Veera had barely walked through the door when Mayvheen's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Veera, we have a problem."
Veera looked up. "What now?"
"That Cephilusk scout." Mayvheen's eyes were fixed on the display. "It's been on us for a while. They've locked onto our signature." She paused. "They want to talk."
Anger flashed across Veera's face. "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 turned from the console. "We are not supposed to be here. If you strike a Cephilusk, you will create a diplomatic incident. Or more likely, you'll get us killed."
Veera exhaled through her nose. "Fine. But let me do the talking. I've had more experience dealing with squids than you have. I know how they think."
"I don't think that's a good idea. You're too–"
"With respect," Veera said. "I know how to handle them. I promise I'll be calm."
Mayvheen studied her for a moment. Then she looked at the scanner, where the Cephilusk scout sat, patient and unmoving, on the display, and back at Veera. She made the decision she always made when Veera gave her that particular look.
"Very well. But don't blow it."
"I won't."
Veera moved to the comms console. She stood there for a moment, her hand hovering over the link, and she thought about what she knew about Cephilusk communication. The way they valued honesty in principle, while still finding loopholes to omit the truth. She thought about Katya on the surface of Khatsey.
"Squids are deceptive," she said quietly. "Our only chance is pretending we are smugglers."
Mayvheen didn't look convinced. "If you're sure. I trust you."
Veera opened the link.
The viewscreen filled with a predator, making Mayvheen feel uneasy.
Lahkhadia, the Speaker, as the translation system identified her rank, occupied the centre of the feed. Her squid-like limbs moved with a slow, rhythmic throbbing, her face tendrils contracted and stretched as she waited for the visual response from the comm-link. Her large eyes widened as the confirmation came through.
"Yumans," she began. The UIC translation system rendered her words in real-time. "What is your purpose for being here?"
Veera leaned into the pickup. She kept her face blank. "We're smugglers. Don't come any closer or we'll open fire."
A sound came through the feed, a rapid chittering that the translation system rendered as laughter.
"My sweet, innocent childling." Lahkhadia's head tilted. "You do realise you are speaking to a UIC-registered vessel? If you were truly armed smugglers, you would not have been afforded the breath to explain yourselves."
Veera's jaw tightened.
"I am merely curious," Lahkhadia continued, her voice filled with mocking patience, "as to why a shuttle with an undeniable UIC drive signature would choose to present itself as common criminality. You are not supposed to be here." She paused. "And yet, here you are."
"We acted alone." Veera kept her voice even. "We took the shuttle without authorisation. We got lost."
"It is unkind to speak untruth." Something rippled through Lahkhadia's purple skin, a shift the translation system failed to interpret. "It is known that you are trying to conceal the sins of your superiors."
Veera tried to hold herself together, but she failed.
"Why did you attack our colony?! We have proof that your Sentinels murdered almost everyone down there!"
Mayvhen buried her face into her hands.
Oh, Veera.
Lahkhadia studied her with patient interest.
"Sentinels, yes," she said. "Ours? No."
"You squids are the only species to use Sentinels! If they aren't yours, then whose are they?!"
"Squids?" Lahkhadia glanced at her body. "Ah. Because of my limbs. Humorous." She returned her attention to Veera. "But your intellect and reasoning have betrayed you." She paused. "Do the dwellings on this colony belong to you?"
Veera said nothing.
"No," Lahkhadia said. "Yet yumans are the only species to live in such structures. Does that mean every dwelling of that kind belongs to your hearts?"
"Are you saying a different Cephilusk faction attacked the colony?" Mayvheen asked, stepping into the frame.
"Factions?" The word seemed genuinely to puzzle her. "Childling, there are no Cephilusk factions. We are one–" Lahkhadia made a sound then, not quite a word. The translation system reached for meaning but produced nothing. "We are one."
"So you admit it was your Sentinels that killed those people," Veera pressed.
"Fascinating yet tiring." Lahkhadia's inflexion shifted. She seemed impatient for the first time. "I now see why our diplomatic envoys described Yumans as frustrating to deal with. You all seem to lack the basic retention of information." Her eyes moved between the two women. "They are not our Sentinels."
"I don't–"
"Let it go, Veera," Mayvheen said quietly. "You are agitating her."
"Thousands of lives were lost, May. She can deal with some agitation."
"This is not how we resolve it. Now is not the time or the place."
Veera's hands balled into fists at her sides. "Fine."
She looked back at the screen. "So what happens to us now?"
"Now?" Lahkhadia said. "Now you go. Leave where you aren't supposed to be."
"You aren't going to capture or kill us?"
"We are embraced, are we not?" She paused, waiting for comprehension from the two women. "We are merged. Made one. Allies. Why would we detain or smother an embraced one? Both our species belong to the Concordat."
"Because we saw what happened down there," Veera said. "We have proof that your Sen–"
"No." The word was quiet and final. "Not our Sentinels–" Another reach by the translation system, another partial failure. The feed cycled for the closest human translation, Protectors, Exterminators. "–only doing their duty."
"Doing their duty?" Veera's voice had tensed. "Protecting you from unarmed civilians? They were innocent people."
"It is clear that you see without seeing," Lahkhadia said. "They weren't protecting us." She held Veera's gaze through the screen. "They were protecting you. The yumans. Through purification, they were preserving yuman lives."
The word purification shocked Mayvheen.
"Killing to preserve life is like fighting for peace," Mayvheen said, her voice very controlled. "It's a paradox, and you know it won't hold up if an official investigation is launched."
"Amusing," Lahkhadia said. "But untrue. The Sentinels acted in truth with their intended purpose. There was no wrong done here today."
