Now hear this: Hostile action has concluded. All hands to resume their duty. Corporal One-hand watched as red corners flicked off and white corners resumed. She heaved a sigh of relief. That had been absolutely no fun. She turned to the side to watch as Jackie Boy withdrew his working, ending the ice-like chains that bound him to every available surface in the shallow alcove he had bunkered in. He was studiously examining the white corners, for some reason those seemed endlessly fascinating to him. He was strong, powerfully built, with an aura of intimidation that poured out of him without measure, but inside he was timid, at least so far.

  She’d enjoyed toying with him as he asked his questions and took her answers at face value – for the record, she thought, they were true answers, just a little embellished. Sarcasm and idiom would make the truth plain, as soon as Jackie Boy began to understand both. He seemed fairly harmless, all things considered, which surprised her. She’d expected a bloodthirsty dragonling, and got to watch a dragon who didn’t understand sarcasm. She smiled, more fun to come.

  People began to gratefully file out of the bunker room. Soon, only her squad and Jackie Boy were left. She turned to him, about to ask where he wanted to go next, when he surprised her by speaking first, “It would appear that you are suffering from a Wythgoesh problem. I shall resolve this for you. Take me to the terminal of your ship’s computer.” She was about to respond flippantly, when she caught a whiff of his aura, it was cold, dead cold. She felt like she’d just caught the attention of some leviathan in the deep. It was terrifying, and instinctively she reached for the handle of the Sword of Consequence, which was tied to her back. She didn’t know how long she’d get to wear it, but it was growing on her. She couldn’t wait to decapitate her first dragon with it. Hopefully it wouldn’t be Jackie Boy.

  He blinked at her in impatience, and she caught herself. What was she doing? Starting a fight with a dragon for no reason in an enclosed space? Sarn’t Ono would be disappointed in her. If she was going to start a fight with a dragon for no reason, she ought at least to have the sense to do it in a large room where she has space to put distance between them, in here his reach beat hers, even with the nice shiny sword she was beginning to covet.

  The members of her squad looked at her and she shook her head slightly, turned and began walking towards the nearest SI terminal. Her sergeant had gotten himself blown up at Medusean Gambit, and they hadn’t received a replacement yet, and she refused to go to sergeant school, as the grunts called it. She was not going to do that. Nope. Not happening.

  The whole time they walked, she could feel the aura behind her growing sharper and sharper, the naked blade of cold death being laid at her throat boldly and without excuse. What did I do to deserve this? I did nothin’ but help him. This is stupid. If this doesn’t stop soon, I’m pulling this sword and chopping off a wing. At least a wing, maybe some fingers too. That ought to calm him down.

  By the time they reached the SI terminal, she was pissed. Her mood hadn’t improved, surprisingly, neither had that aura. It was the worst. She stepped aside, where she would be close enough to watch what was going on, but far enough away to allow him the space to work. He ignored her and stepped up to the terminal. He began scrolling through a list of departments on the touchscreen. She was surprised. It looks like he’s got almost all the access the commandant has, she thought. The SI must have decided that becoming his Adjunct for the Hold was official enough to give him clearance.

  She looked at her own data pad and saw that in the command structure of the Void Spectres, Jackson was now listed as one level below Rieven. Ono was at his side, but it was Rieven’s name that bore the emblem of authority, his house emblem after his name, the silhouette of a black dragon. Looks like the SI thought that drafting the entire Fourth into the Void Spectres was perfectly legal, and had made it official in all the logs throughout the new navy. She smirked. Stick that in your craw losers! We won!

  She looked over and saw that Jackie Boy was navigating the subcommands. What was he looking for? She almost asked, but decided she didn’t want to just yet – when dealing with an officer, better not to ask any question you could answer by observation. She’d learned that one in her bones. He settled on Major Jergson. Why would he want him? What was special about the Infiltrators? Jackie Boy pulled up his profile and smiled. It was not a nice smile. It was the smile a predator makes when he has his prey at his mercy and they aren’t aware of the fact yet. He pushed the ‘contact’ button and the hail went through. Major Jergson’s face filled the screen. His greying hair a testament to his lifelong dedication to the service. He saluted the dragon and waited.

  “Major Jergson,” Jackson’s voice filled the corridor, smooth as river water, “I have need of your services.”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “How may I serve, Adjunct?”

  “You score in the ninety-ninth percentile for axiom sensitivity. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Adjunct.” She could hear the capitalisation of that word. When the major said it, it was with an uppercase A. Interesting. That was a hard man to win respect from. How had he done it?

  “You have a Wythgoesh problem in your navy, major. I would have your aid in eliminating it.” She frowned. They knew what the Wythgoesh were, a data packet had been sent out navy-wide with a brief summary of the political situation they found themselves in. It was only a ten minute listen, so she’d read herself in. What did he mean?

  The major scowled. “Point the way Adjunct, and I’ll melt the face right off their ass.”

