《The Wet Iron》


 Prologue

    I find myself alone.


    The torn and stained cushion of the setee is my only respite from the cold, rubberized floor. Bare concrete scratches at my bare shoulders, the backs of my arms rubbed raw, as I shake at the thought of what next will force it''s way through that door.


    Darryl left several cycles ago, promising to return with help. He never was one to keep his promises, even if he did look out for us as a brother should, but this time I knew for sure he meant it. Ever since I awoke, locked in this hab suite, I felt it in my heart that he would protect us. He''s too sly for those things outside to have got to him.


    When the men in strange black armour came, he stood between us. Shouted at them until his voice cracked that we hadn''t been bitten. I could see his reflection in the smooth visor of the armoured man, he was crying. I don''t know if that is why, but the men left us alone, welding us shut in our home.


    Not mother and father though, I heard the gunshots coming from their bedroom.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. I tear my eyes away from the door, once again checking the empty bowl beside me. Peeling one arm away from cradling my shins to reach out and feel for any crumbs I may have missed, I glance towards Victor. He''s my brother too, my younger brother, but we were born at the same time. He stopped eating his kibble six cycles ago, and he hasn''t moved since either. I had to steal what he kept saved.


    My thoughts are interrupted by the clanging of the pipes. They do that when they are angry. Raising my leg, I bring my heel down hard on one of the exposed pipes, finding myself numb to the pain. If I don''t, the pipes will stay angry, and something might hear them - ''the right of percussion maintenance'' it''s called. If the pipe spirits are mad, you need fix them. Ever since the red robed man taught me and Victor how to, I made sure to keep the pipes happy. I think that''s why they leak for me now, giving me water when the taps stopped working.


    Sliding my hand underneath the cushion, my fingers find the kitchen knife I''ve hidden, but no matter how firmly I grasp it, I can''t stop the shaking.


    The scratching at the door is getting louder.

 Chapter 1

    I blink myself awake, shaking my head to scatter the memories hounding me in my sleep. Ignoring the low conversation I focus on the roar of the engines, and wipe the sleep from my eyes. The shuttle is angry, the anger evident in how it screams as it fights against the force pushing it towards the ground. I am leaving my planet today. I find it strange, not a month ago I first saw the sky, and here I lay in a box of iron spewing fire to escape it.


    But to call this a box of iron would be denying its splendour. Running my hand along the smooth leather of my couch-turned-bed, my eyes land upon the stocked kitchenette, a glass cabinet stacked high with tall, thin-necked bottles, and the floating servant-skull that mans it. I rise, the thick cushion swelling to recover from the well my lap left within it, to be startled by a burst of static. I glance towards the two men conversing in two armchairs across the room, recognising the noise one that the shorter of the two uses when talking to machines, yet find myself confused to see neither have turned their attention to me, nor stopped their conversation.


    I listen in to the pair discuss the detoxification and purification of my former home, but struggle to follow along. Both of these men speak wrong. They use too many words and spend too much time to say a single thing. I drilled holes into the side of the shorter man''s head with my eyes, in the time that I''ve known him, he has always been domineering, and nobody would dare question him. Yet despite the taller man''s questions, interruptions, and corrections, he remains calm, maintains his focus, and lowers his gaze. A weakness?


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    Before I succeeded in discovering how the taller man is in control, I am distracted by the clinking of tableware. The servant-skull has placed a glass upon the table in front of me, filling it with a pale green liquid from a bottle held by mechanical manipulators.


    "JUICE. CITRUS." It speaks, the voice cold and distorted, contrasting with the grace it places down a plate with a mysterious white lump atop sliced bread, specks of green scattered over them. Plants? The skull delicately drags a blade across the white thing, and a yellow liquid oozes out, absorbing into the bread. "TOAST. EGG. POACHED." I am informed, and instructed to eat. Once more I am shocked by the affluence, actual plants on my food. Actual food, on a plate. All other thoughts vanish from my head as I tune out the droning conversation to better focus on the new experience. I try to savour it, but find myself lost to a hunger I wasn''t aware of until now. I gaze upon my empty plate, and wonder how I came to be in this situation.

 Chapter 2

    I stood on a shuttle pad, before a plain, black ship. An ''Earth to Orbit'' shuttle which would soon carry me from my home to dock with a larger voidship. The owner of the shuttle, a tall, robed man, ascended the ramp, leaving me beside a shorter, robed man, and his co-workers, as menials scuttled about performing pre-takeoff checks. Of the five of them, I only ever spoke with three. Long before the plague hit Hive Primaris I remember them barging into my home, claiming that they owned the unit and that we were squatting. I was terrified of them at that time, they looked at my brother Victor and I like we were nothing, and at my mother like a stain that needed removing. I don''t know what would have happened if my father didn''t shout about the people he worked for, it didn''t scare them off, but they seemed to take it in stride. The frontmost of them, a robed, tired looking man, looked at us again then, and his face distorted in anger. With a word to the group they moved together, Victor and I were grabbed, our heads shaved, and we were forced to into a shower and scrubbed with a foul-smelling soap. I didn''t understand at the time, but whilst they stayed with us we ate every day, and when my hair grew back it hurt less and I didn''t have any bugs in it.


