“But my two chrono-years are up. I’m the same kind of IMPERIUM citizen as you. I pay taxes and everything.”
“Yes. But the IMPERIUM is particularly sensitive about species rare enough to be at risk. You fall into that category. They want to stamp out any trade involving sapiens beings.”
“I see. So what can he expect?”
“For crimes on this scale, either partial or total asset seizure, many years of compulsory public service, then rehabilitation. Usually a significant portion of the species’ natural lifespan spent in confinement. We can’t say exactly how much Horos will get, but he won’t take a single step outside an IMPERIUM camp for at least twenty chrono-years. And those camps are not pleasant places. He will need extraordinary luck to leave one alive.”
Khar folded his arms, making it abundantly clear how little he approved, but Ikar and Aros showed no concern.
Lily looked lost in thought.
Khar wondered what was happening in that quick human mind of hers. She often tried to map galactic concepts onto Earth equivalents. A logical instinct, though not everything translated cleanly.
“So basically forced labor under conditions designed for profit,” Lily said slowly, “where the workers get ground down?”
Aros grinned. Given the topic, it should have looked wrong, but the smile was for Lily.
“Exactly.”
Khar felt they were drifting into dangerous waters. Lily was compassionate. For a heartbeat, he worried she might pity Horos.
That creature did not deserve sympathy.
“It’s not all that different from Earth,” Lily said, “except back home everyone is exploited by a tiny elite, so honestly, thank you, I’ll take IMPERIUM laws any day.” Her eyes widened. “Though I am just the tiniest bit concerned about what happens when they find out thatWE ARE HIDING A COLOSSUS!”
All three Divani flinched hard at her sudden volume.
None of them had seen the outburst coming, but at least they recovered quickly enough to talk over one another in frantic reassurance.
“Lily, no one will find out,” Ikar began.
“We planned it while you two were regenerating. Helios just needs to reshape himself, but he can do it,” Aros added.
Khar silenced both with a growl.
“Lily, I have been avoiding IMPERIUM inspections for chrono-years, the same way Vegrun avoids the desert. I would stake my life on our ability to hide him. You need to apply for a new central intelligence core for your ship, but only after we disguise Helios properly.”
Khar’s tone finally eased the tension in Lily’s face. The rigid worry that always surfaced when the IMPERIUM was mentioned softened a little.
“I suppose the sooner I get the hearing over with, the better,” she said. “Then we lay low until attention shifts elsewhere.”
“You don’t need to worry,” Ikar assured her. “It probably won’t even be an investigator. More likely an automated program. Like we said, it’s a formality. You contact them when you’re ready.”
Aros attempted an encouraging pat on Lily’s shoulder.
Khar growled.
The pat instantly became a long, gentle, and most importantly non-intrusive stroke down to her shoulder blade.
Khar considered overturning the table onto his brother’s head. Aros, wisely, retreated before Khar made a decision.
“If we’re already on the topic,” Lily said, eyes bright with mischief, “Ikar, Khar, Aros?”
“Do you want to ask something else?” Ikar said, cautious.
“It’s nothing, really. Just a thought.” Lily paused. “There’s an old Earth legend about a boy who lived long before humans learned to fly with machines. He built wings out of feathers, wood, and wax. He could fly, but when he got too close to the Sun, the heat destroyed his wings and he fell to his death. People use it as a warning that being too curious, or too reckless, leads to disaster. The boy’s name was Icarus.”
The three Divani listened attentively.
