It is difficult to keep a secret for very long within the confines of Kalibern. This private trial is no exception.

The crowd that follows Matrons Bell and Drop is larger than before. Ship-Father Tollek walks next to Mos Bruen with Somner Zek a respectful distance behind. Eva Chel, wearing the uniform of a Ship-Mother, shakes her head in disapproval of my antics.

Gelly laughs with Yosip about finding me in a rubbish heap. I notice that Gelly is back in uniform, though Yosip now wears the black zelsilk slacks and loose vest of a Don, complete with protective runic arrays. Tikov Yon and Mor Istan walk behind the pair, with an unknown officer behind them. Gelly lifts me from the pile and carries me inside, enjoying himself immensely.

Additional seats are brought in by workers who quietly sit at the back when they finish. A few others enter as well and also sit where they can see. Among them are a few faces I recognize, including Glian and his daughter. Arriving together, Vren and Teah take seats after quickly greeting their superior officers. Those two are not wearing uniforms today but matching dark green outfits with silver trim. Both seem to have gained weight, especially Teah. Her blouse stretches tightly over her swollen belly.

It's good to see that they're eating well. I'm not the only one to think so, as many of those in the room offer the pair congratulations or make comments upon Teah's healthy appearance.

The crowd falls silent when Matron Drop stands and glares imperiously down at me.

"Prime has sent an investigator to aid us in this matter." Her voice is thick with almost hidden contempt as she gestures at the strange officer. "We had hoped to show him that you could be trusted, but you make this difficult for us."

The Selber she indicates rises to his feet. He's shorter than average for his race, and bald as well. His face bears the arrogant sneer of a youth who has never been challenged, and he stands leaning back, as if unconsciously distancing himself from those he finds lesser.

When he speaks it is with a thick accent, blurring his words together in a way that makes everyone strain to listen. "One of the few laws that the Coalition left us that we at Prime fully agree with states that any computer program powerful enough to emulate thought must be destroyed." He pauses for breath, turning his gaze upon the crowd. "They left us records of worlds destroyed by intelligent machines, and we've sent scouts out to prove those records correct. Civilizations brought to ruin by their own creations. It is imperative that we destroy this," and he waves dismissively at myself, "this abomination before it can work its harm here."

The investigator flaps his arm at Jim, who stands with an affronted look upon his face. "That's right. I believe that Investigator Martrim wants me to relate the other time we encountered an intelligent computer. The Selberclaw was sent out to take readings of a strange signal one of our scientists had picked up." He looks at Yosip, who nods silently. "Yosip led the team that boarded the disabled vessel we found. It had been drifting for a long time, lost all its atmosphere. We had to pump it full of our emergency air."

At a gesture from Jim, Yosip takes over the story. "Inside we found the crew. Dead. Very dead. Mummified bodies grinning at us, past their withered skins. They kept robotic servants, and some of those were still active. Tore the place apart for replacement parts. One of them had installed a few too many processors or something, and started acting weird. It had rebuilt itself into a killer. Took out the team I was with and took my eye before we destroyed it."

"When he dragged back the fallen operatives, we uncoupled with that wrecker," continues Jim. "Melted it into a glowing cloud before we left."

"This is the fate you can look forward to if we don't destroy this device," declares Martrim. He raises one arm, a victorious grin on his face.

"It was one of the robot's eyes mine was modeled after," adds Yosip, shocking the investigator. "Some good did come from that encounter. I also recovered a chunk of that thing's remains, and our engineers started building prosthetics based on the schematics."

I can already picture the Tserri carving a new tale into their shrines. The audience murmurs quietly behind me. A glare from Matron Drop silences them before she resumes the proceedings. She nods to Martrim then leans back in her seat expectantly.

He straightens his uniform, then continues. "A great tragedy, tempered by the knowledge gained from it. I regret your loss, Supply-Master. But it was important to remind us all of that tragic episode before it can play out again."

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The door of the community center opens. In walk a pair of armed guards. Behind them a team of Tserri laborers push carts covered with yellow sheets. The workers exit quietly but the armed Selber remain near the door.

Martrim walks to the front of the table, where the carts await him. "During our investigation, we found these. Casually stored in an out of the way storeroom." With each hand he pulls the sheet off of a cart.

