Farsus gently pushed open the door and peeked inside. The communal living space was crammed tight with furniture, empty beds and barren chairs surrounding what appeared to be an uncovered toilet and a trough of water presumably used for bathing. It was a squalid barracks, exactly like the others, identical even down to the fact that it was empty.

“Every slave is gone,” Farsus said.

“Morrakesh probably figured out what we were up to,” Doprel said. “It must have moved them somewhere.”

“That I have,” Morrakesh said, over the ship’s intercom. “Your preoccupation with morality makes it all too easy.”

“So much for not talking about our plan out loud,” Doprel said. Farsus thought there might still be some value in talking, though.

“Where have you taken them, then?”

“Down the hallway on your right,” Morrakesh explained. “Take the third door on your left.”

Farsus took a look down the indicated hallway. There were scratch marks on the floors leading to it. Someone had resisted being dragged down that hallway.

“Not the first time we’ve walked into a trap,” Doprel said. Farsus didn’t even hesitate to walk down the path Morrakesh had indicated. They’d always been expecting some kind of trouble at their destination, so the prospect of Morrakesh having an ambush waiting didn’t bother them in the slightest. They walked past a few more empty slave barracks to find their destination. Doprel went through the door first.

No bullets or explosions met him as he stepped through. He entered some sort of storage room, stripped bare and repurposed as a makeshift prison for dozens of slaves, sitting hunched at the far side of the room. Terrified obedience to their lord kept them cowed even when the hope of rescue was at hand. Even Ol-Voz, Morrakesh’s apparently loyal manservant, was kneeling at the far side of the room, separated from the other slaves.

Between Doprel and the hostages, a single Horuk stood alone. It had a nearly jet black carapace, so dark it seemed to absorb light, and stood slightly larger than most of the Horuk they had seen so far. Its many arms undulated in a wavelike pattern as it stepped forward to appraise the new guests.

“You are here. Then you have killed those of the Sixteen.”

“Presumably,” Farsus said.

“Disordered things,” the Horuk snarled. It held no weapon, though the flexing of sharp appendages proved threat enough.

“Your people speak of numbers often,” Farsus noted. Even facing an enemy like this, Farsus had to satiate his curiosity. “The One, the Numberless, the Sixteen. What does that mean?”

“It is the Ordered Count,” the Horuk said. “The One is above us, the Two, who stand above the Four, who stand above the Eight, as the ranks continue onward down to the Two-Thousand-Forty-Eight. Below them, the Numberless, meaningless and expendable. And below even them, there are the Disordered Things. You, and every other fleshy thing beyond the Horuk.”

“Even Morrakesh?”

“The Morrakesh is a plant,” the Horuk said. “It is a resource, not ordained among the Ordered Count.”

“Thank you for the explanations,” Farsus said. It even helped explain how Morrakesh had become an ally to these strange beings. “You are surprisingly forthcoming.”

‘The Count is the way and the truth,” the Horuk said. “As one of the Two, I am obligated to spread its message. Even to those who would be consumed by it.”

“At least your zealotry is polite,” Doprel said. He’d have to tell Corey about this later. Hearing that they’d been killing insane cultists all day would really lift his spirits.

“I’m glad you and the Horuk are coming to an understanding,” Morrakesh said. Its voice boomed in the cavernous room. “Now, lay down your weapons.”

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“I am fond of my weapon,” Farsus said. He gripped his rifle even tighter. “I refuse.”

“Then the slaves will die,” Morrakesh said. Doprel watched all of the slaves visibly flinch as it spoke, but they lived for the time being. “You know that each one is fitted with an explosive collar. It will only take a thought.”

“Ah, yes, I do know. That reminds me.”

Farsus grabbed one of several devices strapped to his belt. Morrakesh had assumed it was yet another piece of weaponry, or another tool at his belt. Between the battle outside and the situations rapidly developing within its own ship, Morrakesh’s powers of observation were stretched thin. It realized all too late that there were familiar components in the tiny device, as Farsus switched it on.

“It is always helpful to keep spare parts,” Farsus said. “Such as those from Corey’s own slave collar. I believe yours still broadcast on the same frequency?”

The absence of any exploding heads proved Farsus’ suspicion correct, and proved his jamming device was well-built. The slaves showed no signs of relief yet.

