Mars Time: 16:00, February 17, 2295

  Cavern #51131, suspected Vuhk-stir nest, The Karma Moor

  They reached the cave entrance—a natural formation widened by claws.

  "Movement," he said. "Multiple signatures. Deep inside."

  "Mmm." Fuuka knelt, examining claw marks in the stone. Her fingers traced the grooves thoughtfully. "Want to bet what's inside? I say no active Vuhk-stir, no Draugs."

  "Based on?"

  "These marks." She pointed at the parallel gouges. "Too uniform, too old. Draugs leave fresh damage—constant activity around breeding operations. These?" She stood, brushing dust from her kimono. "At least three, maybe four days old. Whatever was here left in a hurry."

  "Disturbingly specific knowledge."

  "I'm full of disturbing knowledge." Her smile turned playful. "Five hundred Atomic Dollars says I'm right. Nest's already abandoned."

  Jabari studied the claw marks, then her confident expression. "Deal."

  "Excellent! I do love taking money from honest men." She gestured toward the darkness. "Shall we confirm my inevitable victory?"

  The smell hit them first—rot and metal and something distinctly organic that made Jabari's stomach turn.

  "Ekwensu!" he muttered. "Smells like someone's armpit."

  "Poetic." Fuuka's lantern brightened, purple light pushing back shadows as they entered. "Though I'd say it smells more like... abandonment."

  The cave widened into a natural chamber. What they found made Jabari's hand drift toward Sankofa's hilt.

  Bone Fiends. Seven of them, scattered across the floor like discarded toys. Dead, but not from combat—their bodies showed no wounds. They'd simply... stopped. Collapsed where they stood.

  "Hivemind disconnection," Fuuka said, kneeling beside one. She prodded it with her ceremonial dagger. "See how the exoskeleton's dulled? That happens when a Radi-Mon loses connection to its Primarch. Like pulling the power cord on a machine."

  "They just die?"

  "The weaker ones do. Without Skarn's will driving them..." She stood, gesturing around the chamber. "They forget how to breathe."

  Jabari's Nucleus Watch hummed against his wrist, picking up residual vibrations. "Something was here recently. Big operation."

  "Very big." Fuuka moved deeper into the cave, her lantern revealing gouges in the stone—massive claw marks that spoke of heavy machinery or creatures being dragged. "Look at this."

  In the chamber's far corner, they found it: a sprawling mass of organic residue, like someone had melted a building-sized tumor and left it to congeal. Fibrous strands hung from the ceiling, connected to what looked like crystallized deposits. The whole thing pulsed with faint, dying bioluminescence.

  "Buddha's blessed balls," Jabari breathed. "What is that?"

  "Vuhk-stir remnants." Fuuka circled the mass, genuinely fascinated. "Or what's left after they packed it up and moved. See these connection points?" She pointed to torn organic cables. "A Vuhk-stir is a living machine—an incubator with its own heartbeat. You connect a captured woman to it, and it duplicates her eggs. Thousands of them. The Draug can then program each egg to become whatever Radi-Mon the Horde needs."

  Jabari felt his stomach turn. "That's..."

  "Efficient? Yes. Disgusting? Also yes." She touched one of the fibrous strands, and it crumbled to dust. "This one's been dead maybe three, four days. They evacuated in a hurry."

  "Why leave it?"

  "Can't transport a dying Vuhk-stir without killing it completely. Better to abandon it and build new ones wherever they relocated." She glanced back at him. "The electromagnetic storms have been scrambling Fenris communications. Probably forced them to consolidate their operations closer to Skarn's main forces."

  "So we missed them."

  "By less than a week, I'd estimate." Fuuka's smile turned sharp. "But we confirmed no active breeding operation. That's worth the bounty."

  A sound made them both freeze—wet, slithering movement from deeper in the cave. Jabari drew Sankofa as purple light flared from Fuuka's lantern.

  What emerged made his breath catch.

  A Kraken, but smaller than the war-beasts in military footage—maybe two meters across, its dark brown mass floating in the air like some nightmare jellyfish. Its three eyes glowed with alien intelligence, and its tentacles writhed in confused, jerking patterns.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Juvenile. Lost. Searching.

  Pressure slammed into Jabari's skull—alien thoughts trying to take root:

  '—Primarch Skarn demands—where is Sigrun Fjeld—Princess must be located—her eggs required for—'

  '—connection unstable—directive unclear—Sigrun Fjeld—Sigrun Fjeld—SIGRUN FJELD—'

  '—find her—bring her—Primarch commands—Sigrun—eggs fertilized—'

  "Shango's schlong!" Jabari pressed his free hand to his temple, the pulsing agony making his vision blur. "It's in my head!"

  "Don't fight it," Fuuka said, her voice oddly calm. "That makes it worse. Just let it pass through like bad music."

  "Bad music doesn't try to eat my brain!"

  "You've never heard Venusian pop, then."

  Despite everything, he almost laughed. The pressure eased slightly.

  The Kraken's tentacles reached toward them, movements becoming more agitated. Jabari raised Sankofa, but Fuuka touched his arm.

  "Wait. It's confused, not aggressive. Watch."

  She stepped forward, speaking in that liquid language: "?amaya Manasa?."

  The Kraken's movements slowed. Its mental assault faded to a confused murmur:

  '—Sigrun—where—Primarch—directive lost—connection severed—alone—'

  "It got separated from the main Horde," Fuuka explained softly. "Left behind when they evacuated. It's still trying to follow Skarn's last command, but..." She gestured at the dead Bone Fiends. "It doesn't have the power to maintain even basic units."

  The creature's three eyes fixed on them with something that might have been pleading. Then it turned, tentacles propelling it back into the deeper darkness of the cave system.

