Forlam pointed at five of his fellows, and was about to head off.

‘I’ll come too,’ said a male reif, stepping forwards. ‘I might be able to help.’

Ron now led them away from the hatch, and through the maintenance section to a locked bulkhead door. He palmed the plate beside it, and it opened. In the next section he walked over to a cage. Janer moved aside as the remaining Hoopers crowded past him. Wade stepped up to stand beside him.

‘The Captain has a problem,’ the Golem observed, ‘and I wonder if it is one he can solve.’

‘Old Captains are very capable,’ Janer replied. He nodded towards Ron as the Captain studied the cage lock, shrugged, then tore off the barred door.

‘I’m sure that is so. But a hooder is a very dangerous creature that is very difficult to kill. Most projectile weapons would kill this ship before killing the beast itself. The same rule applies to most beam weapons.’

‘You’re just a little ray of sunshine, aren’t you,’ said Janer.

As if he had not heard, Wade continued, ‘I have my APW which I can fire very very accurately—accurately enough not to damage this ship. There is, however, a weapon perfectly suited to this situation. It is highly illegal in the Polity, because it is both hugely destructive and there is absolutely no material defence against it.’ He eyed Janer.

Janer considered all sorts of denials, but you did not hide the stolen fire extinguisher when the house was burning. Obviously Wade knew all about the weapon Janer carried.

‘Let’s go,’ he said, more courageously than he felt, and turned to head back along through the maintenance section.

Wade caught his shoulder and redirected him. ‘Down the ladder here. Our friend is no longer at the stern. He is directly below us.’

As Forlam led the way to the deck, he felt there was something familiar about the male reif accompanying them. Then he dismissed the thought—live long enough and everyone starts to look familiar, and he had more important things to consider. People were being killed aboard this ship, and reifications were being… sort of killed. Of course reifs did not feel pain, so he dismissed them from his thoughts. But how Sturmbul must have suffered. Forlam had been very interested to hear from Isis Wade earlier how hooders fed. He walked on with his stomach lurching with an excitement he felt loath to identify.

Climbing up on the lamplit deck he glanced up and saw that all the fabric sails were now reefed. The Golem sail was just discernible up its mast, silhouetted like an iron statue against the starlit sky. One of the living sails was on the midship deckhouse. Forlam could not guess why it would be there until he saw its head dart down, a pinkish tail thrash into view, then the head jerk back tearing up a mouthful of flesh. Huff was dismembering a rhinoworm and chomping it down.

‘This looks interesting, Forlam,’ said the reif.

Dragging his attention away from the sail, Forlam glanced round at him, then peered along the deck to where he was pointing. A large group of people had gathered in a clear area of deck between the fore and mid deckhouses.

‘Do I know you,’ Forlam asked him as he studied the group.

‘No, you don’t.’

‘You know my name.’

‘I make it a point of remembering the names of those who might present a problem to myself and others.’

‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean? And who are you?’ He did sort of know what the reif meant but, like the excitement he felt, did not want to analyse it too closely. He knew he had never been quite right since that time the Skinner had torn out most of his guts, and his subsequent change.

The group ahead consisted of milling Kladites, amongst them Bloc and the just arrived Aesop and Bones. Though he felt misgivings, Forlam began trotting towards them. He had his Captain’s orders after all. The reif kept pace with him, moving without that usual jerkiness Forlam associated with his kind.

‘My name is John Styx.’

You’re lying.

‘Well, John Styx, my Captain tells me I’m more of a danger to myself.’ Forlam gritted his teeth.

‘I thought your fascination with pain less focused than that.’

Forlam was about to demand an explanation of that, but now they were getting near to the group.

Bloc suddenly noticed them and stepped forward. ‘What is this?’

Forlam launched into an explanation. ‘Can’t have a hooder running about below. It’s already damaged the rudder. We need weapons badly. The Captain wants to know where you stowed those Batian weapons?’

After a pause, Bloc said, ‘All personnel not on duty should return to their cabins.’

‘What?’ said Forlam, excitement suddenly turning to anger.

Bloc continued, ‘This is not the concern of Hoopers. We will deal with the problem as we see fit.’ The reif’s eye irrigators were currently attempting to drown his face.

John Styx stepped forward and spoke up. ‘I think the matter is somewhat more urgent then you would suppose. The rudder is jammed over and we are now adrift. If this ship rams an atoll or a packetworm coral…’

Bloc seemed taken aback by that, for a long moment passed before he said, ‘I am aware of the damage to the rudder, which was caused by a misguided attempt to use a grenade against the hooder. But the matter needs some consideration, since charging in there with Batian weapons might result in even further damage. As to the ship ramming an atoll…’ Bloc gestured to the lack of sail. ‘It is drifting now and the damage would be minimal.’

He’s delaying, thought Forlam. Why is this shit delaying?

‘Far as I see it,’ he said belligerently, ‘you are the owner, but Captain Ron is in charge here, and he’s ordered me to fetch weapons. We need those Batian weapons.’

‘It would be safer, I think, if you returned to your cabins,’ Bloc replied.

Forlam stepped forward too. ‘Listen, you worm, that hooder has to be dealt with. I don’t care about your fucking god complex. I don’t care about these brown-nosing deadbeats with their noses up your anus. My Captain wants those weapons and you’ll either give them to us or we’ll go over you to find them!’

Now Bloc took a pace forwards. His movements were jerky, his eye irrigators strangely still. ‘You… will… do as you are told!’

Forlam was about to protest further when Styx laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Perhaps—’ he began. There came a shuddering crash which sent Forlam and Styx staggering. Some Kladites fell to the deck, and Bloc went down on his backside.

‘Atoll?’ Styx suggested brightly.

‘What the hell!’

Janer stayed where he had fallen on the catwalk below the ladder as the ship swayed underneath him. Wade hopped down off the ladder—he of course had not fallen. The Golem stooped down and offered a hand, and hauled Janer to his feet.

‘Maybe we’ve run aground,’ suggested Wade. ‘That doesn’t affect our task.’

‘Mmph,’ was Janer’s only response, but his reservations grew as they moved on into the bilge. After having seen a hooder in the flesh for the first time on Mortuary Island, he agreed with Ron: nasty bugger. Perhaps they should have waited for Ron and the rest. Perhaps he should have handed his weapon over to someone more handy.

‘Who is this individual you must apprise of certain truths, and what is the cataclysm you want to prevent?’ he asked.

‘We make enough noise and we attract the hooder,’ said Wade.

‘Well, we didn’t come down here to avoid it,’ Janer replied.

Wade glanced at him. ‘A point, a definite point.’

‘So perhaps while we search you can explain yourself.’ Janer now had his weapon in his hand, as did Wade.

‘Should I even try? I’m the evil agent of a hive mind come here to do some dastardly deed. What was it? Oh yes, obtain sprine so my master’s hornets can carry it in their stings and dominate this planet.’