Laying on the bare metal of one cart are dronefeathers, stripped of their camouflage. The other holds a robot I recognize, finally in a completed form. A gasp rises from the onlookers, most of whom are unaware of the devices' existence. Glian pretends to be shocked, but his daughter merely laughs.

He removes a third and final sheet, revealing a new model of vacuum armor. Black and silver, this suit is the same that Gelly had labored to create. Surely, they aren't blaming this monstrosity on me.

The final reveal does not go as Martrim expects, instead drawing most of the attention. A few of the Tserri in the crowd stand to better see the unusual armor.

"Weapons!" He shouts, trying to regain command of the situation. "Devices capable of spying upon and destroying the citizens of our great Imperium. Including this fine settlement and all of yourselves!"

Laughter from the table of judgmental figures draws everyone's attention. Jim stands, shaking his head. Martrim's face grows dark with anger.

"Thank you, Investigator, for so kindly gathering together this evidence," says Jim Tollek. "Yes, Mos Denn commissioned these machines. All of them with the backing of the local government. These devices have proven invaluable in maintaining order and protecting both our officers and the citizens of this station. That's a new model of suit, to be sure, but we've been using them on the Resurgent for some time now. The designs are already on Prime for the older model suits, as well."

"But the robots-"

Yosip stands and speaks right over Martrim. "Have been part of our security for almost as long as the living members of the teams. They were designed by members of our staff, under my supervision. Fully within my rights as Supply-Master of Kalibern."

"Thank you, everyone," declares Matron Bell. "Why don't you sit down and let us proceed." She waits long enough for those standing to resume their places. "Good. We have another guest with us today, from at least as far away. Mos Bruen, would you please?"

All eyes in the room turn to regard my Bruen. He rises from his uncomfortable position, squatting atop one of those unsuitable chairs, and slides gracefully to the center of the room. His protective runes glitter under the artificial lighting, giving him a refined and elegant appearance.

"Though I am unfamiliar with your customs, I believe that I understand the purpose of this gathering, as well as my expected place within it," he states with slow surety. "I have been called here to bear witness for the being known as Mos Denn." He takes a moment to organize his thoughts. "I do not truly know if this is the same Mos Denn with which I am familiar, though there is much to suggest so. It is true that I helped arrange the meeting between Denn and the one that transformed him into," he waves the upper tendrils on the side closest me in my direction. "An intelligent artifact."

No! Bruen, no! That isn't what you're supposed to say, not at all!

"It is also against the laws of my kind to create such a thing. It is with such understanding that I can agree with Investigator Martrim's views."

He stops and looks across the crowd. Many conflicting emotions are visible upon the gathered faces. Some seem shocked that he would agree with my destruction. Others seem to agree. Yet other faces display anger or sadness. Those at the table carefully hide their emotions behind placid expressions of interest. Martrim himself seems gleeful.

"But I cannot recommend that Martrim's advice be followed. Though it shames me to admit it, this being raised me from my first conscious moments and I have come to care for him. I have had to accept once the fact of his death, and do not wish to do so a second time."

With no more to say, Bruen returns to his position at the table. It might be my imagination, but the two Matrons look pleased.

"Thank you, Mos Bruen," states Matron Bell. "I believe that should address all the complaints from Prime and their representative. Mos Denn was originally a person before being transferred into an artificial body. Once there he proceeded to work toward the betterment of the new people he found himself with. I know that I'm richer thanks to his presence in my system."

Matron Drop adds her own opinions. "This is the first time I've interacted with the scary computer monster, but I find him charming. My son tells me that he has always acted loyally, though not always as expected. My nephew has kept me informed about the ways that Mos Denn has used his influence, and I find no reason not to permit him to continue in his duties aboard Kalibern, assuming Matron Bell agrees?"

The other nods, a faint smile upon her thin lips. The Ship-Fathers at the table smile, no doubt anticipating further record profits.

It isn't all white sand and sunshine, however. The ease with which they just maneuvered these proceedings only shows that this is all part of their plan. They now have a public connection to myself and a debt which they can use to steer any actions I might attempt in the future.

The meeting breaks up, and most of those attending drift off on other errands. A few groups linger, speaking quietly while the somber mood lasts. One such grouping includes the Matrons and my Bruen.

Gelly, a smile upon his thin face, picks me up and carries me away. "Let's get ye back in yer socket, then."