get!¡± Ilyusha screamed, jaws snapping wide, the talons of her good leg screeching across the floor.

    Ooni shot to her feet and lurched back over to the black metal table which projected from the wall. She grabbed Ilyusha¡¯s other arm, heavy and awkward, crimson claws catching on Ooni¡¯s t-shirt. She fell to her knees on Ilyusha¡¯s opposite side. Ilyusha jerked her head back and forth, eyes wild with pain and terrible need.

    ¡°In!¡± she screeched. ¡°In!¡±

    Ooni repeated the process, leaning over Ilyusha¡¯s prone torso, knees wedged against the shoulder of the detached limb. She squeezed with her core muscles and her thighs, harder and harder, pressing the joint into place. The shoulder socket creaked with the sound of tortured metal and warping bio-plastic, then¡ª

    Clunk!

    Ilyusha didn¡¯t scream this time; somehow that was worse.

    Her mouth opened in a wide, silent cry, eyes clenched shut, back arching off the floor like a terminal tetanus victim. The dried blood all over her face and hair began to run with rivulets of cold sweat. She clenched her jaw so hard that Ooni heard teeth creak and crack; if Ilyusha had been a mortal human being, she would have burst a blood vessel or given herself a hernia or simply died of a heart attack.

    Ooni didn¡¯t know what to do. She didn¡¯t dare touch Ilyusha. She couldn¡¯t do anything but watch.

    Ilyusha slowly descended back down from the apex of her pain, torso collapsing to the floor, lungs heaving for breath. Her eyes were unfocused, staring up at the featureless ceiling, clouded with a sheen of tears.

    Neither of Ilyusha¡¯s reattached limbs were moving properly; fingers twitched, claws jerked in and out, muscles shivered. But nothing more.

    ¡°Illy?¡± Ooni hissed. ¡°Illy, are you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Next ¡­ ¡± Ilyusha wheezed. ¡°Leg. Leg! Leg ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Maybe ¡­ uh ¡­ maybe we should wait, just a moment, so you can recover and¡ª¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s eyes rolled in their sockets, suddenly thrown wide again with rekindled rage, tears brimming over and rolling down her blood-caked cheeks. ¡°Shit-eating bitch fuck¡ª¡± Ooni assumed Ilyusha was insulting her, but then Ilyusha squeezed out: ¡°¡ªcoming back¡ª back¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kuro?¡± Ooni shook her head. ¡°No, no. She won¡¯t come back, not until we step into the next part of her game.¡±

    Ilyusha managed to squint her eyes in silent question.

    Ooni struggled to swallow, to slow her racing pulse long enough to speak coherently. She wiped her long black hair out of her face; that helped. ¡°When she rushed back into the room earlier, she was letting me shoot her. She let us do that! She could have wrapped herself in the black metal and made herself invulnerable to our guns. But she didn¡¯t! She let that happen. She does this, it¡¯s how she thinks. She likes to play with her food. She got bored with this phase, or she got what she wanted out of me, so she¡¯s moved on to another one, the next part. She wants us to feel like we¡¯ve maybe got a chance.¡± Ooni shook her head, trying not to tremble. ¡°She¡ª she wants us to leave, to try to escape, so she can play with us. This is what she does with other zombies, it¡¯s what she enjoys, I¡¯ve seen her do it before, to dozens of others. She won¡¯t come back here, not yet, not unless ¡­ unless we give up and ¡­ and refuse to provide her any ¡­ ¡®sport¡¯.¡±

    Ilyusha¡¯s lips twisted with disgust. ¡°Put ¡­ leg. Leg. In!¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Pleassse!¡± Ilyusha gurgled, gritting her teeth.

