It seemed to run in slo-mo. Sorcha could only gape as the Nllahak warriors raised their weapons – massive, knife-like things that looked as if they would be well-suited for close-quarters goring – and powered them up. The tips of the weapons opened like beaks, and a terrible glow surged forth from inside. The glow became glare, and then a blinding fury, and beams came hammering out, clawing for their target and preparing to rip the life from her.

Sorcha's world abruptly reverted to normal speed as she felt something grab her from behind and shove her sideways. She sprawled to the deck as the white-hot pulse flew over her head and impacted where it had been a nanosecond earlier. She was afforded a glimpse of seared, melting steel before it was blocked from her sight by the closing of a door. A wave of heat hit her in the muzzle. Then silence.

Okay. I'm okay.

Sorcha gasped and looked up into the grey-and-white face of Minerva Lux. She was panting in the heat from the blast. "You alright, O'Riordan?" she was asking; her speech wasn't matching her mouth movements.

Sorcha blinked and shook her head. Everything synced up once more as Lux repeated the question. "Yeah. I think."

Lux was at the door, pressing buttons. "I've code-locked it," she said.

The third face in their little menagerie was talking as well. "What are these things?" Orosco was yelping, clearly not remembering what she had been told minutes earlier.

Sorcha didn't bother to catch her up. Her mind was spinning, spinning out of control. Her stomach lurched into her throat. She struggled to her feet, a hot surge not unlike that of the Nllahak weapons suddenly jolting from her embattled stomach into her chest. She retched and tottered to the nearest object she could lean on, which happened to be a metal railing, and vomited convulsively. As a regurgitated tide of horrid coffee, meat and fish splattered the deck, her head went into overdrive. She thought back to Carolyn M6, where Amaterasu had released her from service to the Light, and remembered once more Amaterasu's talk of uncertainty as the accords of that ancient war were rendered meaningless.

The future looked a whole lot more certain now, Sorcha reflected as she coughed and threw up some more. If I hadn't been wearing this stupid pendant!

She whimpered and picked it up in her right paw. It'll never be over, will it? She sobbed hopelessly. If I hadn't come up with the Daybreak Cannon, if I hadn't worn this damn thing, then nobody on this ship would have to die. Sorcha clutched her belly and moaned. How could I blame Chloe? I'm responsible for this whole incident.

She dry heaved as fresh nausea rolled over her. And I'm responsible for what comes next. If there's as many species out there as that creature says...

"O'Riordan?" Lux's voice drifted hazily through her consciousness, and she looked up. Lux was watching her with considerable concern. "O'Riordan, are you hurt?"

She'll never know just how hurt I am, Sorcha thought. "No," she spluttered, her mouth burning with acid. "Think it might be something I ate."

Lux shifted her eyes to Orosco, clearly not believing Sorcha's claim for a blink of her eyes. "You?"

Orosco shook her head. "I'm fine."

Sorcha looked around. The air in here was thick and moist, with a smell of manure. She jumped as something lumbered out of the steamy gloom and approached her, but she was relieved to see that it was merely a cow. The bovine glanced down at the straw on the floor in which Sorcha had vomited, and fixed her with a look that suggested mild irritation.

"Livestock pens," Lux said, labelling the area. She stepped forward, and the overhead lights began to glow. Sorcha's roiling stomach wasn't calmed by the immediate environment, but she felt a little more grounded with some ambient light. Steel enclosures stretched away into the room, each of them home to several cows, pigs and birds.

A loud, metallic racket made Sorcha's ears spin in the direction of the door. It was shuddering and shifting as something outside attacked it. "They're coming in," she cried.

"Right," Lux yelled. "Let's keep moving." She started to run. "There's another door at the far end. We can get out there."

Sorcha glanced an apology to the cow, and started after Lux. Myriad eyes peered through metal bars at her as she sped past them, some clearly in need of water and food. She wondered briefly what the Nllahak would make of these beasts. Would they kill them? Eat them?

All wonderment stopped as she caught up to Lux and Orosco. Lux was at the still-closed door, stabbing hurriedly at the panel on it. "It's not playing ball," the Husky growled. She tried another code, but the panel suddenly blinked out. "Oh, great."

Sorcha sighed mournfully. Maybe, just maybe, I'm not gonna live to see what's coming, she reflected dully.

Never thought I'd be praying for my own death. Shame Lux and Orosco here have to come with me.

