The Sha oversee the casteless workers in their excavation. The thaumatists direct the actions of the Sha. Bruen watches them all, ready to take command in case of emergency or a sudden attack.

  It is dull work, and he is thankful that it is almost over. With the armor wearing Tserri assisting his workers, the chamber is rapidly emptying. Large carts bear the loose stone to be processed. Different minerals have different uses, though Bruen knows few of them.

  The Sha know much more, ordering certain stones to be kept separate from the growing waste piles. Some of their number clean and crush whitish rock, perhaps in preparation for use as construction material. Others place heating devices around the ready powder.

  He thinks it strange that such a small community of his kind is expected to survive amidst a larger alien community. He doesn't worry about it long, though. Somner Zek interrupts his brooding, as she so often does, with an outburst he does not expect.

  "Mos Bruen," she announces, after flouncing over to his side. "Don Yosip wants you to get your crusty hide over to command and make your good-byes. He's installing a new targeting display for the turret, and he'll be leaving when he's finished. He also said he ain't afraid to make you find your own ride if you get lost on the way."

  "While Don Yosip is free to describe me however he sees fit," Bruen remarks calmly, "it is my expectation that from here on you leave his exact phrasing to my imagination and just give me the overall meaning."

  He waves respectfully to the robed figures forming a cluster amid the activity. They acknowledge him, then return to their work preparing protective arrays and atmospheric control formations. The Sha are too entranced with their own labors to notice his presence, his absence will not be felt.

  "Why kill the fun portion of passing messages?" Her tone and posture are both inappropriately casual, causing a ripple of reaction from the casteless.

  They'll have to get used to a lot worse, thinks Bruen. To Zek he replies, "You will find another form of play. One that does not cause me grief, perhaps?"

  Hearing his more formal reply, Zek takes quick stock of her surroundings. She stiffens, "As you say, Mos."

  The small group of watchers relax. She is not yet a danger to them. Bruen relaxes his own stance a small fraction, which Zek copies with evident relief. Bruen lazily lifts a tendril in the lower castes' direction and they return to work. They load large stones into the large carts and sweep up smaller debris. Others unload supplies under the direction of Sha artisans. Those unable to find a useful task instead withdraw to the entrance of the massive chamber.

  Bruen passes them on his way outside. Four of them, they are too small to serve the military. Their coloration is wan, and they show other signs of malnourishment; thin carapaces, film covered eyes, slack mouthparts. The brown tunics they wear are ragged and stained. He pauses in front of them and the four lower themselves.

  "You all, come with me. You will observe the actions of the command crew while I meet with the leader here. Afterwards, you will tell me everything you learn." He waits for them to affirm their understanding. "Good. Zek, reserve a table for six. Somewhere that the tourists don't know about, if you can find it."

  Bruen tosses her a small sack of the local currency. "I'll find something," she promises. She slides off quickly, credit chits clinking in her clutch.

  He leads his new followers through the many corridors of the station. It is some distance to Eva's office; each new addition to the city-like structure is by necessity further from the center. They pass many instances of ornamentation on their way and stop often to examine particularly intricate carvings. Bruen usually instigates these short pauses. Secretly, he hopes that one of the workers will become inspired enough to attempt to earn a place in an artisan caste.

  Once the small group reaches the command center, the casteless roam about independently, spreading themselves throughout the warren of offices and command consoles. The busy clerks and administrators pay scant mind to the newcomers; they know they'll be under watch for at least the next season.

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

  The door to the Ship-Mother's office opens and Bruen glides through. Inside she sits with an armored Tserri female, neither of which seem happy. The central screen shows the view from inside a small tent. The interior is full of stacks of boxes labeled with things like 'Sample-13 j through m' or "Unknown particulate 3' in the Trader language.

  "Well, find him," orders the Ship-Mother. Her tone from atop her subtly raised seat is imperious. She bangs one fist upon her massive desk.

  "Yes, ma'am," replies an unseen male voice. "If El lets us leave camp."

  "Just do your best, Zsuchus," recommends the Tserri. "We have to go, the delegate from Sba City is here."

  "Yes, ma'am," Zsuchus repeats. The screen goes dark immediately after.

