Cantor Marshe fidgeted with the communicator, sending an urgent message to Parasite, Clara, and Ina. Her face glistened with small beads of sweat hovering on red cheeks that seemed ready to burst.

### Round everyone up. We're meeting in the lab as soon as we get everyone there.

Clara and Liam were already working in the lab. The Quorum security guard was dressed in a tailored uniform. Clara caught herself staring, watching him as he stacked crates of equipment. She had nothing to say, and so focused on the floor until others arrived. The team straggled in over the next few kiloseconds.

Ina entered alongside Layla; Bronco and Arius followed within a few hundred seconds, both wearing wrinkled pajamas. Cantor Marshe was last, arriving after Clara had let her know everyone else was present. The lab was small and uncluttered, dark gray walls ornamented by plastic cabinets. Overhead, strip lights cast dozens of shadows that scattered about the carpeted floor and the long workbench in the center of the room. A machine softly clattered, fabricating components for the Suijin.

Marshe sat at the head of the table and watched as the team rolled chairs from the tight corners Liam had tucked them into. The sound of the fabrication engine was annoying and she briefly considered kicking it. The others silently around the table and waited for Marshe to begin. Her demeanor warned that the conversation would not be jovial.

There were enough chairs, but Bronco remained standing with his thick arms crossed over his chest. He felt the tension and his legs wouldn't let him sit. Marshe glanced at him, finding his pose intimidating, but let her apprehension ease. She was certain he didn't mean to upset anyone.

She rubbed tired, red eyes and sighed. Light reflected off her greasy skin, and as she spoke, her voice was hoarse and weak.

"Everyone... you're not gonna like this, but we don't have a choice. I tried to fight. Please don't give me shit."

Layla cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms tightly, flexing the muscles in her shoulders. Arius smirked slightly, amused at how Layla's posture seemed to match Bronco's, despite the red-haired woman having less than half the mass of the soldier. Liam glared. Marshe continued.

"We've been rerouted to a Quorum station. We've been ordered to stop work and lock everything up. As far as I know, the mission's over."

Parasite began to make a smart comment; Clara put her hand on his knee, and he quieted.

Liam looked at the Cantor. "Ma'am, I understand," he said. "What do you need from us?"

Marshe forced her lips into a polite smile. "Thanks. We're all on administrative furlough, officially, once we lock everything up. This is real, we aren't playing games. We're closing shop until we hear from command. We're not expecting to hear from command."

Marshe looked at Parasite. "I'm not supposed to tell you why, but I'm going to anyway, because I think you all deserve to know. Please do not repeat this. Everyone will know soon, but staff is controlling how this breaks."

She grit her teeth for a moment as she felt her blood pressure rise. "The Ura have engaged in open war on the Quorum Government. It's not on the news-nets yet. They opened fire on Staatschild, and the station has surrendered. One immediate outcome of that surrender was the transfer of information about the Suijin. Us. They are very interested in the ship we are on. I don't know if this is because of what we're doing, or just because the Suijin and the equipment we carry is a major asset, but the Quorum told us to hunker down. Understand they are planning a response, and they don't want us to be involved. We're not a warship, but we're armed. We're expecting..."

Ina shook her head. "We are preparing the ship to fall in combat."

Marshe said, "You have a cynical way of pointing things out, but... yes. They don't want us figuring out anything that could help the Ura in the next few megaseconds, command isn't confident enough we're going to... survive. I told them we'd be better off cracking this nut and dealing with this whole situation, but the Quorum... well, we're all just resources, and they're sacrificing our mission and potential outcomes to buy time."

Layla sighed. She wanted to express condemnation, but decided that she preferred to swallow her anger and disappointment, that her tongue would better serve her remaining still. Still, Arius watched her face turn colors through the conversation, and nudged her in the ribs, trying to lighten the moment. Ina put a hand on Layla's back, and could feel her muscles trembling with tension.

Bronco shook his head. "Cantor, Ma'am, that doesn't make any sense. From what I've heard, the Ura have a head start, right? Stopping us doesn't buy the Quorum anything. There's gotta be another team on this, at least."

Marshe rolled her eyes, dissatisfied. "Yeah. I argued that for ten kiloseconds. I can't talk anymore, so I'm not. That's it. Orders. Get all this shit - equipment - to location seven, and then consider yourself on ready-alert administrative leave until you hear further."

Clara whispered to Liam, sitting behind her. "What's ready-alert?"

"Means no one's allowed to get drunk or high. You've got to be able to hold a gun. Civilians are usually excluded, but it's pretty good advice for right now."

Clara closed her eyes.

Marshe shrugged, pursed her lips, and turned. "Let's get to work."

"One thing," Parasite asked, "Is someone actually coming after us right now? Or is this precautionary?"

"We can assume we're being pursued. There's no confirmation, and we don't know when, what, or from where. They've probably disabled active sensors, maybe hoping we can just hide out here. If we're lucky, we'll get hit by a nuke in our sleep. If not... John, remember that active resistance training you're qualified in? I'm sure there's going to be a supplementary session soon."

The work was accomplished quickly. The team stacked and wrapped the contents of the lab onto plastic pallets, and then Bronco moved them to the cargo bay using a power loader. The bay was a medium-sized cube, three meters on each side, and spanned several decks in height, and was not empty when the group arrived. Bronco's loader reached high with a dilaton generator, lifting the pallets into secure spots. The far doors faced vacuum, and could be opened. Anything jettisoned would be in range of the ship self-defense cannons in a couple of seconds. Command had initially wanted the research destroyed immediately, though Marshe had calmed them and reached the compromise they were currently operating under.

