"So much... death," Nín said

  from where he sat against a bulkhead, just past the Rys' ancient

  airlock. His head was between his knees with a puddle of what remained

  of his stomach contents pooled around his boots.

  "Up, brother," Oscar said with a palm to his temple. "We have work ahead of us."

  "What work?" Nín asked. "Who else is left to kill?"

  The

  guilt of the battle had shaken him to his core. The sheen of brotherly

  assurance had long drained from his face, now Oscar saw only panic and

  pain.

  "This is... business as normal for you?" Nín asked, accusation colouring the edges of his words.

  Oscar took a deep breath.

  "For us," he said slowly, "death is part of living."

  "We didn't even give them a chance to–" Nín started.

  "–To what?"

  the brash voice of Tarrare boomed as he finished cycling through the

  airlock. Behind him, two black-suited soldiers walked with arms guiding

  the lumbering brute after having reclaimed him from his free-flight into

  vacuum. "To surrender?"

  "Did you enjoy your meal, Tarrare?" Oscar said harshly, urging the augur to hold his tongue.

  "We could have restrained them– sent them back to their ships. Something," Nín said.

  "They

  would have returned with more numbers," Nalusa said, cycling in

  behind Tarrare along with Domery. Behind them a dozen more soldiers

  followed and Nalusa wordlessly issued orders for them to begin securing

  the vessel.

  "Did you not say you cleared the Rys of human presence last time you were here?" Oscar said.

  "There's

  always holdouts," Nalusa said, eyeing Nín with an eyebrow raised, where

  he still sat, "If they're here we'll find them."

  "What

  of the other ship?" Oscar asked, reminded of the two science vessels

  destroyed in white flame by Nalusa's missiles. "Do we need to worry

  about a distress signal?"

  "I'll secure it personally. When you're done here, send for me," Nalusa said.

  Stepping backward, she kept her eyes on Nín before entering the airlock.

  "I wouldn't dare leave you behind," Oscar said with a smirk.

  Nalusa only nodded, her attention elsewhere, as the airlock cycled closed.

  "Shall I put the sabres to bed, liege?" Domery asked Tarrare as he grinded the blades past each other.

  "No,

  keep them close! We know not what lurks in the ancient

  black," Tarrare insisted. Shrugging off the aid of the black-suited

  soldiers, he reclaimed his blade and headed off down one of the

  corridors with a terrible mission.

  "Do you know where you're going?" Nín called after him.

  "No, but the air smells far fouler this way!" Tarrare barked as his laugh grew ever distant in the dark.

  "Come on," Oscar said with his hand extended, "let's see if we can't find a drink of water somewhere on this hulk."

  Nín hesitated

  for a moment before taking his hand. Without waiting for Oscar, he

  headed off into the dark behind Tarrare and Domery.

  From

  the outside, the Rys' form was hard to make out against the black of

  endless space. Distant were any starlights, but from the hull plating he

  made out, Oscar had had a hard time not drawing parallels between its

  ancient form and the technological make up of the human science vessels

  and that of the small skiff.

  Vast

  was the Rys' outer shell, even when compared to that of the Evil, yet

  the technology that coursed through its bulkheads were surely far

  inferior to his peoples'. Still drawing parallels, Oscar couldn't shake

  the feeling that they didn't belong here, that they were the interlopers and not the humans.

  "Tarrare, slow your pace," Oscar ordered, "Long foretold homecoming or not, we don't know what waits for us in the dark."

  "Then get some lights on!" he roared back, "the Will knows you need the distraction!"

  "Best you hold your tongue. I would hate to deprive you of your taste," Oscar threatened, losing patience with the brute.

  Tarrare ignored

  him. Instead, continuing on ahead with Domery as Oscar and the

  future Crown Paramount lagged behind. At least they had the soldiers who

  were... where–?

  Oscar felt

  around in Will, its strands so far between this far separated from the

  wider community. He found the two soldiers heading in opposite

  directions, searching room-by-room. Querying their intentions went

  unanswered.

  Shaking off the frustration, Oscar turned to Nín.

  "Let us leave Tarrare to his fool's quest," Oscar said, "I want to see what Nalusa's got her soldiers up to."

  "Can't we just ask them?" Nín rightfully questioned.

  "Normally

  yes. This far away from the influence of the Will's epicentre, Nalusa's

  own influence is formidable. My questioning fell flat," Oscar admitted.

  "I didn't know that could happen," Nín said.

  "It

  shouldn't..." Oscar said, unease roiling within him; something was

  being hidden from him and from Nín. "Come, we'll find out."