Her Fox curiosity was piqued by a pile of equipment on a nearby work surface. She went over and picked up one of the tools; it was roughly gun-shaped, with a paw grip and a chamber for whatever it fired, which was propelled by gas if the tank on the side was anything to go by. "What are these?"

Lux looked over, a harried expression on her face. "Oh, those? Bolt guns. We use them to euthanize cattle. Pop 'em between the eyes, and it's nighty-night."

Sorcha found one of the bolts. It was tubular, with a sharp point at one end. She looked at the others. "Do you reckon these things have any range on 'em?"

Lux's face bloomed with an expression of understanding. "Oh, aye, O'Riordan. I see what you're getting at." She ambled to Sorcha's side and picked up a bolt gun of her own. "Well, they do pack some force, seeing as they have to go through cow skulls. Don't know about range, but you could probably shoot one of these pretty far." She held up one of the bolts.

Orosco popped up from behind Lux. "I don't know, that armour looked pretty tough," the Beaver said.

"I think this is all we can get," Sorcha mumbled. She weighed the gun in her paws. Amaterasu would want me to fight. Would I dishonour her now?

She looked back to the entrance door, which was now glowing. Molten drops of metal were running from it, striking the deck in splashes of sparks.

Lux was chambering a bolt. "It's now or never, O'Riordan," she said, clearly nervous. "Think we should aim for between the eyes."

Sorcha nodded, pocketing a number of the bolts. Lux and Orosco did the same.

The door suddenly lurched and toppled inward, and Sorcha was moving forward. "For the Light!" she howled, her finger tight on the firing stud.

Her bolt was stopped by what she saw coming through the smoke. Black-suited figures with the OSA Security logo on their vests. Sorcha skidded to a stop and blinked, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. "What the crap?" she squawked, bolt gun still held aloft.

Two squads of OSA guards came trudging into the livestock pen; Sorcha recognized Lieutenant Merrett and her squad among them. Merrett and several other guards were wearing backpack flamethrowers, which had evidently been used with prejudice. A thick petrochemical stench rolled into the room.

Lux rushed past Sorcha to meet them. "Merrett, Hranov," she cried, addressing the squad leaders. "Report."

A scarred Wolf whom Sorcha assumed to be Hranov answered first. "Multiple hostiles, Captain Lux. And I mean multiple. Squad Two got pinned on the engineering level and we had to retreat. The crew commons are completely overrun. We got reports of casualties there from Squad Three before they were cut off. We managed to evacuate some of the crew to the hangar; Squads One and Five are holding there. For how long, we don't know. We and the squad from the FSV came back to look for any survivors."

"Any luck?" Lux asked.

Merrett shook her head. "Negative, Captain. You're the first live ones we've found." Her face was set, but Sorcha could see the emotion hiding behind it.

"What of the hostiles?" Lux went on.

Hranov grimaced. "The weapons they use look to me like accelerated particle launchers. Let's just establish that you do not want to get in the way of one."

"Squad Three learned that the hard way," the Coyote with the missing eyeball put in.

Merrett was up next. "Their armour is unlike anything we've seen. Small arms won't even dent it. Even our assault rifles couldn't bore through it much. Not before they get to you, anyway."

"Can't get them in the head either," one of the others guards muttered. He was nursing what looked like a nasty burn on his arm. "They just cover their faces. And bullets don't go through those visors, either."

Merrett hefted the flamethrower in her paws. Sorcha could feel the heat from its muzzle. "Flamethrowers can drive them back. They seem to really hate fire."

"Lucky for us," Sorcha breathed.

"Problem is, it takes a lot of fuel," Merrett continued, an apologetic grimace on her face. "We burned half our tanks just getting those ones away from the door." She hoiked a thumb in the direction of the burning portal.

"What's your supply situation?" Lux inquired.

Hranov sighed. "Flamethrowers and that's more or less it, Captain. We've used up nearly all of our ammo."

Sorcha once more looked at the bolt gun in her paws. It was starting to look fairly useless. Still, it was better than nothing, and it gave her something to hold.

One of the guards looked back into the corridor outside, and he started. "We have incoming," he yelled.

Hranov and Merrett whirled. "Flamethrowers form up!" Merrett barked. "Rifles and small arms to the rear."

"Fall back to the abattoir!" Lux yelled, motioning to the opposite door. "Explosive solution! Now!"

Merrett signalled one of her guards, a male ginger Tabby Cat. "Wisecock, go with the captain and blow that door. The rest of you, stand to!"

