Dunc returns to the small alcove where he can control the robot down on the surface. He takes one look at the dark screen before throwing his hands up into the air above his head.

  "What happened?" I find the accusatory tone he uses mildly upsetting.

  "The leader of the security team arrived and demanded that Grita power down Howan," I explain. Quickly switching to the view from Grita's suit mollifies him somewhat.

  Dunc drops heavily into the chair taking up most of the room in the tiny room. "Fine, then. Not your fault, I guess," he grumbles. "Did I miss anything else?"

  "All of the samples are stacked in crates outside the artifact. For health and security reasons, El refuses to allow anyone to leave the site until after a safe quarantine period."

  "Sure," remarks Dunc. "If there were bacteria that managed to survive unguessed ages, another few days should be long enough for them to die off."

  That doesn't sound entirely accurate to me, but I don't argue. Dunc surely knows more about how his species reacts to infection than myself.

  "Regardless," I continue, "we can continue to monitor the expedition but will have incredibly limited ability to influence events for the time being."

  Dunc nods. "I'll have to talk to Eva. She can get things moving again, right?"

  "Most likely, Operative."

  He powers off the terminal before leaving his post. "Keep watching them, then, and contact me if anything unusual happens."

  I suppose I'll have to use my best judgement on what qualifies as an unusual occurrence. "That shouldn't be a problem," I assure him. His frown lessens slightly before I lose track of his face. "Good luck," I call after him.

  He raises one hand in acknowledgement and walks out of camera range.

  The view from Grita's suit shows only the stack of crates sitting outside the ceramic structure. I wonder briefly what hazards that desiccated bones could represent to the safety of Kalibern but do not have long before an alert catches my attention. Yosip's ship is nearing the station on an unscheduled visit.

  I pull up an external view to watch the sleek, redesigned craft drift closer to the docking tower. The vessel bears newly installed armor plating, enhanced thruster assemblies, and additional weapons systems. Overall, the ship is nearly half again as large as when Yosip had first acquired it.

  The vessel moves with less grace than I would expect of the former Supply-Master. Is he allowing young Han to practice? If so, the youth can use all the practice Yosip will allow him. It makes contact, overly forcefully, with the primary tower so I switch to the appropriate interior camera.

  At first, as expected, I see only the sealed hatch. Only moments pass before hidden mechanisms match the two and equalize pressure. The door opens.

  Down the hatch glides a Pel in full harness. Why would an enforcer be here? And why would she be using Yosip's ship to get here rather than the diplomatic vessel Wikna employs?

  Two more, slightly smaller, Pel follow the first. Behind them are another unexpected sight. Blue robes?

  "Grita," I transmit to her suit, "I can no longer monitor your group. I cannot ignore what's happening up here. Please let me know if you need any assistance, if you do not hear back from me soon."

  "You were monitoring us?" She sounds more upset than I would have expected, but her emotional state will have to wait. Bloody robed dust eaters are walking through my halls!

  Why is one of the living weapons here? I search my memory but can recall no instance where Kalibern or its leaders could possibly have incurred the wrath of the Empire. To the best of my knowledge, we are currently tentative trading partners, if not potential allies.

  The Pel stops, looking around the busy docking tower. Eventually she spots whatever she seeks and leads her small team into the crowd. The large enforcer stops a pair of gold and black armored security members. Recognizing Donnan, I switch to watching the feed from his suit just in time to hear the Pel make her request.

  "I am Pel Ansta, here on behalf of the Spanless Empire," she states officiously. "It is my duty first to inform you that two leaders of the neighboring," Ansta hesitates, evidently searching for the appropriate term, "city have been arrested for high crimes."

  I quickly activate an unused screen in Eva's office and replay the Pel's statement there. Eva's eyes widen when she hears, but narrow as Ansta continues.

  "Secondly, but no less importantly, we are here to apprehend the being currently pretending to the status of Mos in your," again she pauses, "city. Do not resist us. You will fail and I do not wish to be responsible for the loss of life that will occur."

  Two more robed figures emerge from the vessel. A Jurer next to a Somner, the two dust eaters lead a third figure behind them. Walking upon mismatched legs made from shaped stone and metal, the final member of the group is under the control of the two dust eaters. Cracked and faded, its carapace is held together entirely by laminate and the power flowing from the two thaumatists. Somewhere within the 'shell is a crystalline power core, the heart through which its masters' energy may course.

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  "No!" Eva raises from her seat and slams both tiny fists into the sturdy desk. "We've already done this with our own leadership. We aren't letting aliens come here and take our people from us!"

  "Understood, ma'am," replies Donnan.

  The Pel, Ansta, twitches her pedipalps in agitation but signals affirmative with her upper tendrils. It is unlikely that the Tserri guard understands either gesture.

  Pel Ansta attempts to turn in the direction of Eva's office but Donnan and his partner leap in the way. The pair land almost soundlessly in front of her.

  "Out of my way, or face the Svost."

  Donnan activates the privacy function of his helm and speaks directly to the Ship-Mother. "Orders, ma'am?"

  She looks directly at the camera rather than respond. I think she wishes me to speak in her stead. Very well.

