Rigil came for me early the next rotation. He was excited and hurried me to his shuttle. With only a bare-bones explanation, he launched out for the trailing end of the armada. I discovered in conversation that we were headed for the legal ship, Magis. Living and working on the Seed Ship gives one a sense of personal space. I was, therefore, somewhat shocked to step off of the shuttle and into such a busy craft. The din of voices beat against me. It was one of the smaller ships of the fleet and seemed to me overly crowded. Legals sprinted in all directions going to hallways and stairways. The many levels of the Magis hummed with an active intent I did not expect.

I stood at a loss for a moment. I watched and gaped to see so many souls in such a fuss. Senior legals, like small suns, drew their juniors along in their wakes. Kee assistants, dressed in red and black, darted among the press with document-laden arms. Applicants of every race wandered about in search of the proper office. I saw aggrieved Oliphareans lumber past me as Rigil and I still stood in the eight-hubbed docking bay. I saw dog-headed Axerri step briskly from the transport trees along the facing wall. I saw a group of reversed grays, in chains, being led to a processing court on one of the lower decks. Suddenly, Rigil nudged me from my stupor. He took my arm in hand and pulled me forward.

“Come on,” he said.

HB1BL1E was a Tracci and a senior legal. His cramped office had room enough for his desk and the two chairs Rigil and I sat in. Traccis prefer no adornments from their progressions. They hold to their unnerving race type with elongated skulls and tissue covered eye pads. They have a breathing patch through which they speak. The overlying tissues flutter as they speak in a velvety hush. Their race has four arms that sometimes are used independently and sometimes are joined for use. Our legal used all four arms to sort through forms.

Rigil said, “Oobulublay, I thank you for seeing us as I know you are extremely tasked.”

The legal said, “I have time for this issue.”

I tried not to stare at the legal's breathing patch as it fluttered. I was relieved that Rigil took the lead in our meeting. I would have hated to offend our legal by mispronouncing his name. I sat quietly and listened. I spoke when asked a question. Between the three of us, a consensus formed as to the need for investigation. Our legal drew up the claim that would be presented fleet-wide. Every node would share the announcement of pending legal actions. He made it sound so clear, so easy, I was ashamed that I had not thought of it.

At the end of our meeting, the Tracci stood behind his desk, joined his arms, and placed his palms together before his face. Rigil responded in turn to the salute. I, feeling foolish and slow, followed suit. We were ushered from the office to stand in the bustling hallway. Rigil thanked him for his time and then the Tracci turned to face me directly.

Oobulublay said to me, “This issue is grave but I am sure it will be resolved adequately. Please let your father know that our Kee are well-treated. We of the Magis respect the rights of all life.”

“I thank you for both myself and my father,” was my reply. “Be assured, he knows.”

“Come with me,” said Rigil.

I allowed my friend to take my arm and lead me along the maze-like hallways of the legal ship. He took me down several levels and then through more hallways. I was quite lost. If I was ever to get off the ship, I thought, I must either be led off by my friend or find a transport tree. Rigil was telling me that he wanted to show me something I was unaware of when we stepped into a broad plaza. The open space gave my encumbered spirit a sense of relief and I sought my friend's kind eyes to share my satisfaction.

Where we were, he explained, was a cafeteria for Kee assistants. It was bright and spacious and I saw many of the diminutive Kee seated at tables enjoying a meal. Some of them sorted through documents as they ate. Some of them spoke in soft happy voices between themselves. Other Kee, dressed in blue uniforms, ushered trays of steaming food and cold beverages to the tables. Voices were hushed and respectful. Quiet laughter blossomed here and there like bright flowers. We had only just stepped from the dim hallway into the light of the plaza when we were noticed by the Kee.

Rigil was saying, “I just wanted you to see. The Kee on this ship are some of the best treated in the fleet.”

The Kee began to rise. Table after table ceased their eating as Kee arose and faced us. The Kee in blue halted and put their laden trays aside. Rigil smiled. I was warmed and humbled by the moment. What happened next stunned my friend. He gaped and turned to me in confusion. I knew not what to say. I only knew I had to run with it. As one, the Kee had spread their arms. With uplifted faces and closed eyes, they chanted softly. I remembered the ranch. The words were old Kee; I did not understand them.

Suddenly, softly, my father's voice filled me. “Join them,” he said.

I took Rigil by the arm. He still gaped in confusion. I led him among the Kee. We seated ourselves and I was brought a tray. On my plate was sliced beef under a thick gravy – a Kee favorite. There was a mashed vegetable and roasted potato. There was warm bread beside the plate and a cool fruit beverage. I spent a happy turn among the Kee as they came and went. I repeated their names as they introduced themselves to me. I listened to their hopes. We spoke of the sense of equality they felt among the legals and we took a quiet moment for the less fortunate among their race. Their manner reminded me of Thusa and their speech was well advanced. Rigil joined the conversation with great relish. I assured my Kee something good was on the way.

It was that rotation's end when the claim was broadcast. Every Atomic would read the words. Rigil sat with me as I waited at my communication node. I was excited. I was nervous. I wondered what the words would be and, at the same time, I feared to read them. All of it was a big step beyond who I was. I tapped my heel in anticipation until Rigil placed a hand on my knee to stop me. Then, without forewarning, the text appeared on the screen and the dim room was lit by the brighter screen. I hesitated. Rigil turned the screen to him and read aloud.

