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tongue. He considered it his mother tongue, but his human mouth would never be able to pronounce all of the words correctly.
    They said no more, preferring to hold themselves in calm awareness of their bodies, their minds, and their surroundings. The room in which they stood was over a hundred stories above the surface of Galea, the asteroid that was the primary Lucien settlement. Below them were spread the lesser buildings of Shekalla, the city over which the Hall of Elders towered. From this vantage, they could see past the great industrial zone, where all manner of consumer goods and industrial products were produced, past the shipyards where much of their space-fleet was built, past the miles and miles of residential districts, with flowering trees and bathing gardens, to the edge of the city, where the agricultural district began. The layered, green farms stretched to the visible horizon, lush with crops almost ready to be harvested. Below the top layer of these farms were underground hydroponic layers, where fish and vegetables were grown in an almost closed system, the unused portions of the vegetables being used to feed the fish and the bones of the fish being used to fertilize the vegetables.
    Above it all was the canopy that stretched over the upper surface of Galea and was anchored in encircling cliffs. The asteroid itself had once been bare metallic rock.
    Looking up from the window, Adaiz could see through the canopy itself, out into deep space, populated with stars. Galea was almost at the edge of their star system, so far out from the sun that it appeared as little more than a bright star in the dark sky. To make up for this lack of a natural sun, the Lucien had created artificial suns, three bright balls powered by fusion. These small suns hung outside the canopy, evenly spaced along its breadth, and they moved slowly back and forth to create spaces of morning, afternoon, evening, and night.
    As Adaiz looked up at the faint real sun of their star system, just visible between two of the artificial suns, he thought of Herrod and the human Plaguers far away, circling close to the warmth of that natural sun. He felt hatred welling within him, but he did not let the emotion gain a foothold. Hate was not useful. The Plaguers had made their choice millennia ago. Only barbarians would knowingly destroy an entire race. And now their fate was sealed.
    There was a soft chime, and Adaiz and Enon turned to the officer, who was speaking again into his communicator. “Yes, sir,” he said deferentially. “They are here.”
    He stood and beckoned them. “You will be seen now,” he said.
    Enon and Adaiz nodded and followed him through the tall inner doors.
    Within was a chamber with a glass ceiling that soared fifty feet above. The glass had darkened to mitigate the streaming light from the suns, and the chamber glowed with a muted brightness. The walls and floor were bronze. There was no rug and nowhere to sit, save for three round daises, grouped in a tight knot in the middle of the room. These daises floated six feet above the floor, and perched on each was a robed figure, seated cross-legged and wearing the bronze headband of the Medium Triad rank. These Lucien had a tightening around their eyes and a dull cast to their skin, which indicated their great age. Each of them held a shiny silver sphere in his left hand, another emblem of their rank.
    Adaiz and his older brother approached, awed by this private audience with so august a group. Behind them, the attending officer silently shut the doors.
    The central member of the Triad spoke. “Leader Enon-Amet and Officer Adaiz-Ari, you are welcome to our chamber. Your superiors have spoken nothing but praise of your service to Clan Providence and the Lucien race.”
    The two of them bowed deeply in response to this high compliment.
    “There is a matter of great import before us today,” the center Lucien continued. “We have deliberated for many months, and our minds are