Space & Time: page 1

Jregli was a very happy girl. She had two regular meals every day, all the fresh, clean water she could drink, and a fascinating place to live. Really, what more could a prepubescent slave want?

Jregli clicked her inner teeth together quietly, as much of a song as she dared to make. She knew that she couldn’t produce a tune that wouldn’t offend half the sentients who heard it, so she contented herself with the clicking rhythm as she wiped down the main bar of Shdr’edno’s Pub and Arcade. It was a shame she wasn’t melodic, since there were some absolutely beautiful melodies out there in the great galaxy. But Jregli was deformed. She didn’t mind, much.

Perhaps deformed is not the best term, she mused, switching the floor-cleaning bots on and sending them out into the main pub room. Stunted would be a better, more accurate word. She’d starved all her life until she’d smuggled herself onto Fredan Sector Station 5 and met her new master. Uncle Shdr’edno, as far as any non-Yerbran was concerned; since slavery was forbidden in most of the Galaxy Star Mutuality, she was careful to play the dutiful kin-child. Yerbra was one of a handful of Domains that had kept the right to slavery, but Jregli wasn’t going to complain.

Plenty of free folk were more tied down than slaves. Those who were so poor they might be better off to sell themselves usually never moved more than a few Star-Standard Units of Major Distance from their birthplace. They were too busy trying to survive on whatever pittance they could scavenge to be clever. Slaves, in the other eye, didn’t have to worry about mere survival, which was provided by one’s Master. Slaves could afford to be clever.

Jregli began a faster rhythm with her inner teeth as she emptied the waste receptacles into the main disposal carrier. She was very clever, indeed. She knew she had nothing about her physique to earn her treats from her masters, but she did have smarts. Intelligence. In fact, if the testing she’d done while her masters weren’t looking was even close to accurate (which they should be, since Qwadesixos had developed it, but one could never be entirely certain), she was one of the most keenly intelligent Yerbrans alive. Perhaps even as smart as Dyt’oprz or Tuip’vne. Smart enough to compensate for her stunted body.

Yerbrans are taller than most other bi-pedal species, averaging between ten and eleven Star-Standard Units of Height at full growth; most bi-peds, such as Remts, Engrads, Humans, and Frufdsonitrugs, averaged between five and seven SS-UH tall. Jregli might be able to convince some of them that she was only six SS-UH because she was still young, but the truth was that she was a runt. Probably because she hadn’t had more than two re’dht’s worth of nutrition in any given day in her whole life until she’d come to the Station.

Space & Time: page 2

Jregli vaulted over the synth-wood bar and began wiping down the tables and setting the chairs down, now that the floor bots had moved back into the Arcade. Must be all this good eating giving me strength, she mused. She looked out of her right eye at her hand as she wiped. Too large for her body, and too bony. Both hands and both feet were like that. Her finger and toe claws were brittle and prone to flaking. Her ribs and tail-bones still stood out clearly under her scale-covered skin, which was dull and looked as though it were covered with ash. Perhaps a few more months of soft living here on the Station would take care of that, and she would know if her scales were actually brown or not. And maybe in a few months she could earn enough to buy some oil to soothe the cracked patches.

Most of the cracks were on her joints: the elbows, knees, and foot-pads. Yerbran knees bent to the back rather than to the front, like about one-third of other bi-peds. They walked on the balls of their feet, which were covered in scaly hide thick enough to not be cut by the razored rocks that covered most of Yerbra Home. Jregli had almost no padding on her feet, so they tended to crack and bleed, to the great annoyance of her former mistress. And that was only the beginning of Mistress Fun’gryu’s annoyances with the little slave.

Mistress Fun’gryu was not a clever woman, and she hadn’t any idea how clever her slave really was. She did know, however, that Jregli was an ugly runt, and she’d never passed a chance to remark on it.

Women should be sleek and long, Mistress had said time and time again. Jregli was scrawny, not sleek. Jregli was undersized, not long. A skinny stub of a tail on a tiny body, Mistress would sneer. The eyes of a Yerbran are the windows to the galaxy and must be clear, bright, and dark. Jregli’s eyes were placed correctly, one on either side of her head and the third on top between them, all in line above her neck, but there their adequacy ended. Jregli’s eyes were not clear, bright, or dark. And her head!

A proper head was three-fourths the length of the torso, long and gently rounded and tapering just so at the back into a pleasingly smooth knob. It should balance powerfully on a long, slender neck, three quarters behind and one quarter fore, and turn swiftly to the wind. The front should be a rounded blunt, the lips covering the outer teeth full and expressive. Jregli’s head was almost as long as her torso, her neck was nearly half again as long as ought to be allowed (Mistress had often said), and her lips so thin they might as well not be there. At least she had all her teeth, inner and outer, and they were in reasonable shape. The skin across the front of her head stretched so tightly that her fore sinus slits were always gaping, incapable of blocking out wind-driven sand.

Worst of all, and the thing Mistress had harped on the most, was Jregli’s voice. Rather, her lack of voice. This, Jregli considered as she finished cleaning tables and headed back to the bar, could be termed a true deformity. Her body was stunted, but her voice was deformed. All the good feed in the galaxy wouldn’t fix that. Yerbrans didn’t have a larynx or voice box; they used the bone chambers in the backs of their elongated skulls to both produce and receive sound. While Jregli could hear perfectly well (though she had allowed Mistress to believe she couldn’t), she could produce only a grating, buzzing sound when she spoke. Singing was strictly forbidden.