    Ooni nodded and stood up, trying not to shake too hard. She grabbed Ilyusha¡¯s leg from the table; it was much heavier than either of the arms, with stronger muscles, more built-in bio-polymer superstructure layered on top, and the huge bird-like foot with long crimson talons dangling from the shrouded ankle joint. Ooni staggered back to Ilyusha and lowered the limb to the floor. Positioning this joint was more awkward than with the shoulders. Ooni had to grope around inside what was left of Ilyusha¡¯s shorts, to expose the massive bionic socket of her hips ¡ª a gaping hole of black-red bio-plastic and fluttering membranes, framed by the pale, clammy, sweat-soaked flesh of Ilyusha¡¯s abdomen and groin. Ooni pushed the shorts aside, angled Ilyusha¡¯s hips upward, then got the joint into place, pressed against the socket. She leaned on the knee of the detached leg, putting more and more of her own body weight against the bionic joint. The whole hip-socket creaked with the sound of tortured metal and deforming polymers; Ilyusha flinched, then gritted her teeth and screwed her eyes shut. Ooni pushed harder, until¡ª

    Clunk!

    Ilyusha thrashed like she was having a seizure. Ooni scrambled clear, narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp blades of Ilyusha¡¯s good leg; reflex action made her kick at the air. She drooled and spat bloody mucus, heaving and keening and whining like a spear-stuck boar.

    ¡°Illy, Illy!¡± Ooni said. ¡°Y-you can do it, you can ride it out! I¡¯ve got you, I¡¯m ¡­ I ¡­ I ¡­ ¡±

    Ooni couldn¡¯t do anything. She didn¡¯t ¡®have¡¯ Ilyusha. She had nothing. All she could do was wait and see, and pray to Telokopolis that this was going to work.

    Eventually Ilyusha¡¯s seizure trailed off. She lay still, wheezing for breath, face sticky and slimy with a sheen of sweat and blood.

    The reattached leg quivered and twitched, just like the arms. Ilyusha did not seem able to lift the limb.

    Ooni¡¯s hopes curdled; she felt sick, a fist gripping her intestines. If Ilyusha couldn¡¯t stand or walk, there was no way Ooni could carry her out of here, let alone through whatever sick game Kuro had planned. With all four limbs attached, Ilyusha weighed a ton, and Ooni was not strong enough to lift her. The only option would be to wait for rescue, to hope that Kagami was able to pinpoint their location from the brief moment of comms contact. But if Kuro thought they were stalling, perhaps she would come back again, armoured in the black metal, game abandoned.

    Tears gathered in Ooni¡¯s eyes. She bit her lip, jaw trembling, retreating inside herself. She couldn¡¯t do this alone, could not stand up to Kuro without help. If Ilyusha couldn¡¯t walk, Ooni¡¯s only option was to flee in shame and hide in some dark hole and wait to¡ª

    Telokopolis is forever.

    Ooni sniffed back her tears and shook her head, hard enough to hurt.

    It was as if somebody had slapped her across the cheek and poured a cup of hot wine down her throat, a taste she had not known since true life. The memory lingered upon her tongue, filling her with something adjacent to courage.

    She could not and would not leave Ilyusha behind. Telokopolis leaves nobody behind. Nobody gets left out in the cold, alone and helpless, to be taken by the elements and the wild animals. If Ilyusha couldn¡¯t move, then Ooni¡¯s role was clear ¡ª protect her, or die trying, and fall atop Ilyusha with her wounds to the fore, not upon her back. Telokopolis made that clear. There was no other option.

    The relief was incredible, a burden lifting from Ooni¡¯s shoulders. She did not have to think, did not have to make a decision. She only had to obey the principles she had already thrown in Kuro¡¯s face, the principles she had already adopted as her own, and had washed her clean of her past mistakes.

    Ilyusha hissed, ¡°Tail. Tail!¡±

    ¡°Y-your tail, right!¡± Ooni started to rise, then hesitated. ¡°Can you ¡­ can you turn over?¡±

    Ilyusha flexed her torso. Her one good leg moved properly, trying to get into position, but her three reattached limbs only shivered and convulsed, like an elderly person with the shaking palsy. She gritted her teeth and peeled back her lips, furious in humiliation.

    ¡° ¡­ roll me.¡±

    Ooni did as Ilyusha asked, trying to roll her onto her front as gently as possible. Ooni¡¯s own wounded right shoulder screamed with the effort of supporting Ilyusha¡¯s body weight, but she got Illy onto her front without any additional bruises. Ilyusha¡¯s cheek was pressed uncomfortably against the black metal floor.

