Massive cannons tracked them as the ship touched ground. Dozens, hundreds maybe, of soldiers in full combat armour flooded the bay. They lined up in neat, precise blocks, knees down with weapons trained on the ship.

'They've even got hoods on their armour, like an insignia,' Heratrix commented, peering down at them.

'Is that really important right now?' asked the Captain.

'Everything could be important if we live long enough to use it wisely.'

Despite the floodlights, the colour scheme was still the matte black that Heratrix had come to associate with the hooded foes they were tangled with. The floor tiles were black, the walls were polished black marble, and grey pipes pumped fuel to the nestling ships at the edge of the hangar.

From a doorway on the right a small group of soldiers escorted a tall figure. It was clad in silver this time, with a large XF Beta strapped to its back. It walked like an emperor.

'The big commander,' Rokoara said.

'This doesn't look good,' Kris agreed.

Skreem snorted loudly. 'When did it look good? At what point did it look like we were going good?'

'Skreem,' Gurgaston said, 'keep it down for now, will you?'

To Kris' amazement, she did.

The silvered commander stood before the cockpit and looked up into the bridge. It put its hands on its hips, studying intently. Heratrix got the feeling that behind that visor was a set of deeply intelligent eyes. A brute of a man would have stood differently, with their shoulders slightly drooping, legs further apart. This one stood tall and proud. They were in charge, and you didn't need any kind of context to understand that fact.

The figure raised a finger to its helmet. The intercoms of the ship popped as the frequency changed to the commander's wavelength. 'I'd issue a threat to coax you out, but I think it's fairly clear what your options are. If you're still unsure, look at the cannons and imagine them going straight through your hull.'

'It's a woman,' the captain said. 'That silver commander down there is a woman.'

'How very perceptive of you,' Rokoara said. 'We get around a bit.'

'How come she gets to make the sarcastic comments and not me?' Skreem asked.

'Because when you do it, little one, you're likely to do it in front of people with guns trained on our chests.'

From down the ship's hallway they heard the door open. Boots stomped up the stairs towards them and a moment later the door to the bridge swished aside. Soldiers marched in and the six of them had sights trained on their chests. To Heratrix it looked as if they'd all contracted some kind of interstellar measles, because there were so many red dots all over them.

'Ok, people,' said one of the soldiers. 'Hands over your heads.'

Nobody moved except Heratrix. 'Do as they say,' she said. 'If they wanted us dead we'd be at the gates by now.'

Reluctantly they all raised their arms, and one by one they were marched out into the hangar. Everything echoed out there. Every footstep came back to them seven or eight seconds later, then eleven, then fourteen or fifteen. It was as if every noise was an oral hydra, splitting heads when one was defeated. As a result, with so much happening all around them, it was hard to focus on any one noise. It was simply maddening.

When they were brought in front of the commander, the whole place went quiet. Every action stopped. The mechanics paused welding up the ships at the side, the pre-flight checks were halted. A feather could have fallen at the other end of the room and everyone would have heard it echo.

'Who's in charge, here?' she asked.

'The ship's mine,' said the Captain. 'However, if you're asking who's leading us as a group now, that would most likely be Miss Heratrix here.'

Heratrix shouldered the responsibility without complaint. 'What's happened to the rest of the crew?'

'Dead.'

The Captain looked up to the ceiling. 'Merciful heavens,' he whispered. Kris bowed her head.

'Where is it?' the commander asked.

'If we're going to share information, could we see your mug? Might be nice for some eye contact.' Skreem and her big mouth.

The commander nodded and Skreem went to the floor with a punch to her back. Her pigtails tried to lash out but the solider stepped swiftly out of reach.

'Miss Heratrix. If you wouldn't mind being helpful.'

'What is it that you're after?'

'Oh, please, let's not do this. I've got an army, an armada, hundreds of thousands of soldiers to command. Can we cut the shit and let me get back to work, please? Otherwise I'm going to have to take it out on you and you're really not going to like it.'

'You're after that thing we pinched on that rock a day or so ago?'

'That would be the one.'

'It's in there, somewhere.' Heratrix motioned with the back of her head to the ship.

'Whereabouts, specifically?'

Heratrix shrugged. 'No idea. I told one of the guys that you've shot to go hide it to give us plausible deniability. He could have thrown it out of an airlock before you jumped us into this god-forsaken abyss.'

The commander studied her. She nodded to one of the groups of guard, who quickly scampered over to the freighter to begin their systematic deconstruction of the ship. Heratrix reckoned it would take them at least a day, even with everyone tearing it apart, to confirm that it wasn't there.

'I'm going to have you placed in the filthiest cells we have on board here. In fact, I'm going to put you in the cells we haven't yet converted from the old biomech systems. Whilst you're there, that ship of yours is going to be searched top to bottom, ripped apart, stripped down and used as scraps. If I don't find what I'm looking for in there, you're going to find your heads rolling down the hallway. Is that clear?'

Skreem slowly rose to her feet again. 'I missed a bit. Can you repeat that in a different way for me?'

Another punch sent her to the floor again just as quickly as the first.

'I said you'd do this,' Gurgaston hissed at her.

'Shut up. I've still got my dignity.'

The commander looked them all over one final time before she turned and walked away. A flick of an upward hand and they were pushed along their way. Skreem was dragged the first few steps to her feet.

'We're going to get out of this,' Heratrix said to the Captain. 'It'll be fine.'

The Captain didn't seem to register her. He looked back past the heads of the guards. From out of the belly of the freighter the hooded soldiers were beginning to work in pairs to bring out covered sheets that were roughly 5-6 feet in length. He stifled a cry in his throat. 'They were innocent...'

'I'm sorry,' Rokoara whispered to him. 'We never meant for this to happen.'

'And yet it did,' Kris said. It was the first time she'd spoken since they stepped outside. Her eyes were cold and dead. 'You've got a lot of blood on your hands, Kakr. I hope you're proud of yourself. I hope this has all been fucking worth it for you.'

That was a question none of them had the answer to.