Location seven was loaded with all of the sensitive equipment and research belonging to the team. Other additions were made as several of the Suijin's computers and data stores were carted into the bay on loaders similar to the one Bronco operated.

Pistols with small plastic locks around the triggers were issued to each crew member, civilian and military alike. They were told to keep their pistols concealed on their person, or otherwise in their quarters and staterooms; the locks would fall away automatically if the ship were attacked, for emergency self-defense. The security forces explained that carrying of the pistols was not mandatory, but the personnel who refused a sidearm numbered fewer than a handful.

Marshe watched as fabricated armor plates were bonded to the walls inside the bay with molten steel, and then explosives were placed in the room. Ina scowled at Marshe for a few seconds too long as the group left the bay.

***

Parasite rolled a small metal olive between the palms of his hands. He looked at Ina, across the table in the dim lounge, decorated with plastic panels meant to look like fake wood. The room was otherwise empty. "We might be in combat soon. I've been thinking I should get some armor. The lab's still open, and Marshe said it was ok. I want to go the surgical route."

"If we're attacked, they'll be using flechettes or plasma slugs. No reason not to. As you are, if the Ura are set on killing you, they will, and if not, you'll probably survive. I want to survive," Ina said.

"Yeah, but... it'll improve my effectiveness in hand-to-hand..."

"Do you know how to fight effectively in hand-to-hand combat?"

"That's why I need armor. Well, I've taken a couple of classes," Parasite said. "Besides, what do you know?"

Ina looked at the man, bare servos visible through his tee-shirt. "You have changed a substantial number of your components since I first met you. Nearly one quarter, I believe. Why?"

Parasite laughed, full of insecurity and nervous energy. "You've been keeping track, huh? I guess I'm just not comfortable in this body. I wasn't really comfortable in the one I was born with, either. Sooner or later, I'll figure out the right configuration."

Ina thought for a moment. "I spent a great deal of time in simulators. If I wanted to fly, I would invoke an imperative method, and I would have thrusters. If I wanted to swim, I would be a submarine. My concept of my body was not... this. Waking in this world was very difficult for me. The most complex thing I had ever done with this form was to toss small balls into the air. I had not taken a step outside of a simulator. And that was not the same."

Parasite said, "Yeah. But you seem to have it figured out. No one thinks of you any differently than anyone else."

"I do not believe that to be true. You've had your body for longer than I've had this one. I don't understand why your physical form seems to be a primary concern, when a standard configuration would suit your needs."

Parasite frowned. "Why haven't I gotten it figured out? You think I'm just uncomfortable with myself?"

"In so few words, yes," Ina said. "Why?"

"What's wrong with wanting armor? I thought you'd understand."

"Nothing, Parasite. There's nothing wrong with desiring change to improve yourself or propel you towards your goals. But I think you change for the sake of change. I would..."

"Yeah. Trial and error. I'll go with you for a second. What's so wrong with that?"

Ina raised her hand. "Parasite, my actuators are far weaker than yours. I have no combat training and limited experience. Would changing those actuators increase the chances of my survival? I do not think so. The state of my physical form does not matter in significant ways. So I do not want to change myself to overcome limitations that do not exist. I do not think this is about armor, and if not, I do not understand your objective. The sort of armor you seek won't help you, and won't help Clara. And I know you understood this before I spoke, yet you still consider modification relevant."

"Well, that's it. You've never understood what it is to be human, so you don't know what you're missing. I'm just trying to find it again. Are you going to judge me for that?"

"You're going to make your body more human by equipping yourself with armor."

"Point! Well, how about this. I want to help the people I care about stay safe. That's what it means to be human. Clara's the biggest part of that," Parasite said. "So what do you think?"

"If the Ura find you equipped with external defenses, they'll see you as a threat - an offensive challenge to overcome. You would be mistaken for a combat drone, perhaps, more than me. You're more likely to survive with Clara intact, cowering in your quarters, than you are equipped so as you plan."

Parasite slowly bowed his head. "You don't understand."

Ina knew she'd won. "There is a layer of woven ceramic-titanium fiber beneath my synthetic skin. The fiber-mesh is bonded to the... my body. This armor is effective against many small weapons, and provides resistance against electric and chemical attacks as well. The design is inconspicuous. I was designed to be more robust than a biological human or a prosthetic, but not so much as to cause a problem. If you wish, I will help you synthesize the material for yourself. But if we do this, you must confront the fact that you will appear to be no less human than I."

Parasite pondered the thought; he had been planning on something more akin to the modular ceramic plates that military environmental suits were constructed from. Their thick layers of fiber could stop medium-caliber weapons fire. But the modification would require power plant upgrades, and while his limbs could handle the load, he'd need to update them as well to maintain the same maneuverability... Parasite explained the concept to Ina, and she stared at him. He could mount them using quick-disconnect hardware, so that they could be removed when unnecessary-

"I'm trying to explain... I'm sorry I have struggled. Consider for a moment why you're doing this. Send me a message if you'd like to meet in the lab. I'll help you with what I've offered, but I won't help you with anything else."

Parasite nodded, and sunk deeper into his comfortable chair, and watched Ina leave the lounge.

***

Clara stormed through the hallways, towing Layla along by her hand. The pair came to the central promenade. Clara tried to hide her budding intoxication; she started drinking earlier, and the bars were not permitted to allow intoxication. The ruse was mostly effective, though Layla was concerned with keeping her friend out of trouble. The bars were open as a privilege, and the ship's command had decided to keep morale as high as they could, and that crew would have time enough to sober up if the Suijin was detected by any sort of long-range scanner.

