I do not own Stellaris. Paradox Interactive does.

Thanks to R. Moonstalker for editing.

Chapter published 6/15/18.

Modrig den Tarrob

Modrig glanced down at his tablet and tapped it, checking off another item on the list. Spare clothes, packed. Weights, packed. And... that was it. Modrig didn't own much in the way of physical possessions, at least not any that could come with him to the - he swallowed - Imari Horde. Beyond his clothes, exercise equipment, and an EZ-Tend Garden pack, all he'd be bringing was his tablet. Whatever he wasn't bringing was either in his home, or in his bank vault, and boy had that taken a while to square away.

He looked around his home, stomach churning queasily. This might be the last time he ever saw it. There was no telling how long it'd take the marauders to prevail, if they ever did. He could very well die while with them. And if he didn't, how long would he be there? The Great Khan had demanded him and several others for however long it took to accomplish the various goals she had. Would it take years? Decades? His entire life?

Well. Only one way to find out.

His statement had been given. His replacement was sworn in, a bright-eyed Vulo named Tadag. The other hostages had, at some point, been called in by the King and then gave their own statements. Some lunatic conspiracy theorists suspected they weren't genuine - and they were right - but by and large, careful media control ensured the populace at large bought into the lie. It was for the best.

He put his tablet away in a pocket on the inside of his robes, picked up the bright blue luggage bag by its handle, and began plodding towards the door with it stubbornly hovering behind him. Modrig stuck his head out the front door, looked left and right, then hurried out with his belongings behind him. Tail stiff and bristled with anxiety, he made his way down to the elevator and, once on the first floor, he hurried to meet the taxi he'd called ahead of time.

Outside it was already midday, though with the drab, featureless clouds covering the sky it was hard to tell. The streets were crowded and noisy, filled with hustle and bustle, but his gray taxi stood out by being parked against the side of the road, with the passenger doors open and a grim-looking Vulo vixen in a black leather suit covered in dials and straps standing next to it. Modrig kept his head down and ears flat to avoid attracting attention.

'Mr. den Tarrob,' she said with a telepathic voice as smooth as silk, stepping aside to let him throw his luggage inside the taxi, over his seat, and into the back. Sadly this was one of the older models of taxis; the newer ones incorporated the human design of trunks opening from the outside. 'I'll be your escort to the premises,' she said, standing rigid and scanning her eyes along him. A soldier; the King had sent bodyguards out.

He dipped his head respectfully. 'My thanks,' he said, climbing into the back seats and strapping himself in. She climbed into the passenger side seat and pressed a button on the dashboard, closing the doors. "Jatta Spaceport, please. Outgoing parking lot," he told the taxi aloud.

"Jatta Spaceport," the computerized voice confirmed. The doors locked and it pulled out onto the road.

As the taxi drove him, dead silence descended on him and his bodyguard. Modrig couldn't help but wonder what was going through her mind; did she consider him some stuck-up bureaucrat? Was she thinking of ways to kill him? He doubted it; she was his bodyguard but his imagination ran wild anyway.

The metropolis faded into the distance behind him, and Modrig allowed himself to relax his shoulders. Looking outside the window he was treated to icy glaciers stretching in all directions, dotted by the occasional hydroponic dome and livestock ranch. A pawful of hovercars and planes flitted about the pale skies. Open and clean, with only a few distant cities rising above the horizon.

The trip passed in comforting monotony, with Modrig leaning against the wall and gazing out the window. Gradually, one of those few distant cities grew larger and larger as they zipped along the highway. Once the two of them got even closer, Modrig's eyes made out that it wasn't even a city; what looked like skyscrapers were comms towers and control rooms. What looked like parks were launch pads. It was the Jatta Spaceport.

The taxi pulled into an empty lot, and after grabbing his luggage, Modrig followed the bodyguard out of the vehicle. Once they were out, it pulled away and sped off into the distance.

His nose twitched as the chilly air blew into it. The wind ruffled both his fur and the snowy coat of his bodyguard. He and his guard weren't alone; engineers and mechanics walked around outside the lot, moving from one building to the next, silent as they communicated telepathically. With the gestures they continued to make with their arms, Modrig was reminded of ancient mime shows.

