This entrance to the smithing chamber was a slender stone bridge, crystal encrustations coating the underside. At the bottom of the chasm below were drainage routes of the magma streams they used inside. Uixtr and Mystvall crossed that together. Before the entry, the Vedani brought a cloth square out of a pocket and dipped it into the basin of water there, to tie over his nose and mouth. “So, I’ll be able to see the progress from the viewing window?” he asked to confirm, indicating the opening on a platform up some stairs to the right. This was a new consideration for the allies of the Aureny whose bodies were unsuited to the conditions inside their smithing chambers.

OH YES. YOU WILL SEE IT.

The main prototype had indeed developed a lot. It gleamed like a Vedani object made of Vedani alloys, and the structures of the interspatial polygon were Vedani formulas at work. However, the light that ran along the outside and glimmered contained within was something else; full spectrum, partial spectra, ultra-alter-spectra, the object was highly equipped with magnified capabilities. The dedicated group inside was forging the unit modules that they were socketing and rearranging to create the sought-after resonance strata.

Mystvall walked slowly to accompany Uixtr to the smithy. As two among their peoples who’d had more contact with Humans than was common outside of hostilities, they shared a rare understanding. It was a relief to more freely question the complexities regarding their allied ingress with the Human-predominant Pan-Galactic Imperium.

The floor of this geode chamber was covered in shards and dust, from a Tempering that had just occurred. Most of those gems were in shades of blue. The young Aureny, given the fun privilege of sweeping up, i.e. bathing in riches, occasionally kicked sprays of gem dust at each other. With the delicately dexterous long claws at the ends of their trunklike limbs, they sifted with sorting pans into different bins. Some of the very fine stuff was taken to pots against one wall, where an adult occasionally appeared to fill one with goo and take it away, through a ground exit.

From the ledge above, Uixtr withdrew from the view and turned back to the newly arrived crate stacks. This azulian was beautiful, pristine, and incredibly regular in shape. This was a significant contribution that could accomplish something in itself.

Of the two Aureny present, Mystvall was more familiar to Uixtr, while Stonepoynte was the materials expert. They wore a casual level of decoration, mainly rings in the locks of their shoulder tufts. Mystvall stepped forward and produced a rough-woven pouch that Uixtr could hold in one hand.

OPEN IT.

The vibrational transducer that Uixtr wore on his head picked up the Aureny realm of soundwaves, then processed it as pure information in the aetherscape. It was then spoken to Uixtr the way any raw Vedani information would be verbalized to the ear; thusly their intonation sounded mostly natural, like one of his own people speaking to him. Inside the pouch was a golden-hued crystalline formation, sprouting from a smooth, slightly convex rind on one side. It nearly hummed with energy.

THIS IS A PIECE OF MY OMBA, THE ROCK I WAS BORN FROM. SINCE OUR FIVE PEOPLES BEGAN THIS RECENT EPOCH TOGETHER, WE HAVE WROUGHT MANY DOINGS. UNDERSTANDING HAS GROWN, AND WILLINGNESS TO AID CONTINUES. WHATEVER HAPPENS, WE HAVE COME THIS FAR. KEEP THIS AS A TOKEN OF MY RESPECT. IF YOU EVER NEED TO USE IT, KNOW THAT CHOICE WILL BE LIFE-ALTERING, AND YOU WILL NOT FIND MORE.

With both hands, Uixtr hoisted it before him. “I am touched that you would bestow on me this rare blessing. My gratitude.” He brought it close to the large angled tympanum on his headpiece, and registered some sound garbling. To Stonepoynte he said, “This stock you brought me is excellent. Bring that to my loading dock and we’ll take them. A boon to you and yours.” Stonepoynte thumped the ground once for punctuation, and with one clawed forelimb picked up the crates and walked off with them like a stack of pint tumblers.

General Claymore accepted a binder from his officer. Inside the binder was also a chip, which he set into his desk’s info stack. “I’m glad you made it back, sir. You’ve done a great thing.” Then, Draig was alone again. He opened it up and paged through at random.

… Partway up a mountainside, in a flowery field overlooking a lake. A favorite view, a special place half a day’s walk from civilization. It was night, so I jogged into town, to the late hours store. The stars were out.

… I was standing on my lawn. I don’t let anyone stand on my lawn but me, when I’m taking care of it. When I’m gone, my family takes care of it, and who knows what happens then. But when I’m home, it’s only mine, even if it’s not very big. I don’t think I’d want a bigger one. No one was on it when I got there.

… I found myself at the base of a statue, a winged woman that I remember seeing on a family trip. Still there, apparently. When I saw her as a child, she gave me a sense of beauty and protection, though I was far from home. Maybe adventure is my safety. I might have just figured that out about myself.

As for Draig, he had appeared back in this very office. He felt the wash of fulfillment from his very first step in. It was a single flash accrual of every moment he embraced the calling of power in right relation, between the might held in prosperity, and the prosperity accompanying might. When he realized where he was, he engaged in routine. He corrected his wardrobe, took in some nourishment. Then he sat where he was sitting now, and marveled.

Everyone who appeared somewhere in the Pan-Galaxies after the Maelstrom Rescue was asked, when they reported back in to their duties, to fill out a short questionnaire as to their whereabouts upon arrival. It was unclear whether these locations were all now known to the people who had sent them there, or how useful that knowledge would be to them. A small team had been assigned to the sole task of digesting these reports and spotting patterns or consequences.

The size of the personnel group from the five largest fleet bases of the Pan-Galactic Imperium meant that there were thousands and thousands of accounts, which would continue to trickle in. They had saved most. General Alisandre, Draig Claymore was himself still reeling with survivor’s euphoria, multiplied by the number of people who’d made it out. That feeling still eclipsed trepidations as to what history might say about this massive blow to Imperium forces despite the costly and difficult safeguarding. He probably would still not have time to worry about that as they continued to wage defensive war.

Lieutenant Daguerre-Asahi stood before Claymore’s office desk, delivering a handpicked assortment of reappearance questionnaires with widely varied locations. “So far, the strongest pattern we’ve found is that the places in question are of great personal significance, with markers that belong only to the person relocated. Another thing – everyone reflects on themselves in their accounts a little more than we normally expect in military reports, while that is consistent with mindstates of near-death survival.”