  After

  a few minutes more of walking in the dark, winding through long

  alien-feeling corridors of stark metal and untold stories, they caught

  up with one of the soldiers. Nearing closer, Oscar could feel their

  anxiety as they moved about a cabin frantically fumbling with something

  large.

  It

  wasn't until Oscar and Nín rounded the corner that the reason hit them

  both in the face with a pestilent wave of rot and death.

  The

  soldier, surprised to see them, halted in its task and dropped a body

  onto the metal floor with a slippery thud. Behind them, a pile the

  height of a man was stacked of bodies and their effluence. From the

  smell, Oscar guessed the scene to be weeks, maybe months old, as some of

  the bodies had begun to liquefy from their own acids.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Nín looked around frantically in the dark, "What the hell is that smell?"

  "Bodies," Oscar said frankly, "many have died here."

  "Bodies?

  I thought Nalusa said all the humans were removed from this

  place," Nín said, holding back what remained of his stomach contents.

  "Their

  souls, maybe, but their forms remain," Oscar said. Moving his feet

  about he could feel them slide around with whatever horrible fluid

  coated the floor.

  "You," Oscar said to the soldier, "explain your orders from Spectre Falaya."

  Wordlessly, Oscar was made aware of Nalusa's directive to hide these bodies from... Nín?

  "Why?" Oscar demanded, to which the soldier only gave silence.

  "What is it? What are they doing here?" Nín asked, taking a few steps backward out of the room.

  "They are just cleaning up; taking the bodies to the airlock," Oscar skirted the truth.

  Why would Nalusa hide the bodies from Nín specifically – he thought, why would— oh...

  Suddenly Oscar knew, these were his people...

  Grabbing

  hold of Nín he led the man down a corridor to what appeared to be a

  long empty mess hall. Rumaging through a row of cabinets, he found a

  cache of sealed glass vials of water ration and cracked one open and

  forced it toward Nín.

  Nín took it without objection and downed the bottle in a single gulp.

  "Thank you," he said after Oscar had passed him two more. "I'm sorry all of this is getting to me so much."

  "You're still young, brother," Oscar said, "There's no expectation of performance for your first go around."

  "This really is common then? The presence of death, I mean," Nín asked between further gulps.

  "As I said, death is life."

  "That's less helpful than you think it is," said Nín.

  "There's still a lot for you to understand. In time you will. For now, focus on the mission," Oscar said. "First thing's first."

  Oscar followed a hunch that led him across the room to a midpoint down the wall.

  "There!" he said, flipping an emergency lever, "and voila!"

  Suddenly,

  the ceiling lights across the room and down the corridor flickered on

  –sporadic and lethargic– blinding the pair for a few moments.

  How long had it been since the lights had last been on – Oscar wondered, How long had this place and its secrets lingered in the black?

  And

  of all the secrets Oscar had been expecting to bring to light for his

  people on this day of their homecoming, it was the secrets among those

  living, not his distant ancestors that troubled him most.

  If they were trying to hide Nín's origin, what other secrets were Nalusa's men ordered to expunge?

  "Oscar!" Nín called from back by the mess' water station. "There are bodies here too."

  Pacing to Nín's side, Oscar came upon an odd sight.

  Unlike

  before, there was no blood or gore to be found among the bodies; no

  slippery surface, no pungent stench, and no heat emanating from the rot.

  What lay before them bore no injuries nor signs of trauma and were

  instead withered husks, desiccated and politely slumped against the

  walls, cabinets, and bulkheads. Nor did they have scientific envirosuits

  like the humans outside, but neatly pressed and buttoned uniforms, now

  folded and weathered by the long passage of time.

  "They're crew," Oscar said, "So old, almost peaceful."

  "Crew of what ship? None of the scientists we... killed–" Nín said, choking on his words, "none of them made it inside."

  "Brother,

  look closer. These poor souls are old. Too old to be anything

  dispatched by ourselves. Too old they've lost their stench," said Oscar,

  "No, these are crew of the Rys, our hallowed ancestors. And, cooking

  crew by the looks of it."

  Oscar knelt,

  touching the lapel of one of the cook's shirts. Folding it carefully,

  the fabric weakened and tore away with little resistance.

  "Ancestors?" Nín asked, "I thought our people all came to Ghede."

  "When

  father spoke of the finding of this ship, I never expected to find any

  left behind," Oscar said. "The histories tell us all of the Starfires

  found a home amongst the Will. The fact that some did not..."

  "How did they die?" Nín asked, kneeling beside him.

  "Peacefully. Time will tell as to the cause."

  That's

  when they felt a sickening tide billowed within the attenuated fabric

  of the Will, followed closely by what was unmistakably Tarrare's own

  roar.

  "What is it– what did you find, Tarrare?!" Oscar questioned, standing to look down the corridor.

