Through the open corridor doors, a man stepped inside. Pale-skinned like Lucius, he wore a blue uniform buttoned to the throat. A short half-cape rustled as he walked, occasionally revealing shiny ornaments on his chest and the hilt of a curved sword at his belt. Blue eyes gazed arrogantly from an impeccable face, quickly assessing everyone present. A hand in a white glove ran along the edge of a curved black mustache.
Two enormous colossi followed the stranger. If the other Softskins here wore metal hides that smoothly hugged their bodies, these two were clad in true muscle-armor. Their fingers were as thick as Draa’s; rounded helmets sat in recesses of the carapaces, leaving no neck exposed, and their steps made the floor tremble. Yet the smaller, frail Softskin did not hide behind their backs, stopping two paces from the boy.
This was unnerving. The newcomer had precisely calculated the distance from which he could react and dodge a sudden lunge to deliver a counterblow. In his presence, Draa felt naked.
“For what reason are underage wards outside the restrictors?” the Softskin demanded.
Draa cautiously followed his gaze. Strange, silvery insects clung to the wreckage of things stripped from his friends. Long legs picked through the pile, thinning and melting the material.
“We got tired of dragging our feet. Is that reason enough, feeble ‘stache?” Vyfka snapped.
“Don’t pick a fight,” Thomas chided.
“The implication that I could be provoked by an uneducated savage is laughable.” The Softskin didn’t grace Vyfka with a glance. “I’m waiting for an answer.”
“You heard him.” Draa stepped closer to the Softskin, bending his knees to be at eye level with him. “My friends helped us save the females... Rudrani and the others. We would have died without their help. They’re not dangerous or aggressive.”
“Then how do you explain this?” The Softskin grabbed Draa’s wrist, lifting his hand.
The pale haze hadn’t disappeared. Cracks spread around his fingers, tearing the air. The Softskin smelled pleasantly of nuts, like the kind once sold in the shop. The aroma flowed downward and vanished into the aura of nothingness around his wrist.
“Crassus, the boy poses no threat...”
“If he posed a threat, I would have neutralized him immediately,” Crassus interrupted Thomas. “Draa,” his lips twisted as if he’d tasted something sour, “you have an active power. Exhale, relax, take your time. Imagine flicking a switch... extinguishing a flame, drawing it back into yourself.”
Draa closed his eyes, trusting Crassus’s grip. The man radiated no desire to harm or humiliate, unlike Gaur or Raoul. Rather, this arrogant type exuded an unshakable confidence in his own superiority. Irritating, but perhaps he’d find a way to make him reconsider later.
Following the advice, Draa withdrew from his surroundings, sinking into himself. His limbs relaxed, the anxieties of the last hours subsided, and he felt the space trembling at his fingertips. It resembled a smoldering ember, ready to flare at the first command and crush any obstacle. Thanks. Draa thanked his unthinking power, remembering the arc that had killed the woman. There are no enemies here. Sleep. I’ll call you when needed.
The aura around his hands faded and vanished. Now he understood how he’d pierced the arachnid’s hide and was certain he could summon that destruction whenever he wished.
“Thank you for the lesson.” Draa shook his head. “Until today... are we still in today? ...I didn’t know about this ability. I was just improvising...”
“And that’s part of the problem.” Crassus released him and grabbed Eshtu and Vyfka by their collars.
“Careful!” Draa and Thomas shouted in unison.
Eshtu tried to break free but couldn’t lift his front legs from the floor. The pincers closed without a click; the suit fabric absorbed the sound. His tail lashed nervously upward, brushing an oval object attached to the ceiling with a dark circle inside. His lips stretched, revealing needle-like fangs. Vyfka simply tried to twist Crassus’s hand and tilted her head in confusion.
“Nano-infused uniform,” the accompanying soldier explained, placing his hands on the girl’s shoulders. “It automatically hardens when someone tries to harm the wearer.”
“Got it!” Vyfka replied cheerfully.
She reached for the man’s mustache, and he pushed both Malformed away.
“A simple demonstration,” Crassus said. “The boy shows subconscious aggression in response to touch.”
“Don’t grab me, and there won’t be a problem,” Eshtu muttered.
“And if someone accidentally bumps into you and you sink your stinger into a staff member?”
“Eshtu has never accidentally hurt anyone.” Draa stepped in front of his friend.
“Besides, the doctors have already taken precautions.” Thomas nodded at the silvery film covering the stinger.