'This way,' she said, gesturing with her head. The soldier led him across the asphalt to the nearest building and ushered him in.

It wasn't his first time in a spaceport. He was familiar with the bustling crowds, the mimed silence of telepathy, the aromatic restaurants, the occasional alien whispering to someone to avoid being deafening in the otherwise quiet building. The long corridors, the open windows with flowerpots underneath them, the quiet stepping of feet and paws and other appendages were nostalgically familiar.

Modrig and his bodyguard kept moving. He had to speedwalk just to keep up with her gliding gait, but soon they passed through a pair of automatic doors, and utter silence descended upon them. He recognized it as the VIP area; the plush carpets were plusher and more colorful, paintings hung on the walls, and the crimson sunlight from outside was replaced by cool LEDs.

He thought of starting a conversation. The words died in his mind.

It was much emptier here, which wasn't surprising. He was led up a flight of stairs to a glass room overlooking the spaceport. On the carpeted floor were several plush chairs, and none of them were empty.

There was Galdrig, Suldirm, Yurabava, and more. Some of them he recognized, some of them he didn't. Most were fellow Vulo, but there were a few immigrants among their number. High-ranked captains, too. There was also an equal number of what he could only imagine were bodyguards; like his own handler they wore suits rather than robes, standing around and thinking to each other.

One of them, as he approached, broke away from the rest. Modrig could make out several snowflake medals on his chest; if memory served they indicated how long he'd been in the military. He scanned his eyes over Modrig and grunted quietly. 'Thank you all for coming,' he said in a gruff voice that fit his stormy fur. 'With you all here, we can leave for Gandora's system. Once we land on the starport, you'll be escorted to the Imari, and they'll take over from there. Our job is to ensure you get there safe and sound. It'll be a ten standard-day trip,' he said, putting a paw in the air and showing the worn pads. 'Now, we're not expecting any trouble, but we'll be passing by some lawless systems near the end of the journey so better safe than sorry.' The officer - he hadn't given his name, what a surprise - gestured out the door Modrig had just walked through. 'Please follow me, I'll be leading you to your shuttle.'

Those sitting got up, and Modrig was treated to yet another quiet walk through the halls. Like before, it was silent. Nobody even reached out to him via telepathy; he wondered if anyone was talking to each other at all. They turned a right into a metal tunnel, but before entering it Modrig got a glimpse out the windows to where they were going.

The vessel taking them was one of the latest in civilian transportation over galactic distances. It was long and blocky, with teal paint over its hull along with innumerable words from the various companies that'd had a paw in building it. While minuscule compared to the scale of the starport, it was gargantuan from up close, the size of a skyscraper. It could've held engines, and two dozen high-class residences with room to spare. In fact, he wagered that was exactly what it held.

Though as far as spacefaring vessels went, this one was small.

They filed into the tunnel, which stretched towards the shuttle, and were greeted by the smell of metal and lubricant. A step across a terrifyingly high gap later brought them into the ship itself. Inside was far different from the square outside. There was a hardwood floor, cream walls, and electric lights running along the top.

"Welcome!" a feminine voice chimed as Modrig stepped in, startling a pawful of them. "My name is Array 44X. You can call me Fex. I'm the AI running this ship, I'll be your host these few days. You'll all be pleased to know I come equipped with telepathy receivers, so if you wish to speak to me that way, do feel free. Anyway, the blue light strips lead you to your rooms, the green ones to the cafeteria..."

They trickled through the halls. Up the steps, down the stairwells. There was, as the AI continued listing off places, indeed a cafeteria. There was also a VR lounge and theater, a bar... no expense had been spared. It reminded him of a young cub, dying of one of the few incurable diseases left, having their dreams granted.

He arrived at a door locked with retinal scanners, went through, and closed the door behind him. Inside he beheld the quarters he'd been given for the next ten days, and sighed.

Modrig had had a cushy life as head of the Ministry of Benevolence. And he understood the idea of making sure those going to secure peace with the Imari Horde were comfortable. But this just seemed excessive! Hardwood floors imported from Earth. A bed big enough for ten, with little fluffy cushions piled up as tall as the mightiest glaciers. A shower, a refrigerator stocked with enough snacks and drinks to feed a small village. And the far wall was...

