Epilogue:
The metal of his wrist blades were glowing red with the burning heat of slicing through their bodies, from their fear. It faded as he reached the door to the first room, and as he slid it open, his light gold eyes settled on the crib and the tiny thing lying inside. He walked to stand beside the crib, and covered its throat with one of the three serrated blades. The infant began to squirm and scream. It struggled, bouncing its legs, and its chubby fingers tried to grip at the cold metal hovering at its throat.
None of the other ones had struggled, hardly even the older ones. They had just cowered from him, yet this little thing seemed full of spirit. Ien'heru hesitated, admiring its fight, and knowing exactly who it reminded him of. It wanted to live; it was desperate and frantic. Lifting the wrist blades, his other hand reached down to touch its cheek.
Its skin was warm, but not hot. It was hardly afraid of him. His mandibles twitched under his mask in thought. Its big solid blueberry blue eyes stared up at him then, and it stopped its fussing. The arbitrator removed the cape from his shoulders. On Earth a cape often represented superheros. Feeling the thick fabric between his fingers, he realized how far he'd fallen.
He wrapped up the infant in the soft red cape and lifted him up into his arms. He promised himself that if his foster could not take in another, he would find it a good home, as it was what Cassarah would want him to do. And if he couldn't find it a suitable new home, he would take care of it himself, or even venture to the planet it was native to and return the infant. He cradled the bundled up alien baby securely in his arms and carried it from the house and onto his ship.