Novek sighed — he did not want to explain this a second time, “I'm perfectly serious. Specifically I'm thinking we'd want one of the larger carcasses — something that hasn't been butchered completely. Or if not, at least some mixed hocks and ribs, and an armful of tripe. Skinned or not isn't a problem — an incendiary effect will make that moot, but it needs to be relatively whole to be convincing.”

  Tru'dee was clearly a professional, she hadn't even batted an eyelid at the word incendiary, “We feed almost a hundred growing Brin and Ber daily. We're almost certain to have something suitable for whatever it is that you're planning.”

  “I'm not sure that I'd call it a plan just yet — but it'll get there. Tanner, will you be okay on your own — actually, maybe you could head to where the children are being taken?”

  One of her eyelids flickered at that, “For what should be obvious reasons, we will not be allowing anyone not on staff to accompany our wards. They have already been ushered into one of the safe rooms by now, they've all been drilled on this exact scenario.”

  “Perfect — that's one less thing to worry about. Okay then, the pack should be close — Klaxon's soldier-mimes won't want to tangle with them, so at this point I'd suggest you wait here for the pack arrival. If something goes wrong, retreat to the lower hallways.”

  Savron stepped forward, “I'm on my way back that way now, Tanner. Let me show you one of the reinforced classrooms, in the event that you need to barricade yourself in.”

  Tru'dee and Savron shared a parting embrace, then Savron directed Tanner and his swarm of pups down the hallway. They had turned the corner out of sight, at which point Novek's curiosity got the better of him, and he turned to his agreed upon kitchen escort, “Reinforced classrooms? Reinforced against what?”

  Tru'dee strode down the hall, eyeing the now empty cages, and answered in curt tones, “We educate Brin still in the process of being Uplifted in the use of their Talents, and more to the point — Ber'Duun who wish to experiment with abilities not specifically granted as a Skill. Naturally, we have a number of rooms that could withstand prolonged assault by siege weaponry if necessary. We were caught by surprise before by multiple forces acting in tandem — if not in concert — now that we are forewarned, our failure to respond adequately will not happen again.”

  “Hope for the best, plan for the worst?”

  “Only poor strategists fail to plan for optimal outcomes.”

  “Good tacticians, on the other paw, don't believe they exist.” Novek felt his next question was a long shot, but one couldn't confirm a kill shot you didn't take, “If you don't mind me asking, as a fellow soldier, how did you and the Doctor end up together — it seems an unlikely match.”

  “What, Human and Ber-Human hybrid?”

  “Doctor and soldier, specifically — how did you get over the whole philosophical difference — one takes lives, one saves them?”

  “We have discussed this specific point with others previously; ultimately we both disagree with the characterization. Both of us choose who lives and who dies — it's merely the method of determination that differs.”

  “Ah, both pragmatists, then.”

  Tru'dee's voice softened for the first time she'd spoken to Novek, and the cadence of her speech changed, “Well, not entirely, it all started with a battlefield romance. The usual story — doctor's bodyguard gets wounded, is treated by said doctor, falls in love.”

  “So you and Savron met during a deployment?”

  “Oh, no. That's just me — I'd lost a leg previously and had an Ent'ender prosthetic — a year or so later, things went very wrong and the shoulder and arm were unsalvageable.” She held up her right arm, which Novek noted wasn't the same mix of flesh and wood. “I was still in surgery for the supporting spinal fusion, Tru was the attending physician, as they were responsible for the nerve graft. An errant shell exploded just outside the surgical tent; the explosion killed the rest of the surgical team — three of our best nurses, and two doctors.”

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  Tru'dee stopped walking, before continuing to speak — their tone wavering. “A chunk of shrapnel punched through my skull, resulting in a rapid unscheduled partial hemispherectomy. But Tru and Dee had discussed responses to poor outcomes the week prior — nervous system integration is risky, after all. Dee wished for all reasonable attempts to be made at resuscitation — but failing that, to help others as an organ donor. Tru was… moved… by the sentiment, and the sacrifice. So when the time to choose between waking up crippled — if at all — or waking up better, I chose better. And I've never regretted it for a moment.”