Space & Time: page 3

Which was, perhaps, the only thing about life that made Jregli sad. Yerbrans were the Children of the Wind, Masters of the Gale, and crafters of music the entire Mutuality hailed as beautiful. Well, most of the Mutuality, Gerbdis notwithstanding. Most of the Yerbran’s skull was hollow, which led to numerous jokes behind closed and sound-buffered doors (Jregli’s people didn’t take kindly to such levity, and the freemen among them were quick to express that displeasure). The entire back portion of the Yerbran skull and about a third of the front portion was riddled with aural chambers, each delicately spaced and connected to create the widest range of sounds of any of the Races.

Except for Jregli. Her aural bones were warped; stunted by her poor growth to the point that only major suregery might, might, repair them.

Sad as that was, Jregli refused to let it stop her. She hopped back over the bar and picked up her small glass of water for a well-deserved drink. Yes, she was smart, possessed of a keen intelligence and blazing wit. She’d fooled three masters to get where she was, and where she was was protected. She set her glass back in its nook with a careful thump and fired up the bar’s main console. For certain, being a slave on Fredan Sector Station 5 was the safest place to be a slave.

Shdr’edno couldn’t treat her like a slave here because he valued his place and his business far too much. He would never have bought her or any slave, but that went to show just how clever she was. Jregli knew that life on Yerbra Home was a dead end. Literally, she would have died before too much longer, either from beatings or starvation. She was only eight Star-Standard Units of Age, nineteen Yerbran Cycles, which was far too young for someone as brilliant as she to die. Jregli bared her outer teeth for a brief second in victory before schooling her features back to docility.

Mistress had loved to listen to her eldest son recite his lessons. Not because she wanted to see if he got them right (she wasn’t intelligent enough for that), but because she thought he sounded smart. Jregli had begun the adventure of learning while listening to Master Drecnal fumble through his lessons. The son was brainier than the mother, but not by much. He didn’t realize that the tiny slave assigned to carrying his mother’s numerous cushions was listening very closely. And he didn’t realize that his lesson materials were accessed when he wasn’t home.

Jregli had stolen as much time to learn as she could. She’d taught herself how to use the mainframe interfaces when she was seven Cycles (just under four Units), a skill she used now as she began running the morning diagnostics for the Pub. She’d even given up opportunities to find food so she could learn. Back then, when she’d been so young, learning was just too much fun to pass by, and really, when you’re starving, staying hungry isn’t any greater hardship. Now that she was older, she congratulated herself on the advantage she’d given herself. Flipping through the inventory logs reminded her of flipping through her Master’s personal files.

Since she knew she would die anyway if she hadn’t tried, the risk of being caught at the mainframe hadn’t fazed her. Much. Not much at all. She’d learned how to crack encryption (and Master Wesf’ser’s codes were laughable; apparently he’d picked a mate who could match him at wits) and learned all about her Master’s business. Knowing one’s foe is the surest way to defeating him.

Now, the Yerbran concept of defeating an enemy was quite different from the majority of other Races’. In fact, most Races had declared Yerbran-style conquest immoral, unethical, and/or illegal. In short, Not Fair. Jregli allowed herself the tiniest of smiles as she placed the day’s supply order. Most Races felt it was unfair to cheat, defraud, and humiliate another sentient being. Taking something that doesn’t belong to you is wrong, according to the legislature of the Mutuality. Like slavery, Yerbrans were allowed to keep their “peculiar” custom, provided they kept it at Home and between themselves.

Jregli hadn’t “kept it at Home,” but she did limit her victories to other Yerbrans; namely, her masters. She’d discovered that Master Wesf’er had suffered a great defeat from the claws of a then-young Shdr’edno, who had stolen a lucrative business venture as neatly as one could please. Shdr’edno wasn’t the only man to have beaten Wesf’er (Jregli wondered how her Master had maintained his status, he’d been taken so many times), but he was the only one permanently headquartered on a Mutuality Star Station. A Star Station was just the place for a young genius.

Space & Time: page 4

Getting herself to the Station had not been easy, Jregli reflected, saving the invoice and sending a copy to her “uncle” for approval. That called for defeating Shdr’edno, who was much, much smarter than Wesf’er could ever hope to be.

She had used every bit of ingenuity she could dredge up, borrowing liberally from accounts of famous and infamous intergalactic crimes, the ever-popular “whodunnit” enviro-tainments, and her own people’s history. The result was a battle plan worthy of Tuip’vne himself.

Jregli resisted the urge to relive her glorious battle and began activating the various machinery necessary to creating the vast array of beverages and foods the pub was known across three Sectors for. The tail of the effort was that Shdr’edno thought he was buying a machine that would make him a lot of money and Wesf’er thought he was unloading a pathetic excuse of a slave onto an old enemy who could lose everything if he were discovered to own a slave while residing in Mutuality Domain.

That, in truth, was still a danger, both to Shdr’edno and to Jregli. Hence, the story of kinship. Shdr’edno didn’t know that it was actually true; his great-great-grandsire had often amused himself with his own slaves, and Jregli was a long-distant result. Better to save that information for a windstorm than spend it on rain. Or, as natives of more humid planets might say, “save it for a rainy day.” Yerbra’s rainfall was measured in qstas, and Jregli had never actually been to a wetter planet, but she had seen enviro-tainments, so she felt she had an acceptable understanding of the phrase.

