Desra leads the thaumatist through the station and to the docking tower. Alarms blare in the corridors as she forces her way past yellow suited repair crews. Even some of the cameras are out; I lose track of her twice before she reaches her destination.

  At the base of the docking tower crew from the wounded Cabin form despondent clumps. Desra leads Jurer Nov to a face I do not expect to see.

  "Vren! Does Teah know you're here?"

  "No, she does not," replies the Tserri officer. "I did not wish to worry her, in her condition."

  Desra's laughter causes her escort to tense up; Nov has little experience with the coughing sounds of Tserri amusement.

  "Is your race not confined to this single city?"

  "That's almost true, Nov," answers Desra as she pulls out a comm tablet. Looking up from her tapping, she asks Vren, "Get tired of trying to figure out what Gelly's saying?"

  Vren slashes one claw through the air in casual dismissal. "He is not so bad, if you can keep him sober. Did you not receive the warnings we sent?"

  Desra shakes her head in the Selber fashion. "We got transmissions from the Resurgent. Medical examinations and a couple of interviews." Her tablet chimes cheerily. "It's for you," she taunts, offering him the device.

  Vren's ears lay back against his head, but he accepts the tablet. He turns his attention to it while Desra and Nov take in the damaged vessel.

  "This damage looks like it was caused by Imperium missiles," remarks Desra. She points with an upper arm at a series of overlapping craters. "Yeah. You can find almost identical marks along Broken Leg, if you know where to look."

  Vren does not respond, wide eyes fixed to the tablet. Nov extends tendrils up at the ship. No doubt the thaumatist employs esoteric senses to observe in ways my cameras will not allow.

  "The energy that did this was very similar to that which flows through this mobile fortress."

  "Thought so," declares Desra with a sharp nod. She leaps a full ubit into the air soon after.

  "Vera and Tren!" The cheering father holds Desra's tablet above his head in one claw. White smoke rises from it as his claws close tighter upon it in his exuberance. "Wondrous stars!"

  Broken bits of circuitry and plastic case fall from his grasp and land with a clatter. Nov bends to scoop the fragments from the deck, bringing each in closer to examine from every angle.

  Vren quickly straightens his posture, ears twitching uncontrollably. "Forgive me, please, but I must go. When you speak with the Ship-Father, please inform him of my absence."

  The Tserri warrior waits only long enough for Desra's acknowledging nod before sprinting off. Vren leaps over a group of loitering children in his haste. The little scamps throw bright plastic balls at his receding form, but none of the projectiles strike him.

  "Is there some danger," inquires Nov. The thaumatist's robes squirm as he shifts inside the concealing folds. "Need we join your companion?"

  Desra slashes the question from the air. "He's just excited." When Nov doesn't respond, she tries again. "We need to find Ship-Father Dunc."

  The two enter the ship, moving past the wary guards standing at the entry ramp. When I attempt to track their progress, I find that I cannot. The access codes I possess do not work; they must no longer match those in use aboard the vessel.

  I could attempt to locate Vren, but I believe I know what I would observe. Watching him lose his composure once today is enough. He and Teah can enjoy each other's company in privacy.

  Instead, I check in on Eva and Yosip. The community center they sit in remains dark; the performance is ongoing. The painted background now shows stone lodges, with happy Selber and Tserri faces smiling from uneven windows.

  "And using Kalibern, the hero was able to shape stones into new homes for his people. Safe from the beasts of the wild, the people built with the knowledge of the stars. The great city of Grassea was the center of his kingdom, where the hero ruled until his final days."

  The young Tserri wearing the tight blue suit bows at the waist then backs up before rising to a standing position once more. The rest of the children enter from either side and form a long line beside him. Each child bows in turn, then all together.

  Hooting and cheering erupts from the no longer sitting audience, and the light slowly returns to normal levels. Seats are pushed back and clumps of people form. Costumed children run to their parents and caregivers, chattering noisily.

  Three young Tserri males rush to Yosip. He cannot maintain his habitual scowl and smiles unabashedly at them. Eva watches from a safe distance as twelve clawed arms wrap around him. Deep chuckling comes from within the knot of laughing bodies.

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  I wait for the Don to praise his young charges and lead them out into the street. Eva trails along, smiling mysteriously. The group of five separates from the crowd and heads toward the secondary docking tower.

  "You might wish to visit the other tower first," I announce when they come within range of a hidden speaker.

  "And why's that, rock?" Yosip steadies himself against a wall. "These boys are eager to get back into uniform."

  "Niala's Cabin is docked at the primary tower, heavily damaged."

  Eva sets one slender hand on Yosip's metal arm. "Take the boy's back to your ship. I'll check it out."

  "Desra's already aboard, with Jurer Nov," I inform her. "But she may need your assistance."

  "You don't know?"

  "Sadly not, Ship-Mother. I cannot access the surveillance aboard the Cabin."