    ¡°Tail!¡±

    ¡°On it, right, yes!¡±

    Ooni leapt over to the table and picked up Ilyusha¡¯s tail as best she could. The specialised bionic was impossible to lift cleanly ¡ª six feet long, thicker than the other limbs, and heavily armoured, made for combat. Most of the tail dragged across the floor as Ooni pulled the joint over to Ilyusha, the crimson spear-tip end scraping against the black metal. Ooni fumbled with the waistband of Ilyusha¡¯s shorts to expose the base of her spine. The tail socket was just as thick as Ilyusha¡¯s leg-joints, a massive junction with her spinal column. Ooni braced the joint, then put her whole body weight into a shove, bearing down¡ª

    Clunk!

    She slipped and fell forward onto Ilyusha, briefly squashing Illy against the black metal floor. Ooni scrambled upright. ¡°Sorry, sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I ¡­ Illy? Il¡ªIlyusha?¡±

    Ilyusha was unconscious.

    She wasn¡¯t faking it this time. Ilyusha had gone limp, eyelids fluttering, eyes rolled into the back of her head. A thin stream of bloody drool hung from her slack lips, pooling on the metal floor. She was breathing, a reedy whisper hissing from laboured lungs.

    ¡°Illy? Illy?!¡± Ooni shook her, but Ilyusha did not respond. ¡°No, no, no, no no no! No! No! No, please, no! Illy! Illy, I can¡¯t¡ª I can¡¯t do this alone, I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t do this.¡± Tears ran down Ooni¡¯s cheeks; her earlier burst of courage turned to ice and ash in her heart. She glanced back over her shoulder at the hole Kuro had left in the wall, half-expecting a figure in powered armour to loom out of the shadows. But there was only darkness. ¡°I c-can¡¯t¡ª I can¡¯t¡ª I¡ª Illy, I-Illy please, please wake up, please, p-please¡ª¡±

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Telokopolis is forever.

    The reminder was like another pull from a jug of hot wine. Ooni¡¯s insides flushed with heat, the fear ebbing back just enough to avert collapse. She remembered ¡ª firelight? Firelight deep in a smoke-filled hall, the soft murmur of speech, the scent of roasted meat and vegetables, the sensation of wool and fur against her skin. A full belly. A hand on her shoulder. A voice so much like her own, whispering in her ear ¡ª up, up, up!

    Ooni forced herself to scrub her eyes on her sleeve. Ilyusha was helpless. Ilyusha needed Telokopolis. Ooni had to get to her feet and arm up.

    Right now, Ooni had to be Telokopolis.

    She staggered upright and lurched over to the table, eyeing Ilyusha¡¯s powerful shotgun. She¡¯d blind herself with pain if she tried to fire it again. Instead she crouched down and grabbed the plates of carapace armour, assessing the damage.

    The helmet was useless ¡ª forehead caved in, visor-display broken, built-in comms busted. The main chestplate was intact, along with the plates for Ooni¡¯s belly, hips, back, and shoulders. The buckles and straps and lock-points were a little bent and cracked where Kuro had ripped the armour off her, but they were designed with multiple redundancies; the armour would be looser and less reliable, but still usable. Ooni strapped herself back into the main components; the process was awkward and slow without anybody to help her, and she couldn¡¯t get the under-layer braces to sit right across her stomach ¡ª those were the layers of gel padding and hex-foam meant to distribute kinetic force. If somebody shot her in the gut the plate would still turn the bullet away, but the impact was much more likely to leave deep bruising or internal bleeding. She had no choice, it would have to do. She found her greaves and overboots were also intact, then sat down to strap her legs into the protective plates. Her gauntlets were scuffed and dented ¡ª had Kuro struggled with her hands? ¡ª but she slipped them on and found they moved alright, though the inner layers for her right hand were mangled and torn, as if she¡¯d fought against Kuro disrobing her, even when unconscious. She removed the gauntlet, stripped out the inner layers, then put it back on and locked it to the rest of the suit. Her right hand would chafe raw within an hour of use, but it was better than nothing.

    Her right arm was increasingly useless anyway. The bruise in her shoulder was swelling up inside her clothes, throbbing in time with her heartbeat and the echo of pain in her skull, turning stiff and increasingly difficult to move. Ooni was worried she¡¯d dislocated something or damaged a tendon. Within an hour or two her range of motion would be seriously limited.