Shdr’edno had been stunned, then furious. As well he should be, since no one could reasonably expect Wesf’er to have beaten anyone. When Jregli had presented herself to her new Master, she’d made sure he knew just how smart she was (short of telling him that it had been her idea to come; that was not the way to start off under a new Master). He was going to get his money’s worth out of her and more. He just got a sentient slave instead of an AI. Jregli was determined to make his investment double, triple even. He would thank her some day.

Jregli had prepared for her new life on the Station by doing more than make herself a nuisance to Master Wesf’er and indispensable to Mistress Fun’gryu (who would feel her absence keenly and make sure her lord mate knew it); she had studied so intensely and often she’d almost been caught two clawfuls of times. She had been caught once, and only that fact that no one thought she could possibly be doing what she actually was spared her severe punishment. Mistress had lashed her three dozen times and left it at that. She'd liked having Jregli around, primarily because Jregli was an easy target and secondarily because Jregli kept three leaps ahead of her then-Mistriss so that the Lady could live without straining her limited mental resources. Wesf'er had only ever seen Jregli making mistakes and breaking things, so he'd ignored his mate's protests and jumped at the too-easy chance to one-up his old enemy.

Jregli, meanwhile, was ready for the intergalactic life aboard a Star Station. She’d studied other Races, as many as she could get files on. Frudoib, Jeftryo, Engrads, Gerbdis, Humans, Soundartinsheds, Vun, on and on and on. Every Race she thought might come through the Station in Sector 5 of Fredan Space, she memorized. History, culture, customs, fashions, idioms, diet, preferences of enviro-tainment…she learned it all. This was her cliff to scale, her current to flow, her place to shine. Even the Runciof had to work hard to have as a good a memory as Jregli did. She could remember everything.

And that was how she made Master Uncle his money. Sentients came to public gathering places for social interaction. Many of them were far from their Homes and would see many more Units before they saw their Homes. Jregli provided them with a real taste of their Homes, and not just in the new lineup of beverages and foods she’d convinced Uncle to add. She could talk with them about Home, discuss their pet philosophies, recite the major stories involving every Domain, and make each customer feel completely at ease in a literally alien place. Two Standard Months she’d been tending the bar for Shdr’edno, and already she was a regular draw. Lots of sentients wanted to see the little Yerbran girl who could talk about everything from Home. And while she talked, they bought drinks.

She was strict with herself regarding “cheating” anyone who was not Yerbran. Unlike most of her people, Jregli was not offended by differences in cultures. There were things, of course, that made no sense, like keeping hydarnts for pets or swimming, but Jregli was comfortable with allowing other sentients to have their own ways. So she didn’t steal from the customers. She charged them as much as she could whenever she could, but they always knew what she was doing, and she never tried it on anyone she thought would take offense. They were usually so charmed that they paid whatever she asked and then tipped her. All the tips went to Uncle, of course, but the customers didn’t need to know that.

Jregli gave the bar top one last swipe with the rag and recalled the bots. Now that her opening chores were done, she could have some fun. Minors living in Mutuality Domain were required to have basic education, and most living on the Station went to a shared school in the Trudnb Corridor. Jregli, of course, was not allowed such freedom of the Station, but Shdr’edno couldn’t get away with not educating her at all. Jregli had to at least look like she was learning and be able to spout enough at the Education Officials who randomly came by to make them think she was home-schooling. It helped that Yerbrans of status usually employed tutors for their children. It also helped that Jregli had learned everything the Education Office considered necessary before she reached thirteen Cycles.

Shdr’edno had status, but Jrgeli was not anyone’s child, so she had “home-schooling” but no tutor. She had to make do with the Station ‘Feed, and she did nicely. The time in between opening chores and opening (which took place two Standard Hours before Station Midday) was “school time,” and Jregli loved it. The only thing better was discussing what she’d learned with the customers. She settled herself into her private cubby in the back storeroom with her first meal of the day and her little glass of lovely water and pulled up the ‘Feed on the school-issue data pad.

Learning, water, food, lots of aliens to dazzle, and no beatings? Yes, Jregli was a very happy girl.

Space & Time: page 5

Shdr’edno stalked into the bar and repressed a snarl. The damn place sparkled. Literally sparkled. Was there anything that wind-blasted brat couldn’t do? Since he’d bought her, his profits had more than doubled, his business had expanded to include an entire new line of games and three enviro-tainers for non-pedal sentients, and ships were deliberately including FSS5 on their routes just to come to his Pub and Arcade. It made him mad enough to spit.

He was furious because Wesf’er had done it. The grit-addled shell-less undfrtp’rr had actually done it. It didn’t matter that Shdr’edno benefited, oh, no. It didn’t matter that the chances of being discovered as a slave holder on Mutuality Domain were slim. How? Wesf’er wasn’t smart enough to feed himself, let alone pull off something so complex Shdr’edno hadn’t figured it out until a Standard Month after he’d fallen for it.

Shdr’edno took a deep breath through all five of his nostrils and focused on a soothing drone. Wesf’er would not continue to win by causing Shdr’edno to loose his calm, his composure. He had an image to maintain, after all. Yes, he must be calm and confident for the customers. Smooth and welcoming to the marks. Stupid sentients who didn’t deserve to hang onto any credits they brought with them.