Clara pawed at a chair in front of a high table and climbed onto it. Layla followed and poked at an electronic menu built into the table. The bar was busy, but not crowded, and had no particular theme. Wire-mesh walls separated the space from the empty shopping district beyond. Two identical drinks appeared, alcohol mixed with coffee and topped with a foam made from blended sugar and synthetic lipid. Clara complained through her frustration; she thought she should be able to get drunk if she was going to die, or worse, fail, and that sometimes you have to take things into your own hands. Layla refrained from reminding Clara that she had already taken things into her own hands. Both women had trodden the path to inebriation for more than a few kiloseconds.

Layla wondered out loud where Ina was. Clara explained that Parasite had told her that Ina was going to help him with some "upgrades," that they should be finished soon. Layla wondered at the thought, whether there was some hidden insinuation. "Clara, you know Ina pretty well?"

Clara laughed and brushed her hair back, out of her face. "Not really, I suppose. We've worked together and I've talked with her a bit. Why?"

Layla leaned back against the chair and stretched her stomach.

"I think I need to... talk to her. I've tried talking myself out of it, and here I am, after a few drinks, thinking of doing something stupid."

Clara smirked and wondered how the situation had happened. "Ah. I'm not sure that's the best... well, never mind. It's not my place to comment."

"You were going to say you think it's a bad idea."

"It's a bad idea. Shit... how well do you know her?"

"Won't be the first time..."

Clara rubbed her face for a moment, trying to work out the puzzle through the slow fog of ethanol. "Yeah. That... you know, I don't know. Am I supposed to be talking you out of or into this?"

Layla flashed her teeth in appreciation. "I'm going to do it. A sip of liquid courage." She swallowed a slug of creamy coffee, finishing the drink. "You know what, this is going to be a messy cycle."

***

Layla crept through a curtain made from thick fabric and into the tiny lounge. The room was spartan, empty except for a large sofa, a tiny bar, and a single occupant facing away from the entrance. Black hair fell to rigid, motionless shoulders, topping a plush sweater patterned with a deliberate moire of red and black layers. The effect was disorienting. Simple gray slacks fell from her waist, hidden under the sweater, and further obscured by the wireframe high stool on which she sat. Layla slipped several decorative rings off her fingers, and dropped them into her pocket.

Her chest grew tight, each beat pounding too hard, as if her blood had suddenly turned to dust. Ina must have heard the curtain slide aside, but hadn't turned. She was leaning over the counter, focused on something. Layla walked along the wall and glanced over Ina's shoulder at the book. A small voice in the depth of her mind told her that this was dangerous, that she should back off, but the flood of hormone and alcohol racing through her veins had already dragged her into the rough-carpeted room.

The heavy bottle landed with a clunk as Layla set it on the bar. "Hey. Share a drink with me?"

Ina looked up from the book and glanced at Layla. The human was trembling. Ina straightened her back, assumed a professional composure, and gave a smile. "Yes. How are you?"

Layla leaned over the bar and slid two bowl-shaped glasses out from an overhead rack. Ina twisted the top off the bottle and poured an amount of the opaque lavender fluid into each one. She waited for Layla to drink, and then sipped the glass.

Ina's smile was automatic. Her expression shifted after a moment, becoming natural. "You're not mad at me anymore."

"I need a straight answer. Now that the mission's suspended, what's going to happen with us and your sister and the Dragon?"

Ina sipped the wine again. "Eres needs me to get what she wants. I think the Ura took Staatschild to find me. They know about the Suijin's capabilities. If I do nothing, we'll be found by a Uran fleet with the strength to take this ship. She will use me to bargain with the Dragon, and you won't be able to complete your quest."

"You seem calm about all that."

"Do you want to see my sad face? I'm very upset. I can't protect my friends. Paono's likely to scuttle the Suijin when the Ura come. If I kill myself, the Ura will still come, and Eres will make another like me. If I leave and surrender to the Ura, and Eres wins, what about you? The artifacts will have been delivered. Your quest could be complete."

Layla spent a moment in silence, staggered by the words. She moved her mouth in silent protest for a moment, then chose to answer the question. "There's a piece inside of me. It talks to me. If I'm not the one who delivers the artifacts, I die. I have to meet the Dragon."

"What happens when you find the Dragon?"

"I don't think I'll find out until I'm there. But I was promised that I'd be left alone."

"Eres has the artifacts, and we can assume, the location of the Dragon. If she took possession of the artifacts at Assaf and learned the trajectory as quickly as we did, she's already here. We changed direction, so there's a lot of space to explore. Based on the navigational data, the probability of her locating us increases greatly after two megaseconds. Eres has no use for you, and none for me, either, once she's done."

Layla shivered and took more wine into her mouth, suddenly dry. "So you've really thought this through. Why can't we work with her? Maybe together we could all have what we want."

"Qeryh, remember? She was there before I was. She could have freed you. She could have asked for my help without using a gun. She crushed the temple and opened fire on your ship. Somehow she learned that you're a threat to her. Maybe if you complete your quest, she can't get what she wants. She's your nemesis."

Ina finished her cup and poured more. "I thought you were coming to ply me with this."

"Wine? I don't think that works on you."

"It does, and it's working on you, too. Your face is red. I'm taking advantage of that."

"My face is always red," Layla said with a sigh. "It's not fair. Why did you fuck me after Qeryh?"

Ina squinted, confused. "I told you then that I wanted the experience. There's no more to it than that."

"The robot thing is weird for me. I don't know why I'm so fucking nervous. That's not like me."

Ina placed her hand on top of Layla's. "Can I kiss you?"

Layla stepped back. The room spun as she moved. "Is that a joke?"

"I'm sorry. You came here with a bottle of wine, dressed in a revealing garment. I misunderstood."

"You really... what? You idiot. What happened when I asked you that on the Grace station?"

