"What did ye see?"

  Gelly and I converse over sub-light. The lag isn't yet noticeable, but the station's instruments register the most minute of delays. Eva is graciously allowing me to use her office. Her personal comm has the necessary encryption hardware to keep our conversation private.

  "Ye did check, right?"

  "Of course," I confirm with more confidence than I truly feel.

  Gelly, somehow sensing my hesitation, narrows his eyes suspiciously. "And?"

  "During the mock hearing, I was able to identify multiple functional components within Mos Bruen's prosthetic eye. There are other clusters that I do not yet understand, but I can say with confidence that the implant preforms more than its obvious function." I pause to allow the officer to process my initial assessment before continuing. "It interacts with multiple sectors of his brain, though I am not educated in biology beyond knowing which parts cause death most quickly if you stab them. Most of the brain is identical, in that regard."

  "Can ye send me a diagram for the device or the activated sections o' the brain?"

  "Only the latter. Most of the functional portions of the prosthetic exist beyond normal reality." My ability to draft is still improving, but I think the file I send him would be just as useless to him even if Pale had made them. "These drawings are only approximations, you understand."

  He signals his understanding with a grunt. As eloquent as always. He grunts again when he opens it. "This'll do. Tonn's got some actual scans o' Squiver brains. It's a start. Any more ye can tell me?"

  Until a medical professional can tell me more, I have only speculations to offer him. Instead, I say something I hope is reassuring. "If it were something harmful or beyond the normal sanctions, another thaumatist would have noticed it. You've been around enough of them by now to know they're all crazy, but not all the same."

  "Aye. Is that intentional, then?"

  "Not actually," I admit. "All else in our society is orderly. The eccentricities of those three castes are tolerated because of their many benefits to the empire."

  He looks confused and I immediately realize my error. Gelly doesn't know of the Svost. "The third group of dust eaters are the most dangerous as well as fewest in number. Even the aviaformes are kept away from the exterminators. Their caste exists to destroy."

  A light of recognition shines in his eyes. "The fire mages." He chuckles grimly. "Chief were no scared o' much, but he were afraid o' them."

  Ah. That is entirely welcome news. Svost are harder to kill when they inevitably malfunction than any of their ilk. It is good to know that the extra effort is worth it. Fear is a powerful advantage.

  "I'll let ye know if we find out any more."

  He ends the communication from his end. The screen goes dark as I deactivate the communication device. I open the door and Eva walks inside.

  "So?"

  She sits primly in the oversized chair, looking far too small for the responsibilities she must bear. "Did you find out anything?"

  "Jim will be taking his ship off on another exploratory mission. He thinks they found a potential trading partner and wants to investigate."

  Her posture relaxes slightly. "That's a relief. I was afraid you were going to tell me there was some new emergency."

  "Nothing of the sort. Mostly our conversation was Gelly worrying about Bruen."

  "What's wrong with him? The Squiver seemed fine during the hearing, if a little upset."

  I'm still not sure what to think about the recent changes in the young general. Misjudgments during his upbringing are obvious in the way he treats others. Unlike so many others in his position, Bruen knows what it is like to be a menial laborer. While I had intended that he respect the importance of the responsibilities of a Mos, the way he treats those under his command, and the respect they show him in return, is unexpected. An unintentional side effect that might have long lasting benefits to him.

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  I did not anticipate that he would form an emotional attachment to myself, either. Most of our kind are raised communally by constantly changing caregivers. The natural urge to respect those older than oneself are channeled towards the empire and reinforced through the caste system. Each individual exists as part of an ordered society where interactions are strictly regulated by tradition and imperial decree. His particular situation is, by design, unique. I still hope that his more personalized training will allow him to excel beyond his peers.

  Eva reaches for a tablet when I don't reply quickly enough. "Sorry, that's not my business. We've got a group from Sba City coming over later today," she explains. With a few taps she puts the itinerary on the main screen. "Until we get an exchange rate worked out, we need to open an expense account they can use."

