The equatorial ring of the Craton never slept. With her population in the tens of thousands, there were always some awake and about, no matter the hour. The ship kept a 24-hour day/night cycle, but even late at 'night', when the lights dimmed and the great screens overhead showed a night sky, people were enjoying the amenities of the ship. It was noticeably fewer than in daytime, and the dimmed lighting lent it the feel of an evening, but that was all.

Dr. Verena Urle had gone nearly halfway around it, seeking to just walk and exhaust herself, before she realized she was being followed.

Her system did not recognize the man. He was neither a member of the Craton's complement, nor from the Medical Station. He was not even one of the recent people who boarded the ship from the Begonia system.

That left only one option.

Stopping, she turned to face him. "Ambassador," she said politely.

The man continued towards her, stopping just a few feet away. "Good evening, Doctor." His hair, that had been a dull brown, turned green.

"I was under the impression that your people kept their hair green to allow us to know who you are," she said.

"It is a courtesy," Kell replied. "Not a promise."

"Is there a reason you were following me?" she asked.

"You wished to find me, and so I presented myself. I am not adverse to talking to you."

Unless Zachariah had told the Ambassador, there was no way he should know about her interest. But seeing as he did, his answer made some sense - it served her purposes to play along for now.

"I see," she replied. "You are correct. I do wish to speak with you."

"Ask your questions," Kell told her flatly. He blinked; a slow deliberate action. It seemed practiced at appearing fully human in such behaviours most of the time; she wondered if it made this conscious error to appear less human or if it was truly distracted from its . . . performance.

"When I first met you on the Medical Station, I was surprised by my lack of reaction to you. It is very common, as I understand - and as well, there was something about you that was . . ."

"Familiar," Kell supplied.

"Precisely put," Verena said. "Why is this, Ambassador? At first I believed that perhaps it was your shape itself. That you replicated someone famous. But that does not fit; I have run your appearance through multiple databases and found nothing."

Kell arched his eyebrow. "Perhaps we should walk as we speak. There are many around."

She considered, then nodded. Curious that the being should wish to walk; part of her thought his desire bespoke a discomfort; the adrenal urge to flight.

But he was not human. Perhaps Shoggoths had similar patterns of behaviour, but she did not know.

They took a turn that brought them into one of the ship's gardens. The green oasis in the ship was both a garden for making fresh food for the populace as well as helping morale; seeing the plants and water served to calm many. Fish swam in some ponds, and though they could theoretically be eaten they largely served to help make the system more natural and appealing.

Water, though, she noted. Shoggoths were aquatic beings, she understood. Another comfort for the Ambassador, perhaps?

She did not give voice to that question, though. She had more important information to acquire.

"Can you tell me why you seem familiar to me?" she asked.

Kell had fallen into step beside her, and glanced to her. "Your kind are always asking us questions."

"Doctors?" she asked. "And it should be noted that you came to find me."

"It was merely an observation, and I meant humans. The alien beings sometimes ask questions, but humans do so more than any."

"So you will answer my question, then," she replied.

"First I would like to make a statement; do you understand why my kind are so bothered by the endless questions?"

"No," she admitted.

"Because we do not ask each other questions. We have been the only beings we . . . communicate with, for a very long time. And we do not even have a way to ask a question."

"That is intriguing," she admitted. "How, then, do you impart information?"

"When two Shoggoths touch, we share our knowledge. It is not a willful event, but the inevitable result of contact. Thus, among my kind the only way that one might keep a secret is by . . . isolation."

"I see. I must guess then, either your people accept that all information is shared or else you are all very hermetic."

"A mix of both. Anything one of us knows will be shared between all of the rest of us eventually. the amount of time does not matter, because it will be known and we will all still be alive for the repercussions."

"This would seem to suggest you would be more open with your information, rather than your . . . notable lack of interest in answering our questions."