“I was so hopeful we could resolve this sensibly,” Morrakesh said. “Esteemed member of the Two, I believe these ones have outlived their usefulness.”

Unleashing a predatory rage that had only barely been kept in check, the Two hurled itself forward, arms splayed out and curled like cobras about to strike. Farsus took a few shots at the charging Horuk, but was not surprised when they bounced off ineffectively. Doprel put his gun to much better use by swinging it like a club and batting the Horuk away. The apparent invulnerability of its carapace did nothing to increase the creature’s mass, and the simple impact was enough to knock it aside.

“I don’t know if I can do another round of beating an alien to death,” Farsus said. The last round of Horuk they’d tried that trick on had taken a while to die, and fought back the entire time. Doprel still had some chunks missing out of his forearm.

“Keep the creature at bay,” Farsus said. “We will find another way. Ol-Voz!”

As Doprel swatted the Horuk away again, Farsus sprinted across the room and found Morrakesh’s majordomo. The slave immediately recoiled from his would-be rescuer’s presence.

“What makes these creatures so durable?”

“I-I- I can’t tell you that,” Ol-Voz said. “Master Morrakesh-”

“Will kill you either way,” Farsus said. “Your only hope for survival now is through me. Tell me how to kill the Horuk!”

Ol-Voz visibly weighed his options, stared Doprel fighting the Horuk for a moment, and came to a conclusion.

“I don’t know,” Ol-Voz admitted. “It’s something in their skin. Caratazin? Carapathin? Something. It grows in their skin and the more of it they have, the more durable they are. The higher ranked ones eat the shed skin of the lower ranked ones, so by the time you get to the top they’re nearly indestructible.”

“Fascinating. Are there weaknesses?”

“You’ve killed them, you know better than me,” Ol-Voz said. Farsus grit his teeth. This Horuk was better at keeping its mouth shut, which meant attacking from the inside was unlikely to work, and they had neither the time nor the energy to try slowly beating it to death.

“Do the Horuk breath? Can they drown?”

“I don’t know,” Ol-Voz stammered. “I’ve seen them spend a long time in water. They either don’t breath or they can breath water somehow.”

“Perfect. One final question.”

Farsus leaned in so close that the bristles of his beard scratched against Ol-Voz’s face.

“How hot does the bathtub next door get?”

The whispered conversation probably wasn’t quiet enough for Morrakesh not to overhear, but Farsus tried anyway. The plan would work better if it was a surprise. Doprel, at least, was surprised when Farsus left the room, then re-entered a few moments later and interrupted his melee with the Horuk by hitting it with a chair.

“Time to go,” Farsus said. “Follow me.”

Doprel kicked the Horuk towards the door, and it chased after Farsus as he ran into the next room. It caught up to him, leapt on to Farsus’ back, and tore out a few small handfuls of flesh as it tried to rip Farsus to pieces. Doprel caught up in time to pry it off his back and hold it aloft.

“Into the trough!”

That was a confusing command under any circumstance, but in the middle of a fight even more so. Doprel looked to his right and saw the room’s lone bathtub churning as the water within boiled. That seemed unsafe, but at least it was to their advantage. Doprel reached over and slammed the raging Horuk into the trough. The splash of boiling water burned Doprel’s hand, but not as bad as the entire tub full burned the Horuk.

The Two let out a shriek of distress that turned into a bubbling gurgle as it sank into the boiling water. It attempted to claw its way out of the tub, but Farsus grabbed another chair and slammed it back down into the water, repeating the process a few more times as necessary. The Horuk’s jet black skin began to shift in color, becoming dark purple, as it boiled alive. Doprel watched the last few twitches of the Horuk’s hundred limbs, and his mandibles clicked with concern.

“That felt unethical,” Doprel said.

“Yet necessary,” Farsus said. “It would surely have killed us in an equally horrific manner.”

“Still. Why would you even think of that?”

“Corey Vash once told me of a carapaced earth creature called a ‘lobster’, which they kill in a similar fashion.”

“They must really hate those lobsters,” Doprel said.

“Indeed. Come. We should escort the slaves back to the Hermit, and pry Ol-Voz for useful information.”