Crying Moon

By Roger Ruffles

The Tears of the Moon are weapons of destruction, capable of turning entire planets into tombs. A very dangerous man by the name of Mason Duboise knows of them, and as a former Imperial Intelligence and StarCom double agent, Mason is no stranger to duplicity. In the wrong social class, he has wept his own tears as he was forced to deny his son and his wife by the laws of the Red Empire of Mars.
He has a plan to steal the weapons, and sell them to the highest bidder, but life in the Age of Secession is never so straightforward. In the galactic south, a new threat is stirring, the xeno-religious extremists of the Suularitsaar. These extremist humanists dream of forming their own nation on hatred; a hatred not just of the augmented borg, but of even the more moderate unaugmented human.
To unite the family he has denied for so long, Mason Duboise will see billions cry as a result of what he plans. The Tears of the Moon will weep freely down the face of the colonised galaxy, even as Mason faces the assassin with no face to call his own.
Prepare for the Tears to flow.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roger Ruffles
• Release date: Jun 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311665485

Roger Ruffles

I was born in 1980, in Cheshire.Despite that, I view myself as a Manchester lad, having spent most of my adult life in the city. I developed a keen interest in science fiction at a very early age thanks to a very popular time travel series on BBC1. This has led to a life-long interest in the genre, which continues to this day, proving that the licence fee is worth it after all. The appeal of science fiction, and fantasy, is in the escapism, the look at what could be, and the sheer imagination and suspension of belief it requires – and how despite its groundings in the far-fetched, real-life often comes to imitate the imaginings of those insane enough to love science fiction.I completed my first book at 15, and attempted but failed to get published. Looking back on it, this is probably more of a relief to those who like to read. It certainly allowed me to do more boring things, such as work, first in banking as an office junior, then in utilities in procurement, then manufacturing and latterly construction in commercial roles. It's more logical than it sounds written down.Writing is and always will be a hobby first and foremost, a love and a way to express. An escape from reality, whilst holding a mirror up to all that is good and bad in the world. I hope you enjoy reading my books, almost as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Book preview

AGE OF SECESSION : BLOOD MONEY TRILOGY PART I

CRYING MOON

For my brother, Michael Ruffles

AGE OF SECESSION : BLOOD MONEY TRILOGY PART I

CRYING MOON

Third Edition

Published in Great Britain by Roger Ruffles, February 2018

www.ageofsecession.com

Copyright © Roger Ruffles, 2013

Front cover artwork on license courtesy of dreamstime

Front cover design © Roger Ruffles, 2016

First published by Roger Ruffles, December 2014, Smashwords Edition

The right of Roger Ruffles to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. This ebook is subject to the Laws of England and Wales.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author and publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

All characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Also By The Same Author

Age of Secession: Vindicator Trilogy

#1 : Dissolution

#2 : Rosicrux

#3 Shadow

#4 Vindicator – Full Trilogy

Age of Secession: Blood Money Trilogy

#1: Crying Moon

#2 : Blood Feud

#3: Cost of the Hunt

#4: Blood Money – Full Trilogy

Age of Secession: Ascent of Mars Trilogy

#1 : Oncoming Storm

#2 : Darkness of Mars

#3: Rise of the Diadochi

#4: Ascent of Mars – Full Trilogy

Age of Secession: Standalone books:

The Unchained

Out Early 2018:

Pay Dirt: Dishonest Intentions

Coming 2018/2019:

Augmented Genocide

The Lost Kindred

Adare’s Legacy: Kingdom of Blood

Collective Misdirection

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Chapter I

The Vienna Musikverein opera hall was many, many hundreds of years old, and had been removed from Earth at the express command of the True Emperor in the first days of his reign over two centuries ago. It had been deconstructed from the ruins of Vienna and reconstructed in the capital of Mars, on the dormant volcanic caldera of Olympus Mons, and even more amazingly it had survived the destruction of the capital of the Red Imperium of Mars.

It was almost full to capacity, the contemporary operatic music flowing through the grand hall and bathing the assembled audience in its rapture and joy, its torment and despair. Composed and conducted by the former Imperial prisoner Aaron Eradmus, the live actors were currently singing and embodying the story of the darker days of the False Emperor’s reign. The simulant heroine was watching her vat-sister being taken, to be executed in one of the False Emperor’s pogroms against the unaugmented. The music was slow, and excruciatingly heart breaking.

