We're back now, and we'll make that everyone's problem soon enough.-Colonel John Jane Tenfingers Ranadheer, TerraSol Marine Corps, aboard the Grey Lady as part of Task Force Lonely Peach

We grind until the next score, Telka. That's all there is. That's all there ever is. - N44

The bridge lights were red when Imna arrived.

Captain Decken and someone that Imna knew she had been introduced to but couldn't remember the name of, were staring at the holotank. A DS was in the holotank, a snarling razor edged tangle of code with baleful red eyes by the dozen that blinked and slowly shifted around in the crystalline stained glass shards of the body. The DS was next to a strange thing in the middle of the tank.

To Imna, it looked like some kind of undersea creature, with a dozen tentacles that had spread out from a bulbous body, all black with red highlights. The tentacles looked as if they had a dozen narrow spacecraft stuck to hidden suckers.

Wrexit AKA W44, was sitting in a chair staring at the tank.

Like Imna, everyone was in one of the armored vac-suits. She was late because she had been at the indoor range, practicing with the force lance, when the alert had sounded for all hands.

"There you are, Mister Imna," Captain Decken said. His habit of referring to her in the masculine term had been disconcerting at first but now she was used to it.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"Our quarry led us to... something..." Captain Decken said slowly.

The DS turned a half dozen eyes onto Decken.

"It is not a Hellspace shield we are familiar with, although ship's sensors can detect the bandwidth and energy wavelength emissions," the DS, one "Enduring Hateful Code", said in a voice of crackling breaking glass. "While data is sparse at the moment, I believe we are at one of the enemy's forward bases."

"In Hellspace?" Imna asked.

Decken nodded, still staring at the holotank. "Yes. Past the travel bands, deep into Hellspace itself."

Imna frowned. She didn't know that much about Hellspace, but she'd done some research. It was just a former hyper-atomic plane that touched everywhere that normal space existed, just the distances were non-euclidean, the shorter the distance in realspace the further in Hellspace you had to travel and the longer it took.

But 'deep' into Hellspace?

"I don't understand. I thought that Hellspace was point to point?" Imna said.

Enduring spun the shards of stained glass, grinding glass against glass and strands of code. "No. And yes. Once you full get into the upper bands of any of the hyper-atomic planes you move from where the hyper-atomic plane touches ours and into the depths of it. Think of it was two fish-tanks pressed against each other, only merged, but parts of the fish-tank extending past the other fish tank."

Imna closed her eyes. "OK, fine."

"We're deep in. Its hard to tell how far, since there isn't any navigational spaces or landmarks," Decken said. "Outside this bubble we managed to follow that ship to, it's all burning hyper-atomic plane."

Enduring looked at Decken will all fifteen eyes. "The station is talking to me."

"Can you understand it?" Decken asked.

"Yes. It broadcast different lexicons and I chose one of the older ones. A Lanaktallan lexicon taken from a Precursor Autonomous Warmachine. It is now replying with PAWM coding to me," Enduring said.

"What's it saying?" Decken asked.

"It is not asking for registration or identification numbers. It is merely giving me instructions to dock," Enduring stared at Decken with those hate filled red eyes. "I can state at a 78% confidence that what is talking to me is an alien artificial life form, possibly a digital sentience."

Decken nodded slowly. "Is it asking you to make any kind of report?"

"Negative, Captain," Enduring hissed in a voice full of static. "It has asked if I need repair or munitions reloading. It registered my false identification and assigned me a string of numbers."

Enduring flickered. "It uses base-eight. Coding is non-Confederate, although a lexicon was recent Confederate."

Decken moved over, his power armor hissing. "It has been using captured ships pushed through long distances in Hellspace. That's why we cannot identify them," he said. He brought up the smartscreen at the front of the bridge, staring at the image. "It's been capturing ships since the First Precursor War."

"Not positive, Captain. Enemy could have captured and repurposed ships afterwards," Enduring said.

"But, why not make their own?" Imna asked.

Enduring stared at her with a half dozen burning red eyes, the irises bone white and the pupils black. "Unknown at this time."

Wrexit just shrugged. "Why doesn't really matter right now. What we're going to do matters."

Decken nodded. "We need answers," he turned and looked at the holotank. "Mister Smiley, can you navigate the Nell of Night back to Iron Dominion or Confederate space?"

The robot somehow looked thoughtful for moment. "Aye-aye, Captain. 80% certainty."

Decken nodded. "That's all we can ask for," he turned to the XO, who Imna suddenly realized was still sitting in the chair. "Get a boarding party of Marines together, Number-One. Add in W44 and D44 to your boarding party."

Decken turned and looked at Imna and Wrexit.

"Time to earn your spurs."

