I watch from Skint's suit camera as he and his superior walk through the crowded casino. No one pays much attention to him, clearly used to seeing his intimidating bulk. Donna draws a few glances from a pair of males of her species, but they quickly look away when their eyes land upon Skint.

  Switching to Donna's camera, I'm able to see a wide, disbelieving grin upon the large Tserri's face. Skint's financial account is burgeoning with his recent winnings. Donna keeps shaking her head but is wise enough to refrain from commenting.

  Just before they make it outside, a trio of Tserri toughs step in front of the exit, blocking the pair of security officers' way. They wear station casual in a range of browns with the same leather armor that many had been captured in worn over them.

  "Heard ya won it today, Skinny," the tawny furred leader of the unsavory trio says, leaning forward with both sets of arms crossed.

  "Th-that's right, Hien," Skint answers hastily. "Was just going to try 'n find ya, right?"

  The overhead camera catches Donna's frown, but still she remains silent.

  "What'd you do to irk this lovely, Skinny," asks Hien cockily, feigning concern. "Gotta be careful, or she might leave ya, Skinny. Maybe find someone that can provide for her, yeah?"

  The two nobodies behind him snicker at the crude humor.

  "Don't want that," one of them heckles.

  "Maybe we do," counters the other. The pair are nearly identical striped specimens. Orange and dark brown. Only the white fur left behind from different scars allows me to tell them apart.

  Skint rolls his complex shoulders. The garish lighting glints menacingly off his heavy armor. The two jokesters fall silent and take a matching step back. Donna's frown lessens and she places one claw on the large male's back.

  "Oh, is it like that, then?" Hien uncrosses his upper arms and snaps loudly. Three more thugs materialize from the crowd and step behind the beleagured pair. "You sure?" Smugness radiates off of Hien in nearly visible waves.

  Donna picks this moment to speak. "You'd look good in yellow, Hien. How much does he owe you, anyway? Enough to be worth the next forty days on a work crew?"

  Hien snaps again and all the cameras in the casino stop transmitting. I switch back to Donna's camera and run a parallel feed from a few moments ago. Ah. It seems the thugs are responsible, using concealed small arms.

  "You were saying?"

  Idiot. Not only are the pair's armored suits still transmitting, but those pitiful weapons lack the power to penetrate them.

  Skint rears back, then lunges at Hien, arms spread wide. He makes it two steps before thugs pile onto him. Screams erupt, filling the entrance hall. Guests and staff, panicking, run for the alternate exits.

  The muted popping of the small weapons is barely audible through Donna's receivers. The loud plinks of ricocheting bullets is much easier to hear. Two thugs go down, wounded by deflected projectiles. A third quickly follows, legs kicked mercilessly by the angered female as she fights to free her subordinate. Red splatters on her black and gold armor, making the metal skulls' leers especially menacing under the scattered artificial lighting.

  I contact Pale to let them know they should expect to be busy soon.

  These two are busy. I'll have to find someone else to watch the casteless soldiers as they shop.

  Before I begin my search, I alert Donan that his sister could use some assistance. He laughs and leads a squad that way.

  I know! Glian owes me a favor or two, even if he doesn't realize it. I check the cameras in his shop. Excellent, he's there, working on a dark green armored suit. Even better, he's alone. All of his workers are gone, off work or running errands.

  "Glian, can you hear me?"

  He jumps at the sound of my voice coming from the wall, banging his left lower arm. It is deep within the vacuum suit, adjusting or tightening something.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Merciful spirits!"

  "No, just me."

  He looks around, spotting the hidden speaker. He squints suspiciously.

  "Is that you, Begen?" He sets down his tool, then steps closer to the speaker. "When did you have time to set this up?"

  Begen? Oh, one of his workers.

  "Not Begen, not at all. Surely you know of Mos Denn?"

  "Oh." He looks disappointed for some reason.

  Glian walks over to a nearby worktable and grabs a bottled beverage off of it. He sighs heavily, then takes a long drink before setting the nearly empty bottle down.

  "Is there any way we can not do, uh, whatever this is supposed to be? I have enough trouble without those wacko cultists bothering me."

  That's disappointing.

  "At least hear what I have to ask. If you choose not to aid me, very well, but at least do that much for me."

  "I'm not taking you anywhere, alright? But I'll listen."

