“Capital of the Doccan homeworld?”

“A treacherous question,” Farsus said. “The Doccan do not name their cities, nor do they have a capital.”

“Excellent work,” Doprel said. “Your turn.”

“Biological classification of the Bacchun Antelope?”

“I have no idea,” Doprel admitted. That put their trivia score at seventeen to two. Farsus’ favor.

As neither of the two had complex interpersonal relationships to distract their brains, they had kept their minds off the plan by engaging in a game of trivia. It was more distracting for Doprel than Farsus, as the scholar of chaos seemed to know almost everything about everything. Doprel was trying his best to stump him and failing at every turn.

The plan they were currently trying their hardest not to think about was to find the slaves and get them off the vessel. The rest of their plan would go a lot smoother without innocent captives aboard. Farsus and Doprel were in charge of scouring the vessel for every captive and getting them off the Empyrean Absolutist, so that Kamak and Corey could do their part with a clean conscience.

It was a noble mission, but Farsus found it difficult to focus on the task while not actually focusing on the task. Every time he began to examine his surroundings, Farsus had to forcibly make himself not think about possible clues or leads. He was running out of trivia facts.

The labyrinthine design of the Empyrean Absolutist’s interior was not helping their cause. It was filled with identical hallways and rooms, and none bore any meaningful markings. It was confusing, but Farsus could admit the intelligence behind it. The deliberately confusing architecture would make it difficult to navigate for anyone not guided by the superior intellect of a Worm like Morrakesh. Enemies would find it difficult to assault, and slaves would find it nigh impossible to escape.

Luckily for Farsus, he was well-versed in the oral traditions of many cultures, and almost every species had some storied equivalent of a “trail of breadcrumbs” to see where one had traveled. Farsus did not have breadcrumbs, but he did have a gun.

After reaching a four-way intersection in the twisted halls, Farsus aimed his rifle near the floor and fired a shot. The searing plasma scored the wall and left a half-melted burn mark on it, marking their path. Farsus nodded in approval, then picked a direction at random and began to walk. He repeated the process at the next crosswalk they came to.

“This process of elimination thing is going to take a while,” Doprel said.

“I am not relying on process of elimination,” Farsus said. He fired off another shot at another wall, sending the echoes of the gunshot through the empty hall. This time, the echoes were answered.

“Find them! Kill them!”

Farsus shouldered his gun and smiled.

“I am relying on that.”

Moments later, a tide of Horuk bodies thundered around the corner. Farsus and Doprel barely needed to aim as they raised their guns and held the trigger down. Sweeping waves of laser fire cut down the vanguard of the ravenous alien hordes. Then the hordes returned fire.

Somewhere behind the wall of bodies, someone was using a gun, and using it well, judging by the three direct hits on Doprel. Only his outer layer was damaged for now, but the fact that the Horuk had guns was a long-term concern.

“Kamak was right,” Doprel said, as they ducked behind cover. “Looks like some of them are smarter.”

“Foolish of them to deny their lower castes even basic firepower,” Farsus noted. He returned fire even as he contemplated Horuk military culture. “Surely a massive volley is worth more than a simple tide of flesh.”

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“Maybe they breed fast,” Doprel said. “Production can’t keep up with population, it becomes more viable to use the lowest class as cannon fodder instead of trying to keep them equipped and fed.”

“A clever insight,” Farsus said. “One that demands further study.”

A few of the Horuk bodies skidded to a halt after they were shot down mid-sprint. Farsus glanced at the sturdy carapaces and smiled.

“For now, I believe it best we turn their tactics against them.”

“How do you mean?”

Farsus grabbed one of the Horuk corpses with one hand and held it out towards Doprel.

“Ah, I see.”

Hidden behind their tide of subservient cannon fodder, the gun-wielding Horuk barely noticed when the laser blasts fired their way suddenly slowed. While they did not care for the fates of their fallen footsoldiers, they definitely cared when some of those dead soldiers started coming back the other way -at ramming speed.

