Perfectly aligned for readers of Iain M. Banks’s The Culture series and Ursula K. Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”, The Sixth Nik is a galaxy spanning adventure from the New York Times bestselling and Pulitzer Prize–winning author of Angel Down and Whalefall.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Sixth Nik by Daniel Kraus, which releases on June 23rd 2026.
Deep into space, far past the triworld outposts, beyond range of the lethal trollbot internet, soars The Sickness: a ship woven from biomatter and capable of reacting to every need of its human crew. Sisilla, a nine-year-old cultist with a brain enhanced by arcane tech known as “niks,” has boarded to investigate the enigma of Fém—a plague-riddled planet that has abruptly gone rogue.
The mysterious crew includes a faceless assassin, a beautiful engineer jigsawed by plastic surgery, a peyote-addicted medic, and—most lethal of all—a rugged, NonModded captain with a score to settle with Sisilla. Other dangers abound. A hacked robot begins to believe Sisilla is its daughter. The Sickness itself is mutating, possibly even pregnant. And the secret of Fém is more horrific than anyone could have imagined. To survive, Sisilla will need to forsake her predetermined fate and embrace the unknown.
EXCERPT
2.0
2.1
They stood at the center of their cabin, waiting with the door open, either having guessed I would come or having been supplied that information by The Sickness. They were more striking in person than any images I had seen of their kind. They wore an all-white bodysuit as tight as latex but, from what I had read, made of a bulletproof, bladeproof polymer plastic. Their posture held a lioness watchfulness, left hip cocked like a gunslinger, muscular torso curved, head angled forward to stare through the bodysuit’s ice-blue lenses.
“A Niffakoq.” Their voice was slithery through the mouth slit. “How novel.”
“Usornaat. My name is Sisilla. I understand you are to be referred to in the plural.”
They shrugged. Their body parts rolled like ball bearings.
“We will not hurt you if you don’t.”
“Thank you. But I wish to be respectful. Shall I call you Murder 005 or just Murder?”
“On Earth, we might kill someone for neglecting our numerical honorific.”
“Murder 005 it is, then,” I replied quickly. “You are to be my bodyguard.”
“We wouldn’t be the first Murder to be given that role.”
“Tuula, Niffakoq 45, and Bibe, Niffakoq 52,” I confirmed.
“Then you know we can’t possibly hurt you. Furthermore, as hurting the other crew members might put you at risk, we won’t do that either.” Despite the skintight mask built into the bodysuit, a sly smile was transmitted. “Not even for neglecting our honorific.”
“On behalf of all of us, then, thank you.”
Murder 005 swayed like a cobra.
“You’re so small,” they observed.
My heart rate accelerated despite the bodyguard’s assurances of safety. When an adherent of the Murder Tenet notes your inability to defend yourself, it is time to run. Quick nikking, however, astonished me. Murder 005 was of purer purpose than anyone I had ever nikked, including the Nuna Naavoq, who were, after all, regular people with complex personalities. Murder 005’s mind was a jungle brutally cleared by machetes. I nikked little but intense curiosity.
The curiosity was mutual.
“I am 127 centimeters tall and weigh 26.3 kilograms. It is median size for my age and heritage,” I replied. “Is it true the 005 in your name indicates you have murdered five people?”
Murder 005 began to stroll, slowly, so as to get a look at me from different angles. They rolled their hips with each step, arched their back, watched me through half-lidded eyes. I became aware that the white bodysuit made Murder 005 all but naked. I had, of course, seen Nuna Naavoq unclothed in bathing situations, but they had stocky bodies suited for glacier living. Murder 005 was two meters tall, powerful and sinewy. The bodysuit gripped their breasts and abdominal muscles and emphasized the indents of backbone and linea alba.
I felt foolish for staring yet could not help myself.
Murder 005 seemed to enjoy my attention. I did not nik that I was the target of sensuality. The attitude was a by-product of the Murder Tenet. Murders were proud of their insight, ownership, and mastery of their physical bodies and were prepared, even excited, to use them in aid of their one true belief.
To help control the triworld population via murder.
“Do you doubt that we’ve killed five?” they asked.
“Only in that I nik no anger in you.”
Murder 005 circled behind me. I thought of the polar bear that had tracked Tûma and me to Ittoqqortoormiit. I took the chance to examine Murder 005’s cabin. No brain tissue to be found. It was, rather, a dark pocket of unspecified flesh eaten away by an oily ring of cancer with a tentlike overhang of flesh that, by its semitranslucence and hair follicles, I recognized as scrotal. The space provided did not exceed that of a fourposter tent. Yet it boasted along the floor a storage solution, what looked like two giant human nostrils right down to the nose hair. Inside one of the nostrils was what looked like a duffel bag. Weapons, I assumed.
“There is no anger in Murders,” they purred. “Only logic. Murder benefits humanity.”
“That is why Murders take the word as name—to drain stigma from it.”
“Very good.”
“If you were to kill another, your name would change to Murder 006.”
“I look forward to it. If you see us in black, take care.”
