There was something very special about the way Nara moved. It was effortless and natural, rather than any kind of deliberate, forced display; that air of an apex predator. Just like Saketa.

The Warden let the door close on its own, and for a few moments she seemed to take Vanaka in some more. It was enough time for all sorts of thoughts to shoot through Vanaka’s mind; most prominently the question of whether Saketa’s tolerance had been a fluke.

“I know we already met,” Nara then said. “But now with some privacy, let us face one another without pretence. Greetings, Vanaka.”

“Greetings yourself,” Vanaka said, feeling the ground beneath her become slightly firmer. “I... suppose Saketa talked about me? She did mention some collective story... account... thing your people have. A collective of reports by Wardens.”

“The Shallelo,” Nara said. “Yes. And your people were known to mine already.”

“She mentioned that too.”

Vanaka inhaled.

“Do you have a problem with me, Warden? Please be honest.”

“I am always honest,” Nara said. “A Warden is required to be.”

Nara turned her gaze on Losan.

“You are... hers?” she asked.

“Two years now,” he replied without any self-consciousness about it.

“Fully hers, then?”

“That is now how it works.”

Nara nodded.

“Then that is that.”

She turned her attention back to Vanaka.

“I understand your people tend to be adverse to travel. In part, at least, because of your needs. How do you sustain yourself? It cannot only be him.”

Vanaka hesitated.

“None can hear us,” the woman assured her. “The door is thick,” she knocked on it with a stick of some sort she was carrying, “and they have a signal scrambler in there.”

“I travel with one other,” Vanaka replied. “And I... avail myself, as opportunities arise.”

“Of the slavers?”

“And any others, when I need to. But only in passing. This itinerant travelling is no time for me to be taking new companions.”

“Then we have no problem at all,” Nara said. “My people have an understanding of predators. Some cultures characterise the forces of nature as an enemy, as evil, in their mythologies, way of speaking and general thought. Mine does not. Predators must do as they must do, and that is all there is to it.”

“I have never, nor will I ever, apologise for being what I am,” Vanaka said. She wasn’t even sure why she said it. It just felt so utterly strange to be speaking frankly with someone not under a Vylak’s sway.

“Indeed,” Nara said. “Be what you are. Just be aware how people react to predators caught in the act.”

“All of my kin are perfectly aware of that, Warden. You can trust me on that.”

“Of course. But please relieve my curiosity: Why are you wandering at all, in a galaxy that bends towards hostility over your nature?”

Here was that question again, for the second time in one day.

“There are many reasons, Warden,” Vanaka said. “But I suppose the quick, concise explanation is simply ‘Saketa’. She asked me to give back to the universe, the... the ‘positive energy’ she had given me when I needed it. And... so I am trying.”

“She will talk like that,” Nara said.

“And if my travels have taught me anything at all, it is that no people are uniform.”

“Oh, certainly not. Though there are definitely trends.”

“Yes,” Vanaka said. “And... on that topic: Is Saketa typical? Among your people?”

Something came over Nara. Vanaka wasn’t quite sure what it was at first, and tentatively identified it as amusement of sorts. She opted to break the silence by pointing out the stick in Nara’s hand.

“She didn’t carry one of those, for instance.”

The Warden waved her tool through the air a little. It seemed to be made of some manner of plant matter, and Vanaka would have mistaken it for a walking stick if the knob at the top wasn’t clearly more for impact than for gripping.

“This is a traditional local weapon,” the woman said. “I enjoy trying out different melee weapons on my own travels.”

She struck out with it, although the balcony didn’t have much room for a proper blow.

“Do you two collect anything?” she asked.

“Not me,” Losan said.

“We travel a bit light,” Vanaka admitted. “I only collect what I can... carry within.”

The woman seemed to get her double meaning and smiled.

“Can I see that?” Losan asked, and got the club. He moved it about skilfully. “Hm. It’s better balanced than it looks.”

“There is nothing people develop to more perfection than weapons,” Nara said and took her stick back. “Well, weapons and food.”

