Whatever Bruen and the Matrons are discussing will have to remain a mystery until I can review the video files.

Gelly carries me through the halls of the converted warship. We pass decorated doorways bearing the horizontal stripes and repeating swirls of the district. Fresh paint on the walls brightens the place nicely. Small patches of plants soften the harsh corners and straight edges around us.

So many details the cameras cannot properly show me from their distant placement now press themselves upon my awareness. The chalk drawings left by the children's games on the ground. Toys and packages tucked away in niches hidden from the lenses above. And the gentle hum of the station as it operates, hallways filled with laughter and conversation.

It feels like passing through my home city on the way to my estates.

I resolve to use the bipedal robot for more than just security purposes, once I have access to it. It will be nice to see other parts of Kalibern from the perspective of its residents.

Gelly's personal aide, Drev, meets up with us after a few blocks and trails politely behind. He carries a large bundle with him that bulges with several bulky items.

From the residential district we move into a larger corridor. We head in the direction of the primary docking tower, dodging through the crowd.

We stop at a vendor stall offering drinks and Gelly purchases Drev and himself a celebratory drink. Drev draws a few stares as they drink, but the Tserri here are used to strange sights and leave the pair alone.

"This is your home, sir?" Drev takes a sip of the albulb juice. From the way he handles the glass, I cannot think he trusts the blue liquid. Its color is distressingly close to that of blood.

"Aye, this and places like it," responds Gelly after wiping juice from his lips. "But I'll no be stayin'. Now that Jim knows I'm alive it's back to work. If ye want to keep followin' me, ye need to enlist."

"I think that can be arranged, sir." Drev returns his partially consumed drink to the vendor and the two continue.

They only get a few blocks further when an alarm rings out. An announcement from speakers hidden in the walls plays out.

"All pilots report to your hangars. A portal has opened inside one of the small farming communities on Honus. Gelly, get your ass to the Resurgent," Jim's voice echoes through the halls.

"What about me? I need to get back to work," I complain.

"This is more important," responds Gelly shortly. "The station'll survive another few days without ye."

Gelly races to the docking tower, unwilling to waste time in debate. Civilians clear a path for him and Drev as they run.

At the airlock leading into the Resurgent stands Mos Bruen with his dust eater and four soldiers. The soldiers carry with them the bipedal robot as well as the stripped down dronefeather. Gelly slaps the general on his carapace and we all proceed onto the ship.

The pilot launches the ship as soon as the airlock finishes decoupling. Jim meets us in the hangar, looking distracted. He taps frantically at a comm tablet, muttering to himself as he works. He looks up from the device long enough to address Gelly.

"If we can get your group down there fast enough, we might be able to save a few lives. Hopefully they evacuated in time, but I'd rather be sure before we drop bombs on someone that managed to hide out but didn't get far enough away."

"We cannot let them spread," confirms Mos Bruen. "Send another ship back to pick up Don Wikna and another band of soldiers. They can meet us on the ground."

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While they discuss the plan, Gelly carries me over to the powered down robot. He starts to attach my travel case to the back of the automaton, but I object.

"Do ye no want a body, Denn?"

"These bodies were not designed for direct interface," I explain patiently. "Carrying around the additional weight of the case would also ruin the device's balance."

"That may be so, but we can no afford no to use it." His grip tightens upon my case. "Even one more to help us might be the difference between winnin' or dyin'."

"These drones are designed for remote operation. If you can convince Jim to install me in the Resurgent, not only will I be able to assist by operating both drones, but we'll be able to arrive fractionally quicker."

Gelly dashes back to the Ship-Father and explains the idea briefly. A frightening smile creeps onto Jim's face. He glances down at the comm tablet in his hands, chuckles in a rather disturbing fashion, and hurls the thing against a wall.

"That would save us a significant amount of time," admits the Ship-Father, taking off toward the command room. "We're still waiting on Ship-Mother Chel to agree to send us the station core. Let 'em keep it," he crows. "Hurry, now!"

Gelly runs after, laughing quietly at his cousin's antics. Crewmembers duck out of the two officers' way, clinging to the corridor walls or slipping into nearby doorways to avoid collision. It isn't long before they place me in the socket set into the command chair.

Once the panel snaps shut, I once more integrate with the ship. Systems both familiar and new await my commands. I run a quick systems check, to determine how much has changed. Surprisingly, the auto-distillery is still functioning smoothly. I notice a slight surplus in the officers' lounge.

The phrool stink from one of Gelly's training sessions still occupies the containment canister in the locked refrigeration unit.

"Ship-Father, with your permission I'd like to familiarize myself with the operation of the new drone before someone's life is at risk. Would you alert the crew not to be alarmed if they see it wandering the corridors, please?"

Jim nods and gestures to one of his officers, Diplomatic Lead Marta Spere. She makes the short announcement over the intercom system. "Go ahead," Jim says casually. "But make it quick. We need that robot in the shuttle with the rest of the team before we reach Honus."

I agree to his terms, not having much choice, and remotely activate the bipedal drone. It uses the same command codes that allow me to access the cameras of any vacuum armor suits within range, a design feature I must remember to praise Bucket for insisting upon.

The precision machined limbs of the robot are a delight to operate. The thing functions smoothly as an extension of my systems, responding almost instantly to any commands I send it. I'm careful to limit the speed at which it moves, not wishing to crush any unaware crewmember. Controlling both it and the dronefeather is a challenge, but the smaller automaton is capable of some minor independent actions.

Its purpose as a mobile hidden spy camera means that the dronefeather comes programmed with the ability to follow a designated target from a safe distance. Again, courtesy of Bucket. I designate the robot as the dronefeather's target. Protocols activate and the flying device begins circling the bipedal one.

The mental burden lifts and I can fully concentrate upon operating the robot. The device reminds me of a battleshell. Mindless and completely inert when left alone, it requires an operator, me, to be of any use at all. Much like those thaumatist operators, who often grow irrationally attached to their 'shells, I decide to give my tool a name.

It is something of a tradition to give these 'shells the name of a general fallen in battle. We know that the dust eaters do so as a jest, and yet Mos look kindly upon it. I name it after one of my elder siblings; Minn. She had always seemed so imposing, during my youth.

Minn goes on a quick tour of the Resurgent, stopping to pick up a few pieces of equipment necessary for our mission. A weapons locker provides Minn with a pistol. Specifically, a SAm33 with its bulky triple-barreled design. I also procure enough ammunition to keep Gelly happy.

With ample time remaining, I send Minn to join Bruen and Gelly in the shuttle. On its way in Minn passes an officer, who I recognize from the updated duty roster. I greet Second Operative Nett Zarr, who bears a stricken expression upon his face. The gray officer absently returns my greeting and exits the hangar, a metallic thud for every other footstep. The robot continues on to the shuttle.

Gelly accepts the cartridges from Minn with a grateful nod. The soldiers make room for Minn to join them, with the dronefeather perching upon its shoulder. The shuttle is cramped with so many inside, but we will not be there for long.

At Jim's command, I open the hangar. Gelly pilots the shuttle out and I close it behind him.

"Let me know when they land," orders Jim. "I'd like to see how Gel does this." He lowers his voice so that his officers cannot hear him, "It will be good training material, if we can edit out any buffoonery from my cousin."

Jim then stands and, with a few final commands to his officers, enters the seclusion of his cabin for a much needed rest.