For as long as she could remember, Bru had watched the older kids during lunch with great envy and admiration. She'd looked forward to the day when she'd become one of them.

Now, she was finally an Apprentice. Only the Journeymen were higher in the school pecking order, and they only attended morning classes. Bru and the other Apprentices ruled over the younger students from lunch onwards.

Did the little kids watch her and her classmates spread their rugs in the courtyard like she used to watch? Did they admire the way she and the older students sat together in the courtyard, enjoying the midday meal that floated in gilt bubbles from the school's ovens while discussing the weighty topics of the daily Question?

She cast a group of small boys a glance as, shrieking with laughter, they raced through the Rotation Gallery and into the Journey Gallery. One little boy leaped high to snatch a loaf from the air. Bru sniffed and glanced away. She was far too old for such antics now. Not that she'd ever acted so undignified. She was a Brew.

She didn't have to eat alone now, either. The relief still left her almost dizzy even two days after she'd realized that Shells had to eat together. Her days of lurking in the shadows during long, lonely lunches were finally over. Now, she wasn't the weird loner Brew that no one would sit near. She was one of the kids who sat with her Shell, their voices echoing under the stained glass dome as they discussed scholarly lunchtime Questions with mature gravity.

If only her Shell understood the meaning of the word "gravity". Or, for that matter, "mature."

"Nikus, focus," she said for the third time, tapping her fingers against the walking staff across her lap as a blend of impatience and amusement twisted through her.

The other Shells were hard at work on the Question, heads bent together in discussion. But hers? Of course not.

Kapirnikus heaved an exaggerated sigh and finally leaned away from Veli. The gabby pair had been debating which of the two toasted mekro loafs the school had served today was more nutritionally balanced. The idiotic topic most decidedly wasn't what they were supposed to be discussing, but the pair found anything and everything worth talking about. In great excess.

"The one with pine nuts and basil has more protein," Kapirnikus told Veli quickly, then ducked his head aside as Tundir flicked a ball of glittery golden gilt at his face. The black-haired boy aimed a fanged grin at her. "Alright, alright!"

"What were we assigned to talk about?" Veli asked, more contrite than the young lander tinker. She plucked a floating cinnamon-date loaf from the air and peeled it free of the gilt film holding it.

Sejun, seated at her other side, nudged the wrapper and watched it drift back toward the school kitchen with a strangely sad smile.

"Sejun?" Veli prompted.

The boy blinked, then blushed and turned away from the floating gilt as it twisted through the air. "Sorry." He tucked rainbow hair behind his ears, revealing the streaks of blue, green, and purple dusting his cheekbones. "What was the question?"

"That's the question," Kapirnikus said with a mischievous grin. As Sejun's brow furrowed, he elaborated. "What's the Question? Get it?"

Tundir's red eyes rolled up to the blue and bronze dome. "For the love of--"

"We're supposed to imagine we're the landing party," Bru said, unable to stop herself from smiling. "The Question comes in two parts." She held up a finger. "First, what is one challenge that we might face while negotiating with the Aquarians--" Her tongue tripped over the strange new word. "--and second, how would we resolve it without violence?"

"Define violence," Tundir said, her eyes skimming her walking staff. Bru winced and rubbed her ribs, still sore from Self Defense Circle that morning. Tundir had doubled down in their sparring match, insisting that Bru needed to learn to protect herself before they went down to the planet.

Well, what if I don't want to go down there? She grimaced. I belong on the ship. It gave birth to me.

Kapirnikus scoffed. "This again?"

Tundir glared at him. "It's a valid question."

"Just because you Jansuns want to dig up every excuse imaginable to justify your Family's violent Legacy of Mind--"

She arched a brow. "We have a right and a duty to defend our people." The blue-haired girl shook her head as he snorted. "What if the Aquarians attack us, Nikus? What then?"

"If a bunch of stupid Jansun Paladins show up acting like you expect violence, you'll only have yourselves to blame if the Aquarians respond with violence."