This time, Mayvheen couldn't hold back. "No wrong was done here!? Thousands of–"
"May," Veera said, suddenly the calm one. "Let's not push it. We need to leave before she changes her mind about smothering us." She glanced at Mayvheen. "I do not want to experience anything remotely related to how I am imagining it. Arguing with this creature won't make any difference, and if we die here, no one will know what happened to the colony."
Mayvheen's jaw was tight. "Fine. You are right."
Lahkhadia watched their exchange with amusement. "Have you decided then? You will leave this place right now and not return?"
"What about our people still down there?" Mayvheen asked.
"They are likely all gone by now. You are lucky not to count yourself among them. There is nothing left for you here. You must leave now." The threatening gentleness did not leave her voice. "If you return, you will be in violation of UIC regulations. It would be well within our rights to drown the life in you."
Mayvheen looked at Veera.
Veera nodded at the scanner.
Mayvheen turned to it slowly. Her hands moved over the console, pulling the life sign data from the surface of Khatsey. The last thirty-seven had gone dark. The scanner showed nothing but cold topology. Lahkhadia was speaking the truth. Katya– Everyone was dead.
White-hot anger rose in her throat. Diplomacy be damned, protocol be damned, this was wrong, and she knew it, and the creature on the screen knew it. She nodded coldly at the alien face on the screen.
"As she said. There is nothing left for us here."
The screen went dark.
The shuttle's engines fired, and they pulled away from Khatsey's orbit. For a long time, neither woman spoke.
Mayvheen sat at her console and monitored the scanner obsessively, checking every few seconds to confirm the Cephilusk ship was not following. What did they gain by letting them go? Why permit them to report with the evidence? What was really going on?
She had no answer.
The silence had been dragging for a while when Veera spoke.
"This is going to be a tough debriefing."
"I know."
"What an alku'ahf show."
"Veera–"
"I'm sorry. But you have to admit this is a mess."
Mayvheen stood. She walked to the environmental support interface and stood with her back to Veera.
"May?"
Nothing.
"Are you OK?"
Mayvheen's shoulders were shaking. Small, suppressed movements. Veera could hear her breathing.
She stayed like that for a moment, back still turned to Veera, and then she gave in.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't like crying in front of people."
"It's OK."
"You hate it when people get emotional."
"That's true," Veera said. "But May, you're not like me. It's awkward when you cry, but I don't want you to hide what you're feeling for my sake."
Mayvheen pressed the back of her hand to her face. "I know. It's just– that poor girl. Those poor souls." Her voice broke cleanly, and she didn't try to stop it. "She was so young. And now she's gone. All of them. They all had a future. And now it's gone."
"It's not your fault."
"It's not fair. It should never have happened."
"These things happen."
"They shouldn't." The anger in her voice was sudden. "That's the whole problem."
Veera walked over to her. She stopped beside Mayvheen and stood there for a moment, and then she placed her hand on Mayvheen's shoulder.
"You've never lost anyone before, have you?"
Mayvheen paused. "No. No one I knew personally. I only did strategic planning. High up in the starships–" She stopped. "Worlds apart from the carnage. Just like you said."
"I'm sorry about that."
"Don't be. You were right."
"It's hard," Veera said. "I wish I could say it gets easier. It doesn't. You just learn to avoid going there in your mind."
"That can't be healthy."
"Ha. True. But then again, nothing about joining the assault marines was healthy."
Mayvheen was quiet for a moment. "So why did you sign up?"
Veera looked out the viewport at the dark outside. "There will always be something to fight for. No matter how much we achieve or gain. It's part of the human condition. Always improving. Always fighting for what is right." She paused. "And someone has to do the fighting."
Mayvheen turned to look at her. Her face was blotched and tired, and she made no effort to pretend otherwise. "Veera– I know some of the others give you a hard time–" She tried again, "What I'm trying to say is, I'm glad I know you."
Veera looked away. Back to the console, back to the dark outside the glass.
"Give it some time," she said.
The shuttle carried them back towards the Tabitha, and the scanner stayed clear, and neither of them spoke again for a long while.
On the bridge of the Cephilusk scout ship, after the human vessel had moved beyond scanner range, a young crew member approached the Speaker.
"Speaker for our hearts." The uncertainty was visible in their limbs. "Why did you let the yumans return to their own kind? Surely you saw the scans?"
Lahkhadia was watching the space where the human shuttle had been.
"Indeed," she said. "I saw."
"But–"
"You do not see, youngling?" She turned now, and her eyes moved over the younger Cephilusk with the same patient attention she had given the two women. The Yumans wanted a seat in the pool despite not being ready to swim. We tried, but we could not deny them access to the Concordat." She paused. "But with the privilege of being a member comes responsibility."
"The scans," the crew member said. "This will have far-reaching consequences for them. Possibly for us also?"
"Yes, it will," Lahkhadia said. "But sometimes the only way to teach a stubborn newly-spawned is to let it play amongst the sharp corals."
The crew member considered this. "I think I understand."
"Do you, youngling?"
"Yes. A coral injury always attracts a blood predator."
Lahkhadia was quiet for a moment. "You perceive the understanding, but you do not comprehend the understanding." She turned back to the dark. "The Yumans are embraced with us. We wish them no harm. The others– The others might not be as kind. It is better that they learn this lesson from a friend."
"But what if they realise too late?" the crew member asked. "What if they can't tame it?"
"You disappoint me." She said. "You know the answer to your question. I wish for them to learn. To overcome. And to become wiser. It is a kindness." The purple of her skin tinted again. "But if they cannot adapt, then they will perish. And then that too will be a kindness."
She turned to step away from the bridge.
"Time will tell which kindness we showed here today."