"I ran," Ina replied. She lifted the glass of wine in her hand. "I'm sorry. I don't have an excuse, just a reason. I like you. I want to have sex with you again. We'll both be dead soon. Probably. I'd rather be rejected than regret failing to ask."

Layla stepped away and breathed heavily. If she had been sober, she would have left. Not impolitely, not after that sort of admission, but she wanted to wait until her facilities could support her intentions. Instead, the wine loosened her blood. She trusted her judgment in this moment more than she would have trusted herself sober. Layla Tal wasn't concerned about consequences. She absorbed the momentum of this particular second in time, and let herself be carried on the current of that wave.

Ina looked down at her waist as long fingers grazed the her hip and moved inwards, lingering just below her synthetic naval. A whisper drifted into her ear, and Ina slowly arched her spine, pushing her shoulders towards the warmth behind her. Hot breath settled on nape of her neck, her throat opened, exposed, the back of Ina's head came to rest on the comfortable shoulder behind her. Her fingers grasped the mess of crimson hair, and blue eyes closed.

One hand, Layla's left, slipped gently under the sweater, and found a cloth strap holding the slacks closed in the front against the thin vertical hollow of Ina's stomach. The other hand moved up along and over the thick texture of the sweater, slowly, coming to a rest on Ina's left breast. The nimble fingers slid underneath the elastic waistband, as her thumb and forefinger loosened a button and series of small snaps. Ina's breath brushed against the side of Layla's hair. A calculated sigh softly escaped. Her eyes opened and fixated on the ceiling.

Layla's tongue touched the ear in front of her face slightly, and slid back into her mouth as a whisper escaped. "Tell me honestly. Is this something you want? Or just some scheme?"

Her hand slid deeper into the trousers as Ina adopted a pleased smile, closed-mouth and content, lips arching high towards her cheekbones. Layla let herself be convinced, and chased silver lips until her tongue could dance across them.

"Answer me," Layla said, pulling her hand away. "I don't understand."

"Pleasure comes from the body, too, not just the mind. I live in a prosthetic designed for humans, electronics give me the ability to feel the same things you do. Please, don't stop."

Ina's own hand, her left, shifted backwards behind the bar stool until it found a hip, and then twisted until her finger tips felt, through thin fabric, the raised crest of Layla's sex. Showers were rationed, and Layla hadn't showered in more than a cycle. There was dirt and dust and odor, and Ina cherished all of it.

Ina knew excitement. She had wanted the intimacy on a logical level. Now the feedback from her body seemed overwhelming. Her body had the same desire as her mind, and so each sensation would echo, reflecting from consciousness, through perception and experience, and back, integrating, until a simple touch lingering in a single place became something else.

"So what happens when we find the Dragon? What happens between you and me? Ina, we're going to be at odds if the Quorum wants to stop me."

Layla's hands were trapped beneath clothing as the robot woman rose from the chair, stumbling backwards towards the long cloth-covered blue sofa. Ina pulled her lover along. Hands came loose and sought to remove fabric from flesh; Ina's new sweater fell to the side, as did Layla's thick pinafore and the silky underclothes beneath.

Ina rested against the sofa, and pulled Layla's mouth to her own with her right hand, while she cajoled the woman to remain standing, bent at the hips. A gentle left hand pushed a knee to the side. Thin, precise fingers walked up the inside of a leg, a bit of human stubble in the way. Ina enjoyed the texture and worked deeper, slowly, until her lover breathed harshly into her mouth.

Ina replied. "I think that the fulfillment of your objective will be the best for me, too. I think I am safe if you succeed. Can you find flaw in that? I don't give a shit about the Quorum."

A silver hand pulled shivering thighs towards the edge of the sofa, and then past. Layla shivered; she hadn't been in control for some time. The taste was new, a wine that hinted at the pleasant outset of a transformation into vinegar. Layla concentrated on the sensation, that Ina felt right.

Layla gasped. "You were made to replace me. What happens if you don't?"

Her arms bent, wrists resting on the arm of the sofa, supporting her upper body. An awkward tongue serenaded the nerves between her legs, fingers pressed and retreated. Ina slid the other hand up Layla's belly and chest until she found a pink nipple, and massaged one breast deeply while the human rocked. Layla had been building, and came suddenly to completion, deep and slow. She collapsed into a sweat-soaked pillow wrapped around the arm of the sofa. The whole moment had been simple and quick, but both felt satisfied with the exchange.

"The objective others have set for me is a different thing from what I choose."

Ina pulled herself out from under Layla, and turned to lean against the sofa's opposite arm. Facing Layla's back, she pulled her paramour onto the cushion between her legs. Layla was wide-eyed and panting, her mind flooding with hormones that told her she was safe and happy. Twenty heartbeats passed, those emotions faded, and Layla wept.

She would spend her sleeping time in Ina's quarters, at least until the group reached Khopesh.

***

Doctor Ferguson pulled the thread tight to the skin and tied a trivial knot. The sutures would be removed within the cycle, but the bio-active glue needed time to set so that the new skin wouldn't show edges where tailored incisions met.

Parasite was surprised at how simple the operation was, once the material had been fabricated: the woven flesh-and-armor was constructed out of one large piece which came together along the spine. He could have stepped into the skin-suit like tight-fitting overalls, if the medical staff had let him. Sensation was collected throughout the skin by a collective nervous system, and a few glass wires were fused to a tiny port on Parasite's polymer spinal column. Computers inside the spine would break out the signals, routing them along various nerves in his brain stem.

"We're done. Now, you can move around, and you won't damage the skin, but the glue might not set right. The bond between the skin and your endoskeleton will take about ten kiloseconds to set, and the sutures can come out after that. You sure you don't want me to sedate you for maybe thirty kilos? I can get a medical tech in here in a few seconds."

