"Somner Ekes, so good to meet you," gushes the Ship-Mother. She smiles broadly at the gray robed thaumatist. "We're in the middle of receiving a report, so if you wouldn't mind?"

  The replacement observer, not taking the obvious hint, stares blankly at the Ship-Mother. "Of course. Where should I unpack my parcel?"

  "Is this a bad time, Eva?"

  "No, Zsuchus, just be patient," she replies, smile slipping only slightly. She indicates an empty corner with one hand.

  Ekes, carrying a membranous amber package, shuffles over to beside Eva's seat. Every eye in the room watches him as he maneuvers across the office. He places the container down and unfolds the top with a touch.

  "We did manage to get quite a lot of analysis done," offers Grita nervously.

  On the screen, she stands between Zsuchus and Dunc, the latter's face still swollen. Fren is not present, being busy guarding their prisoners. Donna and Desra are in the room with Eva, both sets of ears twitching in amusement.

  "Find anything interesting?" Donna's eyes track the dust eater as he unpacks his luggage. "A cure for fur loss, maybe?"

  "Yes, actually," agrees Grita. "Not a cure for, um, whatever, but something else. We think the samples we recovered are the ancestors of modern animals here on Honus."

  "Some of the bones are too large for that, aren't they?"

  Grita's answer is quick. "Not at all, Ship-Mother. We've done comparisons with modern tissues, and the results are too similar to ignore. The problem is that none of the samples would be able to live here."

  "The gravity's too low," adds Dunc. "The bones were developed on a heavier world."

  The Somner removes tightly wound spools of yarn, each an atrociously bright purple. Hollow rods of bleached melmwood stick out well past the spun yarn. Six of them in total come out of his package. He stacks them up against one wall, then returns to his parcel to fetch a set of tungsten bells. Ekes crosses the office again and again, interrupting the report by blocking the screen to suspend each of the tall, thin instruments in one of the office's corners.

  "Does anyone know what he's doing? Is this a religious thing, Denn?"

  "I'm afraid that thaumatists simply behave this way. It's best to simply indulge his whims unless they're actively harmful."

  They wouldn't understand the ancient decorative traditions Ekes is striving to emulate. Not a tradition originating from our species, of course, but one adopted many generations ago. Those few who still practice it claim they do so to honor the vanished race that had created the fine art. A Jurer of no small fame had once rearranged my entire estate, disturbing my grelld terribly before wandering off. She had later claimed it as her greatest work ever.

  The next object that Ekes takes from his cylindrical package glows with a slowly shifting hue, never staying on one color for long. The asymmetrical tangle of minute rods is of no material I can name.

  "There's no way that's safe," mutters Desra. She fidgets in her seat, one set of claws absently picking at the hem of her uniform.

  Donna checks one of her suit displays. "Not reading any radiation spikes. Some minor static, I think." She lowers her arm back into her lap. "Denn says he's harmless. Can we get on with it?"

  "Excuse me, Somner Ekes," Eva says, addressing the oblivious observer. "We've been waiting days for this. Do you mind?"

  "Don't let me stop you," responds Ekes. He places the odd statuette on Eva's desk, then rotates it in place a full circle. "It's your office."

  We all watch as he turns the thing around the other way, leaving it for the third time in exactly the same position.

  "There's still lots of places that haven't been explored," Zsuchus says, speaking into the awkward silence. "But some of the machines they've shown me look like engines, shielding, and atmospheric controls."

  "There are other devices we can only guess the functions of," gushes Grita. Zsuchus looks at her and she shrugs.

  "A ship? A research vessel, perhaps?"

  "Maybe, Ship-Mother," answers Zsuchus. "We'd like to get some excavation equipment brought in, maybe borrow it from the ship yard?"

  "I'll see if I can arrange that. We've had some progress on the text you've been giving us. Bucket worked out a translation program. Mos, can you send them a copy, please?"

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  Ekes harrumphs, then turns the object one final time.

  A faint beep comes across the display. Zsuchus looks off screen, then nods. "Got it, thanks Denn, Eva."

  "Speaking of them, the news stations won't stop talking about the fossils that're being dug up," reports Desra, sitting up straighter. "You should find out if any of them match your samples."

  Zsuchus nods, a thoughtful look on his face. "That's a good idea." He turns to look at Grita. "You wanna do it, or should we make Fren?"

  "Fren," Grita says forcefully, eyes alight.

  "Yeah, fine. You get to tell him."

  The smirk disappears from her face.

  "Right. If that's all, I'd like to talk with Dunc for a bit." Eva smiles pleasantly at the display. Zsuchus nods and he and Grita walk off screen. "So."

  "So," repeats Dunc. "How mad are you?"

  "I'm more upset that you were right," admits Eva with a sigh. "Did you check their bodies like I asked?"

  "Yeah. More bad news," he says, expression grim. The change in topic saps his energy visibly. "Spen and El both had those things on them."