Tundir leaned back on her hands, fixing him with a narrow-eyed look. "Stupid Jansun Paladins? Really?" Her lip curled. "My Family was once honored on the ship."

"That was before you struck the first blow in the Violence."

"That was over two thousand years ago!"

Bru glanced at Sejun and Veli. Should they break this up? Hunibi would be chomping away on roasted nuts by now and taking bets on who would win the debate. But was this really just a friendly debate?

Sejun shrugged, and across from him, Veli shrugged back. Bru chewed her lip. Shells were diverse for a reason. But still...

"Exactly," Kapirnikus said, cheeks rosy as he grew more animated. Bru wasn't sure if he believed what he said or just enjoyed arguing. Arguing, and riling up Tundir. "Paladins are a relic of the past. We gave up violence long ago. We don't need protection. Yet you want to march down there and risk causing bloodshed again like your ancestors?"

"Our ancestors," she insisted, and Bru could see the boy had gone too far when the Legacist girl clutched the walking staff in her lap. "My ancestors may have struck the first blow, but everyone participated in the Violence. And this is different." She flipped blue hair over her shoulder, revealing muscular arms. "We're not talking about people lashing out because a bunch of Second Generation cowards decided to abandon the Mission and fly the ship back to Irt. We're talking about defending ourselves if the Aquarians attack us during our Mission. Is that violent?"

Veli jumped in as Kapirnikus opened his mouth. "Yes, but permitted violence." Her pale hazel eyes gazed straight through Tundir, and if Bru didn't know better, she'd think the Penitant girl was reciting some textbook from memory. "The Galactic Accord does not punish self-defense. Even preemptive self-defense, as was used to justify the destruction of Irt so long after the Ruinous Glow was unleashed, is permitted."

Sejun cleared his throat and joined the blond in redirecting the tense conversation. "Do we want this to be our answer to the Question?" he asked. "That we'll, what? Use preemptive self-defense as a justification for annihilating the Aquarians if they attack us?"

"We're supposed to be developing a Pearl of Wisdom together," Bru murmured. Everyone paused and stared at her, and she squirmed, feeling like she ought to be playing in the gallery with the little kids after saying something like that. But now they were all waiting for her to continue. "That just... doesn't sound very wise," she finished in a small voice and glanced at Tundir, palms sweating.

Dead silence.

Heat rose in Bru's cheeks. Why had she opened her mouth? She was always saying such stupid things.

"Not for four more years," Tundir finally grumbled.

"Never mind," Bru said quickly.

Sejun shook his head. "No, go on. What do you mean?"

She studied his face. Was he messing with her? Humoring her? His expression seemed calm. Curious.

Bru drew a steadying breath as they all looked at her. Sweat prickled on her forehead as her face burned, but she forced herself to continue. She might not know her Legacy of Mind yet, but she was still an Apprentice, just like them. A Grain in a Shell. A member of the First Generation that would grow up on a planet. She could do this. "I just don't want the foundation of our work together as a Shell to be a renewed embrace of violence." She glanced at Tundir and Veli. "Even if we believe violence might be necessary or legal. Do you?"

Tundir gritted her teeth and looked away. "Fine. Then let's choose a different challenge for our hypothetical landing party."

Not hypothetical. Real, Bru thought, and then could not draw enough breath into her lungs. Hunibi's winking face filled her mind. She's down there. What is she thinking? I still can't believe she accepted the Helm's invitation. I swear, maybe I should be her guardian!

As though summoned by the mere thought of the Helm, gilt sparkled in the corner of her eye. A thin strand rose from her sleeve, separating from her raiment and turning into scrolling calligraphy in the air before her.

URGENT: The Helm shall convene this afternoon at half past Fourth Bell. We request the presence of all Spokes.

She blinked at the notice, then grimaced and swatted it away. "No, thank you," she muttered.

