A fleshy shaft squealed against the cold steel table. It gnashed and bent, searing itself onto another mound of equally sundered meat. Hard at work was the Psion Imura, never giving herself a moment's rest.
Not that she would want it. She liked her work.
A slight buzzing came from her left side, causing her to pause. She dropped her scalpel and released the Psionic grip on her work before reaching with an outstretched finger. The call on her holographic display was soon answered.
"Imura," Yrix exclaimed in an unusually friendly voice. "Good to hear from you again."
"Oh, the Arch-Flayer finally has time to talk? Thought you were busy with the Emperor's pet project." Imura chided sassily, tapping her sharp heels on the floor.
"As always. But I'm confident you'll appreciate what I've accomplished with it." Yrix teased.
Imura sighed loudly. "So this isn't tea time."
The Psion was surrounded by darkness, working alone in her chambers. Despite her position, she hated the presence of a crew. Her own ship was indeed well known for its total absence of life, save of course her work.
"No," Yrix replied. "I apologize."
Imura's frustration was palpable as her singular eye flickered with a purple glow. "I've already received your mail. What else could you possibly offer?"
"A chance for a fresher canvas."
"You'd do that for me?"
"Only if you want it."
Imura squinted with disapproval. She knew when Yrix was baiting her.
"You just want a visitor."
Yrix sneered. "One I can tolerate."
"Insecure about your work?"
"On the contrary, I'm thrilled with their progress. I refuse to wait on it any longer."
Imura reached down, running her spindly hand along a strange patch of hide. A creature roused from her movement, scraping against her leg as it moved. The entire chamber soon lit up with a Psionic glow, revealing an entire pack of peculiar organisms, their features shrouded by darkness.
Imura spoke eagerly. "Well. I can be there in a fortnight. But I insist we must catch up when I arrive."
"Whose insecure exactly?" Yrix quipped.
"We both know you don't have any other friends either."
"Why, I have the emperor."
Both Psions laughed. That was the sort of reaction they could find only with each other. Or at least, that was the case.
"You know, speaking of rarities." Yrix preened. "I've encountered a young Psion almost as amusing as you."
"Oh?" Imura responded with a tinge of jealousy. "Do tell."
"You'll know who I refer to when you meet her. Precious little thing. She actually made me laugh."
Imura chided. "Sounds like she'd make a fine addition to my collection."
"Perhaps. But I do urge caution. These students are...capable." Yrix boasted.
"You brag."
"If only I were. They killed Omizen rather handily."
Imura nearly laughed. "That spineless chode couldn't be trusted to pilot a dinghy."
"Yet still, he outmatched them. And they emerged victorious. Students they were, with barely a few days of experience."
"You always were an underrated teacher. What did you pull this time?"
"I trusted them to figure it out themselves."
Imura sighed loudly. There was a reason Yrix was called the Arch-Flayer. The title went far beyond just her skill. Almost insultingly, it also referred to her tendency to throw her pupils into the fire with no guidance.
No one had ever really survived her.
"How many are left?" Imura groaned.
"Eight." Yrix heckled. "More than enough."
"Well. Can't say I'm surprised." Imura retorted. "But I fail to see why their so qualified."
"I didn't make soldiers, old friend. I made freaks. Maniacal, desperate creatures. They fight like animals, not arrogant slaves of a bloated empire."
"Freakish how?" Imura hesitated as she spoke. "Wait, I might not want to know."
"Well, did I mention they are all girls?" Yrix played.
"Please do not give me details on their odd behavior. Disgusting."
"It is morbidly fascinating, however. Their bonds strengthen their resolve."
"You mean their unnatural urge to try and breed into a same sex relationship yields results?"
"Come see for yourself."
Imura rolled her eye. She was playing hard to get. But Yrix knew minutes ago how guaranteed her arrival would be.
"Fine. But if I'm not impressed. I demand at least one face."
"Deal."
The Psion backed away from her workbench, activating the lights around her command center. Unlike Omizen, she had no need for vibrant terminals and eager servants. All she needed was her work.
Her armor was clad in black, and a sharp trident crown shot up from her helm. All around her was the sticky mess of her labors, sticking profusely to her nails and face. But most evidently, her little beasts were huddled up shoulder to shoulder, nearly spilling out of the chamber.
They were Xenquar of sorts, heavily modified and grafted with the flesh of Imura's victims. And as she reached for her black trident, still stained in blood of many colors, they shuddered with anticipation. She was their mother. And they would do anything for her.
"Hungry?"
A hundred voices screamed yes into her mind.
"Good."