She turned to Vanaka.

“But you asked me a question. Saketa... ” the woman said slowly, “... is so typical that it sometimes hurts a little.”

“You or her?”

Nara laughed softly.

“Me. And a few others, I think. She embraces our ways and traditions to the absolute letter. If you want to know the core of the Kalero Wardens... then, well, you have already made the acquaintance. It can be a bit insufferable at times. But she...”

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The Warden trailed off.

“What?” Vanaka asked. “Is she alright?”

“She was alive, when last I knew,” Nara said, and Vanaka saw a weight settle on the woman. “But Kalero itself was attacked, some time ago. It... it left various kinds of scars.”

“I had heard something about that,” Vanaka. “But it was all vague enough that I wasn’t sure if it was true.”

She caught herself.

“Oh! And sorry. I am sorry about that. I should have said that first. But can you tell me more?”

The Warden clearly considered it, but her demeanour projected the answer in advance.

“I am sorry too,” Nara said. “I know that a lack of information leads people to torment themselves, but this is an internal matter.”

Vanaka swallowed her frustration. Who knew more about private internal matters than the Vylak people?

“Well,” she said instead of insisting. “Do you expect to see her any time relatively soon?”

The Warden hesitated again.

“I hope to,” Nara then said

“If you do,” Vanaka said. “Please give her my regards. And tell her that all the help she gave remains very dear to my heart.”

“If I see her, then I will tell her.”

“Thank you.”

With that they were out of things to say and Vanaka walked back into the apartment.

“I believe I will be heading off,” she said to everyone. “The two of us. I better make arrangements for that lounge before the spot is taken.”

“Will you be heading west?” Kiris asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“I would like to walk with you for some of the distance,” the Chanei said. “I need to be somewhere else, and there is safety in numbers.”

“Certainly,” Vanaka told her. “Are you ready to go?”

The woman picked up a small bag and fastened it to the inside of her coat.

“I am now.”

Vanaka turned to Unta.

“So, you are really set on comm silence?”

“It’s for the best, circumstances being what they are,” he told her. “Once you have some kind of update...” He pointed at Losan. “Either one of you just come back here with it.”

“Will do,” Vanaka said. “Farewell for now.”

The three of them left the apartment and then the pillar itself, stepping back out onto the circular platform. Vanaka checked her map one last time to be certain of her route and then headed off down 108-253.

Neither of her companions seemed to have anything to say as they went from platform to bridge to platform. It was to be expected with Losan, especially when he was on guard, but Vanaka did not quite know what to make of the Chanei. The woman was consistently in the back of their little group. At one point Vanaka tried to subtly slow down and Kiris followed suit, so clearly it was a deliberate choice.

They walked a half-circle around a pillar, past a row of small taverns. It wasn’t really the fun kind meant for travellers or casual get-togethers. These had more the vibe of places where a certain section of the locals gathered to numb their misery. There was an edge to the raised voices, and a certain desperation to much of the drinking that Vanaka witnessed during the non-stop stroll past all this, and she could well understand why Kiris had preferred company.

They passed down a sloping bridge onto a lower level of platforms on the other side, and now walked by a section of securely shuttered openings. Something about the atmosphere cost Vanaka the last of her patience for the ongoing silence.

“So, you are a Wanderer?” she asked, and turned her head as she slowed down again.

“I am,” the Chanei said and returned her gaze. “For several years now.”

“And what do you do, exactly?”

Every Chainbreaker cell she’d ever interacted with had stressed secrecy and caution, but while there were people around they all had an air of minding their own business and no one got close enough to hear soft conversation.

“All Wanderers carry missions and news to some degree,” Kiris replied. “My comings and goings are generally not regular enough for much of the former, but I can manage the latter easily enough. And I have other ways of making myself useful, when needed.”

“Such as?”

“I have a talent for opening locks. And an eye for people. And a certain disposition.”

“Disposition?”

There was something rather dark in the look the woman suddenly had, but Vanaka simply had no idea what it was.

