The air in Engine Pit Seven tasted like burnt copper and desperation.
Elion wiped sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of grime across his forehead. His third consecutive shift was blurring into the fourth, the constant vibration of the Magnus' engines making his teeth ache. Around him, the other janitors moved like ghosts—shoulders hunched, eyes downcast. No one spoke. No one ever did.
"Voss."
Overseer Jarek's voice cut through the mechanical hum. The man loomed over him, neural whip coiled at his hip like a sleeping serpent.
"Gamma-12. Conduit leak." He thrust a corroded diagnostic pad into Elion's chest. "Fix it."
From the next workstation over, Three-Finger Mara caught his eye. Slowly, deliberately, she drew a single remaining finger across her throat.
Don't go.
But refusal wasn't an option.
THE WALK TO GAMMA-12
The service corridors grew narrower the deeper Elion went, the walls streaked with strange, phosphorescent stains that pulsed in time with the ship's heartbeat. His boots stuck to the floor in places, peeling away with a sound like tearing flesh.
Clang.
A pipe overhead dripped greenish fluid onto the walkway. Where it landed, the metal sizzled—smoke curling upward in lazy spirals.
Qi-leak.
Elion held his breath and stepped around it.
The door to Gamma-12 stood slightly ajar.
THE HARVESTING CHAMBER
Green light spilled through the gap.
Elion pushed the door open—and froze.
Twelve glass cylinders dominated the chamber, each filled with glowing fluid. Suspended inside were human figures, their emaciated bodies connected to a central core by dozens of tubes. Their veins burned toxic green beneath translucent skin.
The nearest one's eyes snapped open.
"R...run..."
The word bubbled from its lips, distorted by the fluid.
Behind Elion, the door hissed shut.
THE EXECUTOR'S GAME
"Beautiful, aren't they?"
Executor Vorian stepped from the shadows, his glaive humming softly. The abacus beads in his cybernetic eye clicked and whirred.
"One Qi-sensitive body can power an engine for months." He tilted his head, studying Elion like a specimen. "Imagine what you could do."
The Key in Elion's boot burned suddenly hot.
Vorian's glaive flashed—
—and stopped mid-swing, the blade trembling against empty air.
Golden light spilled across the floor as the Key activated, painting constellations that moved.
The harvested prisoners' eyes all opened in unison.
"The Forge waits."
THE ESCAPE
Elion didn't think.
He moved.
Wrenching open a coolant valve, he flooded the chamber with freezing vapor. Vorian's glaive sparked violently as frost crawled up its length.
The last thing Elion saw before sprinting into the ducts was the harvested man's lips forming silent words:
"Rebuild us."
THE AFTERMATH
Alarms wailed through the Magnus.
Elion crawled through maintenance shafts, the Key's heat searing his leg. Every few minutes, the ship's AI voice echoed:
"All janitors report to Sector Blue for re-scanning."
A death sentence.
He emerged near waste processing. Mara stood waiting, her face grim.
"Knew you'd come." She pressed a data chip into his palm. "They're not just harvesting us. They're breeding us."
The hologram displayed rows of infants—their veins already glowing.
The Key pulsed urgently.
Somewhere in the dark, Selene's voice whispered:
"Time to flood the whole damn system."