Wisecock broke off and dashed past Sorcha while the others prepared to defend their position. "Rolling retreat!" Hranov shouted, bringing his rifle up. "Execute on my command!"

Sorcha's stomach threatened to rebel again as tall, long-limbed shapes appeared in the doorway.

"Now!" Hranov bellowed.

An ear-sodomizing roar filled the livestock pen as Merrett and several other guards fired their flamethrowers. A blistering torrent of flame went rocketing at the hatchway and through it to scorch the bulkhead opposite. The Nllahak there hissed and squealed as they leapt away from the fury. The two squads began moving backwards, and Sorcha locked step with her bolt gun raised, glancing behind her to see how the door was coming. The guard there was setting a timer on the explosives he had placed, and Lux and Orosco were there as well, standing at a safe distance. The guard joined them as the door was blown clean off its track.

Sorcha's ears twitched as the distressed honks and cries of the livestock intensified, and it made her hate the Nllahak even more. She turned from the carnage and ran through the blasted-out door into the next room, keen to get away from the smells and the noises and all of it. Lux and Orosco were with her, and the guards were coming as well, laying down flame as they backed inside.

Sorcha crouched beside a massive hunk of dangling meat, wishing that she could be home on Summerkin, having a steak dinner. First thing I'm doing when I get home, she thought hungrily despite her queasiness.

Merrett and Lux were in conference nearby; Sorcha's ears rotated to catch what was being said. "We don't have a choice, Captain Lux," the guard was muttering. "We gotta get out of here. We can't hold them, much less fight them off."

"We make for the FSV, then," Lux said. "It might not be ideal, but it's better than waiting here to die."

Merrett nodded. "Aye. I don't think oxy is gonna be an issue anymore. We could only save a coupla members of your crew. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Lux told her. "We can get to the cafeteria from here through the kitchens. From there it's a straight run to the hangar. From what you've told me, we can hold it while everyone gets aboard."

"Yes, ma'am," Merrett yapped. "We'd better move it, too. They're in the vents as well. At least three squads of 'em came from inside the ship's gridwork."

"Keep it moving!" Hranov ordered as the last few guards piled into the abattoir. He turned to Lux. "Captain! Heading?"

"Cafeteria," Lux told him. "Through the kitchens. Then it's just a straight run to the hangar."

Hranov saluted. "Let's do it."

Metallic scuffling from above everyone's heads brought sudden silence. "And right now," Lux cried.

Sorcha looked up at the large vent grills that lined the ceiling. Each one was a death trap. She stood up and began walking. The kitchen door was yards away – just a few steps...

Grills wrenched themselves loose and rained down into the abattoir, bringing with them angry Nllahak. The big alien warriors rolled to their feet, brandishing their knife-like guns. One hapless guard, a female Wolf, was nearly squashed by one of the Nllahak as he landed beside her. She raised her flamethrower despite the closeness of her target, but the alien was too fast. He grabbed her and threw her clear across the abattoir; she hit the deck, her flamethrower pack flying loose and coming apart. "Get down!" she screamed as the fuel tank spun into the nearest solid object and detonated. Fire cascaded from the explosion and took quickly. Bales of straw and piled-up meat were almost instantly ablaze, and the flames began to jump elsewhere as the fuel pooled across the floor.

"Kitchens! Now!" Lux shrieked.

Sorcha chittered as the Nllahak closed in. The Wolf guard who had narrowly missed death by incineration howled and ran at the Nllahak who had grabbed her, a combat knife in her paw. It was a worse than useless attempt at retaliation, and she paid with her life. A single swipe from the Nllahak's weapon sliced through her and sent her to the deck.

Sorcha babbled wordlessly as her corpse hit the floor. It didn't seem real, she thought. Someone had died in front of her. She had hoped it was something she would never witness.

The other guards weren't faring much better. Wisecock, the explosives expert, was shot through by one of the beams from a Nllahak gun, and the Coyote from Merrett's squad was thrown against a bulkhead at the wrong angle. He didn't get up.

The Nllahak shied away from the flames, hissing; it looked to Sorcha as if their aversion to the heat and light was symbolic, rather than born of survivalist instinct. There was still room for them to move, though, and they were moving in her direction, cutting her off from the exit.

Sorcha whined as she backed up against the wall behind her. Abattoir, she thought to herself. Slaughterhouse.

The name seemed eerily appropriate.