The Bomb
Tick.The rail lines are colour-coded for convenience. White, blue, red - manufactorum, administratum, and if one was to imagine this Hive to be a vast body, then these veins pulsing…
A Scribe’s Diary
003.002.M42Celebrations of the new year today. We got more rations, which was welcomed by all. Work didn’t let up, though. Once again, my ears and fingers hurt from the constant…
Family Lost and Found
Together we sing the song of the angels and the cosmos sings back in joy. The song is beautiful and hungry, yet one voice sings louder than the rest creating disharmony.…
First Light
When I was little, my favourite stories were the ones Mama would tell me about the Sun. She would always talk about it with this… this reverence, like it was…
God Speaks
Daniley crashes, still half-awake, out of the service corridor with the hundred filthy folk that he berths with. Ship lights that had dimmed for the sleep cycle now blaze the…
Memento
Luci held the coin tightly as she ran through the crowded halls of the market district. She nimbly dodged an almac vendor, ducking beneath the swaying bottles that hung suspended…
She’s a Real Beauty
I remember the first pair of hands that ever held me. Rough and perfunctory. Treated me only like a tool, checking I was up to snuff. When judged healthy, I…
The Servitor’s Laugh
My gears click-clack as I trundle past the stacks. I hand off my cart of tomes to a page servitor and putter back to the archivist's office. On the way,…