“Anlyn Hooo,” he said in greeting, using her common name. He bent over and embraced her fondly. “You must be Edison,” he said, showing his palms and bowing, his eyes darting to the lance held by the Glemot’s side. “Pleased to have you both.”

“Are you?” Anlyn asked. “I’d heard you weren’t amused with our mission.”

Bishar smiled. “Let’s walk,” he said, waving them along the tube. A dozen meters or so from the locking collar, the passage opened into the command center, the military heart of the Keep.

Anlyn followed, looking down at the grav panels visible in the floor of the visisteel tube. They not only provided physical weight, they also seemed to manufacture psychological comfort. She didn’t suppose it would feel pleasant to walk across solid visisteel and nothing else, not with the cosmos hanging on all sides.

“Unsuitable for agoraphobics,” Edison mused in English, obviously thinking the same thing.

“What was that?” Bishar asked, turning to face them.

“My betrothed said this place would be unpleasant for people fright-ened by open places.”

Bishar laughed. “Without question. Our job, though, is one of con-stant vigilance. There are outbreaks now and then, and every staff member carries a warning device and possesses a keen eye.” He patted the small object hanging around his neck, nestled in the folds of his outer tunic. “The visisteel makes sure nothing is missed, and a battalion of Interceptors are always on standby, ready and alert.”

“A full battalion? Even with the extermination of the Humans un-derway?”

Bishar frowned. “Let’s not call it an ‘extermination,’ shall we? It will mean an end to the hostilities in the rest of the galaxy, which will eventually make our job here that much easier. Until then, there will be some cutbacks, of course, and some pilots taking extra shifts. Come, step inside.”

Bishar waved them through a set of clear blast doors and into a room full of manned consoles glittering with purposeful lights. The walls, ceiling, and most of the floor were transparent, creating an uncanny scene of hovering workspaces amid a backdrop of stars, nebulae, and woven strips of steel.

“Cutbacks?” Anlyn asked, pressing the point home. She watched as Edison wandered to one of the control booths and peered over an operator’s shoulder, probably figuring out how to rebuild the entire machine from twigs and grasses if he had to.

Bishar looked down at her, frowning. Like Edison, he was nearly a full meter taller than her and he stood close by, as was the habit of Drenard males. Also habitual was the intimidating sensation this elicited from Anlyn; she turned to gaze out at the Keep beyond the glass rather than strain her neck looking upwards.