  There are a few suits whose cameras are accessible, namely those of our repair teams. Unfortunately, none of those I scan through show any hint of Eva's assistant. Desra herself prefers not to wear armor, but her silver fur would be easy to spot.

  Yosip nods, scowl once more in place. He pushes himself off of one wall and leads the young Tserri away. The three youths are silent as they trail behind him.

  "How bad is it?"

  "I'm surprised you didn't feel them landing. The entire tower is now leaning slightly."

  "That can be fixed," she answers dismissively and pulls out a comm tablet. "But why is Desra not answering me?" Eva taps at her tablet, frowning at it fiercely.

  "Vren got excited and broke her comm," I reply, careful to maintain a neutral tone.

  Her hand halts just above the surface of her tablet. Eva stops walking, freezing in place. I begin to worry that she's angry, but a sudden burst of unhinged laughter causes me to reevaluate that idea.

  "To be a gor in that grass," she finally says, wiping her eyes. "Remind me to tease Teah later, Mos."

  The Ship-Mother is once again composed when she arrives at the docking tower. I mostly lose track of her when she too disappears inside the Cabin, with only occasional glimpses of her. She moves through damaged sectors of the ship before a crewmember directs her to the command room. I doubt I will see her again until much later.

  While I'm deciding how to remain occupied productively, a voice calls my name inside the hospital.

  "Mos Denn, can you hear me?"

  "I hear you, Zra. Is something wrong?"

  The medic paces in a round, cave-like room. The dim lighting all comes from one end of a tunnel ending in a security door. Along the back wall lies the elderly blue scale. Her eyes are open yet stare blankly at the wall. By happenstance, she stares directly into one of the rooms many hidden cameras.

  "Not as such," replies Zra. "I was talking to the patient when she started twitching. I was hoping you could check the encephalographic readings for me. I don't want to leave Granny and nobody else was answering me."

  "I've got the files right here," I reply, pulling them up. "I don't know what I'm looking at. Just a bunch of spiky lines."

  "Good. That's good. Can you tell me the highest point that the spikes reached, please?"

  I check the graph and report the information. It all remains meaningless to me, but Zra becomes highly animated. He paces inside the blue scale's room more quickly, waving his claws around as he asks for additional information. Claws curl and flex as he makes mental calculations.

  "Should I let the Ship-Mother know that you're making progress with the patient, or would you like to inform her yourself?"

  "I'd like to tell her, after I've looked over the charts myself. You could help with Granny's treatment, though."

  I do not answer right away. Zra knows that I'm not medically trained, yet he is too intelligent to proffer an untenable proposition. He rightly takes my silence as a request for clarification.

  "Add the blue scale language to your translator, then just talk to her. Talk about your experiences with the tribals," Zra gushes, moving constantly. "That's what got the biggest reaction from her. I'm going to the observation booth. If anything happens before I get there, let me know."

  "Very well," I answer. I still do not trust this plan but see no reason to argue. Granny remains in exactly the same position; she can do no harm.

  Zra enters the proper commands into the security door. As soon as it opens, he squeezes through. As he runs, my translation software receives the data package that will allow me to speak with Granny.

  "Hello, Granny. My name is Mos Denn, and I have been assigned the task of telling you tales of my past."

  She remains unmoving upon the low shelf of stone. No padding softens her resting place. Perhaps the stone is soft? I do not know.

  "I will begin with my first battle against the Southern Tribals. This was a long time ago, though you might have been alive then. Back then I was scared of everything that moved and prone to strike out with little provocation. Standing watch particularly was a weakness of mine, and it was during one such onerous session that I encountered my first alien. It was night and our camp was placed in desert scrub. Dried grass hid his approach, and I didn't see him until he was very close.

  "Standing upon two thick legs, this particular specimen was what I later learned to be a Snapper. There's one next door. You may have met. Regardless, this one was coming at me fast from the darkness. With little time to react I chose to evade. I fell, flat to the ground. Thorns pulled at the creases in my carapace, ripping right through my uniform.

  "I never lost grip on my spear, terrified as I admit to being. Even as I fell, my spear was aimed at the soft neck of the Snapper. The spear pierced leathery skin and sank in deeply."

  I stop my recitation, memories of that fight playing through my mind. That had been the first time I had killed anything larger than a flitter. The smell of blood, hot and metallic, overcomes me for a moment.

  "He didn't die easily. I'd show you the scar his beak left but, alas. He wasn't alone, merely the very tip of the blade stabbing into the camp. I killed two more tribals that night, both of different breeds. A stick-limb and a native of Red Eye, I was later told. I do not remember anything after being bitten, until the fight was over."

  The door to the chamber opens and a nurse comes in. "I'm here to take over for you, Mos. Zra said to give you his thanks."

  "Of course," I answer quietly. "Let me know if my services are required again."

  Before I switch to a different camera, I note that Granny's eyes are now closed. In the observation booth, Zra sits with eyes wide, staring at an incomprehensible graph. His ears perk straight up and tiny noises escape from his mouth.

  I assume he sees something interesting upon the mysterious chart.