    On that shuttle pad I looked at them once more, knowing that this might be the last time. I craned my head upwards to look at Aixa, the tallest woman I''ve ever met, and the most beautiful. With the smoothest, flaxen hair that draped her shoulders to stop at her middle framing a chiseled face. The white film of blindness over her eyes did nothing to detract from her charm; tattooed runes which started from the base of her full lips, flowing over her chin and disappearing beneath the neck of her fitted shirt gave her an air of mystique. Hands clasping an ornate walking pole as tall as she, she was the picture of grace. A picture that was ruined, unfortunately, by the shrill, throaty voice that escaped from her mouth.


    "I suppose this will be farewell, for now." She spoke, gaze fixed straight ahead, yet for some reason I could follow who it was directed towards.


    "Yes, the work here is done, but my master has caught the tail of something foul elsewhere in the sector. Rest well whilst you can." A slow, droning voice replied from my side. Turning my gaze downwards once more I observed my teacher, MX. He stood proud, his hands clasped within the long robes of his machine cult, his hood surprisingly down, for once. Brown hair fell from his head, stopping at his tired eyes. His gaunt expression had been cleaning up over the time we spent together, and at this point he looked healthy, if forgettable.


    "Try not to get yourself killed." Came a deep, heavily accented voice. It belonged to Castell, a rugged, sharp-browed man who spoke with a strange melody and rhythm to his words. A scar ran along his right cheek, following the shape of a short, well-groomed beard. He stood with a swagger, parting the breast of his fur lined overcoat to clutch at the eagle hanging from a golden chain. His silent prayer spoken, he held his lapel before turning his piercing green eyes in my direction, "the girl''s going with you then?"


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    "As thoughtful as that advice may be, it means little coming from the man with a price on his head. But yes, she will be enrolled with the Schola." MX replied, with an inflection that I couldn''t determine to be humour or ridicule. "Do try to stay off the drink."


    A series of beeps and hisses cut him off before he could speak further, and I glanced towards their source. A broad man clad in those same red robes, who, despite his imposing figure, stood a head below Aixa. Going by Kai, I was told this was a human man, but thinking of him as anything but a machine escaped me. From his back arose a heavy iron box, a low whirr and rumbling emmenating from it. Where a face should be was instead a metal plate, dotted with orange lenses, a black hose leading from his supposed mouth to merge with the metal plate on his chest. I as of yet had not heard him voluntarily make a noise, despite regularly sharing a breakfast of cereal with him. Yet despite the lack of words, MX turned to him and replied.


    "Thank you, brother Kai. Your concern is meaningful."


    Kai directed the mechanical eyestalk bolted to his shoulder in my direction and wiggled it, I could only assume this was his way of comforting me. Castell shared a shocked glance with the last, the only member of the group that my teacher could claim to be taller than. I had heard her name was Cordelia, she brushed her wavy raven hair behind one ear as she stood with purpose, the small features of her face tightly controlled to give nothing of her thoughts away. An impressive rosette was pinned to the breast of her immaculately starched and ironed formalwear, white and black trimmed with gold to give a militaristic air. She spoke with a thick, affluent drawl, her head held high.


    "I know this isn''t the last I''ll see of you. I wish you well in your studies, and on the field." Spoken with authority, as if to deny that any other future would come to pass. With a brief nod, MX reached towards the sword at his hip, unfastening the plain black scabbard from his belt, and placing another hand to support the ornately decorated basket hilt, before presenting it to her.


    "If you are so confident then I believe I will have no further use for this, do esnure the good commissar Bernn receives his sabre."


    With regality, Cordelia accepted the sword, serenely fastening it to her own belt and wearing it with pride. "I will do so. Take care, Interrogator."


    "Likewise, Interrogator." And with that final word, he turned to the ramp, not sparing another look at his former cadre. I followed, making note not to mention how the corner of his mouth turned up as we left.

 Chapter 3

    Sofia Bel. Planet of origin, Laskin. Female. Thirteen. Four-six, thirty-four kilos. Physical development delayed due to history of malnutrition. Genetic deviation within acceptable parameters. No congenital defects present. Noted predisposition to early onset deteriation of hearing. Cognition... falling short of projection. Education lacking. Trauma response, favours flight...


    Memories of a pleasant meal were cast aside as I stood facing my teacher, my gaze on the plush rug at our feet as he read aloud from a ream of papers. I did my best to follow along with the information being vomited in my direction, my cheeks heating up at my life being summed up in barely a fifteen-minute lecture. How does he know so much about me? I never knew this much about me, I wouldn''t even be sure that my parents did either. His eyes never rise from the documents in his hands, yet I feel his gaze on me, making sure I remain at attention. MX is fond of corporal punishment, if I act unbecoming then running in circles will take up the rest of my day.


