My confusion increases as my Bruen leaps between the white giant and the two officers, for he raises his tendrils threateningly at us. Would Bruen really strike down Yosip and Eva at this monster's command?

  This thing is no Duv!

  Its waxy, blotch-marred carapace is full of yellow scar tissue. Blue pulses visibly beneath the thin and flaky chitin. As it moves it cracks and leaves white dust drifting to the ground. Cloudy eyes peer blindly as it grasps about with facial feelers to pull scents from the surroundings. The voice that should be commanding and impressive is a raspy slur and barely comprehendible. Only my translation programs allow me to understand it at all.

  The imposter moves sluggishly, dragging its sagging bulk upon trembling tentacles. It quivers, not in rage but from impotence. I do not think it could hurt the gray officers protecting me if they were to stand still and let it. My Bruen is another matter.

  Rumors are that Yosip and he are evenly matched. From all accounts their spars always end inconclusively. This, I am sure, is only because Mos Bruen does not wish to utterly destroy Yosip. In order to care for and protect my dying body, Bruen of course must be able to be delicate or whip fast as needed.

  Normally he would move with control and grace. Right now, he moves with killing intent.

  Though, to be fair to Yosip I must also assume that he never seriously fought either. It would be poor manners to kill your employer in a training match, after all. If he were to dedicate himself to the task, he might be able to escape but I still do not believe he could win. Even if he did not have to protect Eva and myself, I would favor Bruen in a duel between them.

  The monster must be releasing the contagion my sensors inform me of. The readings increase the longer we spend with the foul abomination. The indicators flashing on Yosip's wrist no doubt tell him the same thing. We do not have long before the gray officers are also infected, overcome by the airborne pathogen.

  I do not know whether Eva Chel is a capable fighter, but she does not give me the impression she will be of much use if things progress. This is not a challenge that she can delegate or solve through negotiation. Bruen would rip her apart effortlessly.

  "That won't be necessary," I announce loudly enough for those outside the pavilion to hear. The attention of everyone in the tent moves to me. I try to stall for time while I open the main hatch on my travel case and prepare to activate the eject feature. "If you will release the aliens safely, I will surrender."

  "Quiet, rock," Yosip grunts. He readies himself to act, regardless. "I don't want to do this, Bruen! Calm down."

  "Give it to me," hisses the grotesque thing pretending to be a member of the ruling caste. Feeble tendrils crack and bleed as it gestures at my protective case. "Now!"

  Bruen rocks forward at the thing's words. Yosip steps toward him as well, both hands curling into heavy metal fists.

  To forestall a confrontation between two whom I would be loath to lose, I activate the ejection function. Tiny mechanisms push me out of the case. My spherical form hurtles through the air. The bleary eyes of the giant follow my movement.

  Don Yosip blocks my Bruen's attempt to catch me. It is the delicate hands of the Ship-Mother that close around me, preventing me from shattering against the uncaring stones below.

  I flash brightly, warning my protectors in smuggler's code. They draw deeply of the tainted air and close their eyes tightly. I'm glad that they respond so.

  The thermal energy I release from me manifests as waves of scorching air. The hidden arrays preform their duty admirably, absorbing the heat as fast as I can create it. I do not relent, and a shell of blistering air begins to form around me. Eva falls to her knees. She drops me, scorched fingers unable to maintain her grip. I land with a tinkle on the smooth stones.

  I release another blast of thermal energy. Hot winds blow as the air immediately around me heats and expands. The atmosphere within the pavilion becomes stifling, but I increase my output yet more. I can feel the runic defenses straining to function, overloading under the assault.

  The taint is still corrupting my Bruen. His mind is not his own. I have to overpower the runes stifling my attempts!

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  Eva's uniform, already black, shows little sign of the charring that it undergoes. Only the thin wisps of dark smoke give away its weakening state. Yosip leaps over and covers her body with his. His artificial limbs can more easily survive the rising temperatures than soft flesh.

  Yosip's zelsilk vest is first to ignite. More flammable than the artificial fibers of the Imperium uniforms, his traditional garments smolder. Red embers spread across his body. Yosip rips the smoldering fabric from his gray form and dashes it to the ground. Runes glowing on his arms and legs protect his body from the worst of the scorching winds.

  Still, it is not enough.

  The very air shimmers from the extreme heat I produce. Energy courses through me until it begins to ache. Just a little more. A distant energy pattern cracks and flickers. The protective arrays fail around us. A flash of orange-blue flame roars through the pavilion, licking at the hanging drapes of cloth. Finally.

