Bruen leaves the review shaken.

The orders make little sense to the young general. Still, he will do as he must.

He shudders once before slipping into the flow of the crowd, welcoming the embrace of the city. The familiar scents and sensations help him to shake off the influence of the Duv.

A member of the ruling caste, taking time out of their busy schedule to oversee the review. Not just any Duv, either, but a true ancient. Bruen can still feel the oily scent of the pale behemoth, though it may be just his imagination.

Thoughts of ways to fulfill his unusual orders swirl through his mind like a school of flitters. He moves in a daze, unnoticing the way the citizens of the hive city subtly give way before him.

He arrives at the outskirts where space had been set aside for the temporary use of their odd visitor, still contemplating potential options. An unexpected sight brings him back to reality.

"Is that a fire?"

"Yessir," replies Drev respectfully. "He says it makes him feel less lonely?"

"What is he doing with it?"

Drev's face twitches as he considers. "Watching the fire, sir."

Gelly sits by himself, perched precariously upon a small boulder. The insane creature is only ubits way from the fire, close enough that the gray being is capable of reaching into it, a feat he performs even as Bruen watches.

He's about to step forward, but the casteless soldier stretches an upper tendril into his way. Bruen almost attacks Drev, before taking in the submissive posture of the casteless.

"Sir, he's been doing that for a while. Watch, he'll do it again soon."

They wait together, gazes fixed upon the alien. After a short while Gelly reaches one of his ludicrous arms down to the ground beside him, grasps a fallen stick in one misshapen hand, and places the dry fuel into the blaze. Sparks fly into the air, mixing with the smoke before fading away.

They slide back almost simultaneously. The heat is blinding to their peripheral eyes, and the dry air washing off of the fire is causing their protective mucus layers to evaporate.

"Be sure that it is extinguished before we depart," orders Mos Bruen before beginning his inspection of the camp.

Farther from the coast there are more plants growing in thick clusters. The casteless soldiers cut away the fibrous vines and hard trunks with their spears. In the clear space they create the builders mark the ground, delineating the future site of the building that will contain the portal needed to return Gelly home.

The installation must be large enough to house not only the rift, but also all the protections necessary to isolate it from the city. Barracks to house soldiers at all times of day and night, storage to meet their needs, workshops, training areas, and many other outbuildings will eventually be added, but Bruen doubts he will ever see it.

Beside the active work zone the workers erect the tents they'll be storing their tools in. The city is close enough that housing is currently provided by the clans or sects by which they've been trained. A troop of soldiers carries freshly cut foliage back with them as they return to the city, to be added to communal composting heaps.

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Another squad, under Zek's direction, is sorting through the uncut brush. A small pile of edible fruits, guarded by a clutch of grelld, lays in a shaded pit. Bruen stops to inspect the round blue berries. He has to scoot the tentacular guard animals aside but knows just where to touch them safely to avoid their snapping beaks.

He pops one bloodberry between his pedipalps, enjoying the sweet and bitter flavor. They'll be an excellent encouragement for the soldiers and builders to finish quickly, the better to enjoy their meal after.

"Not as good as the plantations produce," remarks one soldier, upon seeing Bruen with juice on his face. "But better than anything we get on campaign, sir."

Bruen wipes at the sticky blue substance with one tendril. "Almost as good as they'd send to the estate, actually. I take it you also, ehem, tested the produce?"

The way the soldier squirms under Bruen's scrutiny is enough answer for him. "Make sure there's enough for everyone and it hardly matters if a few are eaten early. Carry on."

"Sir!"

All around him the camp bustles with activity. The only exception is the alien visitor, sitting beside the fire.

Bruen takes a moment to allow himself to reconsider, then approaches Gelly.

"Do you suffer greatly from the cold?"

Lights swirl around the brown and black band encircling the alien's left arm. Bruen recognizes the white aura as Zek's work.

"What're ye on about? Yer planet's hotter'n me ass after Aunty'd finish swattin' me cookie stealin' self."

"I'll let Zek know that the armband is malfunctioning. That came across as gibberish."

"Beh. Yer witch done a fine job on it, yer just daft."

Bruen is unsure if he was just insulted but decides to let it pass. Instead, he changes the subject. "Were you aware of your former companion's true allegiance?"

"No. That is, I knew she were a Pavril, but I did no think she'd still support the Coalition. And what she did to Tully." Gelly shakes his head slowly. "It is no right. Tully did nothin' to her but try to be her friend."

"It must have been hard, having to choose between family and duty," muses Bruen.

Gelly adds more sticks to the fire, then stares silently at the flames.

"Should I leave you alone?"

The fire cracks and pops as it burns. The soldiers and workers maintain a discreet distance, unsure what is wrong but giving the two their space. Only Zek seems unaffected by the tense atmosphere that lowers over the camp.

It isn't until Bruen turns to leave that he receives an answer. "If ye've got somethin' stronger to drink than berry juice, you could bring us each one."

Drev locks primary eyes with the general. Bruen flicks an upper tendril, and the soldier hurries off to fulfil the request. He quickly returns with two glass bottles.

Bruen accepts them from Drev with a murmured thanks and Drev slides back into the distance, ready to serve if needed once more. A slow sigh escapes from Mos Bruen as he turns and offers one of the drinks to his companion.

Lifting his head at the sound, a sardonic smile lights his gaunt face when he sees the orange beverage. "Thanks."

They drink in silence together. When they finish their drinks, Drev is ever ready with another. Night falls before either says anything besides thanking the loyal soldier.

"We were gonna have kids," exclaims Gelly into the night.

Bruen jerks groggily, swerving to look in every direction despite his near omnidirectional vision. "Wha'sit?" He swings his half empty bottle defensively, trying to find whatever upset his companion.

"Kids, ye daft Squiver."

"No," denies Bruen. "N-not the season." He drops back into the depression he had been inhabiting. "You got, have to wait."

"I do no want kids with ye, anyway."

Bruen takes a drink, trying to remember when he had agreed to reproduce with the alien. "Wouldn't work, anyway," he declares.

"Aye. She'd have run off with the eggs, anyway," agrees the alien.

"Why would she do that?" Bruen looks at Zek suspiciously, almost falling forward.

"Still, Nett'll take it even worse," Gelly says. He drains his bottle and peers at it. "He were lookin' forward to raisin' some little ones the most."

"Zek's eggs are no good, Nettle must find another with which to spawn," Bruen states in what he assumes is a reasonable solution to Gelly's problem.