“Can you guarantee that none of them will trigger their power and breach the hull, causing decompression? What good are apologies to the families of the dead when such a risk could have been nipped in the bud by following standard protocols?” Crassus moved left, positioning a colossus between himself and Vyfka, who was trying to jump at him.
“She’s just overexcited, sir,” the soldier said apologetically.
“You’re exaggerating the risk, sir. Most of the locals willingly cooperate with our requirements,” Thomas flicked Vyfka on the forehead, eliciting a hiss. “As a gesture of goodwill, we can certainly offer reciprocal gestures.”
“A B-class Abnormal died.” Crassus slapped his thigh. “You’re displaying dangerous carelessness, Specialist, without considering the future of our passengers. My job is to prevent marks of aggression or property damage from appearing in these children’s personal files. Enough objections. Install restrictors on these two immediately.”
“And if I object?” Draa stepped forward, shielding his friends. At that moment, Vyfka broke free and shoved him from the left, while Eshtu, clinging to the wall, loomed from the right.
Crassus raised a hand, stopping the colossi.
“Then you’ll be restricted too. Want to face your family looking like that?” he asked coldly.
What was wrong with him? Every instinct screamed, warning of danger and urging him to strike first. Crassus’s presence was frightening; in his wide-open eyes, Draa saw countless options for attacking vulnerable or exposed body parts, making him want to shrink back and submit.
Only Raoul had affected him like this before. But there was a vast difference between them, and it wasn’t just the Softskin’s comically compact stature. There was no rage in Crassus. Contempt and dislike for Vyfka, yes. But he didn’t wish them harm, perceiving the children more as an annoying inconvenience than as living beings.
Draa refused to submit. Let them present him to his family bound or beaten; he would no longer let fear shackle him. Right or wrong, he would act on his convictions. Vyfka and Eshtu had no one now. He wouldn’t abandon them.
“Well, come on, let’s dance, you freak,” Vyfka giggled. “Maybe you’ll earn your first scar, sissy.”
“Not from you, certainly,” Crassus assured her. “Soldiers...”
“How about letting our young guests have their freedom under my responsibility?”
A musical voice near his ear made Draa flinch. A long arm rested on his shoulder, and he saw the face of the strangest Softskin he’d ever encountered. The maiden from his vision stood beside him, glowing from within and having no scent. He hadn’t even heard her heartbeat. On her beautiful face, devoid of any color but white, blood-red pupils gleamed. A long dress flowed to the floor; she towered over everyone, yet somehow didn’t impose her presence. No muscles showed on her arms or neck. Hair cascaded freely to her waist. Through the edges of her body, Draa could see Thomas and the soldiers, as if mist had taken the form of a female.
“Lada, your intervention is unnecessary,” Crassus said.
“It’s no trouble at all,” the woman laughed, her voice clear; inside her mouth, there wasn’t even a hint of shadow. She wasn’t breathing. “We have so many interesting new acquaintances; I can barely keep up with meeting everyone. Closer contact will make this easier and aid socialization.”
“I’m sure the ambassador and Artificer will gladly accept your help,” Thomas said with relief. The device he’d used to speak with his son beeped. “Permission has come from above. It’s all approved.”
“Who are you?” Draa swallowed.
“An artificial intelligence. A ghost, but a real one,” Crassus answered. “Don’t be surprised by her oddities. She’s a hologram, created by hard light.”
“You describe things most curiously, Major General,” Lada remarked.
“But not inaccurate.” He stood at attention. “Don’t do anything foolish. I was born to command this army. Any mistake on your part will stain my reputation. With your permission...”
“Hey, what about the fight?!” A spectral arm wrapped around Vyfka’s neck, stopping her from chasing after the departing men. “You owe me, bastard!”
“Thank you, ma’am,” the soldier said to Lada. “The little fury is hyperactive. Don’t think badly of her.”
She smiled charmingly in response and shrank to the soldier’s height, still holding the girl.
“Was that your chieftain?” Draa asked Thomas.
“Doesn’t seem like it,” Eshtu noted. “A chieftain wouldn’t submit to ghosts.”
“They would if they had any sense. Spirits are terrifying,” Vyfka declared.
“Crassus Rho is in charge of security for the diplomatic mission,” Thomas explained.
“Do I frighten you?” Lada asked, surprised.
“Yes! You have no heartbeat! I can see the wall through you, and yet you’re here!”
“I’ll calibrate my density now...” Lada made no movement, but her figure stopped being transparent. “As for the rest, you’ll have to bear with it, dear. The Star Chain is a very utilitarian cradle.”
