The door closed behind Iago before he let his shoulders slump.

A long-held breath escaped through his lips, and he let his eyes adjust to the dimly-lit room.

The darkness was welcome; the bright lights on the rest of the Craton stung his eyes these days. Elliot thought it was too dark, but it was better this way.

“Elliot?” he called.

His son came from the other room, stubbing his toe on a futon as he came. “Ow,” he said flatly.

“Did anyone come by while I was gone?” he asked.

“No one,” Elliot replied, his tone still flat.

Iago stepped over, kneeling down to be on a level with his son. Their eyes met, and even in the darkness Iago could see how brightly they shone.

His hands slid over his son’s cheeks, cradling him.

“We can’t let our guard down,” he said softly.

“I know, Dad,” Elliot said.

“We’re all we’ve got,” Iago insisted, his muscles tensing in nervousness. Almost a spasm, but he fought it down. His extra stimulants were wearing off.

“You said that already, Dad,” Elliot replied, pulling out of his grasp and stepping away. He fiddled with a toy absently.

“Did you contact anyone while I was gone?” he asked.

“You said not to,” Elliot said. “And there’s no one left for me to talk to, all my friends are back in Sol . . .”

“It would have been safer for you there,” Iago said. “But I couldn’t let you out of my sight that long.”

Elliot looked over at him, curiously.

He knew his son wondered just what was up, but Iago couldn’t tell him – not yet.

It wasn’t that he was suspicious of his son – far from it, this was for him – but Elliot might talk. And if they caught on that he knew . . .

He couldn’t let them take his son from him. He was all Elliot had left in the universe.

“I just want to make sure you’re being careful,” he insisted.

“Be careful about what, Dad?” Elliot asked. “You keep telling me that we’re alone, but there’s people all around us! What about Pirra – you always said she was like family. Doesn’t she care about us anymore?”

He could hear the tears more than see them, but as Elliot turned away angrily, he saw the sparkle of them as they caught the scant light.

“Elliot,” he said gently, “I know this is hard. And I know what I’ve said in the past, but now – we can’t be sure about anyone. We have to let them all think we think things are normal.”

“But we aren’t being normal!” Elliot snapped. “We’re acting crazy!”

Iago felt fear in his chest as his son said the word.

He’d been wondering, late in the night, if he had gone crazy.

But no. It wasn’t him. He’d seen the drones acting strangely, seen people acting not themselves. He’d seen too much to go back into his slumber.

It was the universe that had changed. Not him.

“I know it must seem that way,” Iago replied gently. “And eventually I can tell you more. But right now you have to trust me.”

Elliot didn’t speak for the longest time, but then he gave a soft nod.

----------------------------------------

“So, Captain, I present to you the new Spacehounds! Well, and a Station Terrier.”

Zeela Cann had brought the enhanced dogs to his study, and Brooks could not keep his composure. A broad grin on his face, he came around from behind the desk to kneel with each dog, talk to them, stroke their heads and give them a scratch behind the ear.

“They are Beaux,” she nodded to the pure white one.

“Cross,” a mostly white one with a few dark splotches.

“Sasha,” the pale golden one, with an underside of white. A lot like a shiba inu, Brooks thought.

“And Zeus and Apollo.” Both were all white, but the former had a dark mark over his left eye, while Apollo had it over his right.

“And this is Angel,” she said, nodding the small Station Terrier in her arms who was panting excitedly.

“They’re fantastic,” Brooks said.

Zeela had never seen Brooks so effusive, and she found herself somewhat stupefied for a moment, though Angel began to wriggle in her arms, desperate to go meet this new person who was giving out pats so glibly.

“Oh, sorry, Captain, Angel gets very excited!” she said, putting her on the floor before she managed to successfully get free and fall. Her nails clicked against the deckplate until she got enough traction to bolt towards him.

Brooks caught the little dog in his arms and rubbed her head. She immediately rolled over so he could reach her belly, and he laughed as he stroked it.

“She’s exuberant. A pleasant surprise, really – Station Terriers are great dogs.”

“She is extremely sweet,” Zeela admitted. “Though she doesn’t fit well with the Space Hounds. If anything, they seem to find her a little-“

“Annoying,” Beaux said through his voice box.