“Never mind,” Kiris told her. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“Right,” Vanaka said, ready enough to drop that particular thread. “But...”

She fumbled a bit for a topic, but she was tired of the silence.

“But it occurs to me that I’ve never really asked someone else in the network why they do all this. I know my own reasons, but... well, you’ve been at this for some years, you say. Have you noticed a common theme?”

A humourless smile flashed across the golden woman’s features.

“The common theme is generally pain of some kind,” she said. “Many of the members have been affected by the galactic trafficking trade, either on their own skin or that of a loved one. Hemut is a former slave, as am I. Reylo was a pirate, but had some kind of religious awakening, so now he does penance. Unta has a sense of justice and duty that was thrown back in his face by a broken, disinterested system. And... so on.”

“Hm,” Vanaka voiced. “Is that... why you do this? Because of your people’s situation?”

She had no idea what tone to use with that question, and didn’t even know what to call the one that came out.

“I suppose... it is a matter of debt,” Kiris told her. “To the network as a whole.”

“Hm.”

She was expecting a question about her own motives, but perhaps the woman had put enough together already.

“You know, I have never met one of your people before,” she said for the sake of continuing the conversation.”

“Most of us are still enslaved within the Old Kingdom,” Kiris replied without emotion. “Most of the rest live with the Federation. The rest of the rest is scattered this way and that. So that is no surprise at all.”

Vanaka cleared her throat.

“You mentioned having an eye for people. I took a course on humanity’s various manifestations. Is what I read about your people’s cognitive empathy true?”

The woman made some soft noise and seemed about to follow it with actual words, but delayed. Vanaka kept on looking at her, awaiting some sort of follow-up as she tried to understand this odd person.

“Vanaka,” Losan said. “This is the shortest route, right here.”

He was pointing down a covered bridge; a particularly long one by local standards. It connected with a man-made pillar, which was in turn connected with two other bridges. It was all poorly lit and seemed to have next to no traffic, but Vanaka worried about neither. The alternate route was up a short flight of stairs and onto one of Gorono’s many rings. It had more traffic, around a few late-night businesses, but its various connectors all led in a general northward direction.

“Will you be continuing on with us?” Vanaka asked their temporary companion. “Where do you need to go?”

Kiris made that noise again and positioned herself with her back turned on that small flight of stairs.

“To answer your question...” she said. “I do not think I have met one of your people either.”

It felt like a thousand different thoughts shot through Vanaka’s mind at once. Had the Warden spoken to Kiris? Had Vanaka slipped up somehow? But Kiris continued on before Vanaka’s silence had time to become awkward.

“It is like your muscles are somehow different,” the Chanei went on. “I am no biologist, but I feel there is some subtle difference there, in the way you move. Subtle because you cover it up. Not consciously, but with the ease of long experience. And you are wary of people, but at the same time... there is something of a predator in you. Not entirely unlike that Warden, except that she simply wears it openly. You keep a blanket over it, but it is there all the same, peeking out. Such as right now, in reaction to me bringing all this up.”

The woman had never stopped assessing her. It dawned on Vanaka that she was right; there was that semi-panicked impulse to bite her and erase this whole conversation. But she noticed that the Chanei had positioned herself pretty much directly in front of one of Gorono’s highly visible public cameras.

Kiris pointed at Losan.

“And he is more than a bodyguard. He is submissive to you. Not out of weakness, because he’s not weak. And not out of duty, or fear, or even sex, I think.”

The ansoti kept silent and stone-faced as the woman talked. She turned her attention back to Vanaka.

“But even with all that, I sense no duplicity from you, nothing insincere about your desire to help, even if I can’t help but question if you’re cut out for all this. Do not worry: You can keep your secrets. I do not need to know them. But I do know that I will not be going with you two down a dark, secluded route.”

She touched her forehead in a salute of sorts.

“Thank you for walking with me. Good night. And good luck with your hunt. We could do with a mysterious miracle.”

Kiris turned around and walked up the stairs.