Throughout his recitation, Gelly operates the controls. He plots a course that avoids the closest mining vessels to return us to the station.

"I learnt all this from me Aunt," he explains. "She were the reason Jim's no still a Second Operative. I can no complain, as she got me my rank, too. Anyway, the average citizen grew up on lies about evil aliens. Even after the Imperium took charge, the fear were still there.

"After that, any new species the Imperium met were left to tend their own kettles. If there were valuables, then trade were done, but no bases were built on inhabited alien worlds. Too dangerous, if the natives suddenly become hostile, eh."

I think about the situation, with this new understanding. The Tserri are doing quite well living inside their ships or within Kalibern. This also gives new meaning to the Selbers' strange insistence upon using ships and space stations. They're willing to endure the harsh conditions, at least some of them are, in order to spread themselves too thin for the tribals to target.

"But the Tserri are only successful thanks to your people," I complain. "They proved to be no match for you in combat. In fact, they wouldn't even exist as a people if it weren't for your government sending them all to Honus. Why do that if they wanted them dead?"

Gelly lets out a deep laugh and leans back in his chair. "Do ye think the government is all 'o one mind?"

"Why not? My kind are ruled by an emperor. His advisors may disagree, but any commands he issues are absolute. How else to keep an empire that stretches across many worlds unified?"

"Aye, that's what the Navy said, too. But those who make the rules have their own rules, and do no always follow them. Spreadin' the power out keeps any one Patron from gainin' too much control. The others keep that from happenin'. Nobody wanted the Tserri, but Grand Matron Bell can no just kill them without upsettin' those what want to help the Tserri."

"Perhaps. The Duv caste fills that role well enough without working at cross purposes-"

I'm cut off by the chime of an incoming communication. Gelly shrugs but puts the transmission on the screen.

"Yosip, you finally came to your," Eva trails off when she sees Gelly's face. She wears a new uniform, befitting someone of a higher rank. "Not who I expected, excuse me."

"Gelly!" Ship-Master Tollek shouts, running up to the screen. He stops and stands behind Eva's seat, much to her displeasure. From his position, Jim is unable to see the frown that briefly shows upon her face. "Where are the rest of your team?"

"I've got bad news, Jim."

Gelly tells the story while we finish the approach to the station. He pauses occasionally as he puts on his vacuum suit. Jim accepts the fate of his officers with a grim visage. The transmission ends when we successfully dock. Gelly dons my case and opens the airlock.

We're met at the exit by Dunc, Donna, and another armored Tserri I recognize as the leader of the squad assigned to the casino.

"Please come with us, sir," states Dunc. He at least has the decency to look abashed as he continues, "We'll need you to give us your weapons, also. Matron's orders, sir."

Donna takes his rifle, but when she reaches for the knife sheathed at his hip, Gelly stops her. "I'm no resistin'. No yet. I just want to tell ye that if ye lose me knife I will find it. And then I'll find ye." He pulls the knife free and offers it to her, handle first.

Donna looks at Dunc, but the officer only shrugs. With a resigned look on her furred face, she reaches gingerly for the blade. Gelly doesn't resist further as she disarms him. They let him keep his armor on, which I take as a positive omen.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

I remain silent and keep my cameras still. The security officers do not yet seem aware of my presence, and I would prefer to remain with Gelly for the time being.

They lead us down service corridors that see only infrequent use. Moving through passages that I normally see from above is disorienting. The silence is awkward, with the gold armored officers casting frequent suspicious glances at Gelly. The absence of any repair personnel makes it even more uncomfortable.

The silent torture ends when they escort us up a ladder and into a maintenance closet. We exit in a back alley in one of the residential districts. If I recognize the style of decoration correctly, we're somewhere in the Broken Leg. The hulking form of Skint meets us in the alley.

Donna briefly brushes claw tips with Skint before the large male turns. Skint opens the service door behind him, and Dunc gestures for Gelly to enter. Only Dunc follows us inside what looks like a kitchen. Dunc points towards the door leading further into the building.

Shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation, Gelly does as instructed and walks through the door and into the large room on the other side. Dunc doesn't follow. We enter the community center, though all the gaming tables are missing. The large room is nearly empty.

A single chair sits empty in the center of the room. It faces a long table where several important figures sit. Chief among them are Grand Matron Bell and Ship-Father Jim Tollek. Patron Dunc Wollen, as well as three other Selber I do not recognize join them at the table. All are dressed in full uniform.

The two male officers are both in uniforms identical to Jim's. These must be Ship-Fathers in command of important vessels. The third unknown is a female nearly as ancient as Matron Bell, dressed in an equally impressive uniform. This figure holds the central seat, with Matron Bell to her right and Supply-Master Wollen on her left.

The unfamiliar Matron glares at Gelly. "Did you bring it?"

"Yes, Aunty," answers the officer timidly. "And some letters."

Her face softens for a brief instant. "Have a seat. And please, take off that ridiculous backpack."

Gelly does as ordered, placing my case on the tiles next to him. He sits in silence while those at the table whisper quietly to each other. It is then that I notice that their glances are directed not at Gelly but at myself.

"Mos Denn," Jim says suddenly. "Representatives from Prime are here to question you." He gestures to the Matron placed in the center and then at the two other Ship-Fathers at the far end of the table. "For your own sake, please be cooperative."

"As you say, Ship-Father," I reply, careful to maintain a respectful tone.

The first of the two strange Ship-Fathers to speak is a specimen with the thinnest crest of any Selber I know. Only a few scraggly tufts jut forlornly from his head. Despite that, his voice is deep and strong. "I'm told that you are not in fact a remarkably sophisticated program. Can you explain what exactly you are?"

I don't answer immediately, needing time to compose an adequate reply. Friendly spirit probably isn't answer enough for these people, but the truth might not be entirely appropriate either. Something vague enough not to be threatening, but still containing enough truth to be believable might be best.

"I lived a full and productive life among my own people, serving in a capacity not too unlike your own. Near the end of my life, I was approached by a specialist who offered an experimental treatment. I agreed, and the result was my mind and essence being transferred into a specially designed power core."

The officer raises one hand, so I cease my narration. "Do you know anything about this core? Where did your specialist find this artifact?"

"The core was, as I said, specially constructed."

My words cause the Matrons to look quickly at one another. Dunc the elder stands from his seat.

"Impossible!" His face is dark and he holds his hand curled into tight fists. "The process has been lost for untold centuries!"

I wait for the officers to calm somewhat before I continue. "I'm sorry to disagree with you, but I saw the uncarved core with my own eyes. The same core into which my consciousness was placed. As for how he did it, I was told only that he had contacts with another race and gained the secret from them."

"Do you have any proof of what you claim? Is there any way," Matron Bell asks, "any way at all to confirm your story?"

"Aye, that there is," interjects Gelly. "If ye can get the Squivers to talk to ye, they can confirm what he says."

"Is this true, Denn?" She seems more skeptical than angry, perhaps a good sign?

"Yes. Mos Bruen," I emphasize the caste designator, and Jim runs a hand through his crest nervously. "He was there for most of the discussions between myself and the specialist, Grand Matron."

"Do no forget the witch," adds Gelly with a less than helpful suggestion.

"How could I?" My murmur is meant only for his ears, but the stares being directed my way prove to me that nothing I say will not be heard by those seated at the table.

"Thank you, nephew," remarks the Grand Matron. "Jim, why don't you go ahead and get these...Squivers? Get them over here where we can talk to them."

"Yes, mum."