“Ah, is that so?” Brooks asked the smart dog genially. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be doing her a service by letting her be around you. But try not to worry about her unless she’s in trouble, all right?”

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The dogs nodded, taking the instruction literally.

“I wish I could have come down and met you all sooner,” he added. “I’ve been very busy. But we will see a lot of each other, and I am very proud of you already.”

The Space Hounds all wagged their tails a little. They enjoyed praise, and fully understood his words.

And it was true that he’d already heard gushing praise from the crew, as the Space Hounds went around the ship, patrolling . . . not that there was anything really to look for, but it was a part of their job that they took extremely seriously.

“Now- where did Angel go?”

He looked around, but the little Station Terrier had vanished, only to come around from behind his desk holding a stylus.

“Slippery little one, isn’t she?” he mused.

“Oh, my, I’m so sorry Captain – she has a real obsession with styluses!” Zeela Cann went over and tried to take it from the little dog, but Angel dashed around the other side of the desk, chomping at the plastic stick triumphantly as she went. She was practically strutting, clearly quite proud of herself.

Zeela blushed, but Brooks laughed it off.

“She can keep it. I have others. She seems so happy with it.”

Zeela let out an exaggerated sigh. “She keeps bringing them back . . . I have no idea where she’s finding them.”

“If we start to have a ship shortage, at least we’ll know the culprit,” Brooks replied, grinning.

Zeela smiled as well, laughing despite herself. “I never thought I’d be defeated by a tiny little Station Terrier.”

Suddenly, as one, the spacehounds ears went up, and they turned to the door.

Brooks lost the words he was about to speak, distracted by their united behavior, and Zeela Cann’s eyes went to them as well.

Then they started growling. Apollo and Beaux, the closest to the door, started first, then rose off their haunches and backed away from the door. In moments all of them were growling.

They broke into barking; furious, loud. But all of them were on their feet now, and moving back from the door.

“Zeela, what-“

He got a chime that someone was there. It opened, and he remembered now, his next appointment.

Kell stood in the doorway, calm, while all five dogs – no six now, Brooks saw that Angel, who had just looked confused initially, was barking as well. All of them at Kell.

“Have I come at a bad time?” Kell asked dryly.

“Ambassador,” Brooks had to yell. “Go to the office next door and wait for me there – Zeela, see if you can calm them down and get them out of here!”

The woman looked rather pale, and Kell stepped away. The barking subsided quickly, and she began ushering the hounds out of the room.

“Don’t like,” one said through its collar.

“Bad,” another said.

“Danger,” a third said.

They were all repeating words and phrases to that effect, until they went out of earshot.

“Dr. Y,” he said, connecting. “The new Space Hounds just had an encounter with Ambassador Kell, and they didn’t like it. Can you-“

“I will be there immediately,” Y said quickly. Brooks saw his signal go from his office to his nearest body almost instantly.

Faster than normal; he hadn’t gone through a shut-down sequence on his last body, which was odd.

But Brooks didn’t have time to think on that now. Rising, he went next door to find Kell.

“The animals do not like me,” Kell said as Brooks came in.

“They’re called dogs,” Brooks supplied.

“I do not care,” Kell replied.

Brooks was caught off-guard by that, but there was no vehemence in the Ambassador’s voice; just a factual statement. He honestly did not care.

“Do animals often react like that to you?” he asked. “I have heard stories, but I was not sure.”

“Sometimes,” Kell answered. “If I am not paying attention.”

“Does that mean you can suppress . . . whatever it is about yourself that bothers them?”

Kell seemed more dour to be answering questions. “If I wish to.”

“Can you do that with humans as well?”

“It is more difficult,” Kell replied.

But it implied a yes. Brooks was thinking on that, when Kell spoke.

“I have a question for you, Captain. I do not trust anyone else’s answer.”

That piqued his curiosity. “Go ahead, Ambassador. If I can answer it, I will be happy to.”

“You have told me that we are heading into a potential battle.”

“I wouldn’t say we expect it,” Brooks said. “But it is possible. The Mopu System is a warzone between two Hev factions.”