"Woah!" Modrig yipped, tipping over as nausea tickled his throat. 'Hide display!' he thought aloud. The far wall - a moment ago the feed of a camera dangling from the underside of the ship - vanished and was replaced by the same texture as the rest of the walls - dull bronze with smooth gold edges. There was another wall, next to the shower, that was broad and empty. He stepped forward and swiped his paw at it. Just as he thought, the wall slid aside to reveal a closet stocked with fresh clothes.

Modrig brought his luggage in, and let go of its handle to stop the levitation. Once it settled to the carpet with a fwump, he opened it. Plenty of room inside... maybe he could take some of the clothes on the shuttle with him?

The air around him chimed and Fex spoke up. "Ladies and gentlemen, now that you're all settled in, we will begin take off. Please make yourselves comfortable. If it pleases you, please do turn on your room's camera feed for a view of Vulos as we depart. Thank you again for the service you do the Grand Vulon Clan." The floor beneath him jolted ever so slightly, and his gut dropped as the vessel lifted and maneuvered about the port.

For his part, Modrig kept the screen off; he got spacesick easily. He collapsed in the bed's freshly cleaned sheets and sighed, wriggling into them as the acceleration smoothed out. The day had only just started, but he was already so tired.

A little voice in his head told him it'd be the last day he ever had such a nice place to live. So he was determined to enjoy it.

The ten standard-day trip passed in a circadian-wrecking whirl. The onboard lights dimmed and lightened according to the ship's clock; his own room he could control as he wished, but outside was beyond his will.

A standard galactic day was much shorter than the days on his species's home world. At little longer than a human day, it was less than half what he was accustomed to. As such he was treated to many restless 'nights' and exhausted 'days' as the illumination seemed to flash by like a strobe light.

Outside of meals, prayers, and working out, Modrig spent his spare time - of which there was plenty - on the net, reading up on current and past events. The Starpedia entry on 'Great Khan Cari Alvie' wasn't being edited hourly anymore, so it likely had some degree of accuracy. Same went for the entry on the Imari species as a whole. The entry had a single picture of their species; a bird with rusty feathers, a brilliant fan of tailfeathers, and a bobbing crest just above their eyes. He red up on that site, then flicked through a pawful of scholarly articles on top of it, following one link to another.

What little was known about the Imari mostly came from warriors who'd been cast out of their culture and forced to seek refuge among other nations. This was most often Modrig's own people, since they shared a border with the marauders and they certainly couldn't find shelter among the Stranglevines. They had a strong warrior culture - obviously - and until recently had a myriad of squabbling clans in place of any real government. Their homeworld was unknown, but genetic analysis suggested it'd been something tropical.

Modrig made a face. Ugh. Tropical? It'd be sweltering aboard their ships. Humid too.

The third day passed. The fourth. The fifth. The sixth. The seventh.

In his room, the lights were off. He laid in his bed, one leg crossed over the other with the paw dangling in the air, and his tablet before him open to a map of the galaxy.

Modrig pondered the situation he was in. The Great Khan had asked for him by name, along with many others who'd been under his employ. It didn't take a genius to figure out why; she had openly proclaimed her intention to carve out an empire for her people. And the Grand Vulon Clan had pledged to support her. Which left only the Stranglevines for her to assault.

What she wanted was obvious; when she conquered their worlds, she wanted him to smooth over the tensions and make sure the outrageously hateful plant-people didn't start world-consuming riots. The thought made his gut turn; it sounded like an impossible job. Their government had butchered and slaughtered their way through the stars for the past... nigh on two hundred years. How could he ever contain a population like that?

On the face of it, it was a good idea. After the Stranglevine Composters had swallowed the galactic southwest whole, they'd mercifully ended up in a stalemate with the rest of the galaxy; his people to the southeast held several key hyperlanes to hold them off. The federation known as the Conjoined Species at the northwest, along with the Empire of Shadows and their subject states to the northeast, were practically frothing at the mouth to contain the murderous plants but unwilling to commit.