"How about food scarcity?" Veli asked, drawing Bru's attention back to the conversation before her.

"Huh?" she asked.

Veli's eyes slowly drifted from one Grain to the next before finally settling on her and drilling straight through her. "The Aquarians are on a tidally-locked world. Only one side of the planet gets daylight, and the light isn't suitable for agriculture. Not enough high-energy green and blue photons to power photosynthesis, right? So I bet they have to be careful about food distribution, or they'll all starve to death."

"I'm sure they've found a way around that," Sejun said, resting his elbow on his knee and propping his chin in his palm as he thought. "If their mission went according to plan, they must have settled down there, what, fifteen hundred years ago?  I'm sure they figured something out by now."

"Perhaps, if they managed to advance technologically," Kapirnikus said. He smoothed a straying lock of his unevenly-cut black hair up into a gravity-defying spike. "But they might also have lost a lot of scientific learning during their Journey. They weren't given Legacies of Mind to preserve knowledge the way we were."

"We don't know that," Sejun said. "They left Irt after us. Who knows how the plans might have changed? They might have weird Legacies and eight legs and magic, for all we know."

"That's all speculation." Everyone glanced at Veli as she paused, nibbling her cinnamon-date loaf. "But we know for a fact that only half of the planet gets sunlight. And we know that creates unique challenges for agriculture."

"Fine," Tundir said. "So, we're the landing party. We ask if we can settle everyone on the surface. They say no, because they don't have the resources to feed everyone. Maybe they threaten to hoard all of the food if we land without permission. So what do we do?" She rolled her eyes at Bru. "Non-violently."

"Maybe we could offer to help feed everyone?" Bru suggested.

Another tendril of gilt curled up from her other shoulder, and she quickly brushed the golden calligraphy aside before the others could see the forming words. The gilt settled like dust back into her raiment, and she glared at it out of the corner of her eye. She didn't want to leave her Shell and attend some boring Helm meeting.

"Good idea," Kapirnikus said, nodding thoughtfully. "The gardens already provide plenty to meet our own needs. Heck, we could feed over three times our current numbers with existing resources, since we're so under-populated. And we have tons of extra sun lamps and aeroponic systems stored on Pluto Deck and know how to make more. We could offer those."

"Plus, we have the seed banks," Veli pointed out.

"We hope," Sejun said. "If it turns out they're as corrupted as the livestock..."

Bru grimaced. The agricultural Wombs on Pluto Deck had started producing calves, piglets, chicks, and other animals five years ago as part of the ship's automated landing procedures. No one on the Daughter of the Generations had ever seen such beasts before. At least, not outside of fairytales and archivists' scrolls. The Legalists believed the creatures were intended for consumption, but no one had eaten animal flesh other than the occasional fish from the seafood farms. And these animals came from irradiated gene stock. There had been no pets on the ship for generations, but now many Families cared for three-legged or sickly sheep, ducks, or other beasts that once had been almost mythical.

"The livestock!" Veli blurted out, her face lighting up as everyone glanced at her. "We could offer the Aquarians the livestock."

"You mean let them eat them?" Sejun asked, his eyes wide.

Bru gaped at the Penitant girl as well. She couldn't let some Aquarian native take her goat, Klemuntiin, and chop him up for stew!

Movement in the corner of her eye drew her gaze. She growled under her breath as her gilt rippled up off of her raiment again, beginning to form graceful golden letters in front of her nose once more. Blushing, she waved it away, darting a glance at the others. None looked her way, and she breathed a slow sigh of relief.

Why is the Helm so insistent about this  meeting? They never pester me like this...

"That's barbaric," Tundir said, and Bru shook her head and refocused on her fellow Grains.

"We could say the same about the seafood you Legacists eat," Kapirnikus, never one to pass up a chance to aggravate her, said with a sly fanged grin, eyes taking in the blue-haired girl's narrowing gaze with glee. "Well, it's alive, isn't it?"