0-0-0-0-0

Hetmwit doublechecked his own and the two Telkan's armor. Integrity was at 100%, battlescreens on standby, life support at 98%, power at 99%. He checked their weapons. Standard Confederate magnetic acceleration rifles and pistols, grav fists for W44, Mark Two cutting bars for both.. He was carrying grenades to supplement his small arms.

Then he checked the five 'Marines' coming with him. Two had rocket launchers, two others had light machineguns.

The ship had docked and Hetmwit checked the telltales.

There was atmosphere on the other side. Breathable atmosphere. Not easily, the oxygen content was low, but it was still breathable.

He made sure everyone's inertial and laser mapping systems were working right.

"Commo check," Hetmwit said.

"We read you, Tango-Actual," came back Mister Goofy's voice.

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"I read you, Tango-Actual," the Captain said.

The Captain was on the other side of the airlock in his heavy armor, ready to secure an egress route if everything went sideways.

Hetmwit was pretty sure it was going to go sideways.

He checked his pistol again, looking back at the two Telkan. "I'll be on point. Mister Hefty and Mister Ackerman will be next, then you two, then Mister Mustang and Mister Kanda," he said. He looked at the airlock door. "Lights are green. Opening door."

"Roger that, Tango-Actual," Mister Goofy answered. "You are green to go."

Hetmwit took a deep breath and tapped the holographic icon on the door.

It rose up slowly and he stopped it at six inches. He held his gauntlet down and checked the atmosphere leaking under the door as well as forwarded it to Mister Enduring.

"Standard atmosphere. Oxygen, carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide, helium, nitrogen, hydrogen, argon. Getting outgassing consistent with standard n-space carbon based life," Mister Enduring replied in a voice made up of hate and code. "Comparisons to standard Hellspace wreckage recovered is consistent with data from those events."

"Mission status?" Hetmwit asked, feeling tension in his gut.

The training over the last months made it feel like he'd done this a dozen times before.

But the wild sprint to and from his family's apartment block to rescue his mother, sisters, and their littles welled up in his mind.

"You are green to engage, Tango-Actual," Mister Goofy stated.

Hetmwit engaged the door again and waiting, rifle loaded with high-vee frangible rounds at the ready.

The station side of the airlock was all black, an almost glossy looking surface with no lights and panels, just a single baleful looking eye ringed by teeth next to the door. It all looked like it was made out of extruded plastic.

"Are you getting visual?" Hetmwit asked.

"Roger. Mission is still a go," Mister Goofy stated.

"Appearance is standard for Hellspace exposure," Mister Enduring added.

Hetmwit moved carefully in, waving the others to follow him.

"It's roomy," he said and immediately felt foolish.

"Designed for power armor squads," Captain Decken said. He was silent for a second. "Luckily, modern minaturization made it so your team has Hellspace protection. Keep an eye on your levels though."

"Roger," Hetmwit said. He looked back.

Everyone was in the airlock.

"Engaging," he said. He reached for the eye that was protected by fang-like spikes.

The spikes unfolded and the eye focused on his hand.

The airlock door to the Nell of Night shut and a hissing filled the room.

"Oxygen, CO2, nitrogen," Mister Enduring stated.

Hetmwit just nodded, pushing his tongue against the roof of his mouth and breathing through his nose.

Wrexit rubbed the emitter of his grav-fist against his leg nervously.

The interior door opened up, revealing the space station's interlock space that was between the airlock and any corridors.

It was full of steam and Hetmwit saw the external humidity jump to 85%. Water was dripping from the ceiling, the whole thing was made of matte and glossy black material that looked biologically extruded.

Chains hung from the ceiling, adorned with hooks and barbed spikes. From chains as thin as a strand of gossamer to ones as thick as Hetmwit's leg.

"Standard visual appearance for long term Hellspace exposure," Mister Enduring stated before Hetmwit could ask.

"Try not to bump the chains," Hetmwit said, moving into the room.

Within two steps he realized it was impossible to avoid brushing the chains. They jingled and chimed as he wove his way around the thicker clusters of chains, his armored shoulders or his arms brushing them. The floor felt sticky and he looked down.

It looked like a reddish fibrous mat.

He looked back up and headed for the far door. It had those fanglike spikes around the edge of the door, the spikes as thick as his hand at the base and extending at least a foot before ending in a needle-sharp point. There were closed eyes, surrounded by a circle of open staring red eyes, at the top of the blast door.

When Hetmwit got to it he paused to set down a high powered repeater, then stepped in front of the door.

The main eyes opened up, staring at him.

The fang-like claws flipped away from the door, a obscene sticky noise coming from the joint. The door slowly pulled back to reveal large teeth parallel to the floor that were dripping with blackish fluid. The teeth slowly withdrew into the gum-like tissue at the edge.

Hetmwit closed his eyes for a second.

Every scenario he had taken part in, none of them were making his anxiety peak like this.

The corridor beyond had chains at the edges, strange runes in reddish material on the walls, the ceiling dripping water or something worse, the walls made of that black material, and floor of the reddish mat.