Though recently the northeast had been eerily quiet...

Maybe the Imari Horde could break the stalemate. It would certainly make his job easier, not needing to reassure the frontier worlds they wouldn't be processed into nutrient-rich compost.

That's not my job anymore anyway, he thought miserably.

Modrig bowed his head and sniffled his nose. Damn it all, he didn't want to do this! He wanted to go home, back to his city and planet and far away from all this Khan and Stranglevine business. He could feel the light years stretching between him and his apartment on Vulos, tens of thousands of them.

But no. It wasn't up to him to choose. His King had demanded it, and so he went; everyone needed to do their part.

He browsed the net for a while longer. When sleep began tugging at his eyes he put his tablet away and sat up on his bed. He crossed his legs, bowed his head and flattened his ears, and began his nightly prayers. He prayed for patience, understanding for the Imari he was to be surrounded by, for his role in the universe to swiftly bring him home, and more generally to see into the Great Plan and understand how everyone connected to it. With quiet and controlled breaths, Modrig spent a good long while in his prayers. Only once he was too tired to continue did he fall into bed and sleep.

The next 'day' went much the same as the last. Modrig didn't speak to any of the others. Just the thought made his tongue go numb and his stomach churn. Then, on the day of arrival...

Chime! "Hello, passengers," the onboard AI announced, making Modrig sit up where from where he'd been laying in bed. "We are arriving in the Tepzik system. If you wish, onboard telescopes are available to view the local colony, Gandora. We will be arriving at the local starport within two hours, be advised it is situated next to an F-class star so filters have been provided if you choose to take a look."

After letting loose a toothy yawn big enough to flatten his ears against his skull, Modrig, curious, glanced at the wall to his left and waved a paw at it. He steeled his stomach as it shimmered to reveal a camera feed.

Here, space was black. Black as pitch. Black as sin. There was only one star in view, the white behemoth known as Tepzik. It was brilliant and blazing, a seemingly perfect sphere of smooth white marred by a pawful of black spots. If Modrig looked closely he could even see the gentle texture of the star's atmosphere, full of loops and strings of gas. Mouth open, he stared at the star-blotting sun as it gradually grew closer.

Then his throat clenched when he looked 'down' at the endless expanse of space, and he hurriedly averted his eyes.

When his stomach calmed enough, the star had grown noticeably closer and larger, enough that its bottom half disappeared into the bottom of the screen. Modrig saw something else, hovering right above the star. A spire of metal with a flat disk near the top, hovering at a safe height above the plasma. Judging by the size in comparison to the star, it was a starport the size of a small moon, exposed to space but for a transparent ripple of energy around it. The star's searing white light glanced off the blue paint in a dazzling array of sparkles and lights. As they drew even closer, Modrig could make out little points of light above the starport too; ships, either drifting about or held still by machinery.

Minute by minute, detail flooded in as they drifted closer. Control towers stood out from the starport's base, missile launchers rotated on their posts, repair vessels zipped to and fro, prickly sensor antennae and listened to the void. Above him was Task Force Mirasma, the second-largest military fleet that his nation possessed. From this distance the ships appeared like a densely clustered group of stars of varying brightness, hovering in the 'shadow' of the starport.

But there were other ships, close enough to see the detail of them. Imari ships. Hovering in space, docked at the port with metal arms holding them, swarmed by service vessels like a hive of stinging insects. They were ugly ships, black and gray with a blocky look to them, bristling with weapon turrets. All of them were unreal in size, too; even the smallest among them were large enough that he couldn't even see the workers around it, just a slowly moving fog of people mulling about the ground.

The AI Fex chimed in again. "We are currently approaching the landing strip. Please have your belongings ready and be at the gate when we land in thirty-seven minutes."

Modrig's insides turned to slush. He was here. It was happening. The ten days of travel hadn't turned into an eternity as he'd hoped. With shaking paws, he got out of bed, grabbed his bag and bade it to hover, and walked out the door. In the halls, everyone else who'd come with him was already following suit, heading for the ship's exit. Even the soldiers came, no doubt to escort them to the specific ships they were each going to. He shared a few nervous looks with some of the others.