    She grabbed the ruined helmet and clipped it to her hip, then scrambled for options.

    Ooni grabbed all the weapons from the table. She jammed the sidearm and the three grenades into the pouches on her armour, slung Ilyusha¡¯s shotgun over her back, then used the strap on her own submachine gun to brace the weapon against her left hip, holding it one-handed.

    She turned and pointed the gun toward the gap in the wall, then placed her right hand flat against her chestplate, clutching the crescent-and-double-line symbol of Telokopolis.

    ¡°Telokopolis is forever,¡± she whispered. ¡°Telokopolis is forever. Telokopolis is forever.¡± Her voice rose into a shout. ¡°Telokopolis is forever! I am part of Telokopolis, Kuro! I am part of her!¡±

    The tomb swallowed her voice ¡ª then returned it as a ghostly echo from the labyrinthine dark, drowned out by the distant fury of the storm beyond the walls.

    Ooni shivered inside her ill-fitting armour.

    She fiddled with the comms headset and tested Ilyusha¡¯s set as well, but the uplink with Pheiri¡¯s network was gone, every band was filled with nothing but static. Kuro¡¯s on-board jamming had caught the transmissions and blocked them, or somehow fried the sets themselves. Ooni lacked the necessary technical knowledge to repair the sets or counter the jamming.

    She whispered into the headset regardless, talking to the static, on an open broadcast: ¡°Pheiri, if you can read this, this is Ooni, and we still need help.¡± She swallowed, considered her next words carefully, then spoke on. ¡°If any revenants are reading this message, this is a child of Telokopolis speaking. We have been cut off from our allies and ¡­ and we need help. Any of you who heard and believed Elpida¡¯s words, please ¡­ please tell Pheiri. Please contact the others. Please ¡­ do ¡­ ¡±

    Ooni trailed off.

    A blue glimmer had appeared in the darkness, far beyond the hole punched through the wall of the little black chamber.

    A wisp of transparent blue, coiling in the air, like steam or smoke or semi-visible flame. It cast a cold glow over the black walls to either side. Ooni struggled to estimate the distance, squinting her eyes, wishing she had her armour¡¯s visor to help; she guessed the glimmer was perhaps a hundred feet away, at the end of a long corridor. The colour reminded Ooni of ¡ª clear sky?

    Blue skies on an empty morning.

    Ooni shivered again, struck by a phantom memory of winter cold.

    The blue wisp floated forward, moving toward the chamber.

    ¡°Unnnnhhhhh,¡± Ilyusha groaned.

    Ooni whipped around in surprise. Down on the floor, Ilyusha was blinking her eyes and working her jaw. Her reattached bionic arms finally moved, drawing up beneath her. Ilyusha pushed off the floor, onto all fours, limbs trembling.

    Ooni glanced back into the corridor. The blue wisp was gone.

    ¡°Unn!¡± Ilyusha grunted again.

    Ooni turned back to her, hurrying over and dropping to her knees, hands out to help Ilyusha stand. She¡¯d thought the sound was just a grunt, but Ilyusha had been trying to call her name.

    ¡°Ilyusha! Ilyusha, you¡¯re awake, thank¡ª thank Telokopolis. Y-yes, yes!¡±

    Ilyusha just hissed, drooling and shivering. She grabbed Ooni¡¯s armoured gauntlets and used the support to climb to her feet. She looked dazed and unsteady, eyes squinted with lingering pain, face slimy where the dried blood had mixed with her sweat. Her arms and legs shook with effort, the bionic muscles still not back to normal. Her tail hung limp.

    ¡°Fuckin¡ª b-biiiiiitch,¡± Ilyusha wheezed. ¡°Can¡¯t keep me¡ª from your¡ª cunt throat ¡­ cunt ¡­ ¡±

    Ooni smiled, panting with relief. Ilyusha¡¯s rage toward Kuro was undimmed. Ooni started to believe that perhaps they could make it out of here.