  I halt my efforts, but not before I feel something within my physical form crack. Strangely, it doesn't hurt as much as I might expect.

  Yosip and Eva both slap at their alien forms, attempting to extinguish the tiny flames that spring from their clothing and crests. Bruen, his own uniform falling around him in charred tatters, reels. I may have injured his lung, but that can be healed. He collapses, smoke escaping from his mouthparts.

  Behind him the white monstrosity screams in rage. Its dry and dying form now bears a sooty film. My heat takes the protective mucus layer and renders it inert on the monster as effectively as upon my Bruen.

  I regret having to hurt him but can think of no better way to have protected myself and my companions. My Bruen will understand, once he recovers.

  More concerning by far are the energy signatures closing in upon us. At least one of those coming is a Svost. The structure of their alterations marks them among the Jurers and Somners that quickly surround us.

  "Give me options, Denn," commands Eva. There might be more to her order, but it is lost in a fit of coughing. She spits out a mouthful of sooty phlegm.

  Thinking as quickly as a I can, I can come up with only one possible way to survive this. "Get close to the albino. The dust eaters will not risk harming it," I flash in code.

  Before I finish my instructions to them, Yosip leaps into action. Dark drool runs down his chrome chin, but his face is set in serious lines. He grabs Eva's free hand and pulls her bodily toward the stinking heap of chitin. The two aliens collapse next to the monstrosity.

  Bruen's tendrils twitch, spasming in automatic reaction to the extreme temperature changes. One lower tendril strikes Yosip's mechanical leg, leaving a smear of charred mucus upon the metal.

  The gray officer looks at the scorched general, worry plain upon his face, before hauling himself once more to his feet. He reaches one artificial hand down to the Ship-Mother. She takes it with a small nod before he lifts her upright as well. Of all three of them, her garments fare the best; only large sections of her uniform are blackened or missing.

  Yosip wipes his jaw with his free hand but only spreads the stain. "Alright, now what?" A flake of ash, caught in the whirling wind, impacts his jaw and bursts into drifting powder.

  "The most dangerous one will be in blue. Leave that one to me. Yosip, keep the Ship-Mother safe."

  The cloth walls melt and fall to the dark ground around us. Controlling the acidity of their mucus is a common mutation among Jurers and it is they that open the way for their fellows. Fifteen total thaumatists take places around the perimeter of the collapsing pavilion.

  "If you beasts attempt to further harm our leader," threatens one of the dust eaters, "we'll be forced to destroy you."

  The writhing beast, monstrous in its form that mocks the glory of a Duv, twists its body and crushes the robed figure. It seems the creature is not as defenseless as it looks. All the more reason to keep it clear of my companions and to free Bruen as quickly I can. The spreading blue stain flows over the rocks and drips from the bloated caricature. Shards of shattered carapace, thick with organic nodules and wires, float in the puddle forming around the crushed robes.

  I may be mistaken, but I believe it yells, "Do not touch it! It is mine!"

  Fourteen robed bodies prostrate themselves before this imitation, this mockery. They act as if this horror is of the ruling caste, quaking in their concealing robes. Even the Svost lowers to the ground, looking like nothing so much as another spreading puddle of death.

  Bruen, tendrils taut with restrained rage, rises slowly from the dark gravel. Runes engraved into his carapace and sealed in lacquer prevent much of the harm that should have been done to his body. Ashes cover his body, stifling the light of some arrays.

  "I do not wish to spar again," Bruen mumbles in a daze. He rubs at his face with his upper tendrils. "Go play with Yosip."

  One green robed dust eater rises first and saunters past the others. Drab robes swish across the black gravel. The structures inside this one form a familiar, almost orderly arrangement. Is this Somner Zek?

  "Mine," whines the trembling giant.

  Zek throws back her hood, revealing her identity. "Don Yosip, would you please escort the Ship-Mother back to her home? We've matters of great urgency to deal with," she states pleasantly. Her tendrils remain within the enveloping folds of her robes; their shifting can be seen as they press against the thick fabric.

  "Sorry, Zek," grunts Yosip. "I'm not gonna let Denn or Bruen be punished for something outside their control."

  Beside him, Eva glares at Zek. Her features are set in grim lines though her eyes twinkle with amusement. "Not so fast. Now that we're past the bluster and act fierce portion of the meeting, it's time to begin the actual negotiations."