He was of average size and build, and there seemed to be little remarkable about him. He wore nondescript casual clothing, not too expensive but not exactly poor in make or cost. Auburn hair was cut fairly short, darker in the dimmed overhead chandelier lighting, and deep brown, trusting eyes gazed towards the stage of the Musikverein.

The man let the music flow over him, his real purpose there temporarily forgotten as he felt the long, heartrending song pull him along in its mourning. He leaned back and closed his eyes, the thousands of people in the opera house forgotten and receding into fantasy as his reality became the story he was listening to.

He was not actually there; like a good two-thirds of the audience, his physical body was actually sat at what passed for his home for the last four months. By jacking into the datasphere of the Sol System, his mind’s thought processes had been reduced to streams of data, flitting at high-speed across the system towards Mars. A holographic representation of his physical form sat in one of the many specially designed holo-projection seats within the Vienna Musikverein, allowing him to feel the sensations and enjoy the experience as if he were actually really there.

It was total immersion, a technology itself centuries old, as good as actually booking passage on an intrastellar conveyance and heading towards the burnt wreckage of Olympus Mons City. After all, what was reality but what your mind told you it was.

He opened his eyes as his senses warned him that someone else was joining the opera at the seat next to him. His holographic, immaterial eyes flicked to the side gently, and he controlled the smile he felt at seeing the woman settle herself into the booked seat. She was no holographic projection, her regal blue and white StarCom Armed Forces Lieutenant-Commander uniform as real and tangible as her body. She was late, but she was here.

For a long period of time he ignored her as he would any other stranger, watching the opera before him. Aaron Eradmus had been tolerated by the True Emperor’s government, but the False Emperor had no such forbearance as A.E. had increasingly become more anti-Imperial. A year later with the Red Empire destroyed and the StarCom Federation arising in the Core of the colonised galaxy, he was suddenly allowed to speak and express himself again.

As they moved into a rousing description of the Battle of Mars, where the Revolutionary Council had used the Loyalist and False Praetorian Guard to fight against each other to depose the False Emperor and bring the Red Empire to its dissolution, the man pulled some of his consciousness back into his real body.

A vast number of millions of kilometres away, his physical body leaned forwards and a hand waved over the special device he had connected to the holoprojection device in front of him. With a hum, the legacy Imperial Intelligence equipment activated, and his datastream through the open Sol-wide datasphere suddenly became undetectably encrypted. With passive security, he had just ensured that he could hold a private communication in the midst of a public datasphere.

His holograph turned to the image of the woman at his side as he felt her join his secure sub-sphere within the public datasphere.

Karina, he said, smiling. To any outside observer, his holographic image continued to stare forwards at the stage of the Musikverein, a look of wonder and enjoyment on its face.

Mason, she said, her physical body in place but a radiant smile on the image appearing in his minds’-eye. We must stop meeting like this.

If only that were true, he said, with great feeling. We dare not stay on this secure sub-sphere for too long, and it may get cracked afterwards. What is the message?

The Master has said time is running short, according to his or her agent, she replied, succinct and to the point. We have operational clearance to proceed.

Is everything ready your side?

It will be at eleven hundred tomorrow, Imperial Standard time. There is only a narrow window though, I will only be in range for perhaps some three hours or less.

The man called Mason thought quickly. Then we commence the operation at eleven hundred fifteen Standard time.

I will pass the message on to those that need it, she said, nodding. She paused, looking through the audience to the stage. No-one nearby had any idea what was being discussed in their midst. There was a dramatic death scene taking place within the Red Palace, the music stirring and inspirational as the actor playing the False Emperor was leading up to being shot through the head. Are we sure we want to do this? she asked.

It’s a bit late for second thoughts, Karina.

It’s never too late. We’ve not done it, yet. Trillions of people could die a bloody, horrible death, indirectly because of what we are about to do.

Trillions could also have a much safer existence, he said. It is impossible for us to know.

You know that’s unlikely. Look at how the colonised galaxy is tearing itself apart. Everywhere you look, the Houses are seceding and creating misery as they do it.

It’s part the reason we’re doing this, said Mason, knowing as he said it that the reasons were much more deep and complicated than that. The Houses have had their day. Enough now, we must terminate this conversation.

