Right on cue, Prax bursts in, eyes scanning for danger.
“Neela?” he growls.
“All good,” I say quickly. “Hans, this is Prax.”
Hans sizes him up, blinking at his towering height and… well… fur.
“Different, huh?” he mutters, scratching his chin.
“Hello, Human,” Prax says seriously. “What are your intentions toward my companion? Peaceful or hostile?”
Hans turns to me, unfazed. “Shy, huh?” he laughs.
“Answer,” Prax growls.
“Easy there, kitty-cat! My doctor said no stress, so why don’t you tuck your claws away and come warm up? Neela, would you mind fixing us something to eat? I have a feeling tonight’s going to be interesting.”
Prax raises a brow at me. I smile and nod. He vanishes, only to return moments later with Pallas in his arms.
“Well, look at that,” Hans grins. “Now that’s company! Is this everyone?”
“No. My reptile friend is still outside,” Prax says.
I freeze. Why is he bringing up Bully?
“A reptile friend?” Hans chuckles. “Then again, I didn’t know panther-men were a thing, so why not lizard-men too? Tell me, is that real?”
Just like that, Prax’s fur smooths back into place. He was testing Hans—for any hint of a connection to Bully. Apparently, he passes.
An hour later, the three of us are sitting around a steaming pot of lentil and watercress stew, telling Hans the whole story.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he mutters. “That Vassili guy—hasn’t anyone learned from the past? They really think they’ll do better than our ancestors?”
“Maybe the Confed’s been too harsh on the settlers,” Prax says. “You have access to all these remnants of former glory but none of the means to use them. That must be frustrating.”
“Maybe. But I’d rather live simply and stay sane. I don’t need much at my age. So you’re headed to Arabia Terra to see Naoto?”
“We were,” I say. “We hoped he’d help us once he understood the situation.”
Hans frowns. “Oh, sweet girl… Naoto passed away in early fall. Took a bad fall. The new guy’s Do-yun Lee. Korean fellow. Not that it matters, but he’s… not exactly warm and fuzzy.”
My stomach sinks. Naoto had a reputation for fairness and compassion. Do-yun? Total unknown.
“What’s he like?” I ask.
“Can’t say. I keep to myself since Greta died. Don’t hear much.”
“Anything on channel 59?” Prax tries.
“Eh, I’m more into old Earth westerns. The dry landscapes remind me of Arabia in summer.”
I nod—yeah, I get the appeal.
“What about gossip radio?” I ask. “Surely someone’s spying on their neighbors.”
“Try the kitchen. Channel 23. But I’ve never heard a peep about Do-yun. Nothing good, nothing bad.”
That’s actually reassuring. No gossip usually means no drama.