He twitched his powerful tail behind him as he walked the rooms, examining his slave’s work. His scales glittered darkly in the soft glow of the pub’s working light. He kept those scales well polished and the underlying skin carefully oiled. His toe claws clacked softly on the synth-fiber floor as he walked. He was careful to keep those claws short so he wouldn’t have to pay for damaging any of the Station’s flooring. His dew claws, spurs, and hand claws, however, he kept razor sharp and elegantly pointed. A fine image for a man of status.

He continued his soft drone as he vaulted over the bar with easy grace. He focused on keeping the tone constant and soothing as he reviewed the brat’s work in the console. Letter-perfect. Even backed up onto his personal drive. Flexing his fingers, Shdr’edno thoroughly searched the entire system, even tried to hack files he knew she couldn’t get to, just to see if she’d tried anything. Nothing. He ground his inner teeth silently as he approved her supply orders and sent them off.

Pulling up the security feed, he found her where he’d expected to: in her hole in the back room. A few quick checks verified that the feed was real and untampered. Shdr’edno was confident of his ability to detect alteration in computerized data, since he’d made his start in data security. Sentients might laugh behind their teeth, but Yerbrans were a brilliant race (notable exceptions aside). Even Wesf’er could dupe half the sentients who came through the Station. And, apparently, he could dupe Shdr’edno, as well.

Shdr’edno gave up on his calming breathing and snapped both sets of teeth twice in fury. Struggling to remain calm, he focused on his powerful hands and set himself to admiring his claws. And not gouging them into the bar top. Taking another deep breath, he concentrating on singing an old song of seduction. He drew the air through his aural chambers, deftly opening and closing various membranes to make the melody flow. He opened his two aft sinuses to allow him to add polyphony and thrummed in his throat for counterpoint.

He was a mighty seducer, both of women and idiots. All came to him willingly, all did whatever he desired. He cultivated them as he cultivated himself, perfecting his skills on them, one dupe at a time. He was tall, powerful, dangerous. They loved it. They surrendered to him just to be near him. None of them were worthy of his attention for any longer than it took to get what he wanted.

By the end of the song, he had regained his calm. He no longer felt like booking passage on the next ship Home and ripping Wesf’er apart with his own claws. The expensive bar top was no longer in danger.

“Most excellent, Uncle,” a harsh voice rasped.
Shdr’edno swiveled his head around to see his slave hovering in the hall behind the bar. “It was, until you spoke up and ruined it,” he snapped.

She leaned backwards, tail submissively between her legs.

“Get to the front and let the others in when they get here,” he nearly snarled, some of his ill humor returning. But he was in control of his humor, now. He watched her flop over the bar like a dying or’gth, land awkwardly on the other side, and scuttle off to the front. He kept his left eye on her while he unlocked the credit counter and began his tallies. She’d done nothing out of line, nothing suspicious, the entire time she’d been here.

He didn’t trust people like that. Everyone had a line, an angle, even slaves. His family had many slaves; every one of them had always kept the weather eye on opportunity. This one was too smart to have no motive. She was certainly old enough, since he’d seen slaves a mere five Cycles old climbing over each other for a choice assignment. Maybe Wesf’er’s stupidity had stuck to her. She was smart enough for the customers, but not smart enough to be Yerbran.

Then again, he’d heard her playing word-riddles with Qwadesixos before. She couldn’t be stupid if she could beat them at their own twisted game. The brat was just unnatural: unnaturally ugly, unnaturally scrawny, unnaturally unmusical. And unnaturally able to pull credits out of the toughest customers he had.

Able to get herself sold to any Master she wanted?

Shrd’edno whipped his head around to stare at the brat as she opened the door for one of his employees. Had she created the advertisement that had caught his eyes? It would explain so much.

He rocked backwards at the thought. Defeated by a child?

“Hey, Boss.”

Shrd’edno brought his attention to the sentient on the other side of the bar. Immud, an Engrad who waited tables on the lower floor, slouched up to a stool and plopped down on it. Engrads were green-skinned bi-peds and generally considered harmless. And stupid.

“You’re early,” Shrd’edno growled softly at him.

“Nothing to better do,” Immud shrugged. He unslung his satchel, which he used to carry any number of random items, including the trash he ate for lunch.

“I pay you to be here on time. Not late, and not early.”

“I’ll wait then until.”

“Do your waiting out of my face,” Shrd’edno suggested icily.

Immud shrugged again, picked up his bag, and shambled off to a far table. At least he didn’t screw up orders more than once a Month. That was the only reason Shrd’edno kept the bland, odd-speaking sentient on staff. Customers would forgive a waiter for being dull; they wouldn’t forgive errors. Neither would he.

Space & Time: page 6

Commander Franklyn O. R. Neim was not pleased with life. Being universally despised puts a damper on everything, he decided. He’d made it farther in his career than anyone had thought (farther than many had wanted), earned top honors for his performance, and become the first Human to command a Mutuality Space Station. He stood on the bridge of that Station, overseeing the day’s operations.