    ¡°Illy,¡± she said. ¡°Illy, we have to get out, we have to get moving. I checked the comms and I can¡¯t make contact, it¡¯s just us. Can you ¡­ walk?¡±

    Ilyusha staggered a few steps, pulling Ooni along with her, clinging to Ooni¡¯s right arm. Her tail lifted, weak and limp, then wrapped around Ooni¡¯s armoured waist, locking itself tight. Ilyusha scrubbed her face and wiped away her drool on one forearm, then grinned through the exhaustion and the pain. ¡°Walk. Sure. Like this.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª I¡¯ve got you, okay,¡± Ooni said, trying to figure out how to make this work. ¡°We¡ª we can move like this. We¡ª we can. We can do it. We can!¡±

    Ilyusha held out her right hand, fingers jerking. ¡°Gun.¡±

    ¡°Are ¡­ are you sure you can ¡­ with your arms, I mean, can you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Gun! Now!¡±

    ¡°Okay, okay!¡±

    Ooni dragged Ilyusha¡¯s shotgun off her back and pressed the grip into Ilyusha¡¯s clawed hand. Illy blinked hard, then retracted her claws so she could get her fingers around the trigger guard. She tucked the shotgun against her side, into the crook of her elbow. An unaugmented human discharging that weapon from that stance would dislocate their own elbow, but Ilyusha¡¯s bionics could probably absorb the recoil. Probably.

    Ooni knew she had to hold on tight, or one shot would send Ilyusha sprawling, likely dragging Ooni down with her.

    ¡°Lessgo,¡± Ilyusha slurred. She staggered forward, making for the hole in the wall; Ooni kept pace, arms linked tight, holding Ilyusha upright.

    Beyond the little black chamber lay a junction ¡ª a knot where several corridors converged, dozens of dark passageways leading off toward blind corners. This part of the tomb did not look similar to the intestinal tangle where Kuro had ambushed the fireteam; the corridors were all ruler-straight and very narrow, barely wide enough for three people to walk abreast ¡ª but also very tall, their ceilings lost in vaulted shadows. The little black room sat in the centre of the junction like a blister extruded from the floor.

    Ooni strained her ears, listening for the whisper of Kuro¡¯s suit reactor, or the subtle creak of her boots against the floor.

    Silence and the storm, and nothing besides.

    There was no sign of the strange blue wisp, either.

    ¡°Fuck are we?¡± Ilyusha rasped, heavy-lidded eyes peering about, claws clicking against the body of her shotgun.

    ¡°I ¡­ I think this is a different part of the tomb,¡± Ooni whispered. Her voice echoed down the tall corridors, soaking into the distant static of the storm beyond. ¡°I spotted something moving out here while you were unconscious, a-a light or something, a blue light. But it¡¯s gone now. I don¡¯t know which way to go.¡±

    Ilyusha sagged against Ooni, then jerked her shotgun at a random corridor. ¡°That way.¡±

    ¡°Why that way?¡±

    ¡°¡®Cos I says so.¡± Ilyusha managed a grin and a snort. ¡°C¡¯mon.¡±

    Ilyusha lurched forward. Ooni held on tight as they crept into the narrow, tall, silent corridor.

    She did not have the heart to ask ¡ª was Ilyusha merely hoping to draw out Kuro?

    The corridors were empty, nothing here but the faraway fury of the hurricane, the rhythmic click-tap of Ilyusha¡¯s clawed feet, and the thump-thump-thump of Ooni¡¯s own heart racing against her ribs. Her left hand quickly grew clammy inside her gauntlet, wrapped around the grip of her submachine gun. Her right shoulder ached and throbbed as she did her best to support Ilyusha¡¯s weight. She tensed at every corner they approached, expecting this to be the moment, ready to face whatever cruel twist Kuro had planned.

    But the corners turned and Ilyusha staggered onward and Kuro did not appear.

    After half a dozen corners and several minutes of cautious exploration, they turned up nothing but more of these vaulted passageways, straight and angular like runes cut into rock ¡ª and they were partially made from stone, or at least simulated stone. The black metal floors and lower parts of each wall gave way to great slabs of raw masonry, vanishing up toward the unseen ceiling.

