Flextruth

Flextruth sits in front of her laptop inside the main compartment of the transporter and looks over the script of her first round of interrogations. The former Second Steward of the Leviathan and her agent have proven to be as stubborn as expected. Still, Flextruth doesn’t need their confessions as the evidence is enough for a conviction. As such the only thing, which needs to be done in a timely manner, is the necessary paperwork. The only part of the job Flextruth truly hates.

Suddenly, she feels a tingling sensation running down her spine to the tip of her tail. Confused, she saves her scripts and closes her laptop before leaving the transporter. Those idiots need longer than necessary, she thinks as she steps away from the transporter, towards the life-ship.

Almost immediately she sees the bodies pilling up next to it. Keeping her wits she pulls out her gun and walks to the bodies to check them. Flextruth doesn’t need long to determine that they’re all dead. The amount of blood and the drag marks are enough indicators. Still, she kneels beside the bodies while turning her ears this and that way to be ready for any ambushes possibly aimed at her.

All cuts are the work of a sharp blade…, she ponders as she looks at the larger wounds. Killed due to damage to vital organs and haemorrhaging… All but one… Seems to have been killed by blunt force trauma to the head.

Slow she stands up and notices a few lines of text on the hull of the life-ship. Those lines read:

Two little Executioners looking for who has it done,

One clubbed the other and then there was one;

One little Executioners being all alone,

He got stabbed and then there were none.

With a hiss Flextruth slams her back against the life-ship, pulls her communication device out and calls Inquisitor Scargrin. First there is just static, which doesn’t help to get her nerves under control. She works for more then two-hundred Circles as Interviewer, and she has never seen a squat of Executioners getting killed without someone sounding alarm. The little time the perpetrator needed also counts as a point of concern to her. As she looks around — her eyes never staying on one spot longer the a second — the devices cracks into life.

„Speak,“ mumbles Scargrin clearly bored.

„I’ve bad news,“ she says into it. „My Executioners got themselves killed.“

„WHAT?!“, he shouts so loud into the thing that Flextruth instinctively pulls her ears back.

„You heard me right. They got killed,“ she repeats, swallowing down a hiss.

„How could this have happened?,“ he growls. „During your whole career you never disappointed this much. Did you see something?

„Not a thing,“ she replies after taking a deep breath. „I’m currently standing with my back to the third life-ship and see nothing except a pile of dead bodies, a few taunting lines of text and a shitload of dust and rocks. I hereby request to return to the Neutronstar and come back with reinforcement.“

„Request denied,“ rolls his voice over the communication device.

„Sir, with all due respect, but this is bullshit!,“ she shouts into the small device. „How am I supposed to secure the crime scene alone? And how am I supposed to catch the remaining deserters?“

„The situation is critical, Flextruth. We’re both responsible and we both will take care of it.“

„Are you by your water logged senses?“, she asks dumfounded. „It’s exactly because of this critical situation, I need to sort this out with reinforcements.“

„I’m going to get you,“ he replies, ignoring her. „You stay put.“

„With all due respect, Sir, but this is insane!“, she hisses. „What, in the Void’s name, are you doing? Don’t tell me you drank again this stu—“

—

Umbra

Silence.

The Menkar is on the ground.

Grey blood dripping from the baton.

A black gloved hand picks the communication device up.

The Mask devoid of any emotion hides the grin behind it.

„Flextruth?“, asks the one on the other end worried. „Do you copy?“

„She’s out cold,“ is the soft-spoken answer.

„Who the fuck are you?“

„I’m a shadow. Come and get me.“

The communication device falls to the ground and gets scrunched underneath the heel of a black boot.

—

Insectoid

The Insectoid feels something stir within himself. Another being, which has hidden until this point but helped the Insectoid to understand the Menkar despite him not even hearing the frequencies of their voices. Careful he gets out of his hiding place between the rocks close by the life-ship and takes a look around. In front of him are just the foot prints of his travel companions as well as those of their captors. He knows that he should have helped them but the being within him warned him of those. They would’ve killed him otherwise.

With steady steps, the Insectoid leaves the ship behind and walks steadily towards the directions his twitching antennas urge him to. For a long time his god’s presence had felt like a drop of rain in the ocean, but that has changed. Now the drop of water has become the ocean itself. The Insectoid needs to get to her. He can’t leave her behind or ignore the one within him.

The Insectoid has to meet with her. Although the way is a long one, he isn’t afraid. He knows that the one within him, will help him. He already does help him by opening a rift into the dreamworld.

Folding his hands in a devot motion of gratefulness, the Insectoid leaves the waking world behind. Many things have changed within the dreamworld, but one thing is for certain. Sooner rather than later the Insectoid will have found and reunited the one within him with his god.