[b][u]Skyport Ussviset
Esevrenn City-Hive
Ske'sta'Rvastre[/u][/b]

Although she had never seen any herself, Issrin knew that the skyports of major inner galactic planets were, for the most part, grandiose things, vast enough to allow hundreds of thousands of passengers to go in or out and inevitably wait some hours for their vessel to land. She had heard of the bustle, the noise and smells, the decorations, and could imagine them well enough if she thought of a capital bio-plant. Thus, despite lacking any experience by way of comparison, she knew she much preferred skyports as they were in the Nests, even disregarding the matter of human-sized passageways. Ussviset expressed her sentiment perfectly: despite being arguably one of the most important landing sites on no less than Ske'sta'Rvastre, the seat of the Assembly and every corporation whose name was a nest-hold word, it had a subdued, somewhat quaint - provincial, a human would have called it - air about itself. The entryway building was unassuming, much shorter than the average housing spire, and its chambers were a soft, pleasant hue of greenish-brown. It was past high noon, and the halls were almost empty,  with only the occasional group of Zsresriir or single Scorpine idly crawling by. The scent was earthy, almost pristine.

Beyond the access structure, several paths branched off towards different parts of the site. Issrin followed the main connection to the landing pad area past the temporary storage silos, then split away from the thin stream of passers-by headed to the public departure terminals and took a turn into a narrower pathway winding deeper into the skyport. Despite her status, she had never travelled through an official-only access hive - her work, much less her life had never taken her offworld before, and even this last time the Assembly had barely bothered to reimburse her standard shipping tax. Now, she would see the restricted zone of not just any port, but of one on Ske'sta'Rvastre, and she could not help but feel curious. How did the core's elites treat themselves on their business journeys, she wondered?

It turned out that the core's elites either wanted to make a show of their frugality or outright lacked the budget to have something entirely presentable. The path that led to the hive did not feel worn and its lack of visible security was not to be trusted, but it certainly cut and wound through some odd places. The vegetation around it was overgrown, and once it passed not too far away from a sparsely fenced scrapyard, with what Issrin was certain were a pair of ferals digging through it. The access building was little better, being unassuming on the outside, though slightly more spacious than the entry halls within. The only marked improvement was in the smell, which was even fresher here, likely due to there being even less people about.

In fact, she only noticed one group standing in the further half of the central chamber. They were an odd assemblage – the four armed Zsresriir wearing light combat membranes were its least remarkable members. More remarkable was the large shape crouching in their midst. It was the first time Issrin saw a live Rekshai, and the impression was not a pleasant one. She could smell it from across the room, a faint, pungent blend of alien flesh, metal and chemical-ridden blood; undoubtedly, it could perceive her much better. Its bulk shifted somewhat, and she caught the gleam of a narrow, inexpressive eye. By a reflex she did not suppress, she snapped her mandibles and raised her carapace in a threatening stance. The Rekshai turned away with an air of disinterest. If they were taking it here without restraints, it must have been a mostly cooperative specimen, albeit the Zsresriir around it were conspicuously holding their pulse rifles at the ready.

The sixth figure in the group was squat, bulky and donning an oblong breather mask. As it gestured, engaged in conversation with one of the Zsresriir, the chitinous blades of the rear of its arms briefly flashed into view. One of those Lonoxi people. It was a wonder how so many of them managed to find their way here, though it seemed that most of them were clones. A suspicion stirred in Issrin’s mind. This motley could very well have been one of the things that held that way open. As far as she knew, the Repopulators organised this whole operation, and they could give their people passage via the restricted port zones, as well as being more selective about what went into their vats than who they hired to do their work.

With a distant sound of plodding footsteps, an armoured Ulthari appeared from one of the shadowed recesses in the back wall and beckoned to the creatures with a gesture. The group raised itself from its folded legs and shuffled, or in the Rekshai's case loped, into the awning corridor entrance. The chamber was left empty, save for Issrin, who idly followed the departing crew with her eyes until it disappeared into the unlit passage. The Lonoxi had still been gesturing all the way-

[i]Schreetch.[/i]

She turned, rather swiftly for her bulk, in the direction the sound had come from. It had been the customary call for attention of the Rvasstran Zsresriir, but with some clear, almost crass metallic undertones and obviously artificial modulation. Indeed, it was a human shape in nondescript grey and black, likely some low-ranked uniform, that was walking towards her from one of the side ends, one hand raised in a reasonably good imitation of a greeting gesture. She responded in kind.

