Xeno Core

The table seems more crowded than it is, with the five of them sitting around it. Dunc and Spen with their new friend sit on one side of the table, and on the other are Donna and her brother Donan. None of them are armored, though the few other patrons of the restaurant give them plenty of room.

They stand out in their matching black and yellow uniform tunics, with only the gray female dressed in more casual clothing. Her longer red tunic shines like a light amongst the dark sea of fabric around her, drawing glances from the other diners. The garment is expensive, made from fabrics unavailable on the station, and scatters the light around her in a subtle nimbus.

They've already finished their meal and are enjoying one of the wines produced by my auto-brewery. The Tserri siblings are enjoying it more than the other three. The young female whose name I still haven't learned takes only a single sip before handing her glass over to Spen. He drains it in a single long gulp before returning to his own glass with a grimace.

"So what are we here to discuss, Dunc?"

"When I spoke with the Supply-Master," Dunc says with a smile, "he wanted to expand the number of security teams. He even asked who I thought would be best to place in charge of a second team." He wipes some dreadful red sauce off his face, then places the disposable napkin on the smeared plate.

"I'll be taking over command of our current squad," Spen adds, to the delight of his female companion. "With Dunc keeping his position as head of security."

"And you've probably guessed by now, but I suggested you lead the second team."

Donna's eyes widen, the weight of new authority settling on her obvious to my senses. Her nostrils flare, as if seeking sign of spoor in the air, some additional insight into how she should respond. "My, my brother?"

"You can have him as your second," answers Dunc. "Yosip assumed you would, anyway," he finishes with his characteristic cocky grin. "But the rest of your squad are all going to be new hires. You know Eva Chel? She'll be helping you pick from the potential candidates.

Donan sits silently, glass of wine forgotten in his claw. His sister fidgets in place, eyes far away, though her ears twitch in response to Dunc's words. The gray officer leans back in his chair, enjoyment evident upon his features.

"Your squad will be serving closely with the resident population, while Spen's will be more concerned with the tourists and rock haulers. And I'll be sitting up in the war room with the Supply-Master, directing both of you from afar."

"I feel left out," pouts the female tourist. "Everyone's getting promotions but me."

The Tserri siblings stifle laughter, looking anywhere but at the gray tourist. Dunc shrugs before entering a new order, tapping covertly at the keyboard built into the table.

"Nah, Gelest, we're here for you, this is just a little business while we wait for the sweets course," Dunc cagily addresses the female. His partner jumps as if kicked, though I don't think Gelest notices.

"Truly," adds Spen as he reaches down to rub his leg. "This is the only place on the station that serves your favorite desert. It should be on its way now, in fact."

One of the workers brings out a covered tray, moving through the mostly empty restaurant. Shortages from the riot are causing rises in the price of food, and most are unable to afford to eat anything not cooked at home. The server sets the tray down on their table and withdraws gracefully, murmuring polite thanks to his guests and bearing the remains of the previous dish with him.

Gelest can barely contain her excitement, wringing her hands together and staring at the tray. When Spen lifts the lid, thick mounds of some fluffy substance, mostly light beige but darker on top, is revealed and she squeals happily. Dunc picks up the utensil provided and divides the dish into five portions. The others wait patiently but Gelest begins eating as soon as her bowl is in front of her.

The others join her, laughing and joking among themselves, enjoying the rare happy moment in the middle of their stressful lives. Dunc pays for the meal, transferring credits at the table, and the group gets up to leave. Spen opens the door for his group, and blue liquid splashes all over him. Azure fluid drips off of him like hot blood.

Ah. Cameras outside the establishment show a group of Tserri, marching in a line in front of the diner. Several of the four-armed beings bear aloft large tapestries, held apart in their claws. Upon these woven cloths are slogans such as 'Your Waste Shrinks Our Waists', and 'Agriworlders Have Had Enough'.

The Tserri protestor who had thrown the first bucketload moves out of the way, and another well-armed individual takes his place. The newcomer tosses the contents of their bucket straight at the doorway, and Spen dodges back into the diner. Paint fills the air with blue droplets that splatter all over the off-duty security personnel and ruins their uniforms.

The protestors cheer when they see the results, happy to have made their point. Gelest's good mood falls quickly, as ruined as her clothing. The crowd yells out their pet phrases even as the security leaders begin to break up the gathering. Armored reinforcements make it hard to argue with Dunc's shouted commands.

I capture images of the protestors and send them along to the war room. Someone there can start the work of identifying the agitators. If any of these are the same as the warehouse rioters, they'll be receiving a much more severe punishment.

The expansion of the security force is long overdue. While they could easily protect the original population of only a few hundred, the current hundreds of thousands is simply too much for a single squad. Two teams might not be enough, but it doesn't make sense to promote a bunch of untested squad leaders and hope for the best.

It will be far safer to expand slowly, even if that means being unable to properly enforce order in the meantime. My own people breed the different castes in proportion, to maintain balance, but this casteless society where everyone must choose and earn their own place functions differently. Though the propensity for power to remain within certain familial groups appears to be a universal constant, as evidenced by the better opportunities presented to the offspring of those families as compared to less blessed aspirants.

The testing process the Tserri describe sounds even worse, as most lack passion for their assigned profession and all are without inborn abilities designed to help them fulfill a proscribed function. My people may be without freedom of choice but at least are well suited for the roles they're born into. The Tserri take well to the local customs, as odd as I might find them.

In fact, the role in which I now serve is far removed from that to which I had been born. Among my own kind, I would never be expected to carry messages or to plan the uses of laborers. Such tasks would fall to the appropriate castes and to me would be given the duty of preserving their safety. Well, that at least I can still do, if only vicariously.