“Can I see my sister?” Eshtu dropped to all fours, pressing his forehead to the floor near the ghost woman’s hem. “Please. I’ll be your slave, do anything you need, but she’s worried without me.”
“Now, now, none of that.” Lada released Vyfka and helped the boy up. “You won’t have to humiliate yourselves anymore. The examination can wait. Escort him to the professor?” she asked the soldier.
He nodded, touched Eshtu’s shoulder, and led him back toward the rising platform.
“Now, you.” White palms clapped. “Some people have wanted to contact you for a while, but you needed to sleep.”
Lada spread her arms. Lines shot upward and downward from them, curved, and connected into an oval faster than Draa could ask anything. More glowing dots filled the void, drawing a dark convex screen. It gained color, and the boy leaned toward it, his fingers twitching.
On the other end of the connection, a room in warm orange tones appeared. In the middle stood a small round table, where Nuergh sat in a soft, cloud-like chair with two adult Malformed who had left the Nest before all this. She was carefully tasting a sticky mass from a bowl, while behind her, Euka buzzed, darting left and right at full speed, trying to sting a dodging Lada.
Draa looked up and then back at the screen. Lada hadn’t disappeared. But she was there too, dressed in a form-fitting white uniform that didn’t restrict movement, similar to the suits Papa used to make. With effortless grace, she evaded his little sister’s deadly stinger, encouraging her attempts with ringing laughter.
“Don’t encourage her! Euka, no, bad!” Draa pounded his fists on the floor; Vyfka peered over his shoulder.
Nuergh shot up, clearing the table in a single bound. Tentacles rose behind her back, trying to catch her daughter, but the little one was already flying toward the familiar voice and landed on an outstretched arm, stamping her feet impatiently.
“Draa,” his mother exhaled with relief. “Whole. Really.”
“D...aa. Dr...aa.”
Euka had spoken for the first time. Instead of “Draa,” it came out as “Daa”—with a whistle and clicking mandibles. But this first word from his little sister touched him deeply, and against his will, tears welled in the corners of his eyes.
“Hurting. You?” Nuergh asked sharply.
“No. Just... feelings. Hi, little one. Don’t be a hooligan. Mom, I messed up. Papa got hurt because of me. If I’d been smarter...”
“Quiet.” Mom’s tentacles struck the screen; for a second, Draa felt relieved they were separated by distance. “Not guilty of anything. Saw William. Alive...” Mom coughed, throwing her head back. “Did everything right. Don’t you dare blame yourself. Children are safe. Isn’t that a joy for their parents? The chieftain is gone,” she said with unconcealed satisfaction. “Not a threat. Never a threat. Everything will return to normal. Do. Not. Trust. The Spirit.”
“Why?”
Thoughts raced through his head. She’d seen William? How? He’d been brought up with him. So Mom was on the same flying mountain? But from what he’d been told earlier, he thought they were on another one. And what did she have against Lada?
“No smell. No heartbeat. Creepy.”
“Twenty-eighth time today. I’ll pay for scent emitters myself,” Lada muttered.
“Where’s Akrn, Mom?” Draa asked.
Instead of answering, Nuergh looked disapprovingly to the side. The image shifted, revealing a transparent wall separating the rooms. In a room littered with plush toys sat Akrn with Vyfka’s friends, under the supervision of a man in white and two guards. The children had already torn several things to shreds, but now all their attention was fixed on a square screen where colorful figures raced wildly across. Wires ran from the device to levers and buttons that the Malformed pressed with enthusiasm. Akrn yanked a lever left, and a crimson figure dodged a kick from a yellow one.
“Playing. Not eating. Obsessed with Softskins,” Mom said. “Ruining. Their. Rags.”
“Let them, we don’t mind,” Lada’s image replied.
“Can’t! Frugality. Is wise.” Nuergh clicked her fangs and hugged her daughter. “Behave. Yourself. See you soon. Don’t. Stress. William.”
Lada brought her palms together, and the window vanished. Draa raised a hand, ready to beg her to let him talk with his family just a little longer. He’d never been separated from them for so long. How he wished he could give Euka a treat, hear her voice, sit with Akrn listening to his boastful tales of what he’d learned. And feel Mom’s embrace, warm and protective, where he could pour out all his fears without judgment... Draa gathered himself and wiped his eyes.
No falling apart!
“I want to go to them,” Vyfka said. “The plushie things are adorable.”
“You’ll have to wait a couple of days,” Thomas replied. “Cargo exchange between ships is limited. Come on, they’re waiting for you at the examination.”
