I don't like standing out. I don't like poking my head out from among the crowd. I don't despise it but I’d prefer if that weren't the case. I have always told myself that I would do it if I had to. It's been one full dawn since they took Mubbers away and here I was, in my undergarb, on my bed and in a blurred trance. Not wanting to think or make any judgement. I am not the loudest or brashest, I know that, however, it had been a long while since I self-reflected.

I was late for class. I would be taking Mubbers’ class too until a replacement had been posted. He taught a level above me. I can handle it. A stupid thing to think in retrospect. I slipped on my tracks and was on my way to class when Fenrod stopped me. He did not say anything that I did not already know. “Sorge, you'll be taking on Mubbers’ students.”

I did not want to look affected by anything that had happened the previous dawn. Nevertheless, I saw the pity that marked Fenrod's face. Certainly why he did not also assign his class to me. I entered Mubbers’ class. They'd heard what became of their tutor by the expressions on their faces. I smiled.

“Brightdawn!” The greeting did not come out as cheery as I had planned it. That didn't matter though, there was no response.

“Get out your pads and read the Krakian thirteenth propaganda. I will ask questions.” I made it a reading, no one would have listened to me, anyway. Some obeyed, some slouched on their desks. Better than I expected. I sat at a corner and wrote questions on my pad. Some time passed and I realized I had not written anything save for half-hearted doodles. I had spaced out.

“Panner Sorge.” One of Mubbers’ students called me—didn't know his name.

“What is it?”

“What happened to Panner Mubbers?”

I sat up, “Why do you ask?”

“We just want to know?”

We? I scoured their faces. Blends of curiosity and sadness.

I huffed out a breath, “He has been taken to the Iron Capital.”

“For what?”

“He's okay,” I lied. “Don't worry about him.”

“Please, we just want to know.”

Other delegates would have already spread news of the assassination. I stood up and wanted to say something but no words formed. What had happened? I did not know either and did not ask.

“Did he kill the Iron Emperor?” Another student asked.

What? “Who told you that? The Iron Emperor is not dead.” I said, matter-of-factly.

“Then what?”

“Panner Mubbers was accused of being a trai—” I caught the word by the tip of my tongue. Had I believed that? Mubbers, a traitor? When? Where? How? “This class is over. You all need rest.”

I bailed out of the class before more queries were thrown at me and slid the door firmly shut. It was crucial that I see Mabeth. I rounded the midsection of the terminal twice. Checked the top once and was about to give up when she found me. I did not find her, she found me.

“You were looking for me?” She was tying her hair as she said. “I was in Med. One of my girls sprained a knee.” We sat on a bench.

“You heard what happened to Mubbers?”

“Yes.”

“And you believe?”

She did not answer.

“Mubbers was here two dusks ago. You don't think he would plan an assassination, do you?” I asked her, level-headedly.

“I don't know, Sorge. Why would the Pilgrim have any reason to lie? And why Mubbers anyway?”

“An error? Someone to lay blame on? It's not the first time the Empire has done it. Kowen? Maels? Dafney?” I started recalling names of people from my history classes punished despite unfounded claims.

“There’ll be a trial. If there's nothing to hide, he will be freed.”

I realised at this point that some people may have had much more faith in the Empire than I had estimated. I rid my face of any flare. “I just wanted your take on it. I'll be off.”

What I really wanted was for someone else to admit how ridiculous of an accusation it was. Mubbers did not look back when I had called him. I felt that he already knew his fate when he stepped out of the Interrogation Room. Where was he when I knocked on his door?

I went down to our wing and tried sliding his section open. It was jammed. I tried again and when it would not budge, I constructed a crowbar and was hoping no one passed the corridors as I forced Mubbers’ section open. His bed was well made. His overhead shelf was cleared. The room had been cleaned to the speck. I checked his Waste room for any clues. But there was nothing at all. Nothing that could help.

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Stubbornness was growing in me and I was revulsed by anyone passing by me. Funny that. It pleased me the dawn before when no one paid attention to the Iron Capital wretches but now I hated everyone for it. Everyone went about as if nothing had happened. I was undeniably growing concerned for Mubbers and as I tramped to the Serjeant's station I made the decision to poke my head from among the crowd.

The Serjeant was there reading a relief map and I confess, I barged in. However, not the hysterical kind of barging in. I only entered uninvited and was determined to get an answer. The Pilot-Serjeant may not have been the kindest man but he was firm and upstanding. Or so I believed. Mayhap, I had been so naive. We were so tiny in terminal E1, our small world and I thought we were tiny enough not to be noticed. How fatuously wrong!

“What do you want?” He knew what I wanted.

“You watched as one of your delegates was bundled off and you did nothing?” I said with defiant eyes. I did not shout though. I always made it a point not to.

“Don't get brave, Sorge.”

“I just want an answer. And it seems as if no one has one in this place.”

“Sit down.”