  Novek bowed his head and stood quietly for a moment, in recognition of the fallen — including the two now standing before him as one. “Well — I mean this sincerely; it is a pleasure to meet you, Tru'Dee. How did Savron and you meet, then?”

  Tru'dee resumed walking, and turned down a small stairway cut into the stone — which led to a small hallway that bisected the wheel of the torus. They placed their hand on a thick stone door and pushed — it opened noiselessly, revealing a cold cellar, lighted primarily by colored glass windows high in the ceiling on one side. “Later that year, we put out the call for volunteers to replace those lost, and Savron joined up once we resumed operations — a bit of a combined soldier, doctor pun there.”

  Novek's sense of position placed just below ground level on the outside edge of the ring. “How is that, then? I overheard Tanner and Savron discuss his retirement earlier.”

  She entered the room, which was filled with barrels and boxes of various foodstuffs. A number of bisected carcasses hung along the walls on thick metal hooks. “Only from Bell House, not from medicine. He felt he could do more good elsewhere, and HFA seemed a good fit. Will these do?”

  Novek took in the slabs of meat, “Not quite perfect, but they'll suffice. Also, HFA?”

  “Health from Above — I'm on teaching sabbatical at the moment, thus the classes. My husband is on leave, to visit and relax — clearly that's not going to plan. Our specialty is air dropping medical personnel into contested regions otherwise inaccessible due to geography or residual fighting. My frame is only a slight modification to our normal exoskeletal support configuration.”

  “Interesting. I have a Brek'ka friend you should talk to.”

  “Not necessary — Brek'ka legs have long been a primary inspiration for some of our exoskeleton designs. Oh, do you mean Ceress? If so, we're on good terms — we've hired her and her team for a few deployments, but obviously southern drops tend towards primarily Brin companies — most Ber can't tolerate the rifts. Soot's a sweetheart though, even if I keep having to explain that I'm highly flammable.”

  “The big lizard sure is; which reminds me, I need replacement braces of throwing knives.”

  “We have some in the armory; that's an odd follow-up.”

  “She made me a bunch of roughs last week, but I threw them all at some four-armed jerk a few days back, for all the good that did, and couldn't manage to retrieve them.”

  “Four arms? That can't be a coincidence. You wouldn't happen to be referring to an Elin'amen — a Mentid — would you?”

  “Sure am. Goes by Trant — might have been down to only three hands last I saw of him.” Novek held up one of his hands and wiggled the fingers by way of demonstration. “Could you help me get this down?”

  “Hm. There is a slight possibility that, eventually, we might get along. Just the one?”

  “Hmm, both halves of the animal, I think. Your response sounds very much like you're familiar with him.”

  Tru'dee, barely reaching two meters with the thirty-five or so centimeter extensions to her legs, reached over and lifted what had to have been approaching a half-ton of meat off of the hook and held it across their arms, not touching the floor.

  She continued talking, not even breathing hard. “Not half an hour ago I was informing him that we would not be willing to craft a prosthesis, were he to lose his hand to necrosis. The wound was recent; are you the one who nearly skeletonized it?”

  Novek stared a moment. Ber were just — so — unfair. Then his brain caught up with what he'd heard but not processed and started laughing. “Oh, now this is going to get interesting.”

  Tru'dee raised an eyebrow at him, “How so?”

  “Because nobody did it to him; he did it to himself. The boy he was so terrified by that he almost tore his own hand off, is who he has locked in the vacuum chamber.”

  “That explains what distracted them so thoroughly that we could escape with the children.”

  Novek, refusing to be shown up, strained as he replicated Tru'dee's feat. It was possible that he let his half rest on the floor, though — it's not like anyone was going to be eating it, after all. He chuckled to himself, “This is going to add a whole new angle to the plan.”

  “Oh, has it become a plan already?”

  “Absolutely. I am going to need some oil — mechanical preferred, cooking will do if it's all that's available.”

  “I am going to have to object to an active oil fire in my facility.”

  “It's not for that part of the plan; he recently had a bad experience involving lubricant — which I think I can capitalize on. But the oil is for me — so, if it ends up on fire, something has gone terribly wrong.”