Agreed, said Lieutenant-Commander Karina Cartagne. She hesitated, and added, I love you.

I love you too, said the man called Mason.

On the stage, the Praetorian Guard Colonel shot the False Emperor in the head, and the music boomed a deep, throaty, rumbling, dramatic roar that was very final.

The man unjacked himself from the datasphere and the holographic projector. In addition to the joy of seeing the Lieutenant-Commander, he had enjoyed the opera itself. It was a reminder to him of all that had been wrong with the False Emperor and his version of the Red Empire, and all that was still going wrong with the secession and the dissolution, and the rise of the equally imperialistic StarCom Federation.

Mason Duboise stood slowly, the opera having rejuvenated his soul in some inexplicable way. It was late at night according to Imperial Standard time, and he was not required to be at his station until early morning, at seven hundred hours tomorrow. He would ensure he got a good night’s sleep. If it all went wrong, it might be his last.

As he waited for the suspensor bed to rise out of its concealed docking port in the floor, he looked to one side. A silent personal assistance droid hovered in the air, projecting a reflective mirror image into mid-air of himself, and also holding his uniform for tomorrow.

Once upon a time, when not in the field, he had worn the black and dark crimson, sharply cut Nehru-collared suits of the Imperial Intelligence agency. They had been feared as the most efficient and secretive arm of the True Emperor’s covert operations, counter-intelligence, and secret police. Under the False Emperor that uniform had come to mean something much more different and evil.

Even so, he thought he preferred it to the uniform the droid held. He had been working for StarCom’s Central Intelligence Division for a long, long time before the collapse of the Red Empire. It transpired that many former Imperial Intelligence agents had, StarCom had penetrated the False Emperor’s secret services so well. The uniform of the CID, which he now wore openly, was a regal blue and white suit.

It was lighter in colour, but just as dark in purpose he had found to his disgust. He had spent years as a traitor to the False Emperor, a Loyalist to the dead and deposed True Emperor, only to find the supposed saviours of StarCom were just as bad. One tyranny had replaced another.

he mentally ordered the room computer, and he lowered himself into the suspensor bed.

Lieutenant-Commander Karina Cartagne walked onto the bridge of the SFSS Savageness, an S-class strikecruiser. As she exited the turbolift, she jacked fully into the datasphere of the ship, assuming more command and control as she essentially became an organic part of it.

Through the scanners she could see that the ship was at rest, held locked in place by force fields and massive physical magnetic clamps the size of tower blocks, within an armoured and sheltered operational carapace. The shell had another function, allowing countless lifts, platforms, and other droid-operated vehicles and extensions of the structure to ply their trade of repair around the strikecruiser.

she said.

said the Commander Laslos, captain of the Savageness, standing up as he vacated the command chair. She sat down within it.

Commander Laslos was former Praetorian Guard, a Loyalist who had supported the True Emperor. He had been given command of the Savageness a couple of months ago, after its previous captain was killed during the early phases of the StarCom Federation’s expansion out of the Sol System and into the Core. He had been a volunteer, willingly joining StarCom following the Dissolution of the Praetorian Guard.

Lieutenant-Commander Karina Cartagne was an advanced copy of the Praetorians, the best the Star Communications organisation could do as they built their army and navy in secret, but still just a normal cyborg in comparison. She was not one of the elite genetically enhanced super-humans of the Praetorian Guard by any means.

asked the Commander Laslos.

she said,

Laslos nodded. that problem on Praetorian ships. I’ll come back on duty when we’re leaving the Uranian Shipyards, just before eleven hundred hours.>

You will be dead fifteen minutes later, the thought rising unbidden in her mind. The guilt stabbed through her with surprising sharpness. Commander Laslos was not a bad man by any means, even if he seemed blind to what the StarCom Federation truly was.

she asked.

replied Commander Laslos.

The damage to a number of StarCom’s fleets during the Levitican War, the attempt to invade and conquer the young and newly-formed Levitican Union, it had all resulted in the end of StarCom’s attempt to forge its own replacement empire. The death of President Nielsen had helped bring it to a halt as well, but Karina Cartagne was not fooled. The StarCom Federation had too many aggressive, expansionist, imperialistic people controlling it for the empire-building policy to end.