  '—Sigrun—find—must find—Primarch commands—Sigrun Fjeld—'

  The mental voice faded as it retreated.

  Jabari lowered his cutlass, breathing hard. "What the hell was that about? This Sigrun person?"

  "Sigrun Fjeld." Fuuka's expression was unreadable. "A Nordling name. Princess, if the Kraken's thoughts were accurate." She turned away from the darkness. "Apparently Skarn wants her very badly."

  "For what?"

  "The Kraken thought 'eggs.' Use your imagination." She started walking back toward the entrance. "Though why Skarn would fixate on one specific woman when he could take any female is... interesting."

  Jabari sheathed Sankofa, following her out. His head still throbbed. "Should we report this?"

  "Report what? A dying juvenile Kraken retreating into tunnels we can't follow? Dead Bone Fiends and an abandoned nest?" Fuuka's smile returned. "We found exactly what the bounty asked us to confirm: no active Vuhk-stir, no Draug operation, no immediate threat to Xing Hong."

  "You're surprisingly good at justifying things."

  "I prefer 'pragmatic.'" She gestured at the failed organic mass. "All of this will be dead within days anyway. Nature taking its course."

  Outside, Mars's sun hung lower, painting everything crimson. Fuuka stretched luxuriously, the dark mood from the cave sliding off her like water.

  "Well! That was educational. Shall we file our report?"

  Jabari pulled up his Nucleus Watch, the holographic interface glowing. "You do it. I'm shit at creative writing."

  "Such a good boy." Fuuka leaned over his arm, close enough that he caught that cherry blossom scent again. "Here, let me guide those honest fingers."

  She placed her hand over his, warm despite the Martian cold.

  "Nest Classification: Abandoned Fenris outpost. Vuhk-stir operation confirmed defunct." She narrated as she helped him type. "Threat Level: Eliminated. Hostile units: Seven Bone Fiends, deceased upon arrival due to hivemind disconnection." Her finger paused. "Additional notes: Evidence suggests electromagnetic storm damage forced evacuation approximately 72-96 hours prior to investigation. No viable breeding infrastructure remains. Area poses no immediate threat to civilian populations."

  "That's... actually all true," Jabari said.

  "The best reports always are." She stepped back as he submitted it. "There. The bounty office will confirm the nest as neutralized, you get paid, everyone's happy."

  His watch chimed:

  [Report accepted. Bounty will be dispensed shortly. Please do not reply to this automated message. - Xing Hong Bounty Office]

  "Plus you owe me five hundred Atomic Dollars," Fuuka added cheerfully. "I was right about no Vuhk-stir."

  "Technically there were Vuhk-stir remnants—"

  "Remnants don't count! Pay up, Mister Griot."

  Jabari sighed, pulling out a credit chip. "This is extortion, hey?"

  "This is a gentleman honoring his wager." She pocketed the chip with a satisfied smile. "See? I knew you had integrity."

  "Expensive integrity."

  "The best kind!"

  They walked back toward Xing Hong's outer checkpoint as sunset painted the city gold. The bored guard scanned their IDs, noted their bounty confirmations, waved them through without interest.

  "You know," Fuuka said as they entered Dragon District's neon glow, "I just won five hundred of your Atomic Dollars. The honorable thing would be to buy you dinner with it, ne?"

  "That's... surprisingly generous for someone who just called it 'taking money from honest men.'"

  "I contain multitudes!" She gestured grandly. "Besides, I'm curious about you, Jabari-san. Not many Griots make it to Mars, and even fewer survive long enough. You must have stories."

  "A few." He kept his tone light. "Most aren't dinner conversation material."

  "Those are exactly the kind I want to hear." She tilted her head, studying him. "So? Where does a wandering Griot eat in this rust-bucket of a city?"

  "The Slumbering Mantis Inn. Dragon District, near Bounty Board #7." He checked his watch. "I've got a standing reservation tonight, actually."

  "The place with the cyborg bartender? Iron Roach?"

  "You know it?"

  "I know of it." Her smile turned thoughtful. "Shazmeen Vinh's establishment. Interesting choice for a Directorate operative."

  "It's cheap, the food's decent, and they don't ask questions."

  "All excellent qualities in an inn." She clapped her hands together. "Perfect! I'll meet you there. Say, eight-thirty? That gives me time to clean up and you time to prepare."

  "You're really coming?"

  "Wouldn't miss it! I promise to be on my best behavior." Her smile turned wicked. "Only light heckling, minimal dark magic."

  "So reassuring."

  "I thought so!" She paused at an intersection, the crowd flowing around them like water around stones. Her expression shifted—playful mask slipping for just a moment. "Oh, and Jabari-san? That name the Kraken kept repeating?"

  "Sigrun Fjeld?"

  "If you happen to encounter anyone by that name..." Something older and more serious looked out from those dark eyes. "Be very, very careful. Anyone Skarn wants that badly is either incredibly good looking or incredibly dangerous. Possibly both."

  Before he could respond, she vanished—one moment there, the next gone, leaving only the scent of cherry blossoms and the faint impression of purple light.

  Jabari stood alone as the crowd flowed past. His watch chimed:

  [$1,500 Atomic Dollars deposited. Thank you for making Xing Hong a safer city. - Dilinur Altai, 3rd Prefect]

  Enough for rent, supplies, and then some.

  But somehow he suspected the real payment for today's adventure hadn't been calculated in Atomic Dollars. That name—Sigrun Fjeld—felt more important than a dying Kraken's confused obsession.

  "Yeah," Jabari said to the Martian sunset. "I'll probably find out eventually."

  He headed toward the Slumbering Mantis Inn, already thinking about what to order tonight.