Overhead, a ball of light writhed at the apex of the dome. A million glowing fibres slithered and curled around each other, constantly shifting but always the same. And beneath it, suspended in the air, a creature of such fearsome appearance I let out a screech and scrambled backwards, my heels kicking against the smooth, polished rock. The thing was about the size of the grizzly bears I’d learned about in school, but with more teeth, four limbs bristling with at least a dozen claws each, and nine eyes of varying size and colour.

The light dimmed as the fibres lowered the beast to the floor. When its paws touched stone, it dropped into a four-legged crouch, quivering like a cat readying itself to pounce. I stopped backing away and thrust out a hand, palm forwards and fingers splayed.

“Whoa, easy.”

It looked at me with all its eyes. Its claws were the length of steak knives. Sharp teeth filled its mouth. The muscles beneath its sleek coat were lithe and powerful. I had no doubt it could kill me with one savage bite or disembowelling swipe.

Instead, it lowered its head and let forth a snort.

Greetings. The word appeared, spelled out in my mind’s eye like a subtitle. The creature raised its face expectantly.

“Um, hello?”

It gave an extended series of growls and snorts.

You are Annelida Deal, formerly of Earth, formerly of the Conglomeration Navy, and now travelling under the name Ona Sudak.

“Yes.” I drew the word out cautiously, still cringing against imminent possible attack.

The monster looked me up and down and snarled, long and low.

You are being judged.

Fifty-Five: Sal Konstanz

FIFTY-FIVE

SAL KONSTANZ

The lights flickered on the bridge. All the displays went blank and we were cast into darkness. On the other side of the room, I heard Laura muttering under her breath, but didn’t know if it was a prayer or a curse. A torpedo hadn’t hit us, so I could only assume the weapon she had warned us about had infiltrated the Trouble Dog’s systems. I was just wondering how to respond when the power reasserted itself and everything came back up.

We exchanged a frightened glance, both of us unsure whether the relief we saw on each other’s faces was premature.

I tapped the communication bud in my ear. “Ship, are you there?”

The Trouble Dog’s angelic countenance materialised on the main screen, and she looked decidedly pleased with herself. “I am.”

“What’s our status?”

“Watch.”

The external view zoomed in on the Fenrir—a bronze artillery shell falling through space, her underside livid with the reflected light of the churning star.

I leant towards the image and frowned. “Her defence cannons aren’t firing.”

The Trouble Dog’s smile grew distinctly lupine. “Keep watching,” she said.

A torpedo spiralled in from the left of the screen, quickly followed by another.

“Are those ours?”

“Wait…”