“Hourly inbound Corridor report, Commander. All scheduled arrivals accounted for at this time. Forty percent were late, five percent were early. Three collisions in approach channels, one vessel lost. Security searched seventeen vessels, confiscated cargo from five, detained twenty passengers, arrested five…”

Neim half listened to the Rundion giving the summary of the report that scrolled across his screen. Sar was a good officer and one of the least troublesome. Her voice was pleasant to listen to, unlike that of Drifn, the Westro who began the Hourly outbound Corridor report when Sar finished. His shrill voice always set Neim’s teeth on edge, and he refused to use a translator that would lessen the pain he inflicted on other sentients. Probably because he hated Neim for getting the promotion he had wanted. Possibly because the Westros were just nasty sentients to begin with. Neim had never met one (or heard of one, for that matter) who had been more cordial than survival required.

Drifn’s report was thankfully short, and Neim nodded to Fruns to begin the Hourly Station report. Fruns, a Qwadesixo who delighted in keeping up with the hundreds of mini-dramas that comprised life aboard a Space Station, chattered into his report at light-speed. Neim resisted the urge to rub his forehead; he’d told Fruns that the report could only be three Mins long, hoping that the Qwadesixo would learn to summarize. Fruns just talked faster to get as much in as he could. He didn’t seem to care about being subordinated to a Human as long as he got to keep tabs on everything.

His officers, at least, weren’t much of a problem. They were professional enough to hold any negative opinions until they had an audience that would actually be able to do something about whatever they said. They knew that causing their superior officer trouble while on duty wasn’t going to benefit them, so they did their jobs well, if sometimes annoyingly.

“Commander N’im! What is the meaning of this outrage!!”

No, subordinate officers of the Mutuality weren’t too much of a problem. It was the civilians who were the pain the in ass.

Ambassador Trogvan of The Exalted Empire of Uffniorn oozed onto the bridge, his fury causing his normally malodorous slime trail to singe Neim’s nose hairs. Uffniorns always reminded Neim of the slugs his granny had warred with in her kitchen garden, though the resemblance was only passing. Uffniorns had arms, warts, a ridge of bristling hair down their backs, and tempers. They also had credits.

“How may I help you, Ambassador?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Human!” Oh, Trog was playing that card today. “The excellent Captain Gorktad of the Exalted Empire vessel Inborsad was harassed and abused by your sentients! His ship was searched without cause! His passengers were detained, publicly humiliated, and three of them are in your custody even now! I want them released this instant!”

“They will be released when the Mutuality court orders it,” Neim tried to be patient. “If you would like to discuss this, please, let us step into the conference room. Judge Rednot may join us there.” Neim gestured for the Ambassador and his small entourage to precede him.

Trog’s face went from yellowish-brown to something like greenish purple. He hadn’t missed Neim’s subtle insult, and he wasn’t going to forget it. Neim tried not to sigh as the group slithered past, as much to stay professional as to not have to smell them. Uffniorns did not like Humanity and had opposed their involvement in the Mutuality from the start. He wasn't quite sure why, but it had as much to do with religion as politics. Not caring for either topic, he just accepted the fact that Uffniorns hated Humans and left it at that.

Neim waited for the service bots that followed the Ambassador and entourage to finish cleaning the deck before following the group into the conference room off the bridge. He really shouldn't have needled the Ambassador; Trog was hard enough to deal with when trying to be be pleasant. As he walked, he glanced down at his hand-held to read more on Sar's report.

"Judge Rednot indicates she will be available in fifteen Mins, Commander," Sar spoke up helpfully.

"Excellent, lieutenant," Neim muttered as he continued scanning the report. "Direct her to this room."

"Sir."

Neim's update to the daily Corridor report would have to wait because Trogvan wouldn't. According to the Mutuality, overseeing the Corridor was Neim's most important task. According to reality, keeping the dozens of Races invested in the Station happy was Neim's most time-consuming task.

Based on the report Sar had compiled, the Uffniorns in question were suspected of smuggling a Grade-4 banned substance, samples of which were also in custody. Great. Trog was not going to be happy.

Space & Time: page 7

Jregli clicked her inner teeth as she waited for the last two first-shift employees to arrive at the Pub. Shdr'edno had stalked off to his office several Star-Standard Minutes ago, and he'd been more tense than usual. Jregli's peripheral vision was better than most Yerbrans (who had better peripheral vision than ninety-five percent of sentients), so she'd seen when he'd stiffened and glared at her just before Immud had spoken to him.

That worried her. Had he figured it out? More importantly, would he...no, what would he do to her now? She'd been the best possible slave; staying completely servile in his presence and playing the dutiful, deferential niece in public. Would he send her back?
A thrap on the service door diverted her thoughts. She flipped the lock to let Hevrit and Harvit in.

The twins bounced in cheerfully, which was completely normal; Hunsids were an optimistic race and welcomed almost galactically. Shdr'edno employed them because their good natures encouraged many sentients to play the chance games and their cheeky wit effectively disguised their swift hands. They'd been teaching Jregli how to manipulate cards, balls, and the gaming machines, but Yerbrans just weren't as dexterous as these seven-fingered Hunsid twins. She was a good learner, though.

"Jregli, light of the Mutuality!" Harvit cried, throwing his short arms wide.

"Darling of a thousand systems!" Hevrit wasn't about to be outdone by his brother.

"She of the sharpest claws and most gracious nature!"

"The most genius of sentients!"

