Gelly stands in only his soiled uniform. He holds his knife at the base of Zek's head, where the nervous column is closest to the surface.

He grunts at her, not sure if she speaks the common tongue of the tribals. She says something in her own language, but he only understands his own name, and that of the alien whose prone form they stand over. Bruen sleeps quietly at Gelly's feet, somehow not awakened by the startled chirrup the robed alien releases when he removes his knife from her back.

The operative gestures for her to go first. She answers with an affirmative noise, and he follows close behind her. He leads her to his own tent. Once there he grabs the helmet of his suit and activates it. He puts it on and faces the mystic.

"Why do you interfere," she demands, "this is not your business."

"I did no live me life bein' a mind slave just to watch me friends do the same to themselves."

"You are mistaken, Trader."

"Aye? Then set me right. What were ye doin' to yer Bruen?"

"Mos Bruen is a powerful weapon," she replies. "I seek only to ensure that he is guided properly."

"Certain lines should no be crossed, Zek."

"Nor shall they be," answers Zek. "All that I do is for his own benefit. I only offer him a choice."

"Aye, then. Go on to yer own bed, ye hear? We'll be talkin' o' this in the mornin', the three o' us."

He watches her go to her own tent and waits until he's sure she's asleep. He shakes his head and finishes writing his letter before he lays down. He keeps his knife close and sleeps fitfully.

Shouting awakens him not long into his rest, and he springs up, knife in hand. He slams his helmet onto his shoulders and runs toward the sounds of fighting.

The group that the spikey old one had mentioned are trapped outside the gates of the camp. Tribals assault them from both sides. Gelly rushes to the battle and leaps onto the green scaled form of a tribal. As he falls, he plunges his knife into its thick neck.

Blood gushes out when he pulls it free, and the creature's long toothy jaw falls slack. The tribal falls dead but another creature quickly takes its place. Claws rake across his chest from a creature like a two-armed Tserri with a long swishing tail that jumps over the slick scaled corpse.

He swipes with his knife but the creature arches back bonelessly away from his blade. It slices his arm as he ducks back himself. A spear head blossoms from its chest, spraying dark blood onto the surprised operative. The barbed blade vanishes in a burst of light and the shaft is pulled free.

When the creature drops to the ground, Gelly sees Mos Einiss standing behind it. Rather than wait for acknowledgement, the alien turns and stabs another distracted tribal with his spear. Gelly follows his lead and strikes the back of a tribal that threatens a frail Squiver. The yellow furred creature joins the other corpses upon the stone ground.

The Sha and their escorts make it into the camp, and Gelly fights beside Einiss to cover their retreat. With the help of the other generals and soldiers they destroy the attacking tribal band with only minimal casualties. One warrior dies in the attack, but none of the Sha are wounded more than lightly. Gelly bears new wounds from the attack, as do many of the others resting beside him.

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The robed members swarm the wounded, applying their mystic healing. Gelly accepts when they offer to treat his wounds. His curiosity has long plagued him about the healing powers of the robed beings. Somner Zek herself approaches to treat him, sauntering up to him as is her way.

Her tendrils are cold and wet. The slime that coats them tingles upon his cuts but some numbing quality quickly deadens the pain. A heat fills his body, burning hottest under her touch. It stops as quickly as thought and the healer gasps. She staggers back revealing white scars across his gray chest. He looks down in amazement.

Gelly's stomach grumbles, and he realizes how weak he feels after the healing. "Where's Drev with our rations, eh?"

The soldier returns from hauling away corpses and leads Gelly to get something to eat. They and the other soldiers munch on dried fruits and travel biscuits. Drev offers him a glass bottle full of an orange liquid, which he takes with thanks.

It fizzes when he opens it, releasing thick foam. He takes a hopeful sip. The fiery taste of alchohol greets his mouth, underneath the sweet fruit flavor. He drinks contentedly, relaxing before the next rigorous task he'll be presented. The flavors are alien but not at all unpleasant.

After his meal Bruen arrives with Einiss following in his wake. Gelly stands up, grunting as his muscles stretch.

"Now that the reinforcements Mos Chool has been expecting are here, we are free to continue towards Homeworld. Are you ready?"

"Aye, but first we needs to have a litte talk. Is yer witch around?"

"Somner Zek? She said you wished to speak with me. She didn't seem too concerned and is trading gossip with the others of her kind."

"Aye, that I do," answers Gelly. "She were standin' over ye last night, hexin' or the like."

"It is not to wise to try to understand them, Gel. Their burden is heavy."

"She was toyin' with yer mind!"

"Yes."

"Do ye no even care?"

"I do, but it is my duty to bear the price of her actions."

Gelly throws his arms up, unable to further articulate his concerns. "Fine."

"If you've no other objections, let us find the rest of our companions and continue on our way."

Bruen turns and glides off. After a moment of hesitation Gelly follows the alien, muttering quietly to himself. He attracts the attention of many of the tentacled warriors around him, but they leave him alone. The weight of their gaze settles like heavy armor around him. He can feel his face grow hot, and regrets bringing his concerns to his friend.

Drev helps him into his armor without comment and repacks their tents. They rejoin the others, Gelly still working through the events of the night in his head. Somner Zek pays him no attention when he takes his place beside Mos Bruen.

Gelly glares at her, thinking about the insulting term many of the Squivers use to describe those like her. Dust eater. He watches the way the others automatically dodge to the side when one called Somner draws near, or a Juror walks by. As they march, he continues to contemplate the strange powers that the robe clad aliens display so casually.

The chieftains too possess many unexplainable abilities. Gelly wonders if his supposed immunity to the dominating aura of the chiefs extends to the more surgical tampering he suspects Zek of.

Ultimately he decides that it cannot. The Squivers claim to be completely immune, not just resistant, to the powers of the tribal chiefs and yet Somner Zek seems confident in her ability to affect Bruen. He shudders inside his armor.

He can't help but notice the way the two mystics constantly touch each other. Contact between the others seems more purposeful, almost ritualized in comparison. After experiencing the touch of Somner Zek and its effect upon his suit, he can understand the caution.

Guards let them out into the tunnel. The tribal corpses form a mound on one side of the wide space. The bodies twitch as scavengers feast upon the unexpected bounty. One of the blind vermin chews out of the soft skin of a dead tribal as Gelly watches, causing him to look away.

They pass a crew of soldiers guarding three green robed workers. The soldiers greet the generals respectfully before returning to their duties. The trio that they guard work to engrave the dark stone with runelights. One stops and pulls a vial from its bandoleer. They bring it to their face and drink or inhale the contents. The empty vial goes back into the bandoleer and the being resumes their work. Dust eaters.

"Young Juror," comments Zek absently. "They are not yet trusted with greater tasks."

When Gelly turns to look at her, the gray robed alien is entirely focused upon a lump of dark putty that she works with her many appendages. He grunts and keeps walking.