"So somehow this is my fault?" Liam asked. He fired blindly around the corner, the unique sound of his custom Embrine kinetic pistol a welcome distraction from the distant screams.

"Yes, it's your fault!," Scott growled. The timber of his voice was as intimidating as his massive furred form. "You're the operation commander and you took this suicide mission!"

"Wait, so now I'm operation commander? You seem incapable of acknowledging that unless you need someone to blame."

"Just admit it. The Djinn dangled credits in front of you, and you sold our souls for a bunch of zeros."

Liam knew spirituality was a sore point for Scott. For him to mention souls meant he was pissed, which wasn't that strange, but Liam couldn't blame him this time. The entire mission had gone to hell.

Liam looked over the group huddled behind him. There were eight people: two canamarians, a felarnian, plus five humans, not to mention four constructs. They'd started with double that number when they fled their wing of the ship, but the spiders were already waiting for them in the main hall. A group of stewards had come to their rescue. They were too late to save everyone, but their sacrifice allowed Scott time to cut a path into the maintenance tunnels.

They escaped the main massacre, but the monsters were still on their tail. Eight lives were saved, not even a fraction of the passengers. When the spiders boarded the ship, it was a massacre.

Patricia spoke quietly with the felarnian. His clothes were in tatters and he was covered in blood that wasn't his own. His eyes darted from side to side at the slightest sound. He definitely wasn't labor caste. A felarnian warrior would rather die then show fear before a canamarian, but he did nothing to hide his terror. For their part the canamarian women paid him no mind. One had received a garish wound to her leg in the flight from the killing machines. The other had carried her companion and a human child to safety. The child sat between the two women, his face buried in his savior's lap.

Liam decided to count his blessings. If either woman had been a Canamarian Knight they would have been eager to fight the felarnians. Their animosity ran deep, a knight would have rather died killing her people's sworn enemies than die at the mercy of mindless war machines.

"Passenger, your pass appears to be corrupted," a steward construct said as she returned his pass. "I can not gain access to an appropriate designation for you."

Liam shrugged. His counterfeit boarding pass was the last thing on his mind.

"Thanks," he said as he shoved it into a side pocket. "Wait. I need you to scout around the corner, get us an accurate count of how many of those things are out there."

"Me, passenger? I'm not sure I'm the best equipped to-"

"What's your name."

"Kaite-49..."

"Katie-49, nice. What do you know about Flesh Farmers, Katie-49?"

"We don't have time for this! Get out there, buckethead," growled Scott.

Liam put up his hand, and Scott relented.

"Katie-49?" Liam prompted.

"Flesh Farmers are classified as a hostile species, though there have been no confirmed sightings in more than 54 standard years. They are antagonistic towards all spacefaring people, with the exception of The Va Pu, and The People of The Silent Worlds. The Flesh Farmers attack indiscriminately, collecting the flesh and vital organs of their victims before returning to the depths of space. Home world: unknown."

"Are we done with the history lesson?" Scott shook his head.

Liam had served among felarnians long enough to know Scott wasn't merely aching to fight. He was warrior caste, born and bred to fight at the slightest sign of danger. Patricia channeled that drive into being productive. Scott was prone to lashing out.

"Ignore him for a moment, Katie-49," Liam said. "Flesh Farmers want flesh. As long as you appear non-threatening they should ignore you."

"I'm still not sure, passenger."

"Look at us. If one of us steps out there we're as good as dead." Liam pointed to the three constructs tending to the wounded. "The four of you are here to protect us, right?"

"Yes, passenger. our safety is one of our top priorities."

"Well the best way to do that is to help me get these people to safety. This passage is a dead end, go out there and find us a clear path to that service hatch."

"O... okay."

"Thank you, Katie-49. We're relying on you."

The construct took a deep breath, an unsettlingly human gesture as she had no lungs to fill, and walked around the corner. The screams were still distant, but Liam wanted to be sure before he walked these people into a death trap. He looked up at Scott, nearly seven feet of felarnian fury, his fur pattern identical to his sister's except the colors were reversed. The hair on his head was tied back into a ponytail, the hair on his face was flecked with blood. Liam shook his head.