Jregli coaxed her lips into a smile. It was easier now than it had been when she'd arrived; Yerbrans didn't use a facial grimace to express positive sentiment. She'd practiced, making sure to not bare her teeth. Many sentients smiled with their teeth, but few had teeth as proportionately long and sharp as Yerbrans did. Sharp teeth were considered frightening or threatening by many races, so she focused on keeping hers covered and her too-thin lips pleasant. It helped that Yerbrans didn't use their mouths for speaking. The twins were just such marvelous creatures.

"Ah! She smiles!" Hevrit clutched his torso. "Such a smile I would wait a thousand Years to see, and I have seen it on this Day!"

"Such grace! Such glamour!" Harvit swooned.

"Enough, you rogues!" Jregli ground out in the Hunsid language. It was hard to not laugh at them, and they did their utmost to trick that out of her. It had become a game, now, for the three of them. "Your flattery falls on deaf ears, and I'll have neither of you! I have seen your fickleness, how you torture the hearts of every female sentient you come across. I'll not be another conquest!" She swept past them with all the hauteur she could muster, which was quite a bit; she'd observed Mistress carefully.

"Forbid it! She has rejected us!" The twins pranced behind her in mock despair, wailing and proclaiming undying devotion. Jregli was very glad they couldn't read Yerbran body language; she was too close to cracking up.

"Can it, blokes," Mahl put in, speaking the Mutual language. She continued rolling napkins for the private party room as she glanced back towards the office. "You want to get him out here?" She glared at the pair. "He's already in a mood as it is, so you'd best watch yourselves."

The twins grinned, mimed horror, and skipped off to their respective tables. Jregli made a tiny chuckle once they were out of aural range and helped Mahl with the napkins. As she stacked the finished napkins, Mahl rolled her eyes, a motion that continued to fascinate Jregli. Truthfully, movable eyes had taken her quite a while to get used to; Yerbran eyes remained fixed in their sockets, and seeing the tiny, glistening orbs of other Races change positions was...unsettling. Yerbran eyes were large and faceted, having anywhere from three hundred to three hundred thirty facets each and covered by a clear, protective membrane. Jregli's side eyes had three hundred sixteen facets each, and her top eye had three hundred twenty-two.

Placing the napkins in their bin, Jregli covertly watched Mahl blink, another fascinating movement. Yerbrans had eyelids, of course, but not like other Races had. Mahl was Rundion, a bi-ped much like Engrads and Humans, and they all needed to blink often to keep their eyes moist. That's what Yerbrans had their membranes for, so Jregli never blinked. She only used her eyelids when she wanted to close out light or when she was caught in a particularly bad windstorm.

It was also bizarre that so many sentients had two lids per eye, one on top and one on bottom. Jregli's lids were as shriveled as the rest of her, but they worked properly, folding neatly at the front of each eye when opened and stretching back to cover the whole orb when at rest. Aliens were just so fascinating.

The seven employees (including Jregli, who was not actually an employee) busied themselves with their opening duties. Lunch time on Fourth Day was usually light, though the dinner crowd would be thick. The other ten employees would likely all have to come in tonight. Jregli hoped that she could be the reason the dinner crowds had picked up so much in the last Month; she'd worked so hard.

Maybe that was a problem, she mused as she carried the napkins to the private room. Maybe she was working too hard. Most of the slaves back Home hadn't done much more than was required, unless they were trying to be noticed and thus granted favors. Wesf'er would have been pleased, granted the favors, and thought nothing more of it. In fact, most of the masters on Yerbra Home would not have thought much about it. Shrd'edno obviously was thinking more about it. And Jregli had made a tactical error in assuming he would be like the others.

That uncomfortable admission aside, now what to do? She called up the reservation list on the private room's console. Ick; a Werdsulian Feast Day celebration, and a large group of them at that. They always left a huge mess. Jregli would not be allowed to serve them, but the clean-up would keep her out of her Master's way until she could develop a new strategy for dealing with him.

Hearing the hum of the pub's main lighting begin, she flicked the private room's lights to the Werdsulian setting and scampered back to the bar.

Space & Time: page 8

Neim fought the urge to rub his forehead. Trog would be happy to see the admission that he'd gotten under the human captain's metaphorical skin, and Neim wasn't going to give the slug--honored Ambassador--the satisfaction.

"Ambassador, Mutuality protocol is very clear. I cannot override the judge's decision in this matter." The judge is question had delivered a swift verdict and made a fast exit, leaving Neim to deal with the aftermath. Gee, thanks.

"Won't override it, you should say!" Trog's over-heated slime was giving Neim a fierce headache. "This is a clear case of specism! Ewons like Rednot have been after the Exalted Empire's status and snerk trade for Centuries! They issue vile propaganda against us and do us grave injustice on every occasion! Rednot is purposefully perpetuating this special hatred against us!"

It was true the Ewons and Uffniorns did not get along, and that Ewons did like to go out of their way to hamper anything that the Uffniorns did. Trog conveniently left out all that his own kind did in retaliation.

"Surely, Commander, even you can see that this rampant discrimination must be stopped, here and now!" Trog's words were even more acrid than his slime.

Deal with it now, or put it off for a few Hours? If Neim held his breath much longer, he'd pass out. If Trog were able to keep hacking at him, he might give in. Deal with it now.