  "Nothing–!" Tarrare growled through the distance, "Absolutely nothing to eat!"

  Oscar sighed and shook his head.

  "Damnit Tarrare, stay focused," Oscar insisted.

  "Domery tells me the lights are on, is this your doing?" asked Tarrare.

  "I remain productive and on-task," Oscar said with an ascetic frustration in his throat.

  "I knew you needed the distraction!" Tarrare chortled. "Tell me, have you found many of these dried bags of bones about?"

  "Some. We're in the mess hall, there are a couple cooks here that–"

  "Mess

  hall–?" Tarrare interrupted, "you're not holding out on me are you,

  son-of? Any morsels worth a taste? I've tried these jerkymen and they

  taste of nothing."

  "You ate the ancestors?" Nín puzzled back wordlessly.

  "Little

  crown!" Tarrare said with genuine surprise. "This is something to

  revel! The first it is i've heard your true voice reach me within the

  Will. Well done!"

  "Yes, he ate them," Domery said, "I urged him to stow his appetite to no avail."

  "How many do you count, Domery?" Oscar asked, not willing to wait for Tarrare's rambling to cease.

  "Of the vessel's cavities that we've walked, my count is thirty-seven. But we've yet to explore more than a twentieth of the ship; I expect we shall uncover many more."

  "Did you see any wounds, torn clothing, broken bones or bruising, or any signs of trauma?" asked Oscar.

  "None," Domery confirmed.

  "It is as if these miserable husks all dried up of their own accord!" Tarrare barked.

  "Nalusa," Oscar urged her to answer, unsure if the strands of the Will could flex out to reach her on the science vessel.

  After several seconds of delay, she responded; "I hear you across the quiet, Oscar. What needs my attention?"

  "Find any holdouts?" asked Oscar.

  "None. They left the vessel in a parking orbit. What can I do?" Nalusa asked.

  "Are you near one of the humans' wallscreen terminals? I need you to search for any life signs aboard the Rys."

  "You're expecting to find survivors from before my purge?" Nalusa asked, her voice stilled by distance.

  "Not them. I am searching for something –anything– that might explain the other bodies we've found aboard," Oscar explained.

  "Not those ones–" he affirmed after feeling her sudden reticence.

  "I don't know what you mean," she said.

  "There's

  perhaps a hundred or more crewmen left over from the Rys' last voyage;

  our ancestors," Oscar said. "Surely you saw them on your last time

  aboard."

  "Boarding

  with you was my first time on the Rys, Oscar," Nalusa refuted. "I had

  my forces perform the sweep last time I was here, it's common practice."

  Oscar sighed, "have you found anything?"

  "Looking."

  After

  several moments, Tarrare appeared from around the corner and pushed his

  way past Oscar and began rummaging through the

  cabinets. Domery followed, carrying a severed arm in one hand.

  "He insisted," Domery said, "as an emergency ration."

  "Found something," Nalusa finally said, "though it is faint."

  "Is it nearby?" Oscar asked.

  "Negative.

  It's clear across the vessel towards the rear. There's what looks to be

  a large cargo hold. You'll find your life signs somewhere within."

  "Life signs?" Oscar questioned.

  "I'll meet you there," she said.

  They

  left Tarrare and Domery to their pillaging of the mess hall and headed

  for the cargo bay. As Oscar walked the corridors, now mostly lit by what

  of the ancient lights that remained functioning after so much time, he

  felt more and more just how alien the place looked to him. From the

  curves of the wall detailing, to the angular floor tiles, to the grid

  like layout of the rooms it was clear that so much had changed since his

  peoples' time aboard the great ship, so much history lost, so much

  waiting to be refound.

  "It's strange," Nín said as they neared the cargo hold, "this all seems familiar to me, almost like I've been here before."

  "You have," Oscar said,

  shocking himself with his own candour. But, he supposed it did him

  little good to keep secrets from his own brother and future co-ruler.

  "What

  do you mean? I couldn't have been one of the crew that makes no–" he

  said, before reason caught up with him, "–oh, no... the death. It never

  ends."

  His

  anguish was powerful, swelling outward and disrupting Oscar's own

  thoughts. It knocked Oscar to his knees, unrepentant and full of a

  sickening fury like Oscar had never felt before outside of his father.

  "I knew them? And we killed them all? There was so much blood– a slaughter..." Nín continued, "And I knew them?"

  Unable to reconcile the fresh hell he found himself in, Nín joined Oscar on the ground.

  Collapsing

  onto his face, the future Crown Paramount, prime specimen of the

  Transformative Power, and new brother to Oscar, began to convulse on the

  angular floor tiles of ancient humanity.