Most of the buildings that had only been in the works when the space station's Minister went off-world were now fully constructed, or nearing that. The courtyard and mother's rooms were finished, along with the kitchens to feed them. (With over twenty pregnant females in the same building, the kitchen-food itself was, of course, a miracle in variety and exotic-tastes!) Classrooms for the expected kits and dragonets had not yet been finished, nor had the apartments just south of the main complex that were created for the sole purpose of temporary candidates. All in all, however, things were going exceedingly well, right according to plan.

"You know I couldn't have sat around upstairs and let you run things by yourself, Croste," Siche replied, peering at the older human around her newest cling-on. The dun-coloured beast that separated them physically had been more at ease since Siche returned home then since when the dumb beast had attached itself to her. Even so, the centaur-like beast, a 'Remorai', bristled every time someone other then Siche spoke. If Croste had been trying to speak with his station-side correspondent in Star City, he'd probably have been skewered by now on the Remorai's knife-sharp head-horn. As it was, the dun-coloured creature made a point of keeping Driolo's Flights and Hatchings Minister away from her 'bond'. Siche, whipping her tail in frustration at the Remorai's possessiveness (about which there was nothing she could do), continued, "Gods and demons know that you, of all people, are not prepared to carry out such a large project on your own!"

The human scoffed, then folded his sun-browned arms over his chest. "Hah, you're one to speak. I heard that you were closing down that public off-world flights program you'd had started. I told you it would drive you crazy!" He tsked, earning himself a glare from their towering four-footed 'chaperone'. They were approaching the end of the courtyard's thoroughfare, coming up to the short hallway that separated the future kit-dorms, and Siche was about to retort with something of her own. A roar interrupted them, however, as an iridescent and red dragon bowled out of a side-hallway.

"FRADA!" She roared again, and passed the tiny trio, oblivious with her obvious anger. One of the mothers. Wait. Demulcei? Siche looked after the dragoness as she skidded out of the covered dorms and down the open-air hallway, then out of sight. What could be her problem?

"Well." Croste said, once the cross-breed was out of sight.

"You see why I have so little faith in you?" Siche smirked.

Siche's Remorai shot Croste a glare before he could reply. "Mine," it rumbled, and then the conversation moved on.

"FRADA!" Demulcei shouted, skidding to a halt outside of the half-finished open-air classrooms. She'd finally found the Ampilo, speaking with a construction crew, her daemon partner close at hand as always. The group of them paused mid-conversation, and all of them turned to stare at the young crossbreed. "Frada Meredia, we need to talk right now," Demulcei demanded, wings half-furled, tufted tail lashing.

"All right, dear... is everything okay?" The blue-tinted elder dragon replied, looking genuinely worried. She started forward, her black aide moving with her.

"You stay out of this," the Fire-Light jabbed her wing-thumb at the daemon, then, "You, come with me." And she led the Ampilo out of ear-shot. She would have shifted to human form, to add to their privacy, but it never had been recommended during pregnancy. When they were out of hearing, Demulcei turned on the older dragon, her silver eyes narrow and angry. "I just got out of a conversation with Nanny, and do you know what it told me?"

Nanny (short for Nanny Bitsu) being the resident Amniomancer, the expert on everything up to and after birth, and the creature that every mother could go to to speak with, should they feel the need. While it was a potentially menacing creature--segmented and insectine, genderless and alien--it held an aura of comfort and reassurance that melted most defensiveness. Its gentle and constant truthfulness helped to make it a cherished staff member of the complex. Demulcei had taken a particular liking to it, and usually spoke with it whenever she wasn't otherwise busy. Frada, of course, knew all of this... so it wasn't surprising that the younger mother-to-be had come from a conversation. It was odd that she was so upset... "No, what seems to be the matter, dear?" The Ampilo asked, searching the younger dragoness for any signs of harm.

"I've been told that there are currently not one, not two... not three kits on the grow inside of me now, Frada. And I'm not the only one who's holding more then her fair share of children! Would you happen to know how this could be?" The younger crossbreed stated bluntly, uncomfortably.

