The interior of the shuttle was thick with the smell of ozone and the lingering adrenaline of their narrow escape. Veera was still checking the seals on her scorched armour when Mayvheen’s voice cut through the hum of the life support systems, sharp with a new kind of terror.

  "Veera? We have a problem."

  Veera looked up, her hand instinctively hovering near her rifle. "What now?"

  "A Cephilusk scout," Mayvheen whispered, her eyes fixed on the long-range scanners. "It’s been trailing us for a while. They’ve locked onto our signature... they want to talk."

  Veera’s jaw tightened. The image of the Sentinel slaughtering civilians– and the sight of Katya’s fear-stricken tears– burned in her mind. "Good. I want to talk to them too. Face to face, so I can punch one of them in their puffed-up heads and–"

  "No!" Mayvheen’s eyes were wide, pleading. "We aren't supposed to be in this sector, Veera. If you strike a Cephilusk, you’ll start a war that we can’t survive. It’ll be a diplomatic catastrophe."

  Veera exhaled a long, frustrated breath through her nose. "Fine. But let me do the talking. I’ve spent more time in the trenches with the squids than you have. I know how they think."

  "I don't think that's a good idea," Mayvheen countered. "You're too... volatile right now."

  "With respect," Veera said, her voice dropping into a low, dangerous register, "I know how to handle them. I promise I'll be calm."

  Mayvheen hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Very well. But don't blow it."

  Veera turned toward the comms console, her mind racing. The Cephilusks– or "squids," as the grunts called them– were a species that prided themselves on a bizarre, twisted version of "truth." She decided on a desperate bluff. If they played the part of desperate smugglers, they might be dismissed as insignificant.

  "Squids are deceptive," Veera muttered to Mayvheen. "Our only chance is pretending we're just low-life smugglers who took a wrong turn."

  Mayvheen didn't look convinced, but she took her place at the secondary station. "If you're sure. I trust you."

  The comms link flickered to life, and the main viewscreen was filled with the image of a Cephilusk Speaker named Lahkhadia.

  Lahkhadia’s limbs undulated with a slow, hypnotic throbbing. The alien’s voice, translated through the ship’s computer, sounded like poisonous silk.

  "Yumans," the Speaker began, her large eyes blinking in an asymmetrical pattern. "What is your purpose for being here?"

  Veera leaned into the pick-up, her face a mask of weary indifference. "We're smugglers. Don't come any closer or we'll open fire."

  A strange, chittering sound erupted from the screen, the Cephilusk equivalent of a laugh. "My sweet, innocent childling. You do realize you are talking to a UIC-registered ship? If you were truly armed smugglers, you would not have been afforded the breath to explain yourselves."

  Veera’s stomach sank. The Cephilusk continued, her tone patronising.

  "I am merely curious as to why a shuttle with an undeniable UIC drive signature would pretend to be a common criminal. You are not supposed to be here. And yet, here you are. I wonder why?"

  "We acted alone!" Veera barked, trying to pivot. "We stole the shuttle, we got lost–"

  "It is unkind to speak untruth," Lahkhadia interrupted, her bioluminescence shifting to a stern, deep indigo. "It is known that you are trying to conceal the sins of your superiors. Tell me, what did you see?"

  Veera’s composure finally broke. "Why did you attack our colony?! We have proof! Your Sentinels murdered thousands down there!"

  Lahkhadia didn't flinch. If anything, she looked bored. "Sentinels, yes. Ours? No."

  "You squids are the only ones who use Sentinels!" Veera screamed. "If they aren't yours, whose are they?"

  "Squids? Ah, because of my limbs. Humorous," Lahkhadia mused. "But your reasoning is flawed. Do the dwellings on that colony belong to you? No? Yet yumans are the only species to live in such structures. Why would you assume every machine that looks like ours belongs to our hearts?"

  "Are you saying a different Cephilusk faction attacked them?" Mayvheen asked, leaning into the frame.

  "Factions?" Lahkhadia’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Childling, there are no factions. We are one. We are merged. We are the Concordat."

  "Then you admit it!" Veera pressed. "Your machines killed those people!"

  "Fascinating yet tiring," Lahkhadia sighed. "I see now why our envoys find yumans frustrating. You lack basic retention. They are not our Sentinels. They are Protectors. Exterminators. They were only doing their duty."

