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Cycles pass with unremarkable regularity . Your destination grows from a faint dot into a blue-silver marble. The magnetic field-break hums in half-tones as it cuts through sheafs of charged particles.

The ancillaries grow, train, and sleep, and the baseline do the same. You cycle the most motivated among them through various assessments, attempting to correlate their messy, human experiences to metrics you could measure.

You learn names. There is a birth. You hear of trivial details and some that are, supposedly, more important. The boarding clades begin to integrate, their combat-tuned, hypertrophic bodies contrasting starkly with their slighter clade-siblings.

More cycles pass.

A dwarf star bathes your vision with light. The Lagrange opens bright.