Children of the Warhod Liner

Almond Bay, named for its shape, once thronged with commerce upon its placid waters. Now it is little more than a crater, the same as those produced by nukes. Upon its red dust floor lies the corpse of the Warhod Liner, reduced to a skeleton by creatures that, from a great distance, seem to be flies picking at dead flesh—closer, they are men: men over generations who have lived within the orifices…