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  "Protecting you from unarmed civilians?"

  "No," Lahkhadia said, her voice suddenly cold. "They were not protecting us. They were protecting you. Through purification, they were preserving the yuman race."

  Mayvheen’s voice was trembling with rage. "Killing to preserve life? That’s a paradox, and you know it won’t hold up in an official investigation."

  "Amusing, but untrue," Lahk replied. "The Sentinels acted in truth with their intended purpose. There was no wrong done here."

  Veera felt a cold shiver run down her spine. The alien wasn't lying– at least, not by her own definition. She truly believed the slaughter was a service.

  "May," Veera whispered, "let it go. We need to leave before she decides to 'smother' us. Arguing with this creature is useless. If we die here, no one will ever know the truth."

  Mayvheen nodded, her face pale.

  "Have you decided then?" Lahkhadia asked. "You will leave this place now and never return. If you don’t, you will be in violation of UIC regulations. It would be well within our rights to drown the life in you."

  "What about our people still down there?" Mayvheen asked one last time.

  "They are likely all gone by now," Lahk said. "You are lucky not to count yourselves among them. There is nothing left for you here."

  The screen went black.

  The shuttle’s engines flared, pushing them away from Khatsey and back toward the UIC Tabitha. For a long time, neither woman spoke. The silence was only broken by the soft, rhythmic rustling of Cleo the cat in the back of the cabin.

  Mayvheen stood by the environmental support console, her back to Veera. Her shoulders were shaking.

  "May?" Veera asked softly. "Are you okay?"

  Mayvheen turned, her face streaked with tears. "I'm sorry. I don't like crying in front of people."

  "It's okay," Veera said, feeling that familiar, awkward knot in her chest.

  "You hate it when people get emotional," Mayvheen sobbed. "I know."

  "That's true," Veera admitted, walking over to her. "But May... you're not like me. It's awkward when you cry, but I don't want you to hide it for my sake. That girl... those people... it’s not fair."

  "They all had a future," Mayvheen whispered. "And now it's gone."

  Veera hesitated, then placed a heavy, armoured hand on Mayvheen’s shoulder. It was a clumsy gesture, but it was all she had. "You’ve never lost anyone before, have you?"

  Mayvheen shook her head. "No. No one I knew personally. I only did strategic planning during the war. I was high up in the starships, worlds apart from the carnage... just like you said."

  "I'm sorry about that," Veera said quietly. "It’s hard. I wish I could say it gets easier, but it doesn't. I just avoid going there in my mind."

  "That can't be healthy."

  Veera gave a small, cynical half-smile. "True. But then again, nothing about joining the assault marines was healthy."

  "Then why did you sign up?"

  Veera looked at her reflection in the dark glass of the viewscreen. "There will always be something to fight for, May. No matter how much we gain. It’s the human condition– always improving, always fighting for what’s right. And someone has to do the fighting."

  Mayvheen wiped her eyes and looked at Veera, a new kind of respect in her gaze. "Veera... I know the others give you a hard time, but... I’m glad I know you."

  Veera looked away, her face flushing slightly beneath the grime. "Yeah, well. Give it some time. You might change your mind."

  Meanwhile...

  On the bridge of the Cephilusk scout ship, a young crew member turned to Lahkhadia.

  "Speaker for our hearts, why did you let the yumans return? Surely you saw the scans?"

  Lahkhadia turned, her eyes reflecting the cold light of the stars. "Indeed. I saw."

  "But the consequences... if they report this–"

  "The yumans wanted a seat in the pool despite not being ready to swim," Lahkhadia interrupted. "We could not deny them the Concordat, but with privilege comes responsibility. Sometimes the only way to teach a stubborn newly-spawned is to let it play among the sharp corals."

  "Ah! So insightful. A coral injury always attracts a blood predator," the crewman noted.

  "You perceive the understanding, but you do not comprehend it," Lahkhadia said sadly. "The yumans are embraced with us. We wish them no harm. But the others... the others might not be as kind. It is better that they learn this lesson from a friend."

  She looked back at the retreating shuttle, a tiny speck of light against the void.

  "I wish for them to learn, to overcome, and to become wiser. It is a kindness. But if they cannot adapt, then they will perish. And that, too, will be a kindness."

  Lahkhadia wiped her nostrils with on of her face tendrils.

  "Time will tell which kindness we showed here today."

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