theurgy was not adequately cooled. “Not yet. I’m not really allowed to say anything until I’ve spoken with supervisor...” She blinked open the relevant file on her glasses, and a slightly worried-looking face appeared along with the name. “Faya. I know what’s going up first though: inadequate understanding of relevant infrastructure (transport). Not even one single road between the port and the nearest urban-class community. Ridiculous.” The process has always interested me. Is it difficult to remain objective about these things? The words came up before she’d even finished speaking. It was rare for him to interrupt. “Everyone gets the same Test, don’t worry. I’ve done this more times then you’ve shed. And we’ll get lots of good material for you too, okay?” When he didn’t respond, she smiled tiredly and hauled him onto her back, buckling up the various cords before marching in the direction of unclassified civilisation. The settlement did have roads, or at least it had them within its own boundaries. It seemed that one moment there were scraggly grey buildings etched into the horizon and the next they had stumbled into a bustling town centre. The inhabitants wandered through the streets with purpose, though many stopped and stared at their arrival. She was used to that, but she made a point of mentioning it out loud for Benjamin’s sake. The natives peered at the newcomers with two pairs each of solid green eyes before slowly clattering away in small groups. They looked fairly close to the specimen pictures in her file, if a little more robust than those appeared to have been. That too, was usual. The pictures were often taken in the earliest interactions, before it could be determined exactly what the subject species would eat. At the first opportunity Sul gently set Benjamin down in the shade of one of the peculiar constructions and immediately began examining it for signs of higher sentient design. She flicked on her glasses camera, but that was purely for regulation. Something concrete to put in the department files. Her investigator’s judgement would, as ever, be the most trusted evidence. No truly sophisticated construction materials, just strands of that ragged grass mixed with packed sand. Possibly treated to give cohesion and structural integrity? She would have to get samples tested. The spiral shape of the weaving was aesthetically pleasing, but almost certainly not intentional. Added to the lack of outside roads, it showed a very troubling lack of desire to ascend beyond their physical and, consequentially, spiritual spheres. She made a note of it. She suddenly became aware of the smell of citrus, though it must have been present for some time to have reached her several meters away. Turning away from the deficient architecture, she saw a man leaning down over Benjamin, eyes darting from the screen to his spindly leaves and back again. They seemed to be having a conversation. Despite the unusually large eyes and similarly abnormal copper-red hair it took a moment for her to recognise him. “You don’t have to get that close, Supervisor Faya. He can hear you without you
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