The Peace Force shuttle was shielded, but the navigator nevertheless approached the base cautiously, following the course of a shallow canyon and flying lower than the jagged sunward scarp. The possibility that native instrumentation could detect the craft was infinitesimal, but there was no point in taking risks. No-one knew what tech the nearby Othxero-Sarond Alliance might have, after all.
     Gann leaned over the navigator's shoulder, frowning through the port.
     'Are we there yet?'
     The navigator glanced up at his commander and grimaced. He could understand Gann's irritation: the old Chi'dag wasn't particularly pleased with this latest posting. Not to mention that transporting Mazc was never fun.
     'Not far now, Shey.'
     Gaan grunted and eased himself into the comms' station seat. The navigator increased the shuttle's speed, eager to drop off his 'cargo' and return to civilisation as soon as possible.
     Ahead of the shuttle the canyon widened and deepened as it approached its crater, and within moments the vessel glided smoothly to a halt in the cramped and cluttered bay beside the two small planetary skimmers. The navigator cut the impulse drive and engaged the attractor field, settling the craft safely on the rocky floor, then turned to Gaan.
     'All secure Shey. Safe to disembark.'
     Gaan grunted again and hauled himself to his feet with a sigh.
     'Let's get this over with...'

The Collective's temporary base was built into the shadowed side of a shallow crater on the terminator of Heart's remaining moon, and blended in perfectly with the icy-blue rock of the satellite, making it effectively invisible to anyone on the surface. Its position on the terminator made it impossible to detect from Heart, with heartling technology, at least. It was also sufficiently far from the mining colonies – and far enough from the usual routes the heartlings took to the site of their soon-to-be-completed observatory on the far side of the moon – that the risk of accidental discovery was minute. Heartlings didn't explore too far away from known territory, here. According to sheya Kazestrel's findings, they preferred to stay where they could see the face of their homeworld. Some kind of primitive behavioural or psychological quirk, apparently. At any rate, it prevented them from wandering too far towards the dark side of the moon.
     Acting-commander Jalth handed command over to Gaan with a sense of relief. Yes, he was fully aware of how important this particular posting was – under no circumstances would the Collective leave one of its precious Fohmatraans unprotected this far from civilisation, especially this close to hostile space – but by the fires of Plar, it was unutterably boring, stuck out here on the edge of the Burned Worlds, cosseting this primitive little planet and its primitive little inhabitants... Not to mention that he was eager to get back to his real post of protector to Kelendris. He knew that his Fohmatraan had been safe enough at the comm station on Thaann this last half-year, but he always felt... twitchy when the little va'dakt was out of his sight.
     The post was suited to Gaan, of course, who was now almost ancient for a warrior, and in Jalth's estimation no longer fully competent for the more demanding work of the Peace Force. Not that Gaan would acknowledge it, nor would Jalth nor any other Plarith say it aloud. But it was obvious really, in the old Chi'dag's slowing reflexes, a certain almost imperceptible flabbiness about his torso, a lessening of the pugnacious attitude with which he used to face the galaxy.
     'Report, Chi'dag Jalth.'
     Jalth grimaced.
     'Nothing to report, Chi'dag Gaan.'
     'Heh.' Gaan glared out of the observation dome. From here they could just see a sliver of the edge of the planet, the sun glinting on the rings as it appeared over the horizon. A more artistically inclined sentient might find the sight pleasing: the Plarithdi ignored it. 'Let's get it finished, then.'
     The switchover was accomplished with the usual Peace Force efficiency, Jalth's provisional squad relinquishing their posts to their permanent replacements with alacrity while the 'skimmer crew offloaded supplies. The base had been hastily constructed after Kazestrel's refusal to leave Heart, and was austere and lacking in comfort. The control core was serviceable but cramped, filled as it was with the latest in Mazcili long-range detectors; the infirmary compact and efficient and staffed by two dour, seasoned Shaedan biotechs; the eatery basic and the new Dothnach nutritionist already complaining that she wouldn't be able to experiment with native Heart produce. At least the living quarters were reasonable, Gaan admitted to himself. And his second in command, Krin, would be dealing with personnel problems. With this crew, there were likely to be many.
     The Mazc had complained that the location of the base prevented them from any decent stellar observation: there was too much light from the system's sun. The Prime Council had overridden their objections – after all, this wasn't a scientific station, but a protective one. Kazestrel couldn't be abandoned out here, not with his 'pathic impairment.
     And absolutely not with the Alliance so close.
     If nothing else, in the event of any incursion their small but extremely fast and well-armed 'skimmers could effect a rescue mission, get the Fohmatraan offworld and heading for safety while the rest of the Peace Force made their way here in the defence of the Known Worlds.

