As soon as Justinius had stepped out of the teleport room into the Fury’s main deckway Marcus turned and stopped him.

The look on the Executive officer’s face was grim. Before he spoke he made a show of checking they were out of earshot of any other crew.

“While you were gone we were boarded.”

Justinius was puzzled, “Boarded? By whom? We were supposed to be clear and free on this side of the system.”

Marcus shook his head. “Apparently there was a ship hidden on the far side of Xeras Prime. We’re not sure if they were waiting for us, or whether it was just happenstance, but they closed distance and teleported nearly fifteen souls aboard.”

Justinius shook his head, “Why not tell me this right away? Why draw me away from the men to tell me this?”

Marcus hesitated again, and then sighed. “Just follow me, it will be easier if you see for yourself.”

Marcus led Justinius through the main deckway, down two levels and into the medical wing. He led him to a sealed doorway, guarded by two Sergeants of the First. Both saluted as they approached. Above the door, the signage read ‘morgue’.

As they passed the doorway, they came into a long cold room, where steel tables were lined up in a long procession. On each slab lay humanoid figures in navy-coloured combat armour. They were in various states of disarticulation, some having been punctured by high velocity bullets, and others dismembered or eviscerated to varying degrees.

Halastar stood at the tables, but elsewise they were the only living souls in the room.

“Shipmaster, “ Justinius began, “Thank you for the pickup, it was none to soon.”

The Captain smiled weakly.

“Just glad we made it in time. We’re free and clear, we should be jumping out of the system momentarily.”

As if manifested by his words, the ship trembled slightly as it made the jump to faster-than-light travel.

Marcus strode forward to meet Halastar at the first body, and beckoned Justinius forward.

Up close, the figure on the gurney gave Justinius pause.

The figure was tall and muscular, its bulk expanded by the heavy armour it wore. It was crude by modern standards, but it's pattern was familiar to Justinius. It looked like armour he had seen in the military mueseums of Terra. It’s helmet was a visage of a skull, daubed in ritual paint or blood upon the opaque battle visor.

“These are the one’s that boarded us?”, Justinius queried, “I’m not familiar with these troops, are they some new species we haven’t encountered?”

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Marcus didn’t reply. With a direct simplicity, he reached down and removed the dead warrior's helmet.

The face beneath was undeniably human.

The pale face of the man was dignified in death. His proud brow framed glassy blue eyes, set apart a patrician nose and a tight mouth, set locked in the grimace of death.

Justinius looked up at Halastar.

“These men came from a vessel of the enemy?” Justinius demanded, “We’re sure?”

Halastar just nodded, swallowing.

“The vessel came out of Xeras Primes magnetosphere as we approached, and attempted to intercept us. I couldn’t identify the ship class, but it definitely wasn’t Terran.”

Marcus placed the helmet back onto the slain warrior, and turned to Justinius.

“They fought well, but not at all like they teach back in the academies. I don’t think they’re traitors or deserters. This is just speculation, but I don’t even think they’re Terran, though they are human. We ran genetic tests and there’s no denying that fact.”

“Clones?” Justinius asked, his rising anxiety spilling into his voice, “Has the enemy breached the memorandum outlawing cloning?”

Halastar piped up, “No such luck. All the enemy troops are genetically unique, not sharing any meaningful genetic relation.”

Justinius, raised his hands to his face, and rubbed at his brow. Marcus noticed this unusual show of distress. It was rare that Justinius allowed any show of stress or emotion to break through his facade.

Justinius sighed and lowered his hands.

“Who knows?” He queried.

“That we were boarded by humanoid troops with two arms and two legs? Everyone.” Marcus replied, “The fact that they’re actual bona fide humans? Just the people in this room.”

“Good, until we have more information I want it to stay that way.” Jusinius turned to Halastar, “We’re heading back into Committee space?”

“We are.” The shipmaster replied, “about three weeks at maximum speed.”

Justinius nodded, “Until then this must stay secret. Once we reach committee space we’re going to redirect.”

Halastar raised an eyebrow, “Back home?”

“Just so.”

Marcus coughed politely, a gesture almost comical in its opposition to his gruff nature. “That should give us time then, for the second matter.”

“A second matter?” Justinius queried.

“There are only fourteen bodies here, Sir.”

Justinius looked down the row of gurneys. Marcus had said fifteen warriors had boarded, but only fourteen corpses lay on the stainless steel tables. Justinius scolded himself for his inattentiveness, he realised the mission had taken much more out of him than he had initially perceived.

“Don’t be cute,” he growled at his executive officer, “Where’s the fifteenth.”

Marcus smiled despite the aggressive tone. “Well I figured we should only keep the dead ones in the morgue, Sir. I’ve got the fifteenth locked up in the brig.”

“You managed to take one alive? That’s not standard doctrine, soldier.”

“Well in my defense, I cut his arm off. He just happened to survive. I can go put a bullet in him if you prefer. Fix my mistake?”

Despite himself, Justinius chuckled.

“Alright Marcus, let’s go see what he has to say.”