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longer using it for support as she did at the station. Her curt walking became a full sprint as she navigated the small city in which the transport arrived.

Red copper buildings lined the dirt streets that were peppered with merchants and swindlers. Many noticed the small-framed girl of eleven. Some even pointed at her peculiar walking stick, which they’d seen before, but could not place why she had it. Some surmised that she must have stolen it, but none made any attempt to ask or stop her.

The only slight inconvenience was when she approached the dahff-rider station. She handed paper money—wet and crumpled, but still good local currency—to a man on a dahff (an animal that looked like the offspring of a horse and an ostrich) and stated where she wished to go. The man, more lizard than Human, gave the girl a discerning look, which was then given to the walking stick. Ula did not waver. She repeated herself, telling the man her destination and presenting the currency more insistently.

Eventually, the rider took the money and jerked his neck to beckon her. Ula hopped on the back half of the saddle that sat upon the dahff, placing the walking stick on her lap and grabbing onto the saddle’s rear strap. It was a long, silent ride. It took her far from the city, but only a slight distance from civilization.

Past the cities with the tiny, red buildings, over hill upon hill, and mile after mile of grassland, they came upon huts: tall, brown huts made of sticks and draped blankets. In their center was a large, sprawling campfire to protect from the cold and the wind. Several such encampments were clustered over the grassland. Ula’s awe was interrupted when the dahff stopped.

The beast slowly lowered itself, and the rider turned to the girl. He waved his hand at her, shooing her away. When she didn’t understand after the first few tries, the rider attempted the same motion with both hands.

When Ula realized he would go no further, she dismounted and watched the rider meander away. She walked, carefully minding her speed so as not to look aggressive. When she got closer, the girl took her walking stick and held it high in the air. Ox’s staff revealed itself in all its fury. After some of the inhabitants came out of their huts, Ula dropped her hood completely.

They were Waykind: large, muscular, wide-eyed, and slow-moving. They wore large ponchos made of some kind of leather. Most of them stayed back, but one made its way toward the girl.

She was blonde-furred, pink-skinned, and blue-eyed. She approached, using her knuckles to aid in her speed. The large Waykind placed a hand on the staff, careful not to take it from Ula. “You must be Ula.” She smiled calmly as the staff translated. “The one you call ‘Ox’ follows this staff, as his parents follow him.”

Ula said nothing. Her eyes were wide.

“You have done us a great service, returning this to us.” The Waykind placed her other hand on the Herulean’s shoulder. “Would you like to learn how to use it?”

Jupiter Proximity:Government Building 17C

Gally Ramone’s high-heeled shoes clicked upon familiar linoleum at their usual quick pace. Having returned from bereavement leave and a long vacation, she found a different feel to her old workplace. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it felt like meeting an old work acquaintance for lunch: good to see, but a tad uncomfortable to stay around.

As she walked, she heard the televisions in the background talking about the cleansing of Sabile, and how the effort was a quick, clean sweep-up. There was no mention of Purple Company, or of the doctors; nor was there any mention of automaton involvement. All of those things were considered top secret and dealt with accordingly.

She approached a very familiar door, though two new men were standing guard, and knocked on it. “Come in,” a voice answered, sternly. Col’po, wearing the top of his fur differently, smiled widely to see Gally come through the door. “Ah! Come in, my dear, come in.” He ushered a stubby hoof. “Shiela was just leaving,” he suggested. The woman currently at his desk gave Gally an unimpressed look as she walked by, more than a little bitter at being dismissed.

He waited a moment for the door to close, and they looked at each other with small smiles. “It’s good to see you back. How was your vacation?”

Gally shrugged with one shoulder. “You know me; I get bored.”

Col’po nodded as he looked down. “And I’ve been selfishly using that to my own benefit.” She shook her head and started to protest, but was interrupted. “Now, I know, you didn’t get exactly what you wanted out of that business on Sabile.” His thick hands waved in the air, as if Sabile were sitting right behind him. “But you did well, and people noticed.” Gally looked more serious, realizing where Col’po was going. “And as much as I’d hate to see you go….” He slid a tablet in front of her.

The tablet gave details of a job description. It was a new one, a better one: Director of Reconnaissance, Group 35. Her eyes were wide. “You’d have to wear a uniform every day. And you’d report to Geoff Motley, who is just awful, but–” he paused, looking up at her. “It’s where you belong.”

“You won’t miss me too much?” She was fighting back tears.

Col’po laughed. “That’s the whole point; I’ll miss you here because you belong there.” She got up and shook his hand. She went to speak again, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

The person did not wait for permission to enter; he simply ran in. If he waited for permission to enter at every door, his job would never get done. And he entered with that mentality. “Sorry to interrupt.” He was thin, short, and in a perpetual hurry. He used his hands to punctuate nearly every word. “But there’s

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