Parasite shook his head, staring at the mirror on the side of the operating table. He had recovered his face; the skin was tinted a pale beige, the same as before the disease. The doctor hadn't time to put together the molds required to shape his face as Parasite had appeared before the illness, so Ferguson used stock shims to give the face an attractive and masculine shape. Still, John had never seen himself with a face he could recognize as human, even while he was.

"I'm fine. I don't like sleep."

More foam shapes lay under the skin on torso, arms, and legs, filling the flesh out and forming a natural structure as if draped over muscle instead of motor and electrilastic. Parasite increased the tension in his arm, and his form responded with a natural swell.

Parasite sat up on the workbench and manipulated the material on his chest, finding the loose, slippery skin strange. Ferguson explained that the shifting was normal, and that the skin would tighten and fix in place once the adhesive layer set. Parasite's clothes still fit; he had chosen items that were deliberately loose for the operation. With his body sized to normal proportions, he would need to recycle most of his clothing.

A trip to the hub and a cold drink would do. Parasite considered an attempt to get the others together for a bit of gambling, but thought better of it: Clara would find out from someone else, and that would end badly. A lonely few kiloseconds passed at an empty table, with a growing collection of synthetic beer. He couldn't absorb alcohol directly from the beer, but he could taste the flavor, and his circulatory system released minute amounts of alcohol from a feeder cartridge into his brain. This gave him the perception of actually drinking, and eventually, a hangover.

A deep, distinct voice drawled out from behind Parasite, and he turned as if to see what was happening. Cantor Marshe was staring at him, wide-eyed, showing in a tight blue dress. "Oh My Gods."

Parasite closed his eyes and leaned his head forwards. The plastic on top of his head had been replaced with a neat wig, decorated by locks of short blonde hair. His skin had tightened, and tone formed against the prosthetic molds separating the flesh from his skeleton. "Ma'am."

Marshe shook her head. Parasite thought she seemed so much smaller out of her military uniform; he had seen her dress down for work before, but now, she seemed like she wanted to be seen differently.

Marshe shook her head. "Clara hasn't seen this, has she? I knew it was you from the clothes, but wow. Everything else is new. How unexpected!"

"No. She's not here, is she?"

Marshe grinned from ear to ear. Her speech was slightly slurred, not drunk, but stumbling just enough. "I think she's still in her quarters, asleep. What do you think she's going to say?"

Parasite said, "Not sure. 'Why did you wake me up?', probably."

Marshe scowled at Parasite, tilted her head back, and wagged a finger. "You know, it's not professional to fraternalize with your co-workers." The confusing joke and awkward moment passed, and the grin returned.

"Fraternalize, huh. Drinking much?" Parasite scolded as he rolled his eyes. The expression seemed so natural.

Parasite's face startled Marshe and she let out a drunken giggle. "So why haven't you shown her yet?"

"I just got finished a few kiloseconds ago. It's, er, gotta set up."

"Oh. So you don't want her to damage the merchandise when she pounces. Well, look, Bronco's right behind-"

A gravelly voice boomed. "No shit. Nice, Parasite. I almost didn't recognize you, except for you know, the hair."

Marshe wiggled in her dress, distracting the thick man, twice her age. "And I don't deserve any attention? You could at least buy me a drink."

The music changed; the rhythm became more regular, backed by brassy horns and drums. Bronco's face split into a wide grin. "Boss, that ain't a good idea. You dance?"

Parasite watched, painfully, as Bronco and Marshe danced a modern-drunken-waltz in the lobby outside the cafe. He decided the time to retire had passed, even though he had spent much of the past half-megasecond laying on a workbench. He didn't want to watch the Cantor acting like this.

The decision was wise; Clara and Parasite mostly shared her stateroom, but as a Quorum official, he had one on the same deck that he intended to use for a shift's worth of sleep. Clara had been woken by an obscure message from the Cantor, dressed, and entered the hallway. She stumbled past him, groggily, stuffing her shirt into her pants. She stopped and turned when he grunted slightly, unconsciously surprised by her.

"John?"

"Yeah," Parasite said. "What do you think?"

Clara's hands ran up Parasite's chest, feeling the smooth skin through his loose-woven shirt. Her smile nearly split her face.

"Nice. It's really nice." Clara leaned up on her toes and brushed her lips against Parasite's new face. "Hey, do you know what Marshe wants? I got a message from her."

The edges of Parasite's lips curled up towards his cheeks. The scene seemed so much more amusing now that he was no longer part of it. "Yeah. She's getting drunk and flirting with everyone. I ran into her near the hub. She saw me first and I guess wanted to rat me out?"

"Ok." Clara grabbed the neck of Parasite's shirt with the tips of her fingers, and walked backwards towards her quarters. The shirt began to stretch, and Parasite made a pretense to resist the motion.

"Hey, John. You're gonna show me the rest now, right?"

"Give me a bit... some time. There's still a few loose ends I've got to deal with." He looked down at the floor and pointed at the neat sutures covering the top of his spine. Tiny metallic threads ending with perfect knots tightly wove through the skin, almost as if they had been drawn on. The skin was taught, and slid cleanly over the scaffolding underneath, without any sort of awkward slickness.

Clara hummed happily. "How long?"

Parasite put his hand to her face, and the warmth surprised him. "Just a few more kiloseconds. I was gonna rest for a while and then head back. One last checkout and I'll be good to go."

Clara nodded, wisps of messy hair still floating above her head. "Oh. I was asleep, anyway. Come back with me?"

Parasite's teeth glistened white through satisfied lips. He let Clara lead him by the hand back to her quarters. "John, hey, can I ask, why, now?"

