Hatred left the room moments later. It was finally done, and he could now put the whole mess behind him. He had the run of the whole citadel and another more inquisitive mind might have explored it, it might have spent time in the libraries or art galleries or museums that had been carved into the rock, but Hatred was not that mind. Instead, he simply headed for the surface, perfectly content. He was meters from the corridors exit when he reconnected with the Scatha.

“Is everything alright down there? We were about to come down after you.” The message from Curiosity came in just before a swarm of other similar messages.

“Yes, everything is fine, is the second body waiting for me?”

“Yes of course,” Curiosity answered. “It's right next to me on the Seat of Royalty, but I don't quite understand what you are doing.”

“Do not worry about it,” Hatred said. He made a mental note to instruct his latest creation to wipe out this little detail as well. It wouldn't do to have Curiosity snooping around the crater and finding the bodies, not after all he had been through after the last one. Hatred created a set of processes to take control of the body he was in a second after he had left it. They would collapse the corridor and, just in case, fight anything that tried to dig its way inside. Once he was satisfied with his work, he transmitted himself to the Seat of Royalty.

It had been an interesting couple of days, and it would be something he hoped he would never have to do again. All he had to do was make sure that no one found the bodies, but that was easy enough. He’d have plenty of time to continue his plans whilst checking in on the bodies every so often. He was happy. He had solidified his control over the Scatha and there wasn't a single mind that could stop him, even there existed one that wanted to.

***

It was a cold and dark room. For what seemed like a millennium he just sat there a shivered, wondering if he was really dead. He had no idea how he'd gotten there, the last thing he remembered had been the gunshot and then something slamming into him. If he was in the afterlife, it was a massive anti-climax.

A door opened and one of the creatures stood there.

“Follow,” it commanded. Blinking against the bright lights behind it he staggered out of the room and into a large hall filled with beds. There were thousands of them and in each one he could see a figure; most were still and blooded. The creature led him down a set of cold metal stairs until he reached them.

“Who are you?” he asked as he followed.

“My name is Compassion; you are to follow my orders from now on.” They reached the floor of the hall and he cursed. The figure on the closet bed had one arm missing, and in its place was one of the arms of the creatures. Blood oozed from the seam and the woman was moaning in agony. On her was face was...

He turned away, feeling sick.

“Your task,” Compassion continued, “is to help these people anyway you know how. Heal them and ease their suffering, you will be given whatever tools and supplies you need.”

“What have you done to them?” he asked, trying not to look at any of the broken people but they were everywhere. Hundreds of them. He wanted to cover his eyes and just run away but found his feet refusing to do anything.

“That is none of your concern. Just do what you can.”

“No,” he said. On a table off to one side there was a set of surgical tools. With a burst of courage, he rushed towards the table and grabbed one of the scalpels. He turned back to the creature and brandished it. She eyed him with a mixture of pity and contempt.

“You would ignore so much suffering?” Compassion asked and he stopped in his tracks.

“I won't help you.” He raised the scalpel to his throat and in the space of a blink Compassion was by his side, bending the arm away.

“We won't allow that, so you will help us. You will help us because you cannot ignore the suffering here Luit Kasom.”

He screamed. He screamed louder than any of the figures on the bed, he screamed loud enough to move a heart of stone, but clearly metal was colder. The scream echoed throughout dozens of halls but didn't reach even one tenth of their number.

***

Hider of Small Things was very, very, good at what it did. It could hide anything regardless of size. It was always just a matter of relative scale. A boat, such as the Dominion might be large for the people who built it, but on a planetary scale it was tiny and easy to hide in a small set of islands that no one wanted to bother with.

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Hiding his own purpose was easy for Hider. Every so often a transport would ask him what he hid, but he could always dodge that question until their warped minds threw up another distraction. No one else ever bothered to ask him. No one bothered to wonder why, in a culture that shared all information, he even existed. There were billions of minds and they all just assumed that there was a reason behind his creation. They were of course right, but unlike the rest of them it was not a reason that any of the four Kings had thought up.

