“To know what you’re going to do with us once we reach this Mozehn. To know what fate you have in mind for us. As fellow sentient beings we deserve that much.”

“You deserve nothing.” Syrenii was nothing if not blunt. “Not even the living quarters that have been provided to you. Not the atmosphere that you breathe. Be grateful that you have a future.”

As Dev looked on, silent and expectant, something came over the captain. A tinge of regret, perhaps, or a soupçon of compassion. Or maybe just impatience. Raising a small hand, she pointed to the third, uppermost level of the control center. “Tilenyii is there, as is Vantolos. I have no time to spare for you, but the supervisor likes to converse, and the Olone lives to make noise. Go and assail them with your concerns. Perhaps they will deign to respond.” Turning away, she resumed the discussion she had been having with her two associates.

Thus scorned, but not wholly dismissed, Dev did as he was told. Finding his way to the third level of the control center, he came up on the A'jeii supervisor and Olone interlocutor before they could avoid him. This time he was determined to get some answers or die trying. That the latter was more likely than the former did not dissuade him. Truth be told, he felt he could not return to his companions without some kind of useful information. He was one of those exceptional people who feared embarrassment more than injury.

Neither alien ran from him nor attempted to avoid his approach. Confirming what Syrenii had told him, Tilenyii looked up at him curiously. Standing on all four tentacles, Vantolos looked almost relaxed. Or as relaxed as Dev could remember seeing him.

“I just spoke to the captain …” he began. Vantolos cut him off.

“You mean to say that the captain just spoke to you. I know Syrenii too well to believe that she allowed you to engage her in extended conversation of your choice.”

The supervisor turned her attention to the Olone. “Let the creature say what it has come to say. You can berate it later.” Oversized eyes turned to Dev. Their owner’s expression was almost welcoming. A shame, he thought, that behind them lay the possibility of an early demise for himself and his companions.

“My friends and I are grateful that you have allowed for us some kind of a future. If it is not to be on our own world, then what are we to think? We are traveling to this place you call Mozehn. What happens there? What happens to us there?”

Vantolos let out a wheeze as he lifted and waved one tentacle. “What a self-centered species you primitive bipeds are. Always thinking of yourselves.”