I took a chair and he sat across from me on the other end of the table. “I pride myself in speaking the truth whenever I can. And it would be a facetious lie to tell you I understand what is going on. I don't. But what I can assure you of is that this is merely procedural. I don't believe Mubbers has done anything wrong either. The Iron Emperor was wounded. Every delegate from the Iron Capital has probably been told to produce results. They wouldn't say but it may be at the cost of death. There would be scores of Panners at the capital now awaiting trial. A majority of them would be released. Mubbers included.”

“I am not a child, Serjeant. On the fifty-second star of Xlenonius I’s reign, twenty three Pilgrims were thrown into the Hole when they admitted the impossibility of extending the Emperor's life. Before that, on the second star of Xeta’s reign Area of Base Garana was sunk for refusing to pay a Waste tax they did not have. Let's not pretend like The Great Dome has ever been gracious.” Those were extreme situations but he got my point. “I can only imagine what would happen when the Iron Emperor himself has been injured.” I went over to the door. “Mubbers is a dead man. We both know it.” The defeated look on his face confirmed it.

I sound crazy, at times even to myself. But my usual crazy is scratching the end of my throat with one of my constructs or pressing a sphere down on my eyeball. This crazy was different. I was going to travel to the Iron Dome. I was going to save my friend Mubbers. And some others too. I tried humouring myself. Tried quelling the panic filling me. I quietly believed I would sleep out the motivation and wake up tomorrow accepting this new reality.

First, Hstrad. Then, bibliotheca. Lockdown had been lifted so there was fear of not finding Hstrad. One sojourn could take several dawns and if I had any chance of rescuing Mubbers, I couldn't do it without Hstrad. He was the only Pilot that could remotely hear the sense in what I was saying especially since Mubbers was the person involved. I think I was just telling myself that to keep up hopes. If Hstrad said no, then I had no plan.

Pilots occupied another wing of the terminal. I trudged there, hopeful. But, I wasn't surprised that I had to wait hours before Hstrad returned from wherever he was. I did not want to run the risk of missing him by searching all over the terminal.

“Hstrad.”

“Yea. Any problem?” He was always casual and friendly. Wasn't so opinionated and did whatever he was asked to, like most of us. I kept convincing myself.

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Mubbers.”

When I said the name, the casual ambiance around him dropped. “What of him?” He asked.

Maybe there was a drug that wasn't administered to me because I did not possess this blind faith in the Iron Capital. “He is going to die.” I almost said that like a question. Everyone knew what had happened to him.

“Why?”

“Nevermind.” I didn't bother. He was playing dumb so that I'd have to explain it to him. Then, he'd pretend he didn't understand enough of what was going on to do anything about it.

I did not say earlier but while I was waiting for him, I planned for both a yes and a no answer. I am a Panner after all. I am a Panner after all. I repeated inwardly. I am a Panner after all. I told myself once more. I was crazy. I wasn't going to sleep away my motivation. I am saving Mubbers and I don't care who I have to coerce.

The bibliotheca was at the basest section of E1. Frequented mostly by advanced students and loggers. No one was superintendent over the general section but the Developed and Specialized Training section was fronted by Proets. The other students would need clearance to get in there. Not me, my badge sufficed. I greeted him with a nod and passed into the place.

Environmental, vehicular, infrastructural, lethal. I had trained in all but since becoming a Panner, there hadn't been any need beyond infrastructural. I was rusty in other areas but that was for lack of practice. Iron pads were slated each above the other with models sculpted atop them. Panner Denaeyetus, one of the mightiest war Panners to ever live, summarised it thus: For lethal, tangible over sophisticated.

Lethal constructs did not need too much definition, I just needed to make sure I hit well. Terminal E1's bibliotheca did not have Denaeyetus’ war models though, so I studied simpler ones.

I am not the most physically built. I can't plow through opponents with staffs or manoeuvre my way around with battle swords. So in the inevitable event of a clash, I favoured distance. I skimmed through more models. Double-fronted battle crescents, spinning spheres, serrated pod-preyers. Fenrod was going to be mad. I had missed my class and would miss a briefing later that dawn.

The next section was vehicular. Travel baskets, pods, rangers, port-skippers. Travel baskets are the most common form of travel and they are powered by Waste, and metal balloons. I was still figuring out where I would get enough Waste for the sojourn. The balloon part was not hard for a Panner. I just needed a bare minimum exoskeleton to work with. Actually the balloon part is hard, even for the most capable Panners. It was why they had to be specially engineered—the Waste kept the basket afloat while the metal balloon steered the vehicle. Each metal plate was as important as the next because they folded and tucked and unfurled sideways in order to control direction. I needed the balloon model as I could not memorise the nuance of each plate there and then.

Proets would not let me leave the DST section with a whole model. It was a problem. If I lied that Dolony cleared me on it, he'd just ask Dolony.

I am really crazy. I deconstructed the model piece by piece. I hid the specially curved ones and the ones depending on the exoskeleton to work inside my tracks. I could not afford missing the slightest curves or arc in a single plate.

I ventured out with a terrible attempt at an innocent visage, bobbed my head at Proets and left.

In less than a week, I would be out.