Free Drednanth: A Tale of the Final Fall of Man by Andrew Hindle

been such a junior officer at the time that it sometimes felt that way. About all she could say about the Chalice, and The Warm in general, was that there was a lot less bustle going on around it now. That, and the eerie silence on the comm channels and assorted darkened energy readouts, seemed to be the only change. Well, if you didn’t look too closely at the horrifically-shorn Mandelbrot at the far end.
    The aquatic habitats of the Chalice had indeed sent up a pair of long, windowless gunmetal tubes – Fergunakil torpedo-ships, scarred and pockmarked and decorated with weird extrusions of cybernetic machinery, and bristling with weapons.
    When the transmission came, though, it was a human voice. It didn’t necessarily mean it was human – Fergunakil voice modulators could copy as wide a range of voice-types as synthetic intelligences or even ordinary computers. But it was a good sign.
    It also didn’t make any noticeable attempt to weird them out, which was another point in favour of ‘actual human’.
    “We read your Corps nod, modular,” the voice said, “please identify.”
    “Commander Z-Lin Clue, official starship designation AstroCorps Transpersion Modular Payload 400 ,” Clue announced, “ Astro Tramp 400 to our friends. We’re a deep-space exploration and transportation vessel, minimal crew, limited technical capabilities. We’re reading you loud and clear.”
    “Good to hear your voice, Commander,” the circling Fergunakil ship said. “This is Acting Controller Bendis of The Warm, formerly Comms Technician Group Supervisor Bendis of Gotung Southwark. We’re using the Fergunak ships as comms boosters,” Bendis explained, “as well as a first and last line of defence … for all the good that’s likely to do.”
    “What happened here, Controller?” Clue asked.
    “We’re still investigating,” Acting Controller Bendis said in clear frustration. “Everything’s arsed and fucked and arsed again over here, Commander.”
    Clue glanced sardonically at Waffa, who was still standing at near-parade-attention next to her auxiliary command console. So Warmers really do all talk like that , she thought, the accusation quite clear on her face for the Chief of Security and Operations to pick up. Waffa favoured her with the ghost of a smile.
    “You’re welcome to assist in the investigation, or add any of your own data,” Bendis was continuing, “but at the moment it’s all pretty thin on the God damn ground. The only ships we have left, as you can see, is a handful of Fergunakil heavy gunships that managed to survive. And most of them were decommissioned at the time for reasons of being unspaceworthy, which is why we suspect they were overlooked. Apparently the Fergies unplugged themselves from their grid and just plain got ignored. Some of them, anyway. I don’t know what they thought the ships actually were . Skin-tight aquariums or something, maybe.”
    “‘They’?” Waffa murmured. Z-Lin nodded – she’d picked that up too – but didn’t press the issue yet.
    “The Fergunak didn’t attack?” she asked instead. “Attack the rest of the settlement, I mean, after the initial assault. I assume you would have told us if they’d mounted any sort of counterattack on whatever caused this.”
    “You’re right about that, and no – in fact, on the contrary,” Acting Controller Bendis said. “They’re helping . They don’t have the capacity to carry passengers, each of their ships can only fit one Fergie, but they’re acting as emergency tugs, pulling in loose habitat components and securing hub spars, ferrying things from end to end, all sorts. Going for aid. Using their giela for some heavy lifting, too. The Fergunak survivors are stuck in the Chalice and there aren’t anywhere near enough ships to get them out of here even assuming the worst in terms of losses, so they sent a few of their boys off to find help but the rest of their ships haven’t cut and run, they’re doing