    Eventually Ilyusha hissed: ¡°She¡¯s playing with us, huh? That right?¡±

    Ooni kept her eyes peeled as they eased around another corridor. ¡°Yes. Yes, she does this with other zombies, I¡¯ve seen it before.¡±

    Ilyusha grunted. ¡°Like how? How¡¯s she gonna fuck with us?¡±

    ¡°I ¡­ uh ¡­ I¡¯m not certain.¡± Ooni swallowed, trying not to think about how cruel Kuro could get. ¡°She wants us to think we¡¯ve gotten away, to give us hope, so she can take it away again. B-but she knows me, and she knows that I know. So ¡­ she knows I won¡¯t believe it, not for real. She has to get us to believe it, for real, to let us think there¡¯s a real chance of escape. So she can ¡­ crush it.¡±

    Ilyusha grinned, wide and nasty. ¡°Escape? Fuck that. Fuck her!¡± She raised her voice in a raspy shout, echoing off the stone walls. ¡°Hear that, cunt-face?! I¡¯m not going anywhere until I fucking eat you! Gonna peel you open, rancid fucking shit! Fight me!¡±

    Ilyusha fell silent, voice trailing off into the darkness, whispering echoes crawling back. She snorted with disgust.

    ¡°Coward. Puss-fuck chicken bitch. Eat my shit.¡±

    Ooni tried to take heart in Ilyusha¡¯s fire, but she knew if Kuro wasn¡¯t responding, she must have something worse planned. Ilyusha did not pose much of a threat to Kuro, not in her current state.

    ¡°She ¡­ she might try to separate us,¡± Ooni said. ¡°Or spook us, or ¡­ or something else. I¡¯m not sure. But we should expect anything. Anything at all. If she gets bored, she might just ¡­ just kill us.¡±

    Ilyusha growled, eyeing the shadows ahead. ¡°Biiiitch. Bitch. Reptile ¡­ fuckin¡¯ ¡­ cunt ¡­ ¡±

    They crept past two more corners, passing through junctions each identical to the last, with no change in the structure of the corridors. Ooni began to worry that Kuro had picked this part of the tomb on purpose, knowing it was laid out in a maze almost impossible to navigate, every hallway exactly like each other. There were no rooms or open chambers, as if the spaces between these corridors contained nothing but solid stone.

    ¡°Ilyusha,¡± she whispered. ¡°I-I still don¡¯t know where we¡¯re going. There¡¯s no landmarks, there¡¯s nothing. I can¡¯t even hear any sounds out there. We¡ª we may be playing into Kuro¡¯s hands, we might be¡ª¡±

    The darkness burst asunder.

    Ooni and Ilyusha¡¯s conjoined shadows suddenly exploded onto the floor and walls in front of them, outlined by a swirling blue glow; the light source had bloomed to their rear, far too close.

    Ilyusha roared with fury, dragging Ooni sideways as she tried to twist the pair around; Ooni yelped and lurched, Ilyusha¡¯s tail around her waist threatening to unbalance her. She staggered three paces to one side under Ilyusha¡¯s weight, accidentally slamming Ilyusha¡¯s hip in the stone wall. Ilyusha howled with pain ¡ª but she¡¯d gotten the pair turned around, facing toward the light source. She yanked the trigger on her shotgun; a round split the air with a deafening boom. Ooni felt the recoil ripple upward through her arm, but she planted her feet to stop Ilyusha losing control.

    The shot plinked off stone and metal.

    Ilyusha didn¡¯t fire a second shot, jaw hanging open, bloodshot eyes gone wide. Ooni froze as well, finger on the trigger of her submachine gun.

    A ghost stood twenty feet away.

    Blue ¡ª the pale blue of electric skies after a storm; semi-translucent flesh and clothes and hair were all that same impossible colour. The shotgun round had done nothing, passing harmlessly through the figure. The ghost was a woman, with long hair down to her waist, dressed in a rough woollen skirt and long shirt, furs draped over her shoulders. She carried a short sword in one hand, and a circular shield in the other. She wore no expression.

    She had Ooni¡¯s face.

    Ilyusha snarled: ¡°Izzat ¡­ you? The fuck?!¡±

    Ooni stared back at herself, dressed for a war that time had swallowed.