"Honored Ambassador, I have reviewed the information provided, just as you have. The Uffniorns currently in custody had a Grade-4 banned substance in their possession. Until the Court can conclusively prove otherwise, it is my decision that these sentients remain in custody. That is the end of the matter."

"YOU--"

"If you would prefer a different Judge, you have the right to request one. I'm sure your adjunct can assist you in filing the necessary forms. Until then, Good Day, Ambassador."
Neim blanked his face as he left the conference room, pretending that Trog wasn't screaming at his back.

"Lieutenant Sar, you have the bridge. I'm taking Midday now. Back in an Hour."

"Sir." Drifn scowled as Neim walked past. Neim could have given him the command, but Sar had been the first one he'd seen. Best to get off the bridge and go someplace quiet for an hour before he did something to get himself court-martialed. He should have Fruns keep tabs on the Uffniorn delegation; Trogvan was going to make a huge mess over this. And who would be blamed and required to clean it up? Not Trog, and not Rednot. This was exactly why Neim was not happy with life.

Space & Time: page 9

Shdr'edno lashed his tail as he stalked around his small office. Humiliated. Humiliating. A child. A wasted, wind-blasted brat, deformed, ugly as rrd'fuyrr, and smarter than the vast majority of adults he'd ever met.

If he were back Home, he'd beat her bloody. Break every single bone in her disgusting body. He'd leave her carcass for the winds and the F'wiooo. But that wouldn't help matters; he was already beaten, defeated. Physical violence could be so very satisfying, but it wouldn't remove his shame. And killing a slave was murder in Mutuality Domain. Shdr'edno longed to be able to howl. Calm, he must calm down.

Time to plan. Time to think, winds blast it! He settled in front of his monitors, taking deep breaths as he watched his minions set up the Pub. What was the brat's angle? What was she after? He snorted. What was any slave after? Favors, of course. They all thought they needed more than their Masters gave them. Stupid fools.

The brat, however, was not stupid. A fool, yes, but not stupid. Of course she would keep her weather eye on him at all times, so she would know that he had her plans. All the plans she had already, at least. He knew to look, now, so he would match her, plan for plan, until she made her mistake. Everyone made mistakes. Hadn't he just proved that beyond doubt?

Oh, yes, he would have her. Stupid brat, to challenge the man who had defeated the entire Merchant's Forum of Yerbra with one stroke. She might have the first round, but he was not done. Not done with her at all.

Getting up, he stalked over to the small wardrobe where he kept his little work costumes. Time to put some fear into those mud-colored eyes.

Space & Time: page 10

Having walked halfway around the perimeter of the Station, Neim felt a little more under control. What was it about sentients like Uffniorns and Westros and all the rest? What had Humanity ever done to them?

Humans were one of the younger races, far newer to the Mutuality than the others. Maybe they were just bullies, stomping (metaphorically, in the Uffniorns' case, he thought with a snigger) on anyone they thought they could. Well, worrying about idiots wasn't going to produce anything worth saving, so deal with it when you have to and not anytime else. Besides, he was hungry. Thirsty, too, but he still had half a shift and would have to settle for something less than he really wanted.

Stepping around a group of chattering tourists, he spotted Shdr'edno's Pub. They had pretty good food, even by human standards.

Midday was casual, so Neim seated himself at a small table opposite the bar. He'd barely called up the menu on the holo-display before the server ambled over.

"Greetings, officer; I Immud am. How serve may I?" The server was an Engrad, a solid and dependable race. If they were more imaginative, Neim would try to get some on his command staff. Still, there was something to be said for being able to stick to a routine.

"I'll have the fourth platter with Randan cold-water. Easy over, sauté the vegetables. No pepper in the water."

"Very good, officer," Immud tapped the order into the pad on the edge of the table. "I bring will your beverage immediately." He hurried off to the bar.

Neim leaned back and checked the chronom. Half his Hour left; he'd be a bit late getting back. No help for it. He'd Send to Sar when it got closer to time. Glancing around as he waited, he took in the decor of the pub. Usually, he came here when it was too crowded to see much, so he wasn't entirely certain what was here.

The tables appeared to be all synthwood replicas of tree stumps in the section he sat in. Some were small, like the two-seater he occupied, and some looked to hold at least a dozen average-sized sentients. Very...organic in design. Various styles of chairs and benches, of course. The main floor had two other sections, one done in a "Mutuality Modern" style, all synthglass and metals, and one in a jumble of designs he couldn't figure out.

The bar took up a sizable portion of the far wall and was also synthwood. He guessed that every bar in every part of the universe probably looked mostly the same: lots of space for drinkers to sit/stand/whatever and numerous bottles of intoxicants along the back. Movement behind the bar caught his eye just as Immud plunked his drink on the table.

"Thanks," Neim said and tasted the drink. His eyes widened.

"Wow. That's the best cold-water I've ever had." And it was; Neim had been stationed on Randaras for seven Months, and even the natives didn't make it like this.

The Engrad smiled toothily. "I'll to tell be sure Miss that you it liked. She's never for a Human made it before, so she's about it fretting."

"Miss?" Neim looked around the server and saw the small figure behind the bar. It looked like a Yerbran at this distance, but he'd never seen one so short before.

"Miss Jregli, Master Shdr'edno's niece. She the main bar now keeps."

"Really? How long has she been here? I don't think I've seen her before."