"So's a carrot, Nikus." Tundir's grip tightened on her staff like she was about to thump him over the head, and Bru tensed.

"Not alive and capable of feeling," the boy shot back.

They weren't even sitting next to each other, and Bru felt like she needed to break them up.

"How do you know carrots can't feel?" Tundir demanded. "After all, the vegetation on the Four Sisters somehow contributes to their sentience."

"Are you trying to suggest that the Four Sisters are sentient carrots?" Kapirnikus teased.

Tundir cast her eyes to the dome. "How did I get stuck with you fools?"

"Can we please focus?" Bru snapped. Her gilt flared again, and she dismissed it with an impatient flick of her pinky.

Kapirnikus's gaze swung to her, along with that infuriating smirk. "Sure. If you tell us what you keep hiding."

Heat flooded her cheeks. "I'm not hiding anything." The words tumbled out of her lips too quickly.

He leaned forward, eyes widening. "You are! I was just kidding, but look at that cherry-red face! Wow! What is it, a love note?"

"It's nothing."

"Nothing?" He waggled his brows. "Then tell us."

"She doesn't need to tell us," Sejun said with a glare, and Veli nodded.

Bru rolled her eyes as Kapirnikus cast her an exaggerated pout. "Fine. It's just a Helm summons." She squirmed as they all stared at her. "But I'm not a real Spoke. I never attend."

Veli blinked pale hazel eyes. "Why not? You have a right to be there."

Bru blushed. "Only technically." Every Family could choose a Spoke to represent them in the Helm, and as Unemd Family's only member in two centuries, she automatically had a seat at the table. That didn't mean she belonged there. "But--"

"They probably don't want some kid there anyway," Tundir said, flicking a lock of ombre blue hair over her shoulder.

Bru winced. Actually, most members of the Helm would be thrilled to see the ship's Brew finally take an interest in governance. And she'd give almost anything to make them happy with her for once, too. Almost. "I'd go, but have you ever seen a Helm meeting agenda?" Her nose wrinkled. "It's nothing but budget discussions and debates about sanitation. I attended a meeting, once. Trust me, they're the most boring things in the universe."

"Sure," Kapirnikus said, voice slow as he fixed her with an incredulous look. "But now there's a landing party down on the planet. I doubt the Helm's talking about water treatment."

"Isn't your guardian with the landing party?" Sejun asked.

"Yeah." Bru straightened. The apartment she shared with Hunibi in Tesus village was creepy-quiet without the woman home. The redhead was always singing off-key or talking to Bru--loudly--from the other room. But now even Bru's thoughts seemed to echo in the lonely stillness.

"Maybe there's news." Kapirnikus flicked the fingers of both hands in a shooing motion toward the door. "Best go find out. Satisfy your curiosity."

Bru found herself grinning. "My curiosity, or yours?"

"I'm curious too," Sejun said quietly. "It's been two days. I haven't heard anything about the landing party. Have you?"

She swallowed. "Nothing other than that they're staying at some big palace and are safe. Hunibi talked to me last night, but she says she can't tell me anything until the negotiations are done." Her guardian had seemed to rather enjoy being cagey, the old hag.

Sejun nodded. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. Don't let us pressure you."

Tundir crossed her arms. "Go or don't go, I don't care. But decide fast. Some of us need to do our actual assignment--" Her lip curled. "--and find a nice nonviolent solution to Aquarian agricultural woes."

"Well?" Kapirnikus demanded, leaning forward with eager eyes.

Bru snorted. "I'll go." She blinked as he grabbed his walking staff and sprang to his feet. "What are you doing?"

He offered a wide grin. "I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not." She shook her head as he clasped his hands together atop his staff and fixed her with a pleading look. "Sorry, Nikus. You're not a Spoke. You can't attend Helm meetings."

She sighed as she turned toward the door. You actually have a Spoke to represent you. You have a whole Family.