“I was under the impression that such a hypothetical battle would be of a nature of . . . this vessel against other vessels.”

“That is also true,” Brooks said. “Over the vast distances of space-“

“Why, then, are practices for combat on the ship taking place?” Kell demanded.

As he was interrupted, Brooks felt annoyed. The Ambassador was going to be particularly difficult today, it seemed.

“There is a possibility,” he explained. “That we could be boarded. In which case the Response Teams and Citizen Volunteers will serve to repel them.”

Kell leaned forward, his eyes piercing, and Brooks found his own stinging. As if he had more of the being’s attention than he normally did. It was intense and uncomfortable.

“Then may I kill?”

Brooks stared at Kell for a long moment.

“Ambassador, I am not sure that I understand your question,” he said. “You . . . are aware that murder is a crime, yes?”

“Yes,” Kell said. “But given that I am a diplomat, if my life – or others around me – have their lives threatened, am I permitted to kill? If, perchance, a boarding took place? For I understand that we are going under a flag of diplomacy. But if we are attacked, this is broken, yes?”

“Are you seriously asking me this?” Brooks asked.

“I am.”

“If your life is threatened, then you may defend yourself.”

“And others around me?”

“. . . I recall that you said you were a soldier of some sort, Kell. But I do not wish you to be involved in any combat if the ship should be attacked, unless you have no other choice.”

“But under the right circumstances it is permissible, despite my diplomatic rank?”

“. . . Yes, it is,” Brooks conceded. “But you are an ambassador, and it is of great importance that we keep you safe-“

Kell nodded. “That is all I needed to understand. Thank you for your time.”

He rose, turning.

“Wait, Ambassador,” Brooks said, standing up as well. “I have to impress upon you just how serious a matter this is.”

Kell gave him a look that nearly had contempt in it. “I feel that I understand life and death in a more meaningful way than you do, Captain.”

“Nevertheless,” Brooks continued. “I am telling you directly to avoid any and all dangerous situations if at all possible. I do not want to hear that you walked into a live-fire situation.”

Another expression went over Kell’s face, and Brooks had to wonder if the Shoggoth always truly controlled them with intent, or if sometimes his true feelings showed.

Because Kell looked amused.

“Is that an order, Captain?” Kell asked. His voice had no mocking in it, it was only a serious question.

“Do I need to make it one?” Brooks asked in return.

“I will tell you this, Captain; I will do my duty,” Kell said, his eyes narrowing, focusing on Brooks.

And again, the Captain felt he actually, truly, had the attention of the being. That at most other times, he was getting the equivalent of an absent-minded answer.

Kell’s words could be taken as an agreement, Brooks thought. He could say as much on a report, at least, and without context it might be accepted as that.

But he knew it was not.

He should tell the being to clarify the statement, to order him to avoid danger if it was possible. But Brooks knew, on some level, that Kell would not do so, and if pressed he would not lie, either.

So they’d be at an impasse that dictated very clear actions on Brooks’s part.

Was this where he wanted to dig in and have it out with the Ambassador on orders and chain of command? To bring him to heel – if he could even do that.

He took a deep breath.

It was not.

“Ambassador, I know that you are used to doing things in your own time, in your own way, without the input of others – and that you still wish to behave this way.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at the Ambassador. “But if you disregard what I have said, you face the real danger of dying.”

Kell’s face changed subtly, but Brooks could not read it. At least – it made no sense. If anything, Kell looked excited.

“Very well,” he replied.

He turned to leave, but Brooks spoke again.

“Kell, have you killed a human before?”

He recalled Pirra’s report of Kell’s arrival when she and Cenz were surrounded by a kill squad on New Vitriol. She had seen nothing but corpses after the fact; but Kell had been the only being there alive afterward.

It seemed obvious. Yet he did not know how Kell could have killed a dozen men . . .

Kell turned back and studied him. “You wonder if I have taken a human life in the millions of years I have existed alongside your kind?”

“Let me re-phrase; have you killed a human since you became a diplomat?”

Kell smiled then, and it chilled Brooks to the bone. He felt a sweat break out on his brow.

“Good day, Captain,” Kell said simply, and stepped out the door.