Meraa had objected to this posting, but that was nothing unusual: all Mazcili made a point of objecting to everything the Collective required them to do. It was just their way of expressing their deep resentment that they were dependent on the Collective for their continued existence. Krin knew that the cheen wasn't really all that annoyed. In fact, she'd be willing to wager that it actually liked being out here, where very few members of any civilised species had ever spent any time. Even for the technologically advanced Mazc, Heart was an interesting world.
     Krin was, on the quiet, rather fond of the prickly little va'dakt, and suspected that the feeling might even have been reciprocated, insofar as a Mazc could feel such a thing as affection for an outworlder. Right now, however, it was having the Mazc equivalent of a temper tantrum, and that was not good. She caught the cheen's skinny shoulders in her lower hands and shook it very gently, glowering down into multi-facetted vibrant green eyes.
     'Meraa, this is not accomplishing anything. Stop swearing and tell me what's wrong.'
     The cheen tensed in shock – no Mazc liked being touched without consent – and stuttered raspingly into silence. Krin loosed her hold a little.
     'Better. Now, what's wrong.'
     Meraa glared silently, and the Plarith sighed.
     'You know we aren't 'pathic. Much as I know it pains you, you'll have to vocalise and tell me what the problem is.'
     Meraa growled quietly, then folded thin arms over its narrow chest.
     'We are short.'
     Krin blinked. Short? Well, compared to Plarithdi of course they were, but that – probably – wasn't what Meraa meant. So – short? Of what? She frowned.
     'You'll need to be a little more specific.'
     Meraa irritably indicated its fellow Mazc, three taang, two te'leng and a chag'an. With itself, seven Mazc in total. Punctilious to a fault, Krin always made sure her information was current, and as far as she was aware, that was one more than the minimum requirement for a Mazc offworld complement...
     But apparently not – at least, not as far as Meraa was concerned. She sighed.
     'How many are needed for such a... long range posting?'
     Meraa gave her a look that cast extreme doubt on her intelligence.
     'Nine.'
     Krin glanced at the sole te'leng, Hidiri, nominally the head of this particular Mazcili crew, who inclined his head.
     'Nine would make the posting less onerous.'
     Which meant that, strictly speaking, the seven already present would probably suffice. However, it wasn't wise to upset a Mazc. And this mission was too important to scrimp on details. She stepped back, bowing her head.
     'I will contact C'Prime and request another three of your compatriots be seconded here...' She paused and regarded them thoughtfully. 'Which would be most agreeable? Cheen? Taang?'
     'One cheen, two taang would be appropriate.' Hidiri spoke quietly but with authority. Krin, delighted that the matter had been resolved so easily, raised her upper hands in acceptance and surrender and inclined her head.
     'I will contact them right away.' As she stepped towards the door of the Mazc 'viro, she glanced over her shoulder. 'And I will impress the urgency upon them.'

Gaan growled at his second in command.
     'Plarchinzg Mazc.'
     Krin shrugged.
     'I know. But what would we do without them, eh?'
     She thought for a moment that Gaan was going to comment, but he closed his mouth, raised a hand, and returned his attention to the readout before him. Dismissed, Krin seated herself at her own terminal and settled to work. It would be a minimum of eight days before the additional Mazc could be 'delivered', and in the meantime she would have to organise something to keep the crew entertained...

Meanwhile, at the GeaCore lunar mining colony, basking in sunlight and far removed from the Collective's base...