  The two in the office turn their full attention on Bruen, still standing in the doorway. He hurries to enter, tendrils twisting in embarrassment. He stops in front of the desk, beside the Tserri. Donna, he recalls, recognizing her.

  "Sorry to interrupt," he states, dipping slightly. When Eva waves away his apology he asks, "Is there trouble?"

  Growling before she answers, Donna says, "That idiot Dunc."

  Eva grunts, "Yeah." She crosses her arms and leans back. "My own fault. I shouldn't have brushed aside his worries."

  Donna starts to defend herself, all four arms waving erratically, but Eva speaks over her.

  "You couldn't have stopped him, he outranks you." Her frown deepens. She mutters, "Not that it means much out here," before raising her voice again. "He hasn't done anything illegal yet, so when he's found we'll just have him escorted back."

  "He stole a shuttle!" Donna stands and adds, "Nothing illegal, right."

  "His rank allows him to requisition anything he needs, if he remembers to fill out the right forms after," counters the Ship-Mother. "Just to be sure, Mos Denn, could you get the correct forms ready for us?"

  The synthesized voice of the elder answers, "Of course, Ship-Mother."

  "Thanks," she answers, relaxing slightly. "Was there something you needed, Mos Bruen?"

  Appreciation fills Bruen with warmth. Unlike the others of her kind that he commonly treats with, Eva Chel often remembers to address him properly, only omitting the caste designator on repeated uses of his name. Yosip could take lessons from her in diplomacy, reflects Bruen.

  "Don Yosip wishes me to offer our mutual respects to both yourself and Mos Denn," Bruen answers. "I would stay longer but it is clear that you are busy."

  Eva sits up quickly at his words. "No, please stay. I would appreciate your thoughts on the situation, planet side."

  "Very well."

  "You walked in on the problem, actually," she explains. "Dunc, with nobody outranking him onboard Kalibern, decided to take a shuttle down to the planet. He's inside the artifact now, we think, but he's using a modified suit."

  "No camera," states the synthetic voice. "Special order from Glian's shop. I found the receipts."

  Eva snorts at the interruption. "Right. We have video of him going inside, from Grita's suit, but the local security are preventing our people from going after him."

  Donna shifts in her seat beside him. At a glance from the Ship-Mother, she confesses, "I'm about ready to lead a team or two of skulls down there to sort this out. Regardless of what the Grand Matron thinks of it."

  "Let's not do anything we'll regret, just yet," Eva argues. "If we make the Matron too mad at us, life will become very unpleasant."

  A low growl from the Tserri answers her.

  Bruen has to consider the situation carefully. If one of his soldiers were to act without orders, it must be for a useful purpose. "Of course, my soldiers would not act in ways they know to be harmful to the Empire or our people, so it would be my duty to understand why they were to disobey orders."

  The Ship-Mother's smile becomes victorious. "So it matters more why he's doing what he is, than that it isn't what he's supposed to be doing?"

  "Perhaps. If it were found that the soldier was behaving in ways that the Empire would find shameful, they would be executed. Otherwise, the actions would be considered meritorious."

  "My translator must be broken," exclaims Donna. "You didn't just say he deserves a reward for disobedience!"

  "Not exactly," hedges Bruen. "If his actions, unilaterally implemented, prove to be of value to the Empire, or Imperium in this case, a reward would not be undeserved. True initiative is rare among my kind and is cultivated when found. I believe your peoples overly endowed with independence so you might view the matter differently."

  The pleased look upon the Ship-Mother's gray visage contrasts with the consternated expression upon Donna's dark-furred face.

  "When we get an explanation from Dunc, I'll make a decision. Until then, we'll just have to trust him."

  "A sound judgement," agrees Bruen. "If you have no further use for me, I have obligations to attend to."

  "As always, it is good to see you," announces a speaker hidden in the wall. Bruen's posture straightens and whatever words the Ship-Mother speaks swirl past him unheard.

  "And to hear from you," agrees Bruen before turning to exit the office.

  Gathering together the casteless workers on his way through the warren of offices, Bruen cannot help but reflect upon the brief meeting. Perhaps, when the time comes to train an apprentice, he will not be so unready as he had been fearing.