Virtanen’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he saw his prey. His cloneskin was specifically bred to mitigate the effects of fear. Not to negate them, as fearlessness was not a good trait in those trained in the arts of subterfuge and assassination, but to mitigate them.

But whatever that thing was before him, it exuded a sense of menace not even the Ancestors could overcome. Even though his HunTR kept his aim true, his arms felt as weak as a rotten prop, his legs as weak as a new-born Ambull’s legs. And his heart? His heart pounded harder and faster than he ever thought possible.

What crouched before him might never have been truly biological to start with. He’d certainly never heard of beings with skinless skulls resembling those of the human race, but with three red-lit lenses mounted where their eyes should have been. Or a mouth filled with what looked like a cross between needles and drill bits.

It had four arms. Three were cybernetic, with two of those having some form of firearm instead of hands, whilst the third was a blade. The fourth arm looked just like a normal arm, albeit one that ended in what looked like data spikes.

And it hissed, whilst on some deeper, subsonic level that he felt more than heard, it growled.

None of that stopped him from pulling the trigger however, his HunTR reticle giving him five possible aiming points for vulnerable spots. Twitching his hand slightly, fired as soon as the reticle was laid over the nearest target.

Bright light filled the darkened corridor as the plasma pistol sent its white-hot bolt the length of the corridor, his eyes automatically reacting to the sudden light, protecting him from being blinded.

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His aim was true, the plasma burning into one of the creature’s firearms, liquidising the metal and charring the flesh until it was nothing but charcoal. And the creature barely reacted.

‘You won’t kill it that way,’ a voice said from behind him. With no warning he was pushed to the side as a human form charged past him. Lighting arced through the air, twisting and turning so much that he thought it would surely miss.

It didn’t. As if it was drawn to the creature’s weak points, it forked, splitting into thinner and thinner streams before striking the creature. Whereas his plasma pistol had drawn little reaction, the lightning drew forth a screech like nothing he had heard before.

Clapping his hands over his ears, he screamed, dropping his weapon, falling to his knees, pinching his eyes closed. And then it stopped.

*

‘By the Core!’ screamed Jorgen as the wall of sound blasted through the plasteel door blocking the sub-corridor. Both she and her fellow engineers staggered at the force of it. Just as suddenly as it had begun, it was gone, roaring silence filling the void.

‘What was that?’ gasped an apprentice, dabbing at a bleeding nose.

‘I’m not sure if I want to know,’ Jorgen muttered.

‘What’s that smell? Is someone cooking?’ asked a journeyman.

‘Something’s cooking, be read …’ her voice trailed off as the locking mechanism on the door turned and it started to slowly swing open. Immediately she and her people snapped up their weapons.

‘Friendly coming in!’ The accent wasn’t Jomsburg, and the tone was certainly not that of a kin. Nor was the smiling face that peeked around the door. ‘Hi.’

No-one moved. The human blinked, just once. The smile stayed in place.

‘Who are you?’ Jorgen finally managed. Still unsure as to whether she should kill the human there and then.

‘A friend,’ he paused. ‘I’m going to reach for something. Don’t kill me, okay?