He led them through an archway down a narrow passage to the far doors. Lada dissolved into a stream of particles and vanished; the soldier brought up the rear. From the corridor, spacious halls were visible. Perfect circles in the floor opened onto views of the desert. As they walked, spheres flew outward, followed by agile metallic beetles the size of houses, moving on eight legs. The giants dropped down, kicking up sand, and hurried off somewhere. Below, Crassus was also there, walking before a long line of colossi. The Softskins raised hands to their heads and dove outside.
“Who’s the professor? The one Eshtu went to?” Draa asked.
“Senior evolutionary biologist. You’ve probably noticed that all Malformed are different?”
“We’re not blind,” Vyfka grunted.
“Well, your friend and his sister look very alike. That happens rarely, and the professor is interested in this anomaly.”
“They’re not an anomaly.” Draa frowned. “We’re people too.”
“Does anyone claim otherwise?” Thomas wasn’t fazed at all. “Your friends are in for some boredom and a decent reward.”
The group passed several junctions, meeting curious glances from Softskins. Helmetless guards, workers in orange-gray jumpsuits, researchers in white—and not a single face showed the slightest ugliness or imperfection, and...
“Hey,” Draa whispered to Vyfka, nodding at the males at a table. “Notice anything?”
“They’re all young,” the girl confirmed, nodding. “I don’t know much about Softskins, but where are the wrinkles? The gray hair? The ones the adults brought to the Nest had them. How come there are no elders? That can’t be.”
“Remember how Lucius unfavorably mentioned a retirement home?” the mutant asked. “Appearances can be deceiving. You’ll learn about this peculiarity of Iterna later.”
They stopped at the end of the passage. Doors slid open, letting them into a brightly lit room. To the left loomed a wide white platform, with a transparent capsule above it that could descend along its edge. Straight ahead, a long corridor stretched, with entrances to individual rooms on either side. To the right was a semicircular alcove with a display and a comfortable couch, where Tigfy sat with the tall girl—one of the four saved during the escape. Nearby, Lucius dozed, and a female resembling him pressed buttons, questioning the girls. The same woman who had assisted during Draa’s operation.
“Finally!” the Softskin girl stood up. Long, healing cuts marked her tanned body; a clump of hair was torn out, but her brown eyes looked confident. “You understand me now?”
“Thanks to the translator,” Draa replied. “Were you kidnapped too?”
“Yep.” She smirked, took a step toward him, then another, and standing on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you! Thank you so much for saving Rudrani and the others.”
“Don’t forget yourself,” Vyfka grumbled.
“Oh, I’m fine, I’m sixteen, practically lived my life, but no one’s even kissed them...” The girl trailed off and flinched. Releasing Draa, she hugged Vyfka. “Satya Marva, illegitimate daughter of the clan. Nice to meet you. I never thought there were those among you who don’t kill people.”
“Maybe if yours hadn’t invaded...” The Malformed slipped out of the embrace. “Though... nah. Probably still wouldn’t have worked out.”
“Listen, why don’t you tie your hair up? Brown or wood colors would really suit you.”
“Huh?” Vyfka was taken aback, taking a dangling flap of scaly skin in her paw.
Draa left Thomas talking with the woman in white and sat down next to Tigfy. The couch easily held his weight without a sound, and he dared to lean back into the soft cushions. The girl was silent, hugging her knees with her paws and glancing at the shaved patch on her hide. Like Draa’s, the old wound was covered with a white film, merging with her pink skin.
“She’s pretending,” Tigfy whispered, nodding at Satya. “Chattering cheerfully, but inside she’s shrinking with fear and disgust. She doesn’t like Vyfka, but she forces herself to talk, searching for any positive sides. That’s why her eyes dart around so much, looking for something to hold on to.”
“I was like that too,” Draa admitted. “Softskins... aren’t right. Fragile, vulnerable, different. But we have to talk. There’s not much difference between us. Perhaps after talking, there won’t be any more reason to struggle.”
“You certainly have no more reason to fight.” The female on the old-fashioned chair turned to them. “Vipstana Cetegus. Pleased to meet you, Draa, Vyfka. I already know Tigfy.”
“She woke me up,” Tigfy whispered. “And let me try coffee. A wonderful drink.”
“You’re probably hungry, tired, and I still have six hundred and fifty-seven patients ahead of me, so let’s make this quick. Starting with Draa. I watched the recording in the corridor—convenient that it happened—and the battlefield report. I already have a working theory about the nature of your power, big guy, but let’s follow protocol.” She elbowed the snoring Lucius; he nearly fell, waving his arms and waking up. “Step onto the observation platform and relax.”