"I was offered starship-grade upgrades," Parasite said. "How could I say no?"

Clara closed her eyes, smiling, as she entered small stateroom.

***

The ship came into range of the Khopesh and sent a short-range communication indicating the Suijin's intents to make a high-velocity approach and rapid stop. The maneuver would release a tremendous quantity of energy that could be detected on long-range passive sensors, but if the stop was executed quickly, the event would remain unnoticed by all those who were not expecting it. If the Suijin was being tracked, a checklist arrival would be too obvious.

The station replied with a threat to open fire, having been on elevated alert and unable to ascertain the Suijin's intentions. A flurry of communications hurtled through space; the Suijin's Commander explained they had no choice in the matter, and sent security codes they hoped the Khopesh station could confirm.

After clever negotiations and an as-promised rapid stop, a cautious shuttle arrived from the Khopesh and inspected the Suijin. Station security satisfied, the cruiser was allowed to dock. Secretively guarded, the location of the station was kept only in isolated databases. With long-ranged weapons that had once been advanced, watching from behind limited defenses, the Khopesh was intended to hedge many of the Quorum Government's bets that the central hub would not be overrun. In time of limited war, the station had been intended to launch devastating and unpredictable attacks against enemies, and in time of lesser need, could provide resupply and refuge.

The Khopesh had been placed in the present location too long in the past. The edges of civilized space expanded further each hundred megaseconds, threatening to reveal the precise coordinates of the station. Gradually, thus, the station had been transitioning from a hardened military outpost to a place somewhat more relaxed, with the undocumented desire of decommissioning the station as a military asset. This would only happen after the construction of a new military base, further out, more modern, and more lethal. The Quorum government hadn't yet, only because the place remained a secret. Accordingly, many of the staff and crew of the Khopesh were aging military Benefactors, high ranking, who had performed their duties well and sought out a peaceful career unlikely to end in combat or political strife.

The interior of the station matched the outside in style at least: battered by time, but solid and clean. Some older stations underwent regular refurbishment, but the Khopesh had merely been maintained with pride by several generations of her inhabitants. The station drifted in space, without the advanced auto-repair and tech labs that were ubiquitous in modern construction, and any refit would require direct intervention and delivery of replacement parts. The Quorum government had ceased, in the most important sense, doing business that way.

Antiquated, inefficient lighting and climate control technology were overcome as the inhabitants transformed the military outpost into a tropical refuge. Old technology gave the station its most distinctive characteristic: a primitive gravity engine that emitted dilaton particles radially outward, prior to the invention of modern phase-vectored flow. The result was that the station was designed, instead of a collection of stacked decks, as an equipotential sphere, with the inhabitants living on the inside of a curved surface, turning eyes towards the life support equipment hovering in the sky. There were only a handful of decks, since the strength of gravity varied with the distance from the generator. The design was as beautiful as it was tremendously inefficient.

The station utilized classical organic recycling. Instead of generating protein, sugar, alcohol and carbohydrates from reactors, the citizens composted waste products into nutrient-rich soil for plants. With the need to operate beyond planned resupply missions, the local produce could easily sustain the skeleton crew of the Suijin in addition to the city-station's population. This meant grass and orchards, trees and farms.

Marshe and Parasite were approached by a senior member of the station staff as they disembarked from the Suijin.

"Ma'am, we're a depot-level station, I know. But we're having power difficulties. We are equipped with four reactors, and we need two for normal operations. We gave one away to a damaged freighter ten megaseconds ago. Only one of the remaining three is fully-functional, and we cycle another to prolong the lifespan. The third is beyond repair."

Parasite asked, "So you want help with repairs? Don't you have your own equipment and people for this?"

Marshe put her hands on her waist. "Tribune, I'll need to talk our ship's crew to find out where we stand. We'll help where we can."

"Just Hoyle, please."

"Sir," Marshe said. "Can I have some time for our people to get situated?"

"Of course. And, please, don't take this the wrong way, but please understand that we can't use our defensive or offensive systems effectively without more power."

"I understand," Marshe said, and she did. They were as aware as anyone of the Suijin's limited life expectancy.

The Tribune bowed and returned to the station. Marshe peered at Parasite through tight eyes. "It's not really my call, you know."

Parasite said, "Whatever you say, Mission Commander. Perhaps you should ask Kurosawa what her opinion is, after all."

Marshe huffed and returned to the ship, passing Ina in the hallway, glaring hotly as she swept by.

"Did I upset Cantor Marshe?"

Parasite smirked. "Nope. That was all my privilege. Hey, you mind going for a walk with me? I want to check out the power systems in this place. Just had a strange conversation."

Ina tilted her head cautiously forward. "Ok."

The walked a short distance before boarding a cable trolley across the interior 'sky', and then an elevator to the center of the station. Upon arriving, they found that gravity was less than a quarter of normal, and signs indicated that unauthorized personnel were not permitted. Both ignored the literature and continued through the center of the station until they arrived at the power plant. The cramped area was a mess of strewn cables connecting burnt components. Parasite knew the station was a resupply point, but until that moment, he didn't understand how much the station had been cannibalized to repair ships passing by. Ina looked at him over her shoulder.

"Ina, I think we need to fix this. The Khopesh station is dangerous in the current configuration."

Ina agreed. The Suijin could spare the raw materials, and the tech lab could fabricate the small-scale systems in the power plant that were either missing or seriously degraded. Parasite explained that they would still need to convince both Cantor Marshe and Cantor Paono to give up materials they might consider valuable.

"Parasite, I have a question to ask."

"Yeah?"

"Some context. You have skin modeled after the same design as mine now. Before that, you were equipped with pressure-sensitive plastic. And I assume that before then, you had a human body."