    "I promised that I would send you to the schola, but if you are unable to focus when the subject of the lecture is your own health and wellbeing, I can only doubt if it will be worth my effort."


    I cleared my mind of all superfluous thoughts, once more looking MX in the face. He placed the stack of documents on the counter and continued without sparing me a glance.


    "I have glimpsed your potential. Your faith towards He on Terra runs deep, and the fury you direct to those who act against his will is palpable. Yet in reality you fall far short of the sector standard for a child your age." He brought his errant hands towards his center, clasping both within the long sleeves of his robe. "I do not consider myself to be a charitable man. If your effort falls short of my expectations, I will not hesitate to cut you loose."


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    Thump.


    My heart pounded in my chest. Cut me loose. He would. I am alone, my parents dead. Cut. I threw my torso forwards in a bow, the words fighting their way up from my stomach.


    "¡ªI undestand! Please-"


    "Calm yourself. You will be given ample opportunity to prove your worth. Cease from clenching your jaw and listen."


    I suppressed the urge to turn and run, absorbing all I could as MX spoke in his slow, droning voice. This vessel, a freighter, will be traveling through the void. It will take several months for us to reach our destination, across the sector, and I have this time to prepare for the schola exams. Apparently I''m small for my age, and could pass as a second year student if I can absorb the material in advance. A few months of studying as we travel, and I will be able to go to the schola. Our shuttle, where we''ll be staying, is parked in a loading bay. We''re sealed off from the rest of the ship, no workers or passengers will be able to bother us. When I''m not studying, I''m permitted to wander anywhere within this empty bay.


    I can''t wait, all this empty space to explore, it''s barely big enough for me to run a la¡ª


    "It appears your capacity to focus is at its limit." The dissatisfaction in his voice was obvious. "How about you acquaint yourself with your new lodgings by running laps until your mid-cycle meal?"

 Chapter 4

    A great pressure builds in my chest, the throbbing pulses outwards towards my stomach, where it desperately searches for escape. My core contorts as my body decides to use the contents of my stomach to vent the building pressure; I fall to my knees as I retch despite my empty stomach. A vile, clear liquid. Satisfied, the throbbing pain recedes and I am able to raggedly breathe once more.


    With Sanguinian effort, I shove myself to one side, collapsing on my back a short distance from the curious spillage. The bleary view of the thick cables running across the ceiling slowly clears up, the soft thudding and tapping of feet on the metal panelled floor growing louder. Funny, I can almost swear that I can tell each foot apart by it''s timbre, even over my gasping breaths. The approach continues, the pace steady, and I feel a calm taking hold of me, unable to hear any malice in that gait. A clunk resounds from my side, and I find my hand reaching for the bottle without having to spare a single thought to the act myself.


    "A satisfactory improvement. Your aerobic endurance is fast approaching the minimum level for further training." Having righted myself, I greedily gulp at the vita-slurry provided, one hand on the floor to maintain my balance, as my instructor proceeds with my performance review. Several days have passed. Each starting with laps until I am physically unable to continue, followed by what I had hoped would be a breakfast prepared by the shuttle''s servant-skull, but has recently been replaced by vita-slurry. A viscous and tasteless liquid that my body inexplicably screams for as soon as I am able to force down the first few mouthfuls. I''m pleased to hear that, yes, my count was correct. Fourteen laps. A sense of pride wells up not only at me beating my record, but at the fact that I''m finally able to count beyond my fingers. MX has been insistent that I master ''base ten'' counting before we move on to other subjects. I fail to see what base ten even means, considering that the numbers go way beyond ten.


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    "-and that''s all, for now. Once you have recovered you will shower, and then rest within the shuttle until your mid-cycle meal. Today''s instruction will be delayed, as I have business within the ship proper." With a nod of my head, I feign understanding, using my diminishing exhaustion to cover for the complete lack of attention I paid to his rambling. Seemingly satisfied, he turns to leave, and I keep an eye on him as he returns to the shuttle. Working my fingers into the muscles on my leg, I watch him reemerge, donning a more worn-in robe. He heads to the shuttered crew doors on the far side of the bay, reaching into his hood as if he were about to massage the back of his neck, before producing a long cable from within. I switch to working on my other leg before the aching fully sets in, observing how he connects the cable to a covered port on the panel, the doors opening wide enough for him to pass through. Without a glance back, he''s gone. The doors shutting behind him.


    I finish massaging the sore muscles of my legs. At first, MX had done it for me, but he recently judged I''d observed him do it enough to manage on my own from now on. Whatever. I''m done, and whilst nobody is here to tell me otherwise, I''m going to go sleep on that soft fancy rug until lunch.