"The structure is strange. And your kind - you can keep secrets. I have told Zachariah Urle before that my kind do not lie. It is something of a lie in itself; we are more than capable of the act, but we choose not to, even to your kind. If any of us did, it would become known among us."

"And you would disapprove of that?" she asked.

"In a sense - yes," he answered.

"So because you are unaware of lying ever being done you assume that it will never be done," she said, touching her chin thoughtfully.

Kell hesitated before answering. "I suppose that would be correct."

"Given how your universe has changed in the last few months, can you really be certain that none of your kind are lying right now? They may not care of the ramifications - or they may decide to avoid others of their kind for all of the rest of their lives."

Kell scowled. "I do not believe that."

"Nevertheless, you cannot prove it is wrong at this moment," she observed.

"This is another reason I dislike questions. Your kind immediately run with them and then pose more."

"That is what our circumstances have dictated we become," she noted. "But we have digressed from my original question. How do we know each other, Ambassador? Because I feel certain I have met you before - some way, some how. There is a familiarity about you that is . . . were I capable of feeling it, I would likely describe as terrifying."

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Kell stopped and turned to face her. She mirrored him.

"You have met something like me," he replied.

The words hung in the air, distant voices and the burble of flowing water the only sounds.

"At Terris," she said.

"Yes," Kell replied. "That is the connection you feel. I both am and am not like the beings you call Leviathans, just as I both am and am not like other life from Earth."

She looked away. Adrenaline was flowing through her body, she realized; her heart rate was up. But she felt nothing; her body's automatic reactions had kicked on, but her mind could not process the information.

It was the closest she had come to feeling in years. But it was not the real thing, it was only a mockery of true emotion.

Kell was watching her carefully, and she saw an emotion on his face; sadness, she recognized. But why? At one time she might have understood, but right now she didn't know why he would feel sad when she felt so hollow.

"I cannot help you, doctor. I am sorry, but . . . I do not know how to heal others."

"But you see the damage?" she asked.

"Yes," he told her. "It is . . . not damage, not per se. A part of you has changed, and it cannot be changed back. I saw this, from the moment I met your daughters."

She looked up to him sharply. "My girls? You saw this change in them?"

"Yes and no. There is a connection between you and them - they came from you and the connection between you all is strong. When you were changed, so were they - in a lesser way."

Her mind was racing with this new information. She should not be taking the word of any being without proof, but she found that she could not disbelieve him. Even besides his claim of not lying, his words simply spoke to something . . . real. Something that she could not quantify, but believed.

"It will not cause them harm," Kell told her.

"But it's why they did not have a reaction to meeting you, isn't it?" she asked. Getting the words out were difficult; she felt nothing, but her body was reacting with a weakness that she could no longer understand.

"I believe so. What you encountered at Terris was something of a scale that dwarfs my existence, its effects so profound that . . ." Kell trailed off.

"What?" Verena asked.

"I have said enough on the topic. You understand the ramifications well enough," Kell replied.

Verena took a moment to try and calm herself. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, and she felt clammy.

"I can understand now why Captain Brooks holds your word in high regard," she said. "Are you aware that he has sent a mission to the Terris system?"

"A prudent move," Kell replied. "Just as a thread exists between you and the Leviathan of that system, a far stronger one is between it and the being you call Michal Denso."

"We have never seen a reaction like this before. Are there others who are just as affected? Is everyone who was at that battle connected to it in a way?"

"In their own way. It will manifest differently in each individual."

"Captain Brooks told me that you believe we should destroy Denso. Do you stand by that?"

Kell nodded emphatically, a single sharp gesture. "Yes. You must destroy it." His eyes closed, and his head hung, as if a great weight lay upon him.

"While you still can."

*******

It has been two days since I dispatched Response Team One to violate the Exclusion Zone around the Terris System.

Dr. Verena Urle has communicated with me very sparely since my action. I know that she is no longer capable of feeling hurt or insult, and so she must instead simply be unsure of my judgment or unable to trust me.

I regret that, but I still believe it was a necessary move.