    ¡°It ¡­ it can¡¯t be,¡± Ooni said. ¡°It¡¯s not¡ª Kuro said ghosts, but¡ª it can¡¯t¡ª it¡¯s a hologram or a t-trick or¡ª¡±

    Ooni¡¯s ghost took a step forward. Ooni scrambled to aim her submachine gun, but she already knew the bullets would do nothing. Ilyusha bared her teeth, but the ghost continued to advance, then stopped safely beyond sword-reach.

    ¡°Fuckin trick, right,¡± Ilyusha growled, turning her head to check the rear. ¡°It¡¯s Kuro! Kuro fuckin¡¯ with us. It¡¯s not real. It¡¯s the tomb, it¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hello, sister,¡± said the ghost.

    Ooni couldn¡¯t breathe. The ghost had her voice ¡ª almost. Her face ¡ª almost. Her build ¡ª almost, but not quite.

    But she couldn¡¯t recall a sister. She couldn¡¯t even recall the feeling of sunlight, or the smell of vegetation, or the taste of fruit. The memory of hot wine faded to nothing, leaving her cold inside. Courage fled. Confusion and dislocation made her head spin.

    ¡° ¡­ I ¡­ I don¡¯t ¡­ a sister? I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°You threw me from the cliffs,¡± said the ghost. ¡°One winter¡¯s morning. Into the sea. My body was broken on the rocks.¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡± Ooni stammered. The blood drained from her face. Her muscles slackened. Her stomach felt like it needed to empty upward, through her throat. Ilyusha was pulling on her, but Ooni couldn¡¯t move. ¡°No. No, I would remember, I would remember if I¡ª if I had a sister, I would¡ª¡±

    ¡°You forgot.¡±

    ¡°I ¡­ n-no ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°I have come to remind you of your crime.¡±

    Ooni felt the ground give way beneath her heart. She felt walls collapsing about her head. She let go of her gun, trying to pull away from Ilyusha.

    ¡°You think you only did bad things because of the people you fell in with, after you died,¡± said the ghost. ¡°But that¡¯s just a lie, one you¡¯ve been telling yourself for too long. I have not come to forgive you, Ooni. I have come to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡± Ilyusha jerked her shotgun at the face of the ghost and pulled the trigger again ¡ª but the round passed harmlessly through the shimmering blue light and hit the wall instead. Ilyusha almost dragged Ooni off-balance, scrambling to stay on her feet. ¡°Shut up! Shut up! Ooni, fucking¡ª don¡¯t listen! Fuck her! Fuck you! Fuck! Fuck!¡±

    All Ilyusha¡¯s shouting couldn¡¯t drown out the ghost, like she was speaking inside Ooni¡¯s head.

    ¡°¡ªremind you that you were always like this. And you always will be. You will never make it up to me. I hate you.¡±

    Ooni sagged. She would have fallen to her knees if it wasn¡¯t for Ilyusha¡¯s tail wrapped around her waist. No memory came back to her, no clarity of sudden revelation. She could not recall if she had ever had a sister, let alone if she had committed a murder ¡ª before the nanomachine afterlife, before the starvation and the madness, before the Death¡¯s Heads, before all of this.

    But the guilt and the hatred rang true, twisting an invisible knife in a hidden wound.

    Ilyusha was shouting, waving the tip of her shotgun barrel through the ghost¡¯s blue flesh, but the ghost ignored her, undisturbed. Ooni¡¯s eyes filled with tears, clouded with a phantom of old grief; she was evil, wasn¡¯t she? Even within the walls of Telokopolis, she was still evil, she had done terrible things. How could she atone, if even her own sister ¡ª sister? ¡ª could not forgive her? She was not worthy of Telokopolis, nor of Elpida¡¯s second chance. She was filth on Kuro¡¯s boots.

    Ooni gazed up at the ghost, lips parting to beg for a forgiveness she didn¡¯t deserve, bearing her throat in a gesture of submission. Why did the ghost suddenly seem a hundred times larger?

    Was this what Kuro had felt, when the ghost of the hiver had forgiven her? No wonder Kuro had seemed so different. Nobody could survive this unchanged.

    ¡°Beg for nothing,¡± said the ghost.

    She raised her sword in one steady fist, point arcing down, aimed at Ooni¡¯s throat.