The ship whirring beneath his legs came to a silent halt, with not even the jolt of landing. With a chime, the metal gates slid open and the people in front of Modrig filed out. Then it was his turn, and he stepped onto the unfolded stairwell, out into the uncomfortably warm starbase.

They had landed on top of the shipyard, open to the void with only an invisible energy shield to keep the air in. From ground level it was even larger. Interlocking metal plates stood solidly beneath the pads on his hind-paws. The floor stretched away, and beyond it ribbons of snow-white light streamed up from the star beneath. Sliding doors opened and shut around him, revealing staircases into the depths of the station that hundreds of Vulo meandered around. The marauder ships from beneath were staggering in size. The smallest of them was the size of a small town!

His guard from earlier drifted to his side and nodded at him. 'Follow me, Mr. den Tarrob,' she said, gliding away with a graceful gait and forcing him to run after her across the metal. As he did, Modrig's ears flicked left and right to pick up on pieces of conversation, while his eyes also flicked about to watch everyone in action. He'd always known that every job in the nation had a great deal of minutiae that one didn't often think about. Watching it in action was humbling; there was a synth dragging a lubricant hose after itself, there was a pair of feline Evandari engineers talking excitedly to themselves, and Vulo operating every manner of machine he'd ever seen and several he hadn't.

They found an unused cart stowed away in a dock, and rode it across the port towards what was, by far, the largest of the ships docked to the ground.

If the smallest Imari ship was the size of a small town, then this one was the size of a capitol city. It was not unlike a triangle with one end crushed to a thin line, covered top to bottom in weapons. Curiously, there was not a window to be seen on the entire structure, just overlapping metal plates and shield generators. The monolith was pointed towards him and his bodyguard, leaving the no-doubt astronomical engines hidden from view. Construction ships buzzed around it like a cloud of blood-sucking insects. He stared up at it in awe, jaw agape. He didn't know ships could be made in that size...!

Their cart pulled up automatically by a razor-thin ramp that led up into the belly of the ship. It was there that Modrig saw, for the first, time, an Imari in person.

The first thing he noticed about the huddled group of avians was how... small they were. Each of the aliens' heads barely went higher than his waist. The pictures he'd all seen had had them with their tailfeathers open to reveal jewel-like plumage, each feather holding a shorter feather beneath it to give the illusion of two 'arcs' of feathers behind them. But these dozen-odd Imari had folded their tailfeathers, resulting in a dense bundle of natural tissue dragging on the ground behind them.

All of them were, as expected, devoid of clothing. The one exception was that each wore a sharp metal band around their neck, with a triangular point in front. Some were steel bands decorated with jewels, and yet others were flat bands of... was that platinum? Their feathers came in a few shades of gold, rust, and icy blue. The crowns of feathers atop their foreheads were infinitely more majestic than in photos, bobbing and shifting with a rainbow of colors.

His guard stepped off the vehicle and held out a paw to him. He grabbed it and stepped down, luggage hovering behind him. She turned to the gathered Imari, one of whom fanned out their tailfeathers with a soft pomf as they turned to watch him. His bodyguard clasped her paws together and bowed her head. 'Great Khan Cari Alvie, I present to you Modrig den Tarrob, as per your request,' she broadcast.

Modrig's heart did a somersault. The Great Khan herself?! Now that he looked again she did match the whitish-blue color that her internet entry had claimed. But to think that she was here! Despite being nearly twice her size, he felt small.

... he wondered how easy the savage - the thought came before he could stop himself - could have him killed, even atop a Vulo spaceport. Her eyes scanned over him, and he realized how big they were compared to a Vulo's, how easy it was to make out the details. Black sclera, and a thin purple iris around a black hole of a pupil. "Indeed, here he is," she said after appraising him. His translator communicated the words, but he could still hear the rising and falling, scratchy chirp behind it. "The Vulo, as ever, are good on their word. I acknowledge that Modrig den Tarrob, former head of the Grand Vulon Clan's Ministry of Benevolence, has been delivered to my employ, safe and sound and swiftly. You are dismissed, soldier."