  Eva turns her head to look at Donna. "This is your operation. What do you recommend we do next?" The way she asks makes me think she already has ideas of her own and that the question is more to gain a better understanding of her officer.

  Ears flattening against her head, Donna seemingly senses this as well. "We need to get Spen's body to the hospital. Run some tests on the parasite." She glances at the Ship-Mother but, seeing no reaction yet, rushes onward. "Dunc, I'd like you to contact Matron Bell. She'll probably want El removed from her planet as well, but she might have contingencies we don't know about yet. I don't want to spoil her hunt."

  Eva nods, a smile sneaking onto her face. "I'm also going to send you some more supplies. Some perimeter defenses, extra alarms, stuff like that. Any requests while we're putting the supply package together?"

  Dunc sinks deeply into thought. After a long moment he turns and walks away. Desra deactivates the remote comms terminal, claws clicking upon the console.

  "Rude," declares Ekes, standing directly behind Eva.

  She jumps in her seat before swirling around to glare at him. "Very," she states, words like a thrusting spear.

  Ekes, oblivious to the verbal barb, bobs his body in agreement. He then reaches past Eva to place a decorative doily on her desk. The doily never reaches its destination.

  Eva slaps the dust eater's tendril away. The lacy cloth drifts to the floor. "Aren't you supposed to be taking notes or something?"

  "Should I?" Somner Ekes tilts to one side. "They never tell me anything," he grumbles.

  "I'm getting a birpa," announces Eva, hopping from her seat.

  "Me too," Donna declares, rising from her own chair.

  "You keep our new friend out of trouble, alright?"

  Desra slumps in her chair, nodding weakly. "At least bring me back a drink," she begs.

  "It might be warm by the time we get back," Donna points out. "The only shop that sells my favorite flavor is pretty far away." The Ship-Mother nods her head sagely, confirming the Tserri's words.

  I didn't think spiced albulb an uncommon flavor, but I don't really keep up with that kind of thing. Now, I could recommend a wonderful wine made from locally grown berries, were they not working. It's available in several shops, some quite close.

  The two officers leave with unseemly haste, in search of their flavored beverages. Desra remains behind, whimpering silently. Only Ekes seems unconcerned with the sudden absence of the others. He continues merrily decorating the office with the trappings of his dead art. If the colors did not clash so, his improvements might almost make the austere space feel cozy.

  Almost exactly halfway through the shift Ekes reverses his operation. Once more into his parcel each tacky decoration goes. He places each with care, arranging them as carefully in the storage container as upon the walls and surfaces. Desra watches the entire process with resigned fascination.

  At one point, she interrupts the inexplicable actions of the thaumatist to pose a question.

  "Do these things come in other colors?" In one claw she holds one of the doilies yet to return to its package. Its red and purple stripes clash horribly with the personalized fringes on her sleeves.

  As answer, his tendrils snatch all of the lacy decorations from the table. He does not spare the one she holds either, plucking it daintily from her grip. Desra's silvery jaw opens to complain or maybe apologize, but he silences her with a sharp clack of his pedipalps.

  Showing more animation than at any time this shift, Ekes stacks and folds the doilies. He huddles over them, holding them close to his green robes. His tendrils move in a blur. A glint of glass hints that he might imbibe from one of the vials strapped to his torso, but he takes care to not allow Desra to observe too closely. He seems not to realize the camera can see him, however.

  At last he turns and presents the doilies to a befuddled Desra. He places the neatly folded cloths in her claws and her ears perk up. Yellow and blue triangles decorate the delicate fabric in the same shades as Desra wears. Before she can thank him, Ekes returns to his packing.

  Somner Ekes slides out the door just as Eva returns. He carries his odd cargo of ugly decorations, while she grips a bottle of birpa in one slender hand.

  "No Donna?"

  Eva shrugs. "Some moron thought it would be funny to release a flock of groo in a crowded diner."

  Desra nods her understanding as she accepts the bottled drink. In a different claw she holds up her latest acquisition. "Ekes let me have these."

  "Nobody else would want them," mutters Eva quietly, climbing into her chair. "He left this behind too, but I'm kind of afraid to touch it. Could you check it out for me, Mos?"

  "Of course, Ship-Mother."

  She refers to the odd statuette of many colors. It sits upon her desk, cycling through every color I can imagine. With a thought, I untether my consciousness from the systems of the station. Esoteric sight reveals nothing amiss, only a glowing swirl of light that leads into the center of the object.

  I feel my awareness drawn into this cycle. Panic fills my mind before I can banish it. This must be the relay Noll had promised me. Regardless, it entrances me. Eva questions me, but she does so from an increasing distance. I briefly note that the device shares certain patterns with the implant in my Bruen's brain, but the thought is hard to hold on to.

  Fog replaces my awareness, and I cannot bring myself to resist. I quickly lose myself and enter a state that can almost be described as sleep. The dream I have is most disturbing.