"You have been directed here by the Transstellar diplomatic service, yes?"

At least he - as it seemed from the artificial voice, which was set to a male timbre - was more polite than that Qiormu[sup]1[/sup]. Not that it was saying much, but it was a start. She motioned her assent. "Censor-Inspector Tesri Nth'issrin. Issrin." Her mandibles rapped against one another. "I wasn't told why I should be here."

"You weren't?" The human cocked his head aside in perplexity. "It's up to me, then. Ovrith Terech, Free Speaker-" 

He was about to continue, but Issrin interrupted him as he was audibly inhaling. "Terech, like that Prophet from Volthanek?"

The Speaker nodded. "Like him. Better said, a clone offshoot of his. See-" he gestured as if to pull the subject back where he had left it, "- Issrin, call me Ovrith, please, we're about to leave the Vacuus. You do know the Assembly is sending regular officer support to the Neo-Scorpine." He recoiled slightly as the large Zsresriir stepped up to loom over him, impatient annoyance glistening in her eyes despite them being perfectly inexpressive. "We are attached to the expedition core as links to the Coalition. To ease relations, well, talks..." His mask's translator fell silent as his true voice died somewhere in his throat. Issrin had raised her forelimbs dangerously close to his head and chest, and by how their talons were twitching it seemed she was likely to vent her pent-up anger on the sorry sack of intestine and endoskeleton before her.

[i]"I must leave Nest space?!"[/i] she almost screeched in a way that would have sent the dullest, hungriest of ferals scurrying off. [i]"NOW?!"[/i] The sound was loud enough to draw the attention of whatever was lurking in one of the side corridors. A hideous, yet oddly sleek and, in its way, striking head of skin and chitin curiously edged its way out of the shadows. An asymmetrical arrangement of many-coloured eyes glanced at the scene as multiple parallel tooth-lined lateral jaws dripped and clicked below them. Issrin motioned that nothing was the matter, and the head disappeared.

"The worst idea they could have..." She began to his something in her native dialect, then checked herself and paced to the further wall and back, slightly spinning her arms at their joints as she went. Terech smoothed his uniform with practiced, yet nervous gestures. "Does that mean you decline?" he ventured at last.

"No." came a more even droning answer. "It's another way of pushing Cultors around, in the end. There better be a relay terminal somewhere here."

"Not far at all, just before the exit." The human seemed relieved, for all that could be discerned under his mask. "Your nest?"

"Not mine." Issrin made the sign of descendance. "I'm a drone, you could say." She was not certain whether that expression[sup]2[/sup] was so well known here. Casting her eyes around, she swayed towards the opening where the strange head had emerged from. "There are many hybrids here?"

Terech shook his head. "That's a human, if you'll believe it, one of these unborn augmented. It should be a Speaker to Perseus. They ought' take better to one of theirs, by the plan."

"About that," Issrin snapped, "why does the Assembly need me with the Scorpines?"

"Not as anything too complex. The expedition scheme had it we'd have someone for ethnic representation..." His voice trailed off again as the Zsresriir unfolded her shell in a worse than foreboding manner. "I think we should go find that terminal," he managed to find the thread again, "it's almost time. Sky Commandant Uchinex, our core, I mentioned, might already be waiting. He's an admirable personality, really..."

Their voices trailed off as they walked into the central corridor, Terech occasionally lengthening his steps to keep pace with Issrin's broad strides. From the darkness, an asymmetrical web of eyes watched them disappear for lack of anything better to do.


[hider=Notes]

1: In most Zsresriir languages, it is considered a form of politeness to emphasise the role and independence of one's interlocutor in grammatical constructions.

2: "Drones" are, in informal parlance, adult individuals living in their parent nest, as they have not founded their own.

[/hider]