“Out of the way, Salvo,” says Shell, in her element, feet hooked on rails. She swings with all her might and feels the satisfying connection of tool with head. The wolf does not whimper or cry out, but Shell feels something give, like a skull caving in. The impact changes the animal’s direction and introduces a spin. It also sprays blood droplets in a spiral that follows the head. Salvo avoids the open jaws and gets on its back, sinking the spanner into its windpipe and pulling like an old painting of Samson. Splayed out, they can see the wolf is a he. It struggles still.

Fin looks comical in the zero grav, but he manages to get the muzzle of his weapon against the skull and pull the trigger.

The wolf goes still, but they all exist within the snowstorm of its body fluids and fur.

Fin stabs the inert wolf in the gut and saws up towards the head. Gravity is back. Behind them lies a messy passageway which remains messy because nobody trusts the bots and water is too limited to be used for clean-up without careful consideration. He lays down the blade – a hunting knife with an elaborate worked handle – and sticks both hands into the belly wound. He pulls the edges apart, and both he and Shell gasp. Salvo stays silent.

The wolf’s innards are synthetic. There is blood surrounding ruptured cabling and some components that still pulse with electric light.

“This… is not what I expected,” says Fin. “I mean, the wolf was unexpected, but…”

Salvo opens the mouth and looks at the teeth, then he examines the wound. He sticks his hands deep inside and comes up with faux intestines, which he cuts open with Fin’s knife.

“What are you looking for?” says Shell.

“I’m checking what it has had to eat,” says Salvo. “We started out looking for body parts, remember?”

“Do they eat?” asks Fin.

“I do,” says Salvo.

“Ragtime, reactivate cleaning bots and direct them here,” says Shell.

“Yes, Captain.”

To Fin and Salvo, she says, “We need to regroup. We haven’t found the missing body parts, and this canine just adds confusion. We’re going to the bridge. I think better there.”

Ragtime scours for more organic matter but has not turned anything up yet. Shell is in the cupola waiting for sunrise on Bloodroot. It grounds her in something familiar, and it slows her racing heart better than the worry beads.

“One of the passengers must have brought it on board,” says Fin.

Shell shakes her head and drops down into the bridge node. “No.”

“How do you know?” he asks.

“Because we checked luggage, which is vetted, and each passenger’s allowance is extremely limited. There are absolutely no electronics allowed, only Interface Chips and mechanicals related to prosthetics and disability. Luggage is scanned. It wasn’t there.”