The lieutenant stood before her, gray eyes coldly alight. Mahlia tried to tear away, but the soldiers tripped her and she landed on the floor. She scrabbled to get up, but they jumped on her and held her down. Someone slammed her face into the cracked tile floor.

Lieutenant Sayle knelt down beside her. He grabbed her by the hair, twisting her head up so he could look into her face.

“You got some payback coming to you, castoff.”

Mahlia knew what was coming. It was going to be like it had been for her mother. They’d rape her and break her, make her scream until they got sick of her. Then they’d kill her. Mahlia started to pray. Knowing it was stupid, but praying anyway. Kali-Mary Mercy, Rust Saint, Fates. All the martyrs of the Deepwater Church. Anyone.

Sayle put a knee on her back, pressing her down, and then Mahlia felt something else, too, metal pricking cold against the skin of her spine. A knife.

“Maybe we’ll take your kidneys out, before we’re done with you,” Sayle said. “Harvesters give a good price for pieces and parts. Take your eyes, take your heart, take your kidneys, drain you out.” He paused.

“But they don’t need fingers, do they?”

Mahlia started to shake. Her fingers. Her hand.

She started bucking and twisting, trying to break free. Knowing it was pointless to fight, but doing it anyway.

The lieutenant put his knife against her pinky knuckle. She felt it slice through.

Mahlia screamed. She screamed and screamed and they didn’t try to muffle her. They just laughed as she bucked and writhed under their hands.

“That’s one!” Sayle crowed.

He dangled her pinky in front of her while she sobbed and tried to squirm away.

Sayle leaned close, his breath hot on her cheek. “How ’bout we go for two?”

“LT!” The shout came from across the room, interrupting.

Sayle turned, annoyed. “What do you want, soldier?”

“Need your help, sir.”

With a curse, Sayle climbed off. Mahlia lay gasping, panting. One of the other soldier boys gave her a shove with his foot.

“Only four more…”

It didn’t matter, she tried to tell herself as she lay shivering and whimpering. It didn’t matter whether she had one or two, or no hands. She was going to die anyway. But she couldn’t help crying.

“Call HQ,” Sayle was saying. “Get us some more soldiers. Get us a damn barge. Show some initiative, soldier.”

“We got no authority,” the soldier was saying. They were all standing around the unconscious mass of the half-man. Some of the other troops were trying to get Tool lifted up. It was almost a joke. He was clearly too heavy for them.