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world. Their secrets—co-conspirators, sources—died with them as well.
    Reason, and a Non-Human Cultures class I was beginning to doubt, told me a Stolorth wouldn’t adapt well to Moabar’s climate. Ren wore a close-fitting shirt under his tunic. Thermal, probably. I’d seen the edge of the sleeve as he’d sipped his tea.
    And the ponds here were all poisonous. At least, poisonous to humans.
    Ren might not belong here, but the jukor fit only too well. The Stolorth would best survive on Moabar Station, providing there were no others of his kind. Because a Stolorth Ragkiril , sensing Ren’s handicap, would be duty-bound to kill him. That much I did believe, Non-Human Cultures class and all.
    We were near the main gate. Drogue touched my arm, passed me the slim ID card. I tucked it into the slit in the front of my belt.
    “And your name, Sister?” he prompted.
    Megan Sybil Baker - 23
    “Berri Solaria, Sister of Mercy in the Order of Abbot Eng the Merciful.” I rattled off my ID number, my home convent and the date of my fictitious arrival at the Moabar Monastery. It was nothing compared to what Fleet had me memorize over the years, just to requisition a med-kit. Or to retrieve my personal transmits.
    But the consequences of an error in this recitation were vastly more serious. I tried not to think about that, nor about the nervous flutterings in my stomach.
    I ended the recitation with the ritual, “Praise the stars.”
    Drogue’s face relaxed into a smile.
    We climbed a steep rampway. I glanced back. Sully flanked Ren, the ramp not wide enough to accommodate the Stolorth and the pallet. I remember how he’d shielded me in the forest, when we’d first seen the jukor.
    No, he’d seen it. And put himself between the creature and me.
    Had it been about to spring, then?
    With his back to it, Sully would have been killed, immediately.
    But his rifle would have fallen into my hands. And in the time it would have taken the jukor to rip Sully apart, I could’ve killed it. I would’ve survived because of Sully’s sacrifice.
    The thought chilled me. I almost bumped into a Takan guard who stepped in my path.
    “Restricted. Present ID.” The Taka’s voice was harsh and choppy, like most of his kind. I kept my head bowed, folded my hands at my waist. My fingers drifted lightly over the Grizni bracelet under my sleeve.
    “Blessings of the hour upon you, my friend.” Drogue beamed a smile that was completely genuine. “Truvgrol, isn’t it?”
    The guard’s small eyes darted rapidly as he assessed our group. “Guardian! Blessings. Travel up?”
    “It’s time for me to commune with my brothers on station, help in temple matters there. We have a wonderful Peyhar’s Week festival planned. One in the temple here, as well. Brother Frannard will be leading you.”
    “Frannard, yes!” The Takan’s shaggy head nodded. Evidently Frannard was a popular figure.
    “Will you require our ID passes? You know Brother Sudral, Brother Ren Ackravaro. Sister Berri Solaria… I do apologize. Have you not met Sister Berri?”
    I could almost feel the Taka’s gaze on me. My heart pounded in my ears. I steepled my hands in front of my face, bowed low. To a Taka. A few hours ago, I’d killed one.
    Truvgrol mimicked my gesture. “Blessings,” he growled out.
    “Praise to the stars in the Abbot’s holy name. May fortune smile upon you this week, brother Truvgrol.” I raised my head slightly, handed him my card. He passed it through the scanner, barely looking at it.
    “Good journey, good journey.” He waved us on.
    I quietly let out a small sigh of relief.
    We were similarly waved through three more checkpoints before we were admitted to the spaceport itself.
    I pulled the hood of my robe closer. Even Drogue’s presence wasn’t completely reassuring now that I was in a closed building, with M.O.C. personnel hurrying back and forth through the gray-walled main terminal. Drogue nodded at faces I would only glimpse at, nodding