The Djinn had hired his team to protect the CEO. Liam had assumed they'd be dealing with pirates, assassins, or worst case scenario- boredom. His team was ready for all of it. What they weren't ready for was a ship full of murderous killing machines. Even if Liam was able to save his eight charges, and get to safety, there was no guarantee the CEO had survived the initial attack. The possibility didn't sit well with him. He played to win every time, and this mission was looking more and more like a big L.

Patricia came over and leaned against the wall beside him. The trio were all wearing light combat gear, though she was the only one who'd been able to grab her pack when everything went to crap. They had their guns, and Scott never went anywhere without his blade. Liam would have given a lot for his Personal Shield Generator, and his rifle. Soldier's intuition made Liam pack grenades and explosive rounds, but all of it sat in his duffle bag beside his bed. He'd gone through a lot of trouble to smuggle his weapons aboard, and all it took was three spiders to ruin everything. Spiders. The irony.

His grandfather had been fond of saying 'The best laid plans...'. Liam had never heard the rest of the saying, but he understood the gist.

"What's the plan, boss?" Patricia asked. She'd taken the time to put on her body armor. She was always the practical one.

"Simple. One, we get these people somewhere safe and secure. Two, we find out if Farnsworth survived the carnage. If she's alive, we keep it that way."

"And when we find out she isn't?" Scott grumbled. He looked down at Liam, the bloodlust in his eyes receding for a moment.

"Even more simple. We cut our losses and get these people to the nearest gridport."

"When you say simple, I always hear complicated," Patricia said.

"Good, we do speak the same language." Liam laughed, but the siblings merely glanced at one another and shook their heads. "Look, top priority is saving who we can. I'd like to save the CEO, and collect the credits attached to her vitals, but I care more about you guys and them right now."

The three turned to their little pocket of survivors. There wasn't a single fighter among them.

"We got this," Liam said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. It was a lot, Liam was nothing if not enthusiastic. It was that enthusiasm which motivated people into doing things they were normally too afraid to do. "Listen carefully, people! We need you all on your feet. On my signal, we're going to make a run for the service hatch we passed two turns ago. I-"

"We can't go back out there, those things are waiting for us," whined the felarnian man.

"There goes that felarnian pride we hear so much about," said the smaller of the two canamarians, her ursine features skewed in disgust.

Scott snarled and took a step forward. Both women stood. Patricia pushed her brother back and blocked his path.

"What? Felarnia can't produce cowards?" the woman spat.

This time it was Patricia's turn to snarl. "Watch it," she said. She didn't usually go in for the racial conflict, but it had been a stressful day.

"Besides, it's Canamar that can't produce anything," Scott snapped.

Patricia flinched at his words. The wounded cananamarian looked as if she'd been slapped. The other would have rushed him if the human child hadn't chosen that moment to wrap his arms around her leg.

"Stop. Now," Patricia ordered, staring up at her larger brother. "Don't say another word."

She was furious, a place only Scott could take her. He had a way with words, and a knack for pissing people off.

"You guys done?" Liam asked "Look, I know about your old war, The Devastation, reparations, the ancient grudge. I get it. The dog folk hate the cat folk because they destroyed your home world, and the cat folk hate the dog folk because it's too embarrassing to admit the terrible things we do to each other in times of war. I get it."

"It's more than that," Scott grumbled. He pushed Liam, but backed away and took up a position at the corner, making a point of ignoring everyone.

"It is more than that," said the wounded canamarian.

"I'm over simplifying it, but that's what it comes down to, and, until both sides are willing to see that, your people are going to continue to hate each other. Unfortunately there's no time for a therapy session, because some big blue cat could use it. We can't stay here.

It's a dead end and we're all sitting ducks. That wasn't a racial thing. We can't hold this position, so we need to find one we can. I need everyone up and ready to move. If you can't stand, someone will help you. Good. When I say move we'll all head for the hatch. My friends and I wi-"

"Incoming."

The passengers panicked.

