The freaky, human-sized doll fell sideways before James terrified eyes. Another loud bang deafened him, the bright flash giving him after-images every time he blinked. Dakarai screamed. Rebecca yelled. Thuds and scuffing. James climbed back to his feet, dizzy from fear and shock. He realized Dakarai were wrestling the monster on the ground, holding on to the shotgun. James joined the fray without another seconds' hesitation.

The thing kicked him, hard, and James grunted in pain.

'Get him!' Dakarai hollerred.

Wincing against the red hot pain in his leg, he jumped back in as the thing tried to stand back up, swinging and kicking wildly at them.

'Stay down!' James roared and threw his weight at it, toppling it back down. They grappled, and got kicked. It clicked and somehow reloaded, despite them holding it down. It was too strong. The head raised and the eye stared at them for a second. Snapping shut, the monster aimed the shotgun at them. James yanked his head to the side. Another blast roared. James grabbed a piece of scrap on the ground and started beating it against the round head. It twisted and kicked.

'Get back! Let me hit it! Bill shouted from behind, and James jumped back.

Bill came at it with a yellow yield sign, battered its head. It raised the shotgun again.

'No!' James roared.

Another loud blast and flash.

Something hit James visor, darkening it. He couldn't see and flailed, stumbling backwards.

Metallic banging and Rebecca shrieking jolted James out of his panic. He stopped and brought his hands up, wiping the visor. The sticky dark fluid came off enough, allowing him a blurred vision of the scene.

Bill and Rebecca both beat the monster with scrap. Behind them, James spotted Dakarai's legs. Shit. Had he been hit? Dread grabbed a hold of James. He bellowed in fury and ran back, kicking the thing. The head opened, and without thinking, he punched into the mouth, hitting the eye in the centre.

The monster fired the shotgun into the ceiling, raining gravel over them. James didn't care. If it'd hurt Dak, it would die.

Without thinking, James grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and yanked it loose, stumbling back in the process. Then he spun the weapon around, and fumbling only for a second, brought it up before his eyes, aimed at the gaping mouth and freaky eye staring at him. James pulled the trigger. The powerful recoil punched into his shoulder. The boom deafening.

Silence.

James squinted, then opened his eyes fully again. The doll lay still, its eye completely erased from existence. Bill and Rebecca stood panting beside it, still ready to beat it with scrap.

Letting the shotgun go with a clatter, James ran around his friends to help Dakarai, and stopped.

'No...' he breathed, his throat constricted. 'No.'

Dakarai's body lay still on the ground, but where his head should have been, only a bloody mass remained, with pieces of the black helmet sprinkled through. Blood and gore had splattered all over the floor. It took James several seconds to connect what had happened. What had blinded him. He raised a hand and wiped his visor again. His black gloves came off wet. He looked at his orange suit. Red dots spattered his chest. He swallowed. Bile burned in the back of his throat.

'No!'

'Oh no...' Rebecca gasped beside him. 'Oh Lord. What do we do?'

James stomach cramped. He spun and tore off his helmet, ran to the closest wall and heaved until nothing but bile came out.

Then he simply stood there for a while, leaning against the concrete. His throat raw and burning, the stale, dusty, chemical-smelling air of the complex irritating his airways and stinging his eyes.

He couldn't believe it. Dakarai had died to save him. If not for Dak, the thing would have shot him instead. He forced down the lump in his throat, took a deep breath of stinging air, and forced himself to look up.

'James. Please, put it on.' Rebecca stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't even felt it. She held up his helmet before him. 'Please, take it.'

Numbly, he grabbed it and pulled it back over his head, attaching the fastenings again. The stink of the suit almost gave him a homely, safe feeling. Despite the smell, the air was breathable. He focused on taking one deep breath after the other.

'You okay?' Rebecca asked.

It wasn't until then he noticed her tear-streaked face.

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Fuck. He wasn't the only one affected here. Get a grip, James.

'I'm sorry. I'm alright now.'

'We need to move, guys,' Bill grated. 'This racket is bound to draw some attention. We better get scarce real quick.'

'Fuck you, man,' James breathed. 'I'm not leaving without Dak.'

'Of course not. Help me carry him back to the ship. Move it,' Bill snapped, surprising James.

'I... yeah.' James took another steadying breath. 'Thank you.'

Then, avoiding to look at the mess, James picked up the shotgun, and rummaged through the monster's pockets for ammunition. Once done, he and Bill grabbed Dakarai's body, while Rebecca struggled under the weight of the scrap.

The trek back out was the slowest, most agonizing walk James had ever done.

'When you think it can't get worse,' Rebecca whispered, and sniffed beside him.

