No one stopped us on the way to Shka’s ship. When we got there security parted wordlessly and let us in. When the cute Pantechnian woman manning the flight control station popped up on the view screen, she only wished us good luck. Despite the bumps in the road everything was going well. Too well I suspected. A suspicion I didn’t share with Shka. He had been quiet for a while now. Aside from talking to flight control he hadn't said anything since we had run from Yadek. Yet it was he who broke the silence.

“Garul.” He said and then paused as if fumbling for words. “I don’t know your connection to that man or what’s going on, but I need you to answer a few questions for me.”

I gulped but otherwise kept my head forward. Pantechnian peripheral vision is much wider than human. Our eyes extend like slits around our wide round heads. While I could easily watch his reactions he couldn’t say the same. Not without putting the ship on autopilot.

He flipped a few switches and swiveled his chair to face me. This was it then. He was serious, and he had reason not to trust me. I didn’t blame him on either account. Humans prefer creatures that follow their behavioral patterns. It helps them to relate. As a gesture of good will I swiveled to meet his gaze.

“Anything you need,” I said

“Are you a Tarkellian spy?”

I jumped at the question. “Wait what?”

“Answer the question.”

“No,” I sounded indignant.

“Is your friend?”

“Client,” I corrected.

“Fine. Is your client?”

I contemplated it for a second. Yadek had a taste for Tarkellian food but that alone didn’t make him a spy. His recent behavior made something like that seem more than likely. “I think he’s just a turncoat. I know nothing for certain.”

“And what is your relationship with him?”

“Business. I smuggle him exotic food. He pays me well. It’s as simple as that.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” Shka’s shoulder dipped back as if he were getting ready to strike me.

I threw my arms up to cover my face. “I’m serious. Please don’t hit me.”

Shka grimaced and started coughing until he fell to the floor. I helped him up. He felt warm to the touch. My heart sank. We didn’t have much time.

“Are you sure you’re good for this?” I said.

I think he could see the worry on my face because he smiled in a way that made him look sad. “Yeah, and if not someone needs to do it anyway.”

I nodded because I understood. The situation was dire.

“We need to make a pit stop along the way,” he said. “My elders know more about this mushroom than I. If we’re lucky they might have some on hand. If not they may know where some is growing nearby.”

I knew that was a lie, but I let it slide and said, “And because you want to warn them?”

He looked away from me. “Yeah. Someone needs to.”

I think Shka mistook the word elders for ancestors. Not only were there trees everywhere but all of the structures were made out of trees. Some were carved up, sliced up, mutilated trees that had been pressed or otherwise formed into flat strips. While others were literally grown out of trees as if by magic. Some buildings even gave the impression of sentience. Shivers ran down my spine. I had never seen anything like this.

There were only a few hundred people here, but they were a busy few hundred. They went about things in ways that were beyond primitive. I’ve said before that humans are a primitive species, but not even I thought they stooped to such lows as using hand tools instead of worker drones. It was a lot to take in. Too much for me to make sense of.

Shka seemed to notice my trepidation and took the lead. We approached an older gentleman. A man who seemed much older thank Shka and older still compared to the administrator. Yet his features were all similar to Shka’s. He was hard at work scraping the contents from a downed tree out as we approached. I watched the spectacle bewildered wondering how the tree felt to be cut and scooped in such a way.

The man noticed us as we approached and his face lit up with joy. He put his tools down and almost charged Shka in greeting. They embraced like long-lost friends, hugging for what must have been a solid minute.

“Shkaabewis my boy. What brings you out here to visit? I hope you aren’t in trouble, your poor old mother wouldn’t be happy if that was the reason for your visit, again,” there emphasis he placed on the final word made it sound like an inside joke.

“She’ll have to settle on being disappointed. I think you’ll be a mix of mortified and excited though grandfather.”

“Oh?” The old man cocked an eyebrow. “What have you brought for me this time?” He looked down at me as if only now seeing me, “I hope not a new pet. I’ve never been good with animals.”

It took me a moment to realize he was talking about me. My ears burned from the sudden rush of blood flow, “Hey! I’m not a domesticated animal.”

They both laughed. I was not amused.

“No. He is a friend,” Shka said. “We are on a quest for a mushroom I’ve read about that lies in this forest. It’s said to rest in a sacred grove alongside its iconography.”

“Iconography?” I felt stupid asking, but it sounded important.

“It’s like a symbol. Different icons mean many things” the elder said. “If you look around say over there,” he pointed at what appeared to be a tree corpse carved into the shape of different animals stacked on top of one another, “you can see one variety.” He paused for a moment and rested his hand on his chin. “You wouldn’t be talking about the honeycomb looking mushroom would you?”

Shka nodded. “That’s it. The agarikon.”

“I know the site you speak of. It’s not so far away I can’t show you. It’s difficult to spot from the ground and a ship wouldn’t be able to descend into the dense forest there.” The elder walked away.

“Grandfather you can’t.”

The old man snorted and turned to face us. “Why can’t I?”

“That’s the bad news.”

Almost as soon as the words exited his lips, the sound of ships engulfed us. A small number went overhead into the forest while most of the others broke formation heading in several different directions including ours.