“Be it known to all that a claim has been filed in the office of Oobulublay, Third Chief Legal on the ship, Magis, for the investigation into the alleged abuses against the molecular race known as the Kee. This investigation is pledged under the full authority of our creator and king and is to be conducted by his son, 5E5U. All races of our great armada are hereby sworn to the full cooperation of the ongoing investigation and are required by law to conduct themselves in verity. Nothing may be hidden. Nothing may be withheld. 5E5U and his sworn agents will present themselves among the ships, at times and in a manner that will gather testimonies, proofs, and evidence to the Court of Inquiry. All praise the law of the king.”

Rigil sat back and said, “So it begins. By now, the Pilot's Guild will have all been sworn in on the Magis. I have arranged a meet on the guild ship, Helm.”

Early on the following rotation, Rigil led me aboard the Helm. We walked solemnly down metallic corridors while mobile lights hovered near the ceiling. We emerged into a brightly lit meeting hall. I saw row after row of seats. I saw a pilot in each seat. All conversation abruptly ended when Rigil and I walked into the room. I was, quite frankly, overwhelmed by the sheer number of seated souls. There was a sea of pilots before me stretching back to the far wall. As I paused in my tracks, Rigil took me by the arm and led me up onto the stage, and sat me behind the podium. He stepped forward and addressed his many peers.

“We are all pilots,” he said. “We know how to get from point A to point B. I am sure all of you are able to divide yourselves among the ships. That much of the labor is in your hands.”

A Phlaecian from the back rows shouted, “I have tentacles,” and was cheered by others of his race.

Rigil amended, “Or tentacles as the case may be. My point is if you were not detail-oriented, you wouldn't be pilots. I feel confident that all of you will do a great job. So, no more palaver, I'll let Jeez tell you what to look for.”

I took the podium and was relieved to see that Rigil had placed a sheet of notes there for me. I confess that I felt ill at ease but I was also moved that so many had chosen to help. I looked out on the many racial types hoping that my first words would be meaningful. Before I could speak, a tall hairless humanoid raised his hand and stood.

“Yes,” I said.

“My name is Bollate,” he said. “I am a cargo runner between the manufacturing ships and the tech ships. I wanted to ask a question about the Kee.”

“Yes,” I prompted. “Please.”

“Many of us have recently been required to take on Kee helpers and we just don't have the work for them. I don't see the point,” he complained. “What are we to do about them?”

I had a finger on the sheet of notes as I responded. “That is a good question and I thank you, for it addresses my first point. First of all, the Seed Ship approaches up-cycle. You may send the Kee to work there. Whether you send them or keep them, I ask that the collars be removed. In any ship you enter as my agents, you are authorized to have the collars removed. I must insist on that point. No collars. Now, let me tell you what you will be looking for.”

It was a long meeting. I was glad to see an end to my speaking. In all, I think they were patient with my unease. At the end of the meeting, someone in the back began passing out the credentials they would use. Oobulublay thought of everything. Although I had fielded questions, many of the pilots pulled me aside into further inquiries. I had lost sight of Rigil but I decided to be brave. After all, I thought, it would be over soon. I was wrong. I found myself engaged in the personal anecdotes of the pilots. I did not mind so much; some of the anecdotes were actually entertaining. The politics within the pilot's guild, however, were beyond me. They seemed to pin their hopes on me, as the son, to settle old debates and new squabbles. I was the hero of the Kee, after all. I had the full backing of the king. You can't imagine how relieved I was to turn and see Rigil nod his head toward the exit.

So, the probe began. Rigil coordinated the data as the agents brought it in. For the most part, everyone seemed cooperative. It worried me, however, that our data was no more than a list of small slights. Thusa had also been busy. He reached out to our Kee among the fleet and brought to me a list of complaints more disturbing in nature. The facts did not tally. I asked the agents to dig deeper. In the meantime, I had become deeply involved in the up-cycle culling. There was also the matter of new Kee arrivals. I pulled together a group, at Thusa's recommendation, and set them to the task of building a new encampment in the third fourth. Thirty rotations had come and gone and the probe only became more vexing. Where was the young Kee female I had seen in Mikal's presence?

The military, as a whole, had resisted our probe. My agents were intimidated and harassed. It was obvious that much of their cooperation was only meant to mislead. While the ranking officers postured and delayed, Rigil proved to be the most useful agent. By stealth and by craft, he infiltrated the lower ranks. His powers of persuasion, I confess, were mysterious and wonderful. We, at last, came away with a single clue that turned the investigation on its head. It was a name. Ninety rotations into the probe, Rigil brought me the name 'Flume.'

I sat with Rigil in his quarters. Bollate sat with us. We had asked the Great Mind of the Armada to explain Flume to us. What we got was the schematic for one of the older military vessels. The Flume was the oldest frigate among the military arm of the fleet. It was, basically, a long tube. The armaments had long since been removed. Black patches appeared on the gray hull where weapons used to be. It was positioned in the center of the five cadet berthing ships and with the armory ship, Harbinger, ahead of it and the training ship, Tarmac, behind, the Flume was a hidden vessel. The Flume had been converted into a warehouse ship. It had been the last of the water-powered vessels and upon its refitting, the core line, a tank, basically, that delivered the water to the ship's engine, had been stripped.

I said, “I want to visit the Flume.”

Rigil turned in his seat to respond, “Let me send some agents. We now have members of the military to act as escort.”

“Fine,” I said. “I will be with them.”