"More or less. I had synth-skin for a while before the plastic."

"I wonder how my perception of touch compares with that of a human. Does your new skin feel the same as your organic flesh? The sensations you experience through your skin now, and through the skin you were born with."

Parasite said, "The simple answer is yes. It's pretty close. I don't think my nerves know the difference, not most of the time. Touching feels the same, but I got rid of the old synth-skin because when I would feel things, I would taste things, too. This stuff- your stuff is different, or maybe my brain's just adapted to the electronic interface for my body. I think the problems I had probably aren't relevant for you."

Ina shrugged. She looked over her shoulder, around the room, searching for the source of an echo. She found nothing.

"Huh?" Parasite uttered, confused.

"Nothing relevant. We should make sure the others know where we are, and then begin our effort."

Parasite nodded, and they made way back, meeting with Paono and Marshe in a station lobby.

"This place is in trouble. We're heading into a war and they are in very rough shape. They need help, and some of the spare equipment we might have or be able to fabricate." As Parasite explained the problems he found, Paono became more than willing to rebuild the Khopesh' defenses.

The short, bald man with shiny, thin skin nodded. He spoke with a slight accent, identifying himself as planet-born. "My engineers are getting lazy. Put them to work."

Marshe grinned. "Parasite, are you going to head this up, then?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll take care of it."

"And we're certain this won't compromise our mission effectiveness?"

Ina shook her head. "The needs of the Khopesh are aligned with our own."

***

Layla picked a piece of foliage from Arius' thin, black hair, and inspected the small brown leaf before tossing it to the ground. His dark eyes glittered in the bright light of the cafe. The two snacked on some sort of locally-made dip, scooped up in thin pieces of fried bread. The walls of the restaurant were woven from flat strips made from pressed, dried leaves. A distinctive smell permeated the place; a single scent, spicy and earthy, with a hint of harshness, almost like fuel.

Arius crunched on a piece of bread. "I tried to stop by your quarters last cycle. And the cycle before. So. You and Ina. Not looking for a shuttle anymore?"

Layla's head ducked slightly. "Hmm? Yeah."

Arius nodded, appreciative. "That's good, isn't it? A shame, of course, for me, but it's good to see a little joy in you, for once."

Layla's head ducked even lower. "Shush. Leave her alone, right? I'm more concerned that we're stuck here than any problem she presents."

Arius grinned.

Marshe sat at another table and poked at a puddle of thick green stew. Her hair was pulled back tightly, bound with an elastic, and shining in the barely-artificial light. "This is food?"

Bronco nodded, and stole a mouthful. Marshe pushed the bowl towards him, and turned her attention towards a simple sandwich made of toasted bread, a slice of real tomato, and comfortable protein emulsion. Bronco shook his head and slurped up more of the authentic split-pea soup.

The grassy field was marked by a tree twenty meters tall, basking in artificial illumination. The tree was fully leafed out, with rough, broken bark. Delicate limbs spiraled into the sky. A faded plastic sign nearby scolded observers from coming too close and damaging the shallow roots. Liam sat, despite the warning, legs akimbo and arms behind his head, leaning against the tree. No one seemed to mind. He wore a borrowed shirt, white, layered in ruffles, without a single button fastened. Legs, toned and tanned, emerged from linen shorts and stopped at meticulously pedicured feet. Another man, light skinned with green hair, slid a brush across a framed canvas, shading in the shadows on Liam's bare abdomen.

Clara sighed, leaning over the white railing on the second story balcony of the small cafe. Parasite - John - was satisfied with himself, standing on the lower floor and watching Clara's bosom rise and fall with her breath, stretching her A-shirt tight. His body responded to a signal he had initiated with a gesture of his eyes, releasing hormones. Parasite recognized the feeling, and waited for the warmth to soak through the few drops of blood in his body, but the sensation never came. His arousal felt hollow, and he commanded his body to cease emitting androgens, and to recycle the quantity in his blood.

Ina closed her eyes and sniffed the air, fragrant and full of life. So unexpected for a place like this. The ecosystem was sustainable. If the Khopesh were to build a modern tech lab, the station could remain self-sufficient forever. Her eyes opened, and she turned her head across her shoulder. "Clara. We will be struggling soon. I'm glad for this time."

Clara said, "Probably. I could spend forever here, I think. Do the Ura really want to hurt us? I thought this was going to be an adventure. I think I would have rather stayed on Staatschild... but... even Staatschild has fallen. Do you think the Ura destroyed the whole station? Maybe everyone is a prisoner now. I wonder... I have friends, not many..."

Ina blinked slowly. "We have things to do. But the idea of staying here. I think I know what you mean. The work Parasite accomplished is good for this station, and I suspect you will both be welcome once our tasks are complete."

Clara looked over and let her eyes trace the pattern of distant sparks along the curve of the station. The lights had begun to dim, part of an enforced cycle to preserve the plants. An elderly man with a thin beard and bright, bushy eyes approached the pair on the balcony. He spoke with a high, squeaky voice and a friendly demeanor.

"You know, we have a waterfall. Either of you ever seen one?"

Ina looked over her shoulder while Clara turned and rested her back against the railing.

"Only in pictures," Clara offered.

The man nodded and said, "You should see it, if you have time. Search it on the directory. Sometimes I go there, and I fall asleep on the bank, listening to the sound."

Clara smiled and bowed. "Thanks for the tip."

Marshe found Ina coming down the stairs from the balcony and made sure they were out of sight of the others. "Can I talk with you for a moment?"

Ina's head cocked to the side. "Of course."

"You've said some things lately that made me think. Do you know anything about what we're going to face, anything that I don't?"