  “That was the only correct response, major. These creatures are dangerous in the extreme and if left unchecked, would destroy the Black Drake Navy from within before we were even a month out from the borders of this empire.” The dragon tapped the ‘data send’ button on the communication menu. “I’ve just sent you a list of fifty names in the Black Drake Navy. Their axiom sensitivity is also in the ninety-ninth percentile, and none serve an essential function necessary for our current state. You are hereby authorised to pull them from their current duties and form a new company, the company of the Mind-readers. Do not spread that name yet, we’ll let it go out once our current crisis is over.”

  “Mind-readers, Adjunct? What are they?”

  “Your race, major, is highly mentally sensitive, incredibly so, according to what I’ve been reading. You should be able to learn a great deal about a person’s innermost thoughts and feelings by threading axiom into their brains and hearts. The Wythgoesh are capable of similar feats. Those dead zones were reported to have frequencies commonly used by the Wythgoesh. If so, then they will have begun to plant thoughts and false sensory signals in their brains. It’s only a matter of time before they convince our own men and women to destroy us.

  “You and those fifty are going to form the company that will ferret those with the axiomatic frequencies buried deep in their minds. In the legends of my people, such a thing is called reading the soul, but in this case, it is only their minds that you will be reading. When you’ve discovered this in a person, purge that false axiom immediately and collect all the data from them you can, especially anything they were compelled to do or say. We must know what their plan is. Questions?”

  “Yes, Adjunct. I’m looking a this list of names now, and I see people from every part of the navy. There are imperial marines, line cooks, even officers. Do you have a standardised training you would like us to run through to give these people a baseline for performance?”

  “Yes, major. Have them all meet me on the Death’s Silence in forty minutes for a brief introduction and training session. Dismissed.”

  “Adjunct!” he saluted and the screen darkened as the dragon closed the connection.

  “I couldn’t help but notice, Adjunct, that my name and the names of these boys were on that list.”

  “Yes, corporal. Surprisingly all eight of you have some of the greatest axiom sensitivity in the entire navy. You’re coming with me and you’ll lead a squad of the mind-readers. No escape.” He smiled darkly. “I have authorisation to do so, you see.”

  She felt the pit of her stomach drop. She had been wrong. This dragon had been pretending. A predator wearing the guise of timidity. She cursed in her mind, loudly and with spirit. She wasn’t going to be a corporal much longer, she could tell.

  -x-

  Private Gemstone perked up as the ship computer came over the speakers: Announcement: The dead zones are…stabilised. Resumption of duties may now safely commence. It sounded hesitant and almost questioning. It was odd. Computers weren’t supposed to be confused. It didn’t give her much hope. Sergeant Clinger came over the comms, “Alright boys and girls, time to grab Werner and get with the rest of us onboard this vessel.”

  When the dead zone announcement had come through, they weren’t able to make it to their shuttle before the automated doors started closing on them. Pretty soon they found themselves in a section of corridor, doors behind them and before them that hadn’t been there before were now closed. They had sunk out of the ceiling’s stonework. It was disconcerting, never knowing if an arch was an arch or the bottom of a door waiting to crush you. They’d just sat down and waited it out, listening over comms to what was going on, at least whatever was cast on the fleet wide channels.

  Nine dead zones. All artificial. That was something else. How do you even get nine people to fire up those FTL engines accidentally…no. She swore. Not accidentally. This was mutiny. They wanted to destroy commodore Rieven and were willing to kill their own crew to do it. She scowled. As they moved closer to the FOB on the ship, she got angrier. She knew it wasn’t a FOB, but that’s what it felt like, so that’s what she called it. Call a duck a duck, don’t be ignorant out of spite.

  Her sergeant froze suddenly, causing them to freeze too. He said nothing and then continued on. Gemstone asked, “Sir, did you see something?”

  “No, private Gemstone, I did not see anything. I’ve just been informed that transfer orders came through and I’m to report to what counts as the mess on this vessel ASAP. You and the boys are being folded in temporarily with 98th Squad. Just surprised me is all. Apparently I’m to report directly to the new Adjunct of the Hold. Not sure what that means, but on some level it means our navy’s new dragon.” He smiled, “One of them at least.”

  He was being transferred, well that dragon sure knew talent when he saw it, our sergeant is the best. He always had a bad feeling when enemies were around the corner, or when someone was lying, or anything really. They trusted him and stayed alive longer than anyone else with no prisoner betrayals like the 76th had at Medusean Gambit. Sergeant just killed ‘em before they could double-cross us. Efficient. She was going to miss him, hopefully his replacement wasn’t useless.

  She heard the rest of the squad grumbling as they made it to the FOB. It was small, but they needed a place they knew was safe as they worked to clear the vessel of any hostile tech or organisms. So far, nothing, but don’t trust what you can’t see, and all that. It hadn’t changed at all in the time they got there, the same few engineers, the same few squads, led by the same major. It was what it was in all its dull glory. Except…

  This time it was different though.

  This time, there was a dragon in the FOB, and he felt angry.