His bodyguard saluted again, then turned tail and rode away on the cart. Modrig swallowed nervously and his nose wriggled; he was alone with the Imari.

There it was. It'd happened. No fanfare, no announcement. And yet he was with the avians now. His life had changed forever and that moment was already sailing into the past.

The Great Khan's eyes scanned over him. "Modrig den Tarrob," she said at last, the wide fan of her tailfeathers waving their eyespots around hypnotically. "Charmed to have you here. I look forward to having you with us." She looked at her entourage and made a gesture with her head. All but two of them - a golden and red bird, bodyguards? - left up the ramp to the ship. The great Khan chirped quietly. "You must be worried about being here. I understand it is quite different from your prior living arrangements?"

What should he say? His throat was far too tight to speak aloud. By the Intricacies of the Great Plan, what should he say?! 'I, uh, am slightly worried about the heat,' he managed to say.

All three avians chuckled. Beneath the translator, he could hear it as a throaty caw. "Is that so? Then you will be pleased to hear that your quarters have been provided air conditioning. Come. We can discuss your duties better on board." She turned around and strode forward, plumage flattening behind her.

They were five strides away before his brain caught up with himself and he hurried after them, up the smooth ramp.

Up.

And up.

And up.

The ramp extended far above the surface of the spaceport, to a dizzying height that had Modrig swaying and gripping the too-short safety rails for support. He kept his eyes firmly ahead and refused to look down, staring intently at the Great Khan and her guards. They seemed unarmed. He doubted they were as unarmed as they appeared.

Right as that thought floated through his head he could've sworn the Great Khan tilted her head back to look at him, but then thought better of it.

The ship loomed closer and closer, and eventually they were close enough to the city-sized hull that Modrig could see a doorway cut into the side. Heart pounding within his chest, he followed the three Imari as they entered into the squat airlock. He had to crouch down due to the height, but not so much as to be forced to all fours.

The ramp didn't retract. Nor did any door close behind him. In front of them the airlock doors slid open, and they strode forward into the belly of the titanic vessel. The hallways were wide enough for many Imari to walk side by side, and the ceiling was just tall enough for him to stand up straight without his ears touching the ceiling. Still, it felt crowded to him. Too oppressive and dull. Where were the vines? The small gardens? There was just metal, metal, lighting fixtures, and more metal. Twisted into pillars and wall paintings but still just metal.

But, by far the worst, was the heat. It was like standing on the surface of the sun! Humidity formed droplets on his fur, and his mouth hung open so that he could pant with his tongue out. 'I thought you said there was air conditioning,' he protested.

The Imari bodyguards laughed again, and Cari Alvie herself chittered quietly. "Air conditioning in your chambers, Modrig. You can hardly expect me to lower the entire ship to an arctic chill for your benefit. I advise you find some way to move about the ship even in the heat, for when you need to converse with others. I recommend moving past your species's nudity taboo, if possible."

He frowned. Oh, she had to be joking.

They passed several Imari, all of whom gave polite greetings to the Great Khan which were returned in kind. More than once they stopped to address some warrior or engineer or doctor's concerns. Even with his translator, Modrig found himself unable to divine what she told them. It was all simply beyond his expertise.

After trekking through some halls and going up a pawful of elevators, the Great Khan waved a talon and the wall to the left slid open, revealing a doorway Modrig hadn't even noticed. A comforting, brisk chill wafted out of it, heavenly after the searing heat he'd endured thus far. She stopped and turned to him, tilting her head back and opening her plumage. "These will be your chambers throughout your service to me and mine. Take the day to become comfortable with them." As Modrig stared down at the Great Khan, a pair of nictating membranes blinked over her eyes. "If you have any questions about your role, my tablet's address has been provided within. My court is always open to my loyal subjects."

After staring dumbly for a moment, Modrig realized he should talk. 'Oh! Thank you, Your Majesty.'

She held up a talon. "Please. When we speak to someone in person here, we use their name, not their title."

Blood rushed to his face and he averted his eyes. Great, not five minutes onboard and he was already screwing things up. 'My apologies, um, Cari. Alvie.'