  "The blue robed one is the real threat. The 'shell alone could defeat the pair of you, Donnan, but that dust eater could destroy the station if they decided to." I stop talking long enough to give Eva a chance to speak, which she does not. "Our best chance for survival is to be compliant, for now. Please escort them to the Ship-Mother's office."

  "Understood."

  Eva taps at the controls built into her desk, disconnecting her and Donnan. "Are you sure about this, Denn?"

  "No," I answer truthfully. "But trying to stop them will only end badly for our people."

  "But the Squiver in blue, they can't be as dangerous as you say."

  I wish I was wrong. I really do. But the Svost are the Empire's version of the Density bomb. They are only called in when a threat that no other caste can conquer arises.

  My people prefer to throw soldiers at problems, generally, and support those fighters with thaumatists and a skilled general caste. My caste. Most encounters with the tribals can be, eventually, resolved through repetitive application of directed violence. One cannot reason with the mindless horde trying to kill them, after all.

  But occasionally the tribals absorb a race that can stand firm against the destruction my caste specializes in. Sometimes, very rarely, ancient technology surfaces that cannot be utilized and must be rendered inert. Then, when the Empire has no other answer, the Svost must be released.

  "I do not think we have many options, Ship-Mother. However, once the dust eaters are within your office I will be able to gain some potentially useful information."

  "I hope you're right," she answers uncertainly.

  She sits back down and spends the available time adjusting her uniform and putting away the thriving population of tablets upon her sturdy desk. The devices seem to be reproducing.

  We wait in tense silence for Pel Ansta to lead her retinue through the winding tunnels. I decide to add a small amount of herbal scent to the air, to help Eva maintain her composure while surrounded by so many of my kind. A dronefeather deposits a fragrant plant fresh from a local garden inside the vent. It finishes its task just in time; a knock on the door announces their arrival.

  "Let them in, please."

  I open the door, allowing the Ship-Mother to retain her seat and thus reinforce her position. Donnan steps aside to allow Pel Ansta and her followers to crowd into the office. Three Pel, the 'shell and its two handlers, and the blue robed killer form a tight group on the far side of the desk.

  Eva's face grows wan in the close quarters. Realizing that the smell of so many alien bodies must be as distasteful for her as it would be for me, I increase the ventilation by a fifth. The Ship-Mother mouths a silent thanks to the camera before settling her features and facing her visitors.

  "By what right do you enter my domain and make demands of me?" Her voice is imperious, startlingly loud to issue from so slight a frame, and yet she gives no impression of shouting.

  "Forgive us, Mother of Many Ships," begins the large Pel. She reaches up with two of her left lower tendrils and loosens he straps of her harness enough that it slips down and reveals her mottled face. She then lowers herself and positions her tendrils as would be appropriate to beg from a veteran Mos. "The Duv require that we do so. They command and all castes obey."

  While they speak, my mind whirls in search of some solution to this. I do not wish to be retired once more, to be smashed and left dead and useless when I can still be of benefit to my people. Think!

  I sink deeply into the waters of myself. My conscious connection to the station drifts away but remains where I can easily reach it. Accessing the senses unique to my core becomes easier with each attempt.

  I look using esoteric senses at all those within the sphere of my altered awareness. First, I focus upon the Ship-Mother.

  Eva Chel sits upon a throne of pure energy that connects directly to the living systems around us. Her body pulses with thermal energy and lightning forms a net within her skull. Chemicals capture and release energy within her cells constantly, fueling both these and other kinds of energy change and exchange.

  It's almost overwhelming. I pull back my focus, looking at things from farther away and the pressure lessens.

  The Pel before me glow with protective runes and enhancement arrays. Inside their bodies they remain pure. The same can be said for none of the thaumatists.

  These three are twisted inside. Organs of energy, runic constructs, and strange growths fill the chitinous bodies of the dust eaters. The Jurer and Somner are faulty magitech engines built piecemeal. Each can perform various tasks, at the cost of their very selves, that would be impossible without these tumorous structures. The current passing between them flashes in a ruddy, brownish-red color. I think they're mixing their personal power together to grant them greater control of the construct between them.

  Glowing with the same red-brown shades, the thing between them shines with almost orderly precision. Artificial organs mimic functions of a true body but process runic energy that the arrays carved into its carapace provide. Discordant patches upon it hint that these portions of the arrays are the legacy of the donor body, preexistent to this 'shells animation.

  The Svost makes the other two's mutations seem laughable, pathetic in comparison. More twisted by far but aiming for a single purpose, this being is a weapon with only one setting. The organs within this one suggest twisting and crushing to my untrained senses. How that would manifest within normal reality remains to be seen. I prefer not to find out what the violet glowing arrays strung throughout their body can do.

  While I'm puzzling over the pathways within the dust eaters, seeking a weak point I could attack, Eva stands. Arms uncross from her chest, and she points at the largest Pel. She makes some declaration, though I miss much of it before reconnection with the station's surveillance systems establishes.

  "-nal. Come back tomorrow and we'll follow peacefully."

  "Agreed," answers Pel Ansta. She leaves, taking the others with her.

  Eva sinks back into her chair. "I'm sorry, Mos."