  "I'll set one up."

  "Good, thank you. Can you also send out a notice to the shop owners warning them that if they're caught taking advantage of our visitors, there'll be heavy fines?"

  "That shouldn't be a problem. I'll also add a reminder about how easily startled many of the aviaformes are."

  "Thanks. We want to look good for our new neighbors." She sets down the tablet only to grab another. "The medical staff wants to meet them as well."

  Zra and Pale are quite dedicated to their profession, so their interest in the biology of our newest neighbors is not surprising. I find myself interested as well. Getting the dust eaters to examine one of the aviaformes has always been more troublesome than the task is worth. Perhaps our medics will learn something interesting.

  Eva adds the meeting to the schedule. She picks up a third tablet and scrolls through images of various aliens. The survivors of the Density bombs are being held under guard in a field hospital set up in the crater.

  She sighs exasperatedly. I fear that I know what she's about to say.

  "And a few more residents are coming our way two days after that. Three are unresponsive but alive. One is feral and will need to be kept sedated. The last two are barely functional. Like overgrown hatchlings," she laments. "Matron Bell decided that since we had done such a fine job with the Tserri we are the most qualified to handle these aliens."

  "I think it's admirable that she's being so merciful to the captives. They have no military value, yet she's making efforts to preserve their continued existence."

  "You make it sound like she's doing it from kindness," scoffs Eva. "It's standard to care for anyone recovered from the tribals. No, it's just cheaper than paying for them to be hauled to a dedicated facility and cared for long term."

  We discuss the rest of her busy day until the delegation from Sba City arrives. The ship they come in seems ill-suited for dignitaries. Lacking their own vessels, the aviaformes use a recovered mining ship. Complaints from the families of the previous owners are also on Eva's packed schedule.

  The vessel requires extensive repairs. Many vital units are missing or damaged. The repair logs are also out of date, not having seen use since the ship's initial launch from Kalibern so long ago. However, it would be wrong to blame only the miners. Despite their lack of upkeep, it is clear form scans that Yosip had a part in the ship's current condition. Perhaps a ploy to hide the true value of the ship from the survey team from Prime.

  Fortunately, they get priority placement in the repair rotation. Eva insists.

  Two groups emerge from the recovered derelict. The first is a flock of nine aviaformes of assorted colors. At the front of the tight cluster of feathered beings is the white draped Don. Wikna is met by Dunc along with a pair of his subordinates. Dunc escorts the delegation up to the command room.

  The second group to emerge from the mining ship surprises me. A group of casteless soldiers, five of them, slide down the exit ramp. They are unarmed and not wearing uniforms but instead lengths of blue cloth wrap around their bodies. I recognize some of them but cannot recall their names.

  These off-duty soldiers make their way to the market district. The locals give them ample walking space. I contact Donna.

  "Yeah, Mos?" Many other voices speak in the background. Before I can speak, a jubilant cheer erupts from wherever Donna currently is.

  "Greetings. You're aware of our current visitors, I trust?"

  "Yeah," she responds. "There's a team with the delegation. You ought to know that."

  "I do," I reply, somewhat testily. "But that isn't my concern. I'm sure Dunc will do an admirable job with Don Wikna. No, I'm more worried about the soldiers that are being allowed to wander around unsupervised."

  "What soldiers?"

  I allow her time to consider what she just asked. It doesn't take long.

  "Oh! Squivers? Why is that a problem?"

  We both have to wait for the cheering to subside before we can continue.

  "It shouldn't be, and I'd like you to make sure that it isn't."

  "Fine."

  A peek through her suit camera shows the interior of Jetanda's casino. Tserri and Selber mix freely inside the gambling establishment. At a table a few ubits away from her sits Skint, deeply engaged in the game.

  "Skint, boss gots a job for us," she shouts to be heard above the noise.

  "Lemme finish this game," answers the large male. "I'm winning."

  Donna growls low in her throat, the sound not carrying past her suit but easily picked up by the built in microphones. "Just hurry."