Karina Cartagne was Star Communications Network bred, having been created in a biovat and cybernetically augmented purposefully to run the Praetorian-copied starships they were building in secret for decades before the end of the Red Empire of Mars. StarCom education programmes were nowhere near as advanced as the Praetorian programmes however.

The Star Communications Network had become the StarCom Federation under President Nielsen, and it was then that Karina had realised that they were no better than the hated False Emperor.

she said, reading the scanner reports.

said Commander Laslos, yawning. he added, leaving the bridge.

Chief of Facility Sara Didactlos saw the facility’s Chief Scientist before her swallow and look up, tensing as he did so. In her field of vision everyone on the command centre of the facility’s operations deck tensed, bowing down to their work; the fear was palpable. It was like the grim reaper had entered, a chill cold flowing before him to strike terror into those about to suffer the scythe.

Chief of Facility Didactlos had overall responsibility for the facility on the moon of Charon, itself locked in an orbit with Pluto. The weaponry systems on Pluto constantly covered the moon of Charon, ready to obliterate the secret facility lying just under its surface. It was an additional back-up should the facility ever be compromised.

Chief Didactlos turned around, watching the figure stride across her command centre. With his average height and build, and StarCom Central Intelligence Department uniform, he physically should not create the fear he did. It was more his role and purpose.

When StarCom had taken over the facility from the Red Imperium following its collapse at the beginning of the year, they had put their Central Intelligence Department agents in place. President Nielsen used them to ensure loyalty to her new Federation, and as such, they had the power of life or death over those in their remit. Mason Duboise had joined the facility four months ago, in charge of the Central Intelligence Department section on the hidden top-secret base, and so far had executed a number of former Imperials for failing to pledge proper allegiance to the Federation. He was far more aggressive than his predecessor.

Chief Didactlos was a life-long member of StarCom herself, but did not like what it had become under President Nielsen. She was very much hoping that President Pereyra proved to be a different type of leader, and took StarCom back to its roots of being a service organisation rather than an imperialistic nation. This Mason Duboise symbolised all that she did not like about what the Federation was, and accordingly, he struck a similar level of fear into her. His political power extended over everyone on this station, even her, the person who was supposed to be running it.

Good morning, Senior Associate, said Chief Didactlos neutrally.

Likewise, said Senior Associate Mason Duboise, in a voice which left no doubt that he did not mean it. He simply strode on past her, heading towards the office which had become the permanent residence of the CID officers. The other four were already in there before their boss, ready to carry out whatever he was deciding to do today. It would probably be more random psychological tests of the fifteen thousand workers on site, for loyalty to the StarCom Federation.

Bastard, said her Chief Scientist.

No, said the Chief of Facility Didactlos sadly, bastards are at least born. He was spewed out by the Emperor’s own hell.

said Lieutenant-Commander Karina Cartagne, standing and vacating the seat.

said Commander Laslos, looking much more refreshed as he sat down in the command chair.

said Lieutenant-Commander Cartagne,

said Commander Laslos, nodding. he announced across the datasphere.

said Commander Laslos, giving her permission to sail them out of the shipyards and into the space above Uranus.

Karina checked her internal chronometer. It was just past eleven hundred hours, which meant fifteen more minutes to go. As she thought it, unconsciously her eyes tracked across the bridge to several crew members. Marine Major Annah Eborozkev returned her gaze.

The SFSS Savageness strikecruiser emerged out into space from the vast, gigantic half-dome shell that made up the Uranian Shipyard Dock 12. The construction was huge, each of the sixteen spacedocks containing numerous bays capable of holding or constructing several ships.

The sleek, dangerous strikecruiser was bearing the regal blue, white and sky-blue trim of the StarCom Federation, and it glinted beautifully in the reflected light from the Uranian Shipyards. The sun of Sol was far too distant to make much of an impact out here.

It turned and began to power away from the area, leaving the vast number of military ships-of-the-line in their various, war-torn states of disrepair behind. A battlecruiser was already beginning to shuttle into the vacated docking berth.

The Savageness set course to head out-system to its assembly area, awaiting the rest of its squadron. The path chosen and cleared with System Command would take it somewhat closer to Pluto, and its moon Charon.

Chapter II

Senior Associate Mason Duboise was apparently concentrating on his holographic work terminal. As the time approached quarter past eleven he stood up casually, walking towards the moleculiser, probably and apparently with the intent of synthesising himself some form of beverage.