The Great Khan chittered again. "Think nothing of it. I will leave you here to grow accustomed to your chambers. Be aware that at this time, one standard day from now, we will be departing. Within a month, I expect to be out of range of most Vulo intranet communications, so if you have any goodbyes to say, do it before then. With that, I welcome you to the IHE Midnight Tenu, and bid you farewell." She tossed her head, making her crown feathers bob, and stalked away with her bodyguards. All three of their tailfeathers made dragging sounds along the uncarpeted, metal floor.

Well, no sense hanging out in the corridor by himself. Modrig walked into the room, and the door automatically shut behind him.

In his mind's eye he had pictured something incredibly spartan. A brick of a bed, barren walls, maybe a computer terminal. And sure, it wasn't the lap of luxury, but the bed was still large enough for him to comfortably sprawl, with red-quilted pillow stuffed with feathery down and equally fluffy covers. Looking closer, Modrig noticed it was on top of a shallow bowl in the ground; did the Imari sleep in nests, and they'd moved a regular bed in here?

The walls were painted sky-blue, nearly white, and one wall held a furry rug tapestry. It looked like some kind of stone-age primitive drawing; the stick figures were definitely Imari. Hunting some animal on their home world, maybe? Modrig's keen eyes spotted a smooth rectangle on one end of the walls which, if he had to guess, slid open to a closet space. There was a desk, a chair proportioned for him - the ceiling was high, too, he noticed - and an internet terminal in case he didn't have a tablet. Some panels on the wall glowed gently; controls for the light and heat. The air was brisk and smelled like the aftermath of a blizzard, and teal light flowed down from LED lights in the ceiling.

He hauled his luggage over to one wall, disabled its levitation, and leaned it right beneath the tapestry. Weary and numb to his core, Modrig crawled into bed. Laying on top of the covers he stared straight up.

Then something crackled near the ceiling and a suave voice sounded. "Hello hello!"

"AH!" Modrig shouted, sitting straight up, looking about the few, paltry shadows of his room as if anyone could possibly hide in them. 'Who's there?'

"Are you trying to use telepathy? You'll have to speak aloud I'm afraid, I don't have a psionics receiver. Allow me to introduce myself; I am... well, you can call me Tev. Organics tend to have trouble with names made of numbers. I'm the onboard combat AI! Proud to say I am Vulo made, was just installed not long ago."

"Oh, nice to meeeeeee - meet you," he said, rubbing his throat. "So you're in control of the ship?"

"Not really, just the weapons systems! Well, and some intercoms. Hence me speaking to you. My guess is you're worried, right? About the whole 'going into war against the butcherous Stranglevines'?"

He guessed at where the intercom was - an upper corner of the room a shade darker than the rest - and glared at it. "How did you guess," he said.

"Call it a hunch. Regardless, I want to say, don't worry! It'll all go according to plan. I've been listening in on the Great Khan's war councils, you know. Great stuff, but I. Uh. Don't think you'd be interested. But! The thing you need to know is she's expecting the Empire of Shadows to come pitch in once the battle is underway."

"Oh." Oh? "Oh!" He sat up. "You mean the Qiri too? And the Stranglevine Composters will fight a war on two fronts?"

"Three, if the Conjoined Species get in on the action too. Don't know the odds of that," Tev muttered.

Muttered? Combat AI didn't mutter.

"So I just wanted to pop in and put your mind at ease, sir. Just do the job the Khan expects of you, and you'll be back on Vulos in no time!"

"Good to hear," he said, still staring at the intercom. Could Tev even see him? Were there cameras?

"Good! Good to hear it's good to hear. I'll get out of your fur now. Just wanted to tell you that you have a friend here; ever need to talk, just ring me up!" There was a click, and Tev's voice went silent.

Sighing, Modrig laid back down and rolled over to his side. He stared at his luggage.

Here he was. Onboard the ships of the Imari Horde. Serving the military despot Cari Alvie. He'd made some good guesses as to what his job here would be, but only time would tell if he was right.

He grunted.

Then Modrig slid out of bed and went to put his luggage away. He may as well get comfortable, after all. He was going to be here for a long time.

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