Michal Denso's condition has remained mostly the same; his mass has continued to increase, but at a slow rate.

I have attempted to speak to Ambassador Kell regarding the situation, but the being has refused to respond to any message I send nor open its door. I am hesitant to press my luck with him again on this matter.

There is nothing I can do but wait.

The time has not been unproductive, however. We've gotten many of the cloning vats we confiscated from New Vitriol transferred to the care of the doctors on MS-29. Thus far, their prognosis for the clones has been better than we hoped, and they now estimate that as many as 60% will survive.

It will not be long before the oldest of them comes into this world.

As well, we have been welcoming aboard the thousands of people from the Medical Station who will be leaving with us.

The ship is beginning to feel crowded.

*******

The last of the crawlers went through the door, and Sulp let out a relaxed sigh. "That's it," he said, grinning. "Once that line gets off the ship, we'll be done with this whole mess."

"I will be very pleased once the last of them are receiving proper care," Dr. Y replied. "Your description of it being a mess is due to the spillage and biological waste, I presume?"

Sulp grunted. "Just don't like them being on the ship. No fault of theirs, but all the same." He turned and marched away, towards his office.

Dr. Y waited patiently, running simulations on various meanings of the man's words based on his knowledge of the man.

Spacerfolk like his - who lived in the void in caravan fleets and never called a star their home - were often considered quite callous by outsiders. But he knew from a great number of sociological studies that these hardnesses, and especially their manner of speech that seemed to place lives in low value were only coping mechanisms in their culture for the elevated mortality rates.

Humans often needed to devalue the dead to cope with the numbers lost. An unfortunate thing, but psychologically understandable.

Still, perhaps the man simply was uncaring. He was known for being incredibly rude to many, at least by normal standards of behaviour, and-

"Doc," Sulp said, shoving a small box at him. "Make sure Dr. Urle gets these. Or whoever's in charge of the vat kids."

Y took the box. They were slips of paper with common spacer names on them.

"What is the provence of these?" he asked.

"They'd been stuck to a lot of the tanks," Sulp explained, taking out a cigar from his pocket and putting it in his mouth.

"Commander, to inhale smoke fumes is supremely unhealthy. While I can replace damaged lungs, I'd much prefer not to have to-"

"Just the once, doc. I need it." Sulp's voice was softer than normal.

Full of emotion, Y thought. Yes, his simulations agreed; the man was weighed down with feelings.

Dr. Y analyzed that; not in terms of quantifying it, but taking it as true and extrapolating from there.

Cloning was a very deep taboo among spacers; though sometimes desirable, it rarely went well. He scanned over the report Pirra had given to Cenz and hence been shared to his department, regarding Sulp's comments about it.

"So these are the names of the clones," Y said, looking into the box. There were two-hundred and forty-seven slips.

"Yep," Sulp replied.

Taking one in his hand, Y looked over the text. The name Gres was written sloppily on the paper. It was crinkled in spots that made it seem to have gotten wet. He analyzed the surface; was it spilled nutrient fluids? If so it was likely crawling with bacteria . . .

But no. There was a higher salinity than expected. Mostly water traces with lipids and proteins-

Ah, yes. He understood.

Below the names, he saw, in neater writing, a tube number. It was Sulp's handwriting.

"I will make sure that these get to the clones they came from," Dr. Y said.

"You do that, doc. I'll be grateful. I bet Lieutenant Pirra will be, too."

Dr. Y looked to the pile again. The odds on these clones surviving had risen. But 40% of them would still likely go unused, if they were distributed evenly.

He hated that, he realized. Rarely in his existence had he found he hated anything, not even biological beings who feared and distrusted AIs.

But he hated it when he could not save a life.

"It is unfortunate Pirra is not here to say goodbye," he commented.

"Better she isn't," Sulp growled, turning and walking away.

Standing a moment and sifting the names, committing them all to memory, Dr. Y then turned and left the empty room as well.