"Well no, I--"

Demulcei cut her off, "Don't lie, Ampilo Meredia, why else would every other Avengaean mother suddenly be expecting more offspring then is normal?" Her fur stood on end, like an angry cat's.

Frada sat perfectly still. Breathed in. And then sighed. "Look, Demulcei, dear, is this going to be much of a problem?"

"Of course it's going to be a problem! You know how hard pregnancy is, even with one child! How do you expect us all to survive with three or more kits taking up space in here?" The crossbreed put one hand to her belly. Protective. Uncertain.

"Everything you could want is being provided for, though, my dear! Food, shelter, comfort... I don't see the problem!" The Ampilo tilted her head, apparently sincere concern showing in her eyes.

Demulcei heaved a sigh of her own, lowered her iridescent muzzle to the floor. "So this is all of your doing?" she asked, most of the anger out of her. She cast a look, sidelong, up at the Light-Water dragoness. Frada didn't speak, but then, she didn't return the gaze. "How? Why?"

There was a pause in which both cross-breeds didn't speak. Demulcei watched Frada as the elder dragon grew more uncomfortable, until the Ampilo finally lowered her own head. "The bands," she said, finally. "Tikrish and I put a simple fertility spell on the bands."

"That's what I figured," Demulcei said, anger again surfacing in her. This time, however, the anger was more for her own naivety, however. "You've been so helpful, otherwise... why did you do it?"

The elder dragoness chortled. "Why would you think I did it, child?" She grinned dryly now, eyes downcast still. "In hopes of seeing more cross-breeds, of course. What better place to cultivate new crossbred kits, then here, after all?"

Demulcei stared at the dragoness before her, silent. "Wait," she finally said. "You mean to say that you. Are still trying. To recruit dragons to go back home?" She paused again, rather slack jawed. "No, conscripting them from birth?!" She felt something drop in her stomach. And she'd trusted this dragoness for the past several months! How could she have missed this?

"Oh, by Asuka, no! No dear, you're going too far." Frada finally glanced up at Demulcei again, the mothering face back in place.

"I don't think I am..."

"They'll have a choice, of course," Frada continued, as Demulcei hadn't spoke, "though they'll be given their choice a little earlier in life then most."

"Choice. Right." the Fire-Light's ears were laid back flat, her tail lashed angrily, as if it had a mind of its own. "Frada." She said, slowly. "You had no right."

"I know it was a little underhanded but--"

"A little! Hah!"

"Calm down, now, dear, really!" The elder dragon snapped, suddenly. Her motherly mask was broken, an impatient old dragoness in its place. "You were all here to have children in the first place, you knew the consequences! So you'll have a few more kits then you expected! You, and they for that matter, will all be taken care of to the best of our abilities! There should be no problem!"

"That isn't the point!" Demulcei retorted, raising her voice. "You didn't have permission to do this to any of us, you old bag! Everyone came here expecting children, yes, but we're not your personal brood mares, and you had no right!" She stood abruptly. "I'd fire you on the spot--"

"That won't be possible." Frada spoke, her voice once again quiet. She appeared unmoved by Demulcei's tirade. "I'm the only one here with enough qualification to help birth and raise the kits at an accelerated rate, as you must realize. Secondly, the matter of my employment, here, is in the hands of Minister Croste, not you. If he were to remove me, the only other suitable replacement would be another of the Ampilae, and it would be rather difficult to find one with an alternate agenda." Frada smiled pleasantly, infuriatingly.

Bristling, Demulcei leaned toward the deceitful cross-breed. "You may have a point," she said, lip curled, "but if I can't see your Zenite-cursed tail hauled back home, I don't want to see you around me again. And if you meddle with these kits," she lifted a paw again to her belly, this time only with the protectiveness of a threatened mother, "so help me Asuka..." She left the threat dangling, instead turning tail and stalking back down the street, the way she'd come. Frada only sighed, and shook her head.

"We're going to need more candidates then we thought," Demulcei rumbled as she passed back by the Ministers.

"Why for?" Croste called, over the Remorai's challenging bellow.

"I don't want to talk about it," the crossbreed shot from over her shoulder, then disappeared back into the corridor she'd so recently shot out of.

Siche sighed. "I knew this was going to fall apart without my supervision."