Patricia set to calming everyone down, Liam rushed to Scott's side. They waited until Liam could hear approaching footsteps. He signaled for Scott to hold his fire and used a piece of broken reflective plating to scan the hall. Two steward constructs approached. One was Katie-49. The other was identical to the other constructs except for the dried blood and globs of viscera that hung across her shoulder. The little boy started crying the moment he set eyes on her. The other stewards rushed over with a rag and bottle of cleaning solution they'd found. She stared forward, arms outstretched, as the others cleaned away the gore.

"What did you find, Katie-49," Liam asked. It took a great deal of effort to look away from the bloody machine.

"I found Kaori-20 standing in the passage. She was confused and unsure what to do. I told her to come back with me. Was that wise? I am a bit unsure myself."

"That was smart, Katie-49. We have to help anyone we find." Liam gave Scott a warning look. "What about the Flesh Farmers? Is the route clear from here to the service hatch?"

"Yes, passenger. There is blood in the tunnel, but no sign of the intruders." She looked at the tarnished construct. "I believe Kaori-20 is malfunctioning. I should help get her clean."

The construct walked away and Patricia came over.

"Pepper, can constructs experience trauma?" he asked.

"You only call me that when you're upset. You okay?"

"Not sure, but there's no time for that." He signaled to Scott, "Callsigns from now on."

"Copy," Patricia acknowledged. "Series 4 and 5 constructs are designed specifically to bypass the emotional aspects of their AI model. Their design is based off of the immensely superior series 3 digital mind core."

"So they can't."

"Actually they can and have, but only after suffering a catastrophic fault in their line code. Usually happens when their system is unable to quarantine blocks of circular logic or the construct experiences a sight/line negative."

"I don't understand most of what you're saying."

"Yes. They can experience trauma if they see something they don't understand."

"Okay, because that machine looks like she's had a psychotic break. Watch her, Renegade."

"Okay, Spider."

"We need to get out of here, people." Liam addressed his little group. "When I say move, I want you all behind us in groups of two, we move together and no one gets left behind. Katie-49 and one of her peers will lead the way. Two stewards will bring up the rear and make sure we don't lose anyone."

"Finally, let's get this over with." Scott craned his head to the side until a pop released some of his pent up tension.

"Renegade will be in the back and I'll take point. You'll be in the middle, Raven."

"The middle?" Scott hated the middle. He wanted to be the first into danger at all times, but Liam had no use for his hotheaded style at the moment.

"Yeah, the middle. Everyone ready?"

"This is bullshit."

"Let's move out!"

The maintenance tunnels weren't meant to be seen by the passengers so fell victim to neglect. Dim lighting hung every fifty feet. Those that worked did very little to dispel the thick gloom. Pipes and conduits vied with boxes of maintenance supplies and piles of scrap to choke the survivors into the center of halls barely ten feet wide. The narrowness should have been an advantage against the eight legged machines, but they were deceptively nimble and flexible.

Liam had seen them move firsthand. Running through their movements in his head, he tried to devise a strategy to outmaneuver them. He knew the team was taking a big risk, but they couldn't do their job hiding in the belly of the ship. His conscience wouldn't let him leave the people behind him to die if he could save them.

Liam followed twenty feet behind the constructs, giving him enough space to react to a sudden attack. Ten feet behind him trailed two of the humans, followed by the canamarian and the child. Behind them limped the wounded woman with the help of a human man in a business suit. Raven was next in the marching order, followed by the felarnian man and a woman with the colonial look about her. Renegade and the last two constructs moved as one, her Browning Arcus shotgun pointed at the ground and her combat goggles swept the darkness for trouble.

Screams continued to echo down the tunnels as Liam's group retraced their steps. He lost sight of Katie-49 and Kaori-20 for a moment as they followed the winding course of the passage. Approaching the bend in the passage, Liam spied a looming shadow against the wall. He gestured for the people behind him to abide a moment, and cautioned a look around the corner. The shadow belonged to the smoking remains of an eight-legged killing machine.The constructs were almost to the next turn.

"Come on," he whispered. "Don't look down, people. Keep your eyes on the person ahead of you." He heard Scott reiterate his orders as he led them through the carnage.