Ina raised her shoulders. "Perhaps. But do you not also keep secrets from me?"

The lights were dimming more fully, and Marshe stared into Ina's eyes. "That's my responsibility, not yours. I'm commander, you're subordinate."

"You're the commander, so I suppose you must make judgment calls. There's something in location seven that did not come from the lab. Something related to us. What is it?"

Marshe shook her head and felt the blood rush to her face. "You shouldn't know about that. Did you snoop when we were loading? How do you know about that?"

"I don't know."

"Ina, have you been down there? Who told you?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything, and I don't know how I know there is something. I feel like I've been there in the past few cycles, but I haven't left the station, and I have proof of that. I needed proof for myself. And I don't have any theories, or concrete information, or evidence that would help us in the future. Cantor, that I am asking you this should indicate that I have not attempted to spy on your plans. Instead, I accord you the respect of asking you directly."

Marshe's whisper became almost inaudible. "You can not repeat this. We have the original computer core from the Eres. The Ura are after us because they want that core. It was an accident, but with Tal, that core, and you... we're a target. When we set out, we didn't understand the relationship."

Ina shivered. "The Ura have the core. Whatever you have is working against us."

Marshe closed her eyes. "No. That's a clone. Ours is off-line. It has no power source. There's no connection between the core and anything outside. How, exactly, can it be working against us?"

"She is not off-line. She is awake. I can sense her. I do not understand how."

Marshe's voice exploded for two syllables, and then fell again. "Fuck, Ina. You can sense her? What does that mean? What is going on?"

Ina stared at the floor. "I don't know, I'm trying to understand this in real-time. This is bothers me. What were your intentions regarding the core? You should destroy it."

Marshe's eyes swept around, lingering on the various citizens ambling about the public area. "I can't do that. They scrubbed our mission so we could hunker down and hide this thing. Promise me you'll leave it alone, and we can talk later. This is not the place, alright?"

"Cantor, I have no intention of defying the lockdown on the cargo bay. But if she's here, she is not off-line."

Marshe swore under her breath and finished the conversation. "Leave it alone."

***

"Parasite, what do you think about Ina? Can we trust her?"

Parasite put a hand to his chin, and turned to face Cantor Marshe. "Well, she's been good to us, but we've never really been in a bad place where she's had to make a tough decision."

"I hope it stays that way. I know you two have become friends, and I don't see a problem with that. But I need you to keep an impartial eye on her. Remember, she was brought into this mission under duress. She's here now because she's got objectives she thinks we can help her with, but I don't know what those are, and I'm almost certain her agenda conflicts with our mission. So watch her. That's an order."

"Yeah. Yes, Ma'am Cantor."

***

Unanticipated, orders to continue the mission came, and the Suijin departed from the Khopesh two megaseconds after she arrived. The Suijin had shed all of her momentum reaching the station, and so would take longer to return to the trajectory-intercept course predicted through scans of the artifact.

Marshe spoke with each member of the team and confirmed their decision to continue with the mission. The group chose to leave the comfort of the Khopesh and pursue the weapon.

The Suijin left the few crew-members with administrative and janitorial responsibilities on the Khopesh. The remainder were put into life support pods so that the ship could make up time through the effects of extreme thrust. The process was necessary, since the Suijin needed to match a high velocity when she reached the distant position to make the trajectory.

The pods kept the inhabitants suspended in pressurized liquid, in a reduced metabolic state, assisted by narcotics. The process required the purge of all the solid digestive products in a human body, either a period of fasting and intravenous nutrition or a harsh chemical cleansing.

The fluid was temperature controlled to slow biological processes, but recirculated to remain full of nourishing compounds and oxygen, allowing the fluid to be swallowed and breathed unconsciously, thereby sustaining life. The liquid was filtered to prevent contamination from any bodily waste generated during stasis, though any such material would be inherently sterile. Sensors inside the pod could rapidly detect problems and provide automatic solutions to minor problems caused by stress and predictable illness.

Symptoms of a major problem, anything that affected more than an individual, would result in the waking of command and medical staff. The narcotic cocktail administered prior to entry, then maintained at low levels in the fluid, generally prevented rapid returns to consciousness without the assistance of external medical personnel.

Ina Kurosawa explained that she would not allow herself to be placed in a life support pod. Marshe considered confining Ina to quarters, but dismissed the idea as too adversarial. Instead, the Cantor programmed an alert into the Suijin's security system. If Ina Kurosawa - or anyone - were to be identified by the ship's computers near location seven, the ship would cease acceleration while a small security team was awoken to deal with the situation.

Marshe joined the crew of the ship in a converted cargo bay filled with stacked rows of pods that had been constructed by machines in the tech lab. She blinked through the oxygenated fluid as the pod became full, surprised at how comfortable she felt. She felt safe. The ship had already entered lockdown. The ship's sentient core would protect everyone.

She blinked slowly, and felt a sudden chill. The fluid had vanished in the span of a flutter of her eyelids, and a soldier in armor pointed a battle rifle at her chest. All of the others had been awakened earlier, and the Suijin's leaders were revived last. Marshe was herded along with the senior navigation crew and locked into a large closet near the primary docking bay.

***

Layla Tal found a different scene awaiting with her return to consciousness. A small welt rose on her arm, the result of a hasty injection before she'd been removed from the life support pod. She was groggy and confused. Her hands hurt, her feet were numb. Her muscles ached and she tried to stretch, but found her arms bound tightly behind her back, seated in a rolling chair in the hallway. Thin plastic straps tied her ankles to the chair's frame. She didn't recognize the location, but a sign explained that she was outside the computing center. The doors to the area were open, and Layla had a good view of the technicians at work in the area.