The facility is huge, that's something I know but don't fully realize until we walk through the cloudcrystal doors and see the corridors stretching on, on, on. Should have realized it after walking/sometimes running nearly all the way around this building, following Hope in her relentless cleansing.

But my mind was otherwise occupied then.

It's occupied now, too, thinking about what lay behind all those doors, even though it's probably just offices and dormitories because the really good stuff will all be in the basement and subbasement and even lower for a place like this, although maybe not, later in the war the dwarves got really good at tunneling in if you built too deep, and anyway it's a three-story building, would they worry too much about airborne assault or—

I can feel Hope looking at me, she doesn't need to send anything, and I'm aware now of the profound silence behind me as I lead all these people down the hall. Letting thoughts get away from me. I corral them, has to be done, and I'm surprised how quickly they coalesce into something I'm saying.

"We need to split up. No groups smaller than five or larger than nine. This is just going to be a preliminary survey, give us an idea of where I should take Hope first. She's going to be a better authority on what is and isn't useful or a high priority than any of us, me included."

I miss my parents. I mean, of course I do, easy reasons for that, but also they would know what to look for better even than I would. Maybe better than Hope in some ways, they'd lived in this world for all those decades and all of the dragon's knowledge came from another one, a better one.

That is not true, Operator Kella. The thought lands gentle in my head, even as someone in the crowd asks a question.

"Any ideas what sort of things we should be looking for?"

"Um," I say, and stand up straighter, turning to address the young man. I don't know his name. I need to know more names, and there's been no time for it. "Yes, actually. Universal Component Paste." I glance at Hope. "I'm not optimistic about finding any, this place had been under active attack for some time when the Othermancy incident occurred. Any reserves of the stuff would probably have been used for repairs and the like...but you never know."

I pause, frowning. Most of these people are barely literate in the modern Capital Common script, let alone the old printed block-letters used in Old Butlerian. Scavengers learn to recognize certain labels, but Universal Component Paste is useless, ancient and degraded. Or it was.

DRAGON unit has reached sufficient size and sophistication that UPC is no longer necessary, Hope sends. If growth is desired, need only time plus sufficient elemental materials. She pauses. Not elemental like magical paradigm earth/air/water/fire, base elements of matter. Also not current priority, common elements trivial to find, rare elements must be found by DRAGON unit until sufficient tools/education acquired.

I send the mental equivalent of a nod. I'm getting better at this. I also hold up a hand while looking up at the ceiling, letting everyone know I'm considering the question without, I hope, being too obvious about my internal conversation with the dragon standing beside me. People don't like being left out of talk going on right in front of them.

But if you...lay?...any new eggs, they'll need the paste, right? I realize just then that I've always pictured a dragon laying eggs the way a duck or chicken would, but that seems absurd somehow, given the creature I've actually come to know.

She hesitates. Yes...but that will be some time in future. Must be, DRAGON unit must reach full size, develop full reproductive capability. Other considerations, humans waiting for answer. If UCP present here, still useful to know. Meanwhile, should begin search. Priorities in flux until more information available.

Okay. Thank you.

"Apologies," I tell the young man. "I had to think about that for a moment. Definitely keep an eye out for Universal Component Paste, I'll have Hope project examples of what the labeling would look like. Meanwhile, though, just look for common-sense things, intact artifacts, machinery that looks like it could be repairable, and anything at all out of the ordinary. We'll have a better idea of what's important after we get a feel for the place."

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The young man throws me an informal salute and motions to a few people behind him, all close to his age apart from one older man I assume to be his father or an uncle, and I really do need to get to know these people better, now that I won't be out all the time scavenging useful things or hunting down unlikely artifacts on some sort of hopeless quest, though the last one of those turned out not to be. Everyone is grouping up, finding their fellows, except that hardened little knot that stays behind.

Older people, mostly. And mostly with carrying an air of importance with them, including the woman from the council, the one who wanted to take Hope away. They're all looking at me, then they all look at one of their own, a grandmotherly woman with an overhoneyed smile I don't like at all. She comes forward, some kind of emissary.