He only nodded. Unable to find words. They'd all surely die. By The Seven. What were they doing here anyway? Dying for what?

Back at the ship, the small crew slumped down on the floor and bunk-bed in silence. Rebecca curled into a ball on the bed, sniffling quietly while James and Bill sat on the floor, discarded helmets beside them.

James kept his eyes glued to his boots, unwilling to look at anyone and scared to look at the body of his friend, lying near the doors, by the large red cabinet.

He couldn't believe this had happened. It wasn't fair. Dakarai was the best of them. Sure, he'd been a bit crazy, but always there, ready to help, going the extra mile. He couldn't quite accept it. Though he'd only known Dakarai for a few days, it felt like much longer. He supposed living on borrowed time and relying on each other to live another day, another hour, made people tighter than normal. They should bury him, make some kind of a grave here on Assurance. He pressed his lips together. They'd all be buried on these monster infested moons soon if they didn't step up their game.

Raising his eyes, he met Bill's hard gaze. The man looked absolutely haggard, but composed

and calm. Briefly, James wondered what he was thinking. Almost asked. But then decided it was better not to. He drew in a deep breath.

'Bill. Can you teach me the computer. Before it's too late.' Maybe it was too sudden and too negative, but he couldn't muster any positivity right now.

Bill nodded and stood. 'We should probably eat, get some energy.'

'I'm really not hungry,' James muttered as he got back up. His stomach churned, images of blood and little pieces of grey and black swam before his eyes. He looked up at the computer screen, focused the green text, the numbers of their quota, the little camera feed of the outside. He took a step forward and his right shin burned like hot iron. Cursing, he felt it with his hands. An aching lump, easily the size of an egg, met his fingers where that cursed doll had kicked him with its metal boots. Wincing, he forced himself to straighten again. Everything hurt anyway, what was one more injury?

'What do you want to know?' Bill asked, his face an unreadable mask.

'How do you scan for loot? How do you see the monsters? What more can you do?'

'All right. Everything it is,' Bill muttered. 'Look here. You can access everything from here.'

Ignoring Rebecca's crying, James listened intently as Bill showed him how to scan, how to route the ship, how to order things. It wasn't that hard once you knew the basic commands. It still took a good while.

'We should get the shovel and dig a grave,' James suggested. 'He deserves some dignity.'

'I agree,' Rebecca mumbled from the bed.

'It's dark. Besides, we're bringing him back to the Company,' Bill stated.

'How do I get the ship to go back to Gordion?' James asked then.

'Gordion?' Bill raised a questioning eyebrow and pointed to the top screen. It read; Days left to deadline: 1, in red characters. 'We're not done here yet.'

'Are you for real, right now?' James sighed, unable to muster energy for a fight. 'He's dead. Are you suggesting we work one more day, leaving him here on the floor?'

'Yes. It's not a suggestion, it's what we are going to do.'

'Look man...' James tried to hold back his emotions, but this day had been way too much. 'I'm not having him... I'm not having a corpse lying on the floor for another day. Then we bury him here on Assurance tomorrow morning.'

'Out of the question.'

'No!' Rebecca inserted. 'We're either going back to the Company right now, or we're burying him first thing in the morning. It's the only right thing to do.'

James nodded, glad she was with him on this.

Bill sighed. 'You still don't get it, do you?'

'Get what?'

'We're taking him back to Gordion after tomorrow. I'm sorry it came to this, but it's the only thing we can do.'

'Why?' James pressed, his hands curled into fists by his sides.

'Ask yourself. If we leave now. Do you think we have enough scrap?' Bill said evenly.

'I don't care!' James raised his voice. 'This is insane.'

'Yes. But it's the reality we're in. Accept it, or die. But I'm not gonna die with you.'

'You think we don't have enough? That they wouldn't make an exception for a... when someone dies?'

'I know for a face they don't,' Bill snapped. 'They will, however, pay us less for the scrap if we return a day too early. They'll only give us seventy percent for it now. We'll die if we go now, if we don't get more loot.'

Frustrated James stepped around in a circle, then he hit the metal wall with a fist and yelled.

Rebecca jumped, but said nothing, her eyes wide and red-shot. Bill nodded. Almost as if he knew what James were going through.

'What the fuck do we do now then?' James shouted, glanced towards the body on the floor, and immediately regretted it.

'We rest, eat, and sleep,' Bill said. 'Tomorrow, we get as much as we can, as early as we can. Then we go back to Gordion.'

'Fuck!' James growled. But he realized Bill was right. Even if it all felt wrong, he couldn't doom them all to die just because it was right towards Dak. It wasn't right towards Rebecca, not even to Bill. This Company, whoever they were, were utterly twisted. Evil. And there was nothing he could do about it.