Malynda rubbed her eyes, leaning back in her seat and trying to unkink her back: around her the muted sounds of people at work went largely ignored. She sighed. When she'd first applied for the post of junior communications officer for the third largest lunar mining corporation, seven years ago, she'd had dreams of being part of the first wave of pioneers, of using Geana as a jumping off point to the exploration of the Heart system, of writing poetry while watching Heart-rise in her spare time. Oh, she knew it was just wishful thinking, daydreams that were very, very unlikely to be realised. She was fully aware that the work would be fairly mundane – vital, of course, but not exactly inspiring – and conditions at the base hardly lavish. But still, she'd hoped...
     It had turned out to be a lot more tedious than she'd expected. The hours were long, the work highly repetitive, the working conditions almost grim: it was altogether too expensive to provide much in the way of luxuries. Although, to give GeaCore credit where it was due, the company did treat its staff fairly and made some effort to keep life as pleasant and stress-free as possible. But the light gravity left everyone aching, the artificial light, muted ambient sounds and sterile, tasteless air numbed the senses, and the corporation had pushed the length of each lunar shift as far as it could without seriously risking the health of its workers. Nevertheless, spending half a year on the moon and the other half on Heart wasn't really a great way to live. If nothing else, it took most people a good twenty days to re-accustom themselves to the homeworld's heavier gravity. The number of broken bones amongst those returning in those first few days was alarmingly high.
     Fortunately, so was the pay.
     'You OK?' A hand rested lightly on her shoulder, and she twisted to gaze up blearily into a pair of sympathetic brown eyes. Of the other three women on duty this shift, Megerit – Meggs, to her friends – was Malynda's favourite. That they were the same age and both from Brigford helped. Malynda half-smiled.
     'Yeah. Just tired.'
     The hand squeezed gently.
     'You and me both. Can you take a break?'
     Malynda glanced at their section's general assistant: Kern was currently covering for one of the mining overseers on a scheduled break, keeping an eye on the monitoring equipment.
     'Have to wait until Seale comes back. But he shouldn't be long. I could meet you in the foodery if you want to go on ahead.'
     Meggs pursed her lips, then nodded.
     'See you in a bit, then.'
     The thought of 'feine – a real perk, GeaCore provided the best, and for free – and a brief spell away from her station had Malynda finishing up the current comms report with renewed energy...

'That was quick!' Meggs handed her friend a large beaker of froth-topped 'feine, which Malynda sipped rapturously.
     'Oooh, that's good. Almost worth being here for...' She grinned. 'Seale got back faster than I thought he would.'
     'Poor bloke. Obviously using work as a distraction.' Meggs nodded sagely to herself. 'He's missing his partner. He should have waited to make it official until his next downtime.'
     'Well, sometimes you just can't wait...'
     'Speaking of, how's Nyall?'
     'Keeping busy. He's taken up archaeology as a hobby.'
     Meggs blinked.
     'Um, archaeology?'
     Malynda shrugged.
     'It keeps him occupied.'
     'Miss him?'
     'Of course.'
     'Ever think of transferring to the Heart operation? It's pretty much the same job as you're doing now, isn't it – just without the travelling.'
     'I considered it. But... I don't know. There's something about being here...'
     Meggs smirked.
     'The admiring and jealous look on the others' faces back home when you tell them you work on the moon?'
     Malynda chuckled.
     'There is that...'
     'And the pay, of course.'
     'Oh yes.'
     'Seriously though...' Meggs matched the words with a slight frown. 'You'll have to think about changing jobs at some point – we both will. I don't want to go down with moon-related joint problems and wasted-muscle syndrome when I'm older.'
     'Oh, we have years yet.'
     'I read that they can start when you hit thirty. That's in three years, you know.'
     'That claim's not been substantiated. All the other research suggests forty is more like it.'
     'I don't want to risk it. I'd like to parent, one day.'
     Malynda raised an eyebrow.
     'Really? When did you decide that?'
     'I was discussing it with Jemes, last downtime. He's all for it.'
     Malynda nodded pensively.
     'You'd make good parents.'
     'We like to think so.' Meggs was silent for a moment, then eyed her friend. 'What about you two?'
     Malynda stretched and settled herself a little more comfortably on the padded bench.
     'Not something we've ever really considered. I don't think Nyall's bothered, and I can't say I'd view the matter with any great enthusiasm, so probably not.' She grinned. 'Anyway, that leaves resources open for someone who really wants children. Like you.'
     'You're so noble and thoughtful and self-sacrificing.'
     'Look on it as a gift!'
     Meggs laughed and patted her friend's shoulder.
     'Aww, thanks!'
     'You're most welcome.'
     'And sarcasm does suit you so well...'
     Malynda smirked smugly.
     'It's a talent...'
     'Do we have time to eat?'

Company food was also good, Malynda thought as she sat back down at her station. At least GeaCore provided plentifully for its people's basic needs, even if much of it was bottled, freeze-dried or otherwise preserved. And the cooks were good too. There were much worse places to work.
     She just wished that she could see the sky...