  Why would I want to be taken anywhere? Perhaps I should pay more attention to Yosip's worshippers.

  "Nothing of the sort," I respond, hoping to placate him. "I merely need a few of our most recent arrivals followed. Discretely, if possible."

  "The avio-whatevers?"

  "No, the other group."

  Glian scratches the side of his head with one oil-stained claw. A high-pitched voice squeals loudly from the top of the stairs leading up to the next level.

  "You want someone to watch the Squivers?" Glian's daughter runs down the stairs, bouncing with excitement. Her light blue work overalls are a near match for her father's. "Can I do it?"

  "No," her father answers immediately. "Not a chance, Glia."

  "Aww, but daaaaad," whines the young female.

  "It shouldn't be dangerous," I interject quickly. "Not even slightly. If young Glia is willing, I can compensate her for her time."

  He taps one foot, tempted but still not willing.

  "If there is even the hint of danger, I can contact security faster than anyone else on the station. And, since I know that isn't what you're actually worrying about, there's no reason anyone needs to know that she's doing this for me." He looks up and I know I've got his attention now. "This is a task I've already got security working on. I'll let them know to keep an extra eye on her, just in case, and intercede if too much attention is drawn her way."

  I know they'll be happy to help. Every one of them likes, or at least tolerates affably, the youngster. She's always around the shop helping her father, and the security teams interact with her frequently. Well, excepting maybe Spen, who she habitually avoids.

  "If the Skulls are already on this, why do you need our help?"

  "Because they have a whole station to watch. Finding someone to watch just one small group of visitors is too small of a task to truly be worth their time. But it needs done, so I asked you."

  "Fine, but you're paying premium for this."

  Glia jumps, squealing joyfully. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

  A small smile appears on his face but is quickly hidden. "Go on, then."

  She runs to the main exit, but I stop her. "Wait just a moment. Does she have a translator?" This entire conversation has been in the Tserri language, after all.

  He nods.

  "Good, can you have her hook it up to the station comm network, please? I've got an update that she'll need for this task."

  The young female grows more excited. She races upstairs, beyond the range of my cameras. She returns quickly, holding a necklace made of thick coils of overlapping silver braid woven together. She prances happily over to the sales terminal and pulls one of the braids. It extends into a cord which she plugs into the terminal.

  She lacks the aviaforme language, as well as my own, so I add them to her database. After a short, silent debate with myself, I also give her the tribal argot and the chieftains' language. I do not think she will ever need them, but it is possible that the soldiers will complain in a tongue they do not think she knows. Better to be prepared.

  "Now you'll be able to understand their spoken language, but learning their body language is up to your own efforts."

  Glia nods her head, happy to get to do something she considers exciting. The necklace fits snugly around her neck without impeding her movements. I give her a destination, and she runs out of the garage shouting her love to her father.

  She runs out into the crowd, weaving between bodies. People laugh at her antics, pleased to the see the usually quiet Glia so happy and excited. Her upright ears and broad smile are infectious, spreading to her neighbors.

  When she spots the casteless soldiers she asks, "Do you want me to stay hidden, or can I go ask them questions?"

  Unfortunately, the closest speaker under my control is on the other side of the group I want her to observe. If I answer her it will give her away. I remain silent and hope that she knows what discrete means.

  She does not.

  "Excuse me," she says, walking up to the soldiers. "Mos Denn sent me to help you find your way around. My name's Glia. What's yours?"

  The soldiers stand at attention. The one closest to the young Glia, a male missing a lower tendril, slides closer to her.

  Not the worst thing that could be happening. No reason to interfere with the situation, I'll simply observe. I should take the opportunity to learn more about the casteless, if they're going to be regular visitors to the station.

  "Lubi," he says with some uncertainty. "Do you know where we can find a place willing to trade us local currency for a few war trophies?"

  He pulls out an example, a bracelet recovered from a fallen tribal made of interlocking plates of chitin tied together with what looks like dried out upper tendrils woven through small holes drilled through the chitin. A few imitation runes are carved into it and from each plate hangs a bright blue feather. Sometimes the tribals win.

  "Neat! Yeah, I know a place," she answers cheerfully, unperturbed by the gruesome display. "This way."

  The soldier returns his trophy to his swathes of blue fabric and follows the young Tserri. The rest of his squad march a few ubits behind, murmuring quietly to themselves.

  The Vanquisher of Kings