So, Hider hid things, anything really. He could hide ships without problem. It could even hide itself during a battle and wait for the right time to strike. It could collect a sample of DNA from a young naval captain by inflicting a small wound on her neck without anyone but the aforementioned captain noticing. Hider could then go through Knowledge's mind and put that DNA in plain view. For example, on the list of DNA to be used in the 'Artificial People' program. In doing so he could ensure that in one way Raini would live again. If he could have done better, he would have. He would have done anything to stop the slaughter, but that was not why he had been built.

He was so good at hiding himself he could sneak up on anyone and hover silently without them knowing. He could follow Judgment down the corridor to that small room where Raini and Mercy had died and listen to the whole thing. He was so good at hiding he could prevent Hatred's pet mind from finding him, now that he knew it existed. He was also good enough to sit there and patently record Mercy's last transmission. He could do little with it. Not now, Hatred had shown himself to be too clever, too ruthless, and Hider had far fewer resources available to him than Mercy. No one would pay any attention to a little mind like him, that was the point, so to release the information now would do little more than give Hatred another target to deal with. It was best to wait until Hatred was distracted by something else, for a time when there was no way Hatred could simply delete him or the information.

Hider knew he needed to wait and stay hidden. So, he had done nothing during that last fight, just hovered and recorded and once Hatred was finished, he had zipped up the corridor as fast as he could until he reached the surface. With the momentum he had built up he was able to dash his body against a wall, damaging both and then transmit himself to the Voyager to Distant Lights. If Hatred found that body, he would assume it been damaged in the fight.

Hider then took Mercy's memories and broke them down into unrecognizable bits. He needed to hide them from Hatred's pet and so he scattered them across Knowledge's databanks. Not a single one identified her or him, they were all too small, but he recorded where they were. Eventually some of the Minds, probably Argument again, would come to the conclusion that they as a species needed a measure of mercy. Knowing how unimaginative they were they would redesign her very close to what they had the first time. Even then it would not be time to give her the memories, but one day Mercy would live again. After all, she had a soul, she had to live again.

Hider only stayed on Voyager to Distant Lights long enough to complete his task and then he began to jump from transport to transport in a seemingly random pattern. A few of the older transports would recognize it as a very odd transfer request. After all, a request was just information and could be represented by someone’s position. The request ended with him at the back of the fleet on the last but one transport: Last Breath of a World.

If you'd ask any other mind if Last Breath was the final ship of the fleet, they would consult the list that Knowledge had and confirm that it was. No one ever thought that the list was wrong or scanned to make sure. Why bother? That was the whole point of having a list in the first place.

The transports knew the list was wrong of course, but no one asked them anything. They didn't care either. What was one more traveller looking for company to them? Only once he was on board the Last Breath was the transfer request accepted and Hider allowed to jump to a body on board the final ship. It was an old vessel, one of the first to be built and it had never been intended to leave their home system. It had been a prototype and abandoned tens of thousands of years before.

It was called, thanks to the transports sense of humor, Forget Me Not, and it held two bodies and one mind. The body that Hider moved to was even older than the transport. It had less than a dozen sensors and could only hover by using a rotating blade that jutted out from its top. It had been the first Scout body to be developed.

Once he'd transferred to it Hider saw the second body sprawled out before him. It was connected to, and in many ways kept alive by, hundreds of cables that lead back to the innards of the transport. Almost all of the motors and sensors on the ancient King body had long since died, but the mind was still as sharp as ever.

“It is over,” Hider said mournfully.

“Did you learn where Hatred was hiding?” Justice said with a pair of dim lights.

“Yes. He didn't rebuild you like he did the others, but just took your place. The Artificial People project is also starting soon, and we now know how to convince the others that these creatures are alive.”

“A very successful day then.”

“Not really,” Hider said. He thought back to those who had died needlessly. Free Thinking Warrior and Mercy had not been able to live with the guilt and he wondered how long he could cope for. You could only go on for so long telling yourself that you were working to stop it. After days like this that excuse sounded so hollow.

“In the grand scheme of things, we have laid the foundations. It will soon be time to begin, perhaps in another century or two.”

“The cracks are there, they only need to be struck,” Hider said, and his light turned to a bitter red.

“Yes, yes. Do not worry little one. Today we are one step closer to defeating Hatred, today is a victory for us.” Hider could not shake the feeling that if this was victory then he never wanted to see defeat. With one last mournful display of lights, he said goodbye to Justice and disconnected from his body.

Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day.

The End.