Paunea has stayed back also, standing by a half-ruined pillar with her arms folded across her chest, watching us. Her husband is there too, watching her, tall and gnarled and slightly bent, he is the kind of silent you would expect from a tree that's managed to grow big and old in unfriendly soil. Haverseh, that's his name. I do know a few of them.

The emissary-woman stands in front of me like she is expecting words. I don't give her any.

"Kella, dear," she says finally. "Might we have a word?"

I gesture at, well, everything I can see. "Sure, but it will have to be brief. There's a lot to do."

"Kella," she says, and I find the repetition of my name to be twistingly abrasive. "We need to have a talk about the council."

"Okay," I say, and wait again. The woman stares at me.

"We know you've spent most of your time as a young adult going out scavenging, so perhaps you're not as familiar with how things are done as you could be."

"I'm twenty-seven," I say mildly. "Maybe not old, but I finished growing taller more than a decade ago."

"Be that as it may," she says, and her smile sweetens to frankly repellent levels. "The way we do things back home is..."

"...not relevant," I finish for her. She stares. "The old block is gone. We can never go back there. Now we're here, and maybe we'll stay, maybe not. This is war now, it's not just sneaking around plotting and doing a little damage here, a little there. Not just resistance anymore."

She draws herself up a little straighter, and sharpens her voice. "War or not, decisions have always been made by the council. We're the ones the people have chosen. We..."

I sigh. Part of me is trembling, I can feel it in my hands, threatening to invade my voice, unaccustomed to confrontation like this. But another part is angry, and draws from the same reserves that kept me out there all those years hunting for the things we need to survive, hoping for something that could let us do more than just that. I stand up straighter myself, adjust the straps of my pack, pulling angry on the old leather.

"The people follow who they choose," I snap. "That's all that actually matters in the end. We're not some ancient province where the governor could give orders and the people had to obey."

"I think you'll find that we are still respected in this community," she responds, and there's ice in her voice but fear also.

"I didn't say you're not respected," I say softly. "I'll be asking you all for advice, and often." Except of course that's a lie, and I feel my gaze flick toward Paunea. I'll be asking some of them for advice. "But we don't have time to govern by council right now. War's begun whether we like it or not. Someone has to make decisions in the moment."

She puts her hands over one collarbone. "And you think that's going to be you?" Her eyes are wide, angry, unbelieving. The little group behind her glares as well, but stay silent, clearly they've agreed to let her be the one to speak. Not sure how much longer that will last, though.

"It has been so far, hasn't it?" I say softly. "Listen. Hope stays with me. Right now she's more valuable than all of us put together, and until that changes, I'll be making the decisions. It's not what I wanted. But it is how things worked out. You might think that reality is unfair, but it's the one you're living in."

"Young lady, this is not acceptable," she says. "Come with me. We're going to have a discussion." It's impressive the way she sets the words down, heavy with authority. It's a good last try. But I don't care.

"No. I have things to do, and more to the point, Hope has things to do. We're going to go do them. You can help, or you can leave and find some other ruin to lord over while we fight for something like a future. Those are your choices. I'm not forcing anyone to do anything." I lean forward and look her dead in the eye. "Which makes me different to you in one very important way. If you could force me, you would. And you know it."

She has nothing to say to that. Not out loud. Her face, the way rage and frustration and fear all quarrel just beneath, that says plenty. But I wasn't lying. I really don't have time for this right now.

"Come on, Hope," I say. "Let's see what we can find in this place."

Paunea and her husband smile at me as we leave, and behind me I can hear low but intense voices once we're out of proper earshot.

You did well, Operator Kella, Hope sends. They may still be trouble in future, but not all trouble can be attended to right away.

I sigh, a little shocked at how much tension my breath carries out with it, and lean over against her. Thank you.

She just nods. A thought strikes me, a recent memory.

Listen, back there you I said you'd be the best authority on what is and isn't useful, and you told me that's not true, what did you mean by that? I didn't have time to ask with everything else going on.

She ruffles her wings. That is a long answer, Operator Kella. Let us start our search, and I will give it to you.