"Moving toward central section," Hetmwit said, his voice tight with stress.

The spongy feeling under his feet was translated through his armor somehow, making him feel like he was stepping on living flesh. Several times he passed by open doors that led to other interlock sections. Some continued on through an open airlock and into the interior of one of the ships that were 'docked' against the huge sucker-like docking ports.

Every time Mister Goofy made a commo check he had to hold back the urge to scream.

But Captain Decken had mandated ninety-second commo checks, with voice analysis to ensure that the speaker was actually the person that the ID said it was.

Twice they passed by where thick strands of Hellspace energy drifted away from the wall and into the corridor. Once they had to wait for the drifting streak of energy to cross the passageway and vanish into the wall.

"All visuals are consistent with long term Hellspace exposure," Mister Enduring stated more than once.

The door from the docking tentacle to the main station was the same as the one that they had passed through to leave the interlock space.

Hetwmit set down another repeater before stepping into view of the eyes.

Again, the eyes opened and stared at him before closing.

The doors, and then the teeth, withdrew into the wall, exposing another corridor with black walls and chains hanging down.

Embedded in the walls were half-dissolved, half-rotted creatures, most of which Hetmwit had never seen before.

"Ignore them, Tango-Actual, even if you detect life signs," Captain Decken ordered.

"Roger," Hetmwit said. He tried to ignore the eyes that followed him as he let loose two drones that began scanning the walls as they drifted away on fans that did little more than whisper.

"Recovery positions. Breathe deep," Captain Decken ordered.

Hetmwit went down on one knee, lowering his head, and started breathing slow and deep.

The anxiety slowly ebbed.

The drones came back and downloaded the map.

It was next to useless. Left ended in a blast door, right went for a hundred meters before there was another blast door.

"Right or left?" Hetmwit asked.

"On your discretion, Tango-Actual," Captain Decken answered.

"Right," Hetmwit said. He got up slowly and the others, even the robots, did the same.

Hetmwit didn't think anything about the fact that Mister Mustang had beads of oil on the forehead of his skull, as if the robot was sweating with nervousness.

The blast door pulled back as they approached it, revealing more corridor.

"Go for the upper section of the center. Avoid rooms," Captain Decken said.

Static was starting to intrude on communication.

"Roger," Hetmwit said.

He ignored the eyes of the beings entombed in the walls. Even the ones that opened their eyes and stared at Hetmwit before the door opened. Many of them had greasy purple tentacles burrowed into their flesh. Some were nearly intact, others were just torsos with resin caps on the ends of severed limbs. Some had faces, some had their faces covered with resin with only a single burning red eye in the middle of the resin plate.

They moved silently as possible through the hallways.

Despite the humidity, despite the creatures embedded in the walls, despite the chains and the appearance, no other signs of life were seen as they moved to the central part.

The corridor wound right and left, to the left it went 'down' and to the right it went 'up' as it followed the central bulbous section.

Hetmwit nervously checked his rifle as they approached another door.

According to external scans matched with the inertial mapping, beyond the door was the top of the bulbous structure.

He had a bad feeling.

"Ready," he said softly.

"Green for go," he heard through the static.

He stepped forward. The eyes saw him.

The doors opened.

In the middle of the room were creatures. Creatures like he had never seen before.

In the center of the room was one surrounded by purple and red energy. They looked like a fountain made of clear crystal, the bowl at the bottom had barbed and hooked tentacles hanging from the bottom. The thick stem went up almost a meter before there was a thick fluted central ring that had five multi-jointed arms that ended in eight fingered sharp claws, then more of a fluted column that reached up to a large section with two huge eyes, a visible brain inside the crystal clear body, and a small mouth. Its strange organs could be seen, along with almost completely clear blood rushing through the body.

Around that one was six others. They were two meters tall, the lower body terminating in a bowl-like structure that had man-o-war tentacles hanging down from the bottom of the bowl. The flesh swept up out of the bowl in thick cables that were pressed together into a thick red body with black streaks. The mid-section was three powerful arms, made of thick red cables fused together. It had bumps and dermal exoskeletal bulges as black bone forced its way out of the cables of exposed muscle-like tissue. The hands had eight fingers with black claws on the end. The neck was missing, the top of the head only slightly protruding from the muscular shoulders but sticking out from the body. It had four eyes, ovals with the side ends pinched into almost-points. The eyes were two above two below, glowing red with a blue sparkle in the middle. From the mouth fell writhing segmented tentacles.

Hetmwit saw the ripple that stopped W44 and D44 in their tracks. That stopped the robots from raising their weapons.

Ambient phasic shockload went up to 115% of his phasic shielding's max load.

But it missed him.

He yelled over the com-link even as he got his weapon up, his finger tightening on the trigger.

"CONTACT! ENEMY CONTACT!"