Semi-Coercive Imperialist

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A ship was running aground.

I strolled through the steel innards, slowly tilting to one side.

Thump.

The traces of Izenheim that had occupied more than half this place had noticeably thinned out. The ones hiding among the cargo in the rear compartments, the ones disguised as stokers and skilled workers, had probably all died in the initial explosion.

Thump.

Still, somewhere nearby, one sticky presence continued to pulse.

Kwoooong.

At the end of the twisting corridor, I suddenly spotted a familiar silhouette.