Shielded by the bodies of the dead Horuk, Doprel charged upstream, laser blasts bouncing off the hides of the dead. It was deeply uncomfortable on a moral level, but also very effective. Doprel swarmed the entire horde within moments, crushing the lesser ranked Horuk underfoot and then crashing down on the gun-wielding soldiers with hammering blows. Farsus followed in his devastating footsteps, finishing off survivors with quick bursts of rifle fire. The armored bullrush crushed the strike force, and soon the halls were quiet once again.

“And now we go this way,” Farsus said, pointing in the direction the Horuk had come from. They followed the path and found themselves at an intersection more distinct than the dozens they had passed before.

“Well, that’s different, at least,” Doprel said.

“Critical sections of the ship are likely more visually distinct,” Farsus said. “Even Morrakesh would still want his slaves to be able to find the engine room on their own, for example.”

Even the universe’s most powerful mind still hated micromanaging. Farsus followed one of the paths and found what appeared to be some kind of food storage and kitchen area. Given the lackluster conditions and poor food quality, it had to be for the slaves. They were likely getting close, but still had to find the right path.

“Try luring in more Horuk, maybe?”

“No. Morrakesh knows what we have done now,” Farsus said. “It will advise them not to fall for the same trick twice. Won’t you, Morrakesh?”

“Perhaps. A very clever analysis, Farsus,” Morrakesh said. The Worm’s voice boomed over the ship’s speakers, proving their firmly held suspicion that it had been listening all along. “With a few critical facts overlooked. The first being that I do not consider your success likely. The second being that I do not value the lives of the Horuk.”

The intercom cut out, and shrieking battle cries echoed down a nearby hallway. Farsus rolled his eyes and took cover around the corner, waiting for the horde to arrive. It never did.

Three Horuk, the same size as any other, but slightly different in coloration, broke around the corner, making no effort to hide as they brandished their guns in Farsus’ direction. He thanked the universe for the easy targets and aimed at the center of the many-armed alien’s bodies.

The first round of laser fire barely made the Horuk flinch. Farsus took exactly half a second to be worried about that before dodging backwards to avoid the return fire. His instincts failed him only slightly, and a plasma round grazed his shoulder. Doprel held his ground long enough to aim and fire at another Horuk, and found it equally resistant to his fire. He joined Farsus in hiding.

“They’re tougher now,” Doprel said.

“I noticed. There must be something different about their carapace,” Farsus said. Their different coloration likely connoted a change in chemical composition, or some other structural difference that made them more durable. Farsus already had a few ideas on how to handle that. The first required accuracy. The Horuk were content to hold their ground and keep Farsus and Doprel trapped in the dining hall, so Farsus took his time to calculate his options. He pulled out his datapad, aimed the camera around the corner, and did some mental math about possible trajectories and targets.

Then he yelled a brutal war cry at the top of his lungs. A traditional shout of the Torokoro, designed to instill fear in enemies. In the Horuk’s case, it resulted in only a matching scream of defiance. Just as Farsus had hoped.

He whipped around the corner, took quick aim, and fired a round into the open mouth of the screaming Horuk. The heavily armed alien’s central body glowed white-hot for a moment, and the creature toppled over dead, smoke emitting from its ruined body. Farsus returned to cover while its two comrades were still processing the death of the third.

“No matter how heavily armored the outside, a creature’s innards are almost always vulnerable,” Farsus said, basking in his triumph.

“Okay, good, but I’m pretty sure the other two are going to keep their mouths shut now,” Doprel said. “Now what?”

“Now we see how well their armored shells transfer blunt force trauma,” Farsus said. He grabbed one of the rickety tables in the dining hall and held it in front of him like a shield.

“And that means?”

“We are going to rush the Horuk, grab them, and then slam them into walls until they stop moving.”

It was an insane plan, but it did end up working. Eventually. Even Doprel’s arms were tired by the time the Horuk stopped moving.