"What am I stepping in?" someone asked.

"You don't want to know," Patricia assured them.

Liam clenched his teeth and spoke deep in his throat.

"Renegade, are you seeing the damage to the spiderbot?"

Renegade: Yeah, I see it.

Her words scrolled across his optical lenses.

"My 10 yield and 15 yield rounds bounced off."

Raven: Mine too

"What killed it?"

Renegade: Looks like their exoskeleton is armor plated, but the underside isn't. Probably because of the sensitive collection apparatus.

Raven: You mean meat grinders.

"Okay, we can kill them. We just have to aim for their underbelly."

Renegade: If you give me a few minutes, I can examine this exoskeleton and determine what yield the armor is graded against.

"No time."

Liam reached the second corner, and peeked around. The two constructs stood in front of the service hatch. Katie-49 scanned the area for trouble, Kaori-20 merely stared at the floor. Liam realised she would be useless if trouble arrived. She was broken and would need software maintenance before she could be anything but a liability. He urged the group forward, ever vigilant for the slightest movement. Liam reached the hatch and pressed the open key, but the door didn't budge.

Access was denied.

The survivors clustered around the door, their faces watching him expectantly.

"Katie-49, can you gain access?"

"No, passenger, I am a steward. Only porters and maintenance staff have clearance to use the service corridors."

"You don't have clearance. You could have told us before we broke cover and exposed ourselves!"

"Sorry, I-"

"No time! Renegade, crack this door."

"Right, boss. I should be through the security protocols in five."

"Make it three."

"I can cut a hole right through it," Scott offered.

"We need to be able to close the door behind us, Raven."

"Who are you people?" asked the pale woman from the colonies.

"Call us Eagle X-"

"Incoming!"

A metal spider skittered around the corner, blood staining the tips of its limbs. Everyone panicked. The human helping the wounded canamarian woman freaked out, spilling the her to the floor. She ran back the way they'd come, and her friend bolted after her. Katie-49 ran to block the machine's advance, dragging Kaori-20 to help. The other two constructs moved to follow.

"Wait! You two stay here, protect them at all cost."

The spider reared up and made a keening noise like a chorus of drills. Drawn by the sound more spiders appeared. Liam fired down the hall scoring a hit on the lead spider. Two of its legs went limp but the monster kept coming. He and Scott set down a barrage of alternating fire, most of which ricocheted harmlessly off of superior grade armor. The survivors pressed themselves against the wall, terror written plainly on their faces. The little boy clung to his canamarian protector, but he didn't cry. The child seemed to have accepted his fate.

From the ceiling a spider thrust forward with its front-facing arms. One appendage speared Katie-49's head and wrenched it from her body. The other exploded through Kaori-20's chest, destroying her memory core. Constructs called it digital personality death. Katie-49 blindly tried to keep the flesh farmer machines at bay, but it was a futile gesture. A spider tossed her body aside, and the monstrosities advanced down the hall.

"I'm done with this," Scott growled. He holstered his pistol, and drew the black and silver hilt from his belt. With a roar, he charged into the darkness between him and the coming death machines.

"Raven, wait!"

The shadows fled at the activation of his plasmatic edge. His was a blade of soft blue light and metal held prisoner by a magnetic field. The weapon was the symbol of the felarnian warrior caste. Scott's particular plasmatic edge had once belonged to his father, a legendary felarnian general.

A buzzing spider reared up to swallow Scott in its deadly machinery, and he cut a burning swath up its chassis. The machine fell in two sparking heaps. Another took its place and Liam fired a trio of shots into its center mass. It clattered to the ground and lay motionless. Scott rolled beneath the thrust of a deadly appendage, and hacked off that offending limb. He then ran up the tunnel wall, and stabbed his blade down through the machine. Liam continued to lay cover fire, ensuring that any spider that rose up to eat Scott received a mouthful of medium yield kinetic small arms rounds. Together they killed four of the machines in quick succession. Undaunted, Scott charged around the corner. His battlecry floated back to them as his footfalls