There were four other members of StarCom’s Central Intelligence Department in the room, his entire facility staff, which consisted of one Junior Associate, a Special Agent and two Full Agents. The Junior Associate had his head bent slightly over his hovering workdesk, concentrating on his report. As Mason passed the Junior Associate he very casually extended his arm out in a gentle sweep.

The Junior Associate’s head thumped off the desk, fully detached from the neck, arterial blood spraying out in a violent fountain.

Senior Associate Mason Duboise had his personal forcefield already activated, and the decapitated agents’ blood merely sprayed in a surreal curtain against the energy bubble, as the wrist-mounted energy blade snap-hissed back into its concealed position. We are go, he said to the other three CID agents, the ones that he knew were with him.

Special Agent Samuel Yanto smoothly rose from his seat, even as the others were arming themselves for the upcoming mission. Of all of them, Yanto was the one that Mason trusted the most, having carefully obscured their long history together in the Imperial Intelligence agency. Yanto fell into step with Senior Associate Mason, pulling a concealed oxygenator mask into place over mouth and nose, and they both walked into the command centre of the Charon Weapons Facility.

Chief of Facility Didactlos paid no attention as she heard the CID officers’ station door cycle open, preferring to ignore them. It was unusual for them all to stay together for an entire morning, but she tried not to wonder about their activities as much as she possibly could.

We are moving into the incubation phase – the Chief Scientist was saying, before suddenly breaking off, choking heavily.

What – began the Chief of Facility, before beginning to cough as well.

Several things happened at once. She coughed into her hand, and stared in horror at the blood which had peppered the palm. The canister which rolled against her feet was spraying some form of gas into the air, and it was being shot in every direction at tremendous speeds. She rolled back, looking around even as her vision was blurring, seeing several canisters firing in numerous directions. She tracked the aims back, suffering and falling to her knees, watching two of the CID agents calmly walking out of the office in their knee-length regal blue overcoats, special grenade-launchers rapidly emptying their magazines throughout the entire space of the enormous command centre.

She hit the floor, desperately trying to speak, raise the alarm, or summon for help. All around her, the comcen staff were dying, the majority of them scientists, technicians and engineers. Whatever their profession, they were being gassed into death by an extremely lethal respiratory toxin.

It was death, she knew with a certainty.

Senior Associate Mason Duboise stood over the prone form of the dead Chief of Facility Didactlos, nodding to himself. A scanner in his left hand was telling him that they had neutralised the entire command centre. In one easy strike, they had taken command of the facility.

he ordered over the opsnet, the datasphere that he had created especially just for the four of them.

Full Agent Michael Rose strode up to the mainframe computer terminal, a physical dataspike emerging from his palm. With force he rammed it into the hard point, the real-life connection speeding up his activities. He was flooding the mainframe with all manner of viruses, every single one of them pre-programmed with special missions of their own.

Mason Duboise said, switching to a military battlenet.

said Lieutenant Beringer.

He heard the nervousness as Lieutenant Beringer, one of the marines assigned to a very particular post at the facility, replied,

Mason lied,

That is because we have made sure you cannot, thought Mason. he lied,

The link was broken. Mason saw the look from Special Agent Yanto. What? he asked through his oxygenator mask.

He bought it then, Yanto commented.

I’ve worked on the story I fed him for the last eight weeks, of course he bought it, scoffed Mason. We wait until we’re off Charon and out of Sol, then we contain him and his squads, remember. Michael keeps them isolated from the Marine battlenets.

Full Agent Michael Rose suddenly said.

Mason ordered.

He had not done anything like this for a good couple of years, he thought. It was just like the old days in Imperial Intelligence, except this time, he was doing it for himself.

said the scanners officer aboard the SFSS Savageness,

It is starting, thought Karina Cartagne to herself. The time had arrived. The Savageness strikecruiser had been burning at full propulsion towards the outer limits of the Sol system.

said the data-tac officer.

said the comms officer.

demanded Commander Laslos.

