"I can’t answer about Zoonau," I told him. "As for Kaisho, there are plenty of theories why the Balrog took her, but they’re all just speculation. The only thing we can say for sure is that the Balrog’s action was premeditated — it can predict human actions with a high degree of accuracy, so it must have known when and where Kaisho would be. It waited for her at the perfect spot for an ambush. Then it took her the moment she came within reach."

"Did it want this Kaisho in particular," Li asked, "or was she chosen at random?"

"Only the Balrog knows."

"Damn." The ambassador paced a few steps, then turned back to me. "Has it ever taken anyone else?"

I checked. "There’s nothing in navy records."

"Has it ever done anything like it’s doing to Zoonau?"

This time I knew the answer without doing a data search. "A few years ago, the Balrog attacked an orbital habitat belonging to the Fasskisters. It overgrew the entire place — coated every square millimeter."

"Ah!" Li said, rubbing his hands together. "Now we’re getting a pattern. Did it leave the Fasskisters themselves untouched the way it’s leaving the Cashlings?"

I shook my head. "You know that Fasskisters are puny little aliens who encase themselves in robot armor? Big powered suits that compensate for the Fasskisters’ physical weakness? Well, the Balrog covered each Fasskister suit with a thick mass of spores that disrupted the mechanical control systems. The Fasskisters ended up imprisoned like knights in suits of rusted metal. Kaisho, speaking for the Balrog, said the Fasskisters would be kept immobilized for twenty years. Their life-support systems would stay operative, and they’d be supplied with whatever they needed to survive, but they wouldn’t be allowed to move till the Balrog let them go."

"Did she say why the Balrog did it?" Cohen asked.

"As punishment. Apparently the Fasskisters had captured a few Balrog spores and locked them in containment bottles. Then they used the spores’ long-range telepathy as a private communication system. The Balrog was furious at having bits of itself kidnapped to serve as someone else’s intercom. It imprisoned the Fasskisters as vengeance."

"Vengeance." Li echoed the word as if he liked the sound. "Do you think that’s the reason for Zoonau?"

I shrugged. "Cashlings aren’t noted for prudence. They might have done something to make the Balrog angry."

Li nodded. "They annoy the crap out of me every time I meet them. And they’re greedy too. I could easily picture them trying to exploit the Balrog and getting the damned moss mad."

"Do you think that’s it?" Cohen asked me. "You know this Balrog better than we do."

I didn’t answer — I just turned a dial on my console. The picture of Kaisho disappeared, and the screen returned to Zoonau. No significant change in the picture. A few Cashlings were talking into comm implants now, holding animated discussions. Knowing Cashlings, they probably weren’t calling home to check on loved ones; they’d be contacting local news services, trying to sell their stories. Trapped by a moss monstrosity: my terrifying ordeal! Others were no doubt calling politicians, bureaucrats, anyone who’d answer. The people of Zoonau would howl to government officials, and those officials (eager to pass the buck) would call our Technocracy consulate for help… wailing, "Please, we can’t handle this on our own."

Although our consuls were probably sick of Cashlings whining, this particular crisis would elicit a quick response… because people at our consulate knew that sooner or later, some Cashling in Zoonau would fight back.

Cashlings seldom turned nasty. They were usually too lazy, vain, and petulant to take forceful action against obstacles they met. When something went wrong, they’d complain, complain, complain to other species till somebody bailed them out.

But even a race of useless idlers had some few individuals with sparks of spirit. In Zoonau, some Cashling would eventually be pushed beyond its limits, becoming so angry or upset it would stir into action.

Like trying to set Balrog spores on fire.

Or dousing them with dangerous chemicals.

Or simply smashing them with a rock, over and over and over.

Which would be understandable… but we couldn’t let it happen.

Not that I feared for the Balrog’s health. If it didn’t want to get burned, doused, or smashed, its spores would just avoid the attack. This was a creature that could teleport… and could foresee the actions of lesser beings far in advance. The Balrog wouldn’t let itself get hit unless it wanted to.

But the Cashlings of Zoonau didn’t know that. Cashlings were bottomless pits of ignorance when it came to most other species. And if some Cashling tried to pummel a clump of moss, the League would regard that action as attempted homicide: deliberately intending to kill sentient Balrog spores. The Cashling responsible would be considered a dangerous nonsentient. Furthermore, the Cashling government might be in trouble for not doing its utmost to avoid such violence; the Technocracy could be accused of negligence for not helping the Cashlings; and I myself might be considered callously indifferent if I saw this mess coming and did nothing to stop it.

"How old is this footage?" I asked. "When did the Balrog attack?"

"About an hour ago."

"Do we have anything more recent?"

Cohen shook his head. "The city’s internal cameras aren’t broadcasting anymore."

"Probably mossed over," said Li, stating the obvious.

So the Cashlings had been trapped for an hour. And the readouts on the console in front of me said it would take another hour for Pistachio to reach Cashleen. By which time, the people of Zoonau would be getting antsy.

"We have to go in as soon as we achieve orbit," I said. "Before one of those Cashlings does something we’ll regret."

"Looks like it," the captain agreed. "We’re the only non-Cashling ship in the star system."

"But suppose the Balrog is punishing the Cashlings," Ubatu said. She’d finally turned back to join our conversation. "Suppose the Balrog is punishing Zoonau like it punished those Fasskisters. If the Cashlings have done something to anger the Balrog, we have to think twice about coming in on the wrong side."

Li nodded. "We don’t want to get caught in the middle. Otherwise, we might find our own cities covered in moss. This is just the sort of incident that could escalate-"

"Haven’t you been listening?" I shouted. "Don’t you understand?"

The bridge went silent. I could almost hear the echoes of my own voice ringing from the metal walls. Li looked shocked, like a man who’d never been yelled at before. Ubatu too — as if nineteen-year-olds in her world never felt the urge to scream. Cohen lifted his hand, about to pat my arm… which would only have made me more furious. But he must have realized this was not the time to play patronizing grandfather. He let his hand fall and said, "What?"

I took a shuddering breath. "Captain Cohen. Sir. The Balrog isn’t going to misunderstand our presence. The Balrog timed its arrival exactly to catch Pistachio and reel us in. You yourself said we’re the only non-Cashling ship in the star system."

I looked around. Nothing but blank faces. "The Balrog wants us to come," I said. "It’s been waiting precisely for this moment. It could have hit Zoonau anytime, but it held off until we were near… because it knew the Cashlings would demand help, and we’d have no choice but to get involved."

"It wants us?" Ubatu whispered. "Why?"

"We’ll have to go down and ask."

"What if it’s… hungry?"

I looked her in the eye. "Just hope you’re not the one it wants to eat."