A tactical holo-map appeared before the senior officers. said the scanners officer.

said Lieutenant-Commander Cartagne on their private channel.

said Commander Laslos, having read the data download from System Command on Mars, He stood up. he said,

said Lieutenant-Commander Cartagne.

said scanners.

said Lieutenant-Commander Cartagne.

said Commander Laslos, sitting back down in his chair.

said the tactical officer.

said the comms officer, Savageness is the biggest capital ship directly on-scene.>

said Commander Laslos. It meant that the decision to fire was entirely his, based on how the ship responded to hails once it had translated. It was Commander Laslos’ decision alone. Naval officers in space always had tactical superiority over naval officers or army officers on the ground in situations such as this, another hangover from the days of the Red Imperium.

Lieutenant-Commander Cartagne looked at her command consoles. It fed her information about the status of the entire ship, and the Pluto battlenet. There were two frigates in orbit around Pluto, which were also responding, and Pluto Planetary Command were redirecting their planetary batteries towards the incoming threat.

It was an unannounced jump, and as unlikely as a hostile threat would be here in the Sol System, standard operating procedure demanded that it was dealt with correctly. Further out, a battlecruiser, a starcarrier, and another two strikecruisers were incoming, but the closest was perhaps another ten minutes distant. Only the Savageness was in position to provide a heavy response, although of course should the ship be hostile, the planetary weapons on Pluto and some of its moons, and the numerous orbital gun platforms, were more than enough to respond. The entire planet of Pluto was a military base in its own right, it was a fortress.

Lieutenant-Commander Cartagne knew what and who the incoming starship was of course, and it was little more than a very clever diversion.

she said on their private channel,

said the Major.

said one of the agents disguised as a crewmember.

With that, Karina Cartagne unholstered her handlas, raised it to her left across her body, and shot Commander Laslos point-blank in the head.

They had sealed the command centre behind them, taking a turbolift directly towards the upper levels just beneath the surface of the moon of Charon. Full Agent Elayne Mulland had seen to the physical securing of the command centre of the Weapons Facility, even as Michael Rose had been tampering with the datasphere and mainframe.

warned Special Agent Yanto.

said Agent Rose, pausing then adding, Savageness is holding the fire command.>

Karina, thought Mason with a slight quickening of his heart, you are here.

As the doors to the turbolift opened, Mason Duboise said,

The four CID officers proceeded out into the cavernous launch level. It was of a fantastic size, holding all manner of ships, shuttles and landers. There were ten intrastellar cargo-lifters lined up in launch berths, each a specific type of intrastellar shuttle carrying a fully-laden detachable cargo-tank.

As the travellator droid took them along the ships, some of Mason’s comrades began to step off, heading for specific cargo-lifters.

said Mason Duboise, hailing the form of Lieutenant Beringer as he stood before one of the cargo-lifters.

said Lieutenant Beringer. He was wearing his full marine power-armour, StarCom Federation Armed Forces symbol displayed proudly on the chest piece and left shoulder. He was young, but the armour made all the Marines look alike so it was impossible to tell.

Of course they are, thought Mason, we only had a narrow window to do this. With that he downloaded the special virus programme to Beringer. It was an excellent fake, with verified datastreams showing rebel forces attempting to seize the facility.

breathed Lieutenant Beringer.

said Mason. he added.

Your life, anyway, he thought privately.

Karina looked around the bridge. It was sheer devastation and carnage. Some of the crew were hers, and those that were not lay dead on the floor at the feet of the Marines loyal to Major Eborozkev, and the mysterious agents that had been sent to help her.

The agents terrified her. They were some kind of cybernetic biomorph, a form of life she had heard and read about, but never actually met. The Faceless assassins were rumoured to be biomorphs, but it was an advanced technology that was more myth than rumour, just like the Faceless. She was seeing them in front of her now though. The people they were ostensibly working for were evidently more powerful than she had ever suspected.

The biomorphs could actually change shape. As they began their attack, they moulded themselves into different bodies and shapes, becoming grotesque figures of nightmare as blades sprouted from arms and weaponry implants began to fire. They were quick and efficient, outpacing even the Praetorian Marines amongst the StarCom Marines loyal to her. They ate through Marine power armour as if it were no more substantial than air. In their natural form, the biomorphs wore some kind of black synth-skin suit, their features blank and faces no more than a vague androgynous caricature of a human. They did not even look human.

We have given you the ship, said what she assumed was the lead biomorph. The Master has aided you. Do not fail the Master.

She could not answer, merely turning to Major Eborozkev. she asked.