"Ah, Commander, then we must immediately correct that!" The smooth voice washed over Neim like warm water. Turning, he saw the huge figure of Shdr'edno himself loom over the table. Shdr'edno swiftly crouched by the table to correct the height difference, but Neim still had to struggle to not react. Damn; Yerbrans were so freaking HUGE. Tall, lanky, long limbs, and those claws... Good thing they weren't a violent species.

"My dear little niece has been with us a mere two Months now. I would have sent for her sooner, had I known she had been orphaned several Cycles...mmm, Years ago. Kin is so very important, wouldn't you agree, Commander?"

Shdr'edno's voice was pleasant and welcoming, as always. And, as always, it sent chills down Neim's spine. The Yerbran was never anything but polite, but that very politeness bothered Neim for some reason. Today, the big Yerbran wore a dark green vest with synthgold buttons. Why did that make Neim uneasy, too?

"Ah, yes, sir, kin is very important. Good of you to take her in. Guess I haven't been here in longer than I thought, if she's been here two Months and I'm just now seeing her."

"I am most pleased that you have returned to us, Commander, most pleased. And my dear little niece will be most pleased to hear that she has made your drink to your precise preference. Come, allow me to introduce you to her. She should know your face and voice so that she does not accidentally offend you through ignorance, should she chance to meet you in some social setting."

Not much choice. Neim rose from the table, Shdr'edno a beat behind him. The proprietor handed him his drink, and Neim tried to avoid touching that enormous hand with its razor-sharp claws. Yerbrans weren't bloodthirsty, but they kept their claws as sharp as Deernupan warriors kept their blades.

His hand brushed the soft, scaly hide briefly, and he covered his start by adjusting his jacket. Shdr'edno smiled pleasantly and gestured for Neim to lead the way. Both glad and nervous to turn his back on the enormous proprietor, Neim walked quickly to the bar. Shdr'edno, of course, had no trouble keeping up. His legs were nearly as long as Neim was tall.

In fact, Shdr'edno never seemed to have any trouble with anything. Maybe that was what was so unnerving about him. Too smooth, too silky. Reminded Neim of the various officers he'd met during his career who'd been good at playing the game. Everyone's friend, no one's enemy, at least in any way that could be proved. Commander Fon was like that: slippery. Couldn't pin him down on anything. Neim was pretty sure Fon was the reason he'd been stuck on Border patrol for so many Years at the start of his career. Don't even think about Yoregnisharm.

That was probably it, the reason Neim didn't like Shdr'edno, didn't trust him. Shdr'edno played every sentient he met. And Neim really didn't like manipulators.

As they neared the bar, Shdr'edno called out silkily, "Jregli, my little pet; come meet our Station Commander!"

The little Yerbran scurried over to them. Neim had a hard time reading Yerbrans' body language, but he could swear she was cringing. Little, of course, was a relative term, she was still taller than he was by a few deci-Units.

"Commander Neim, this is my charming niece, Jregli. Little pet, this is our Station Commander, Franklyn O. R. Neim."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss," he opted for the title the Engrad had used. "I've never had better Radnan cold-water, and I've had it from the source."

Jregli crouched backwards slightly at that. Neim remembered that was the Yerbran equivalent to a Human's head-duck, a modest acceptance of a compliment.

"Thank you kindly, Commander," she said in the most awful voice he'd ever heard from a Yerbran. "I strive to please our custom, and I am honored to have served you so well."

It was amazing, really. She sounded like ... like ... like a Gerbdis. Gravely and hoarse, like she'd been screaming all her life. For some reason, he found it completely charming. A Yerbran with an ugly voice. And the rest of her was ugly, too, now that he was up close. The bar hid most of her, but her head was oversized, her skin shriveled, and her shoulders were bony. For the first time, Neim understood what Marei had meant all those years ago. This girl was so ugly, she was cute.

And she was nothing like her uncle. Maybe that was what made Neim warm up to her. She wasn't trying to play him. Neim was so used to Yerbrans being as slimy as Uffiorns. Every Yerbran he'd ever met was like that, even those in Mutuality Service. Since he knew just about every angle that could be played, he was nearly certain this girl wasn't doing it. That was ... refreshing, to say the least.

Space & Time: page 11

"Well, you have done that, Miss. I'm glad your uncle," he gestured at Shdr'edno, "was able to bring you here. I'm sorry to hear that you lost your parents. How long ago was that?"

"More than four Cycles, Commander, which is approximately three and a half Star-Standard Measures of Annual Time," Jregli replied in her harsh little voice.

"Really?" That was surprising. "What did you do before your uncle was able to fetch you? If I recall correctly, it only takes about three Months to get from Yerbra Home to here, and messages don't usually take more than a Week or two."

Neim was sure she was cringing now. "I would not trouble you, Commander, with my woes."
"Nonsense. I would be honored to hear your story, Miss." And now Shdr'edno was tense. Interesting.

After a beat, Jregli straightened up a bit and angled her head so that her right eye faced him fully.

"You must understand, Commander, that life on Yerbra Home is not easy. Ours is an unforgiving planet, with strong winds and little vegetation. While off-world travel has eased things somewhat, there are far more people than there are resources to support them. I come from a poor family. We had enough to sustain us, and no more. My sire was gone before I hatched, so I never knew him.

My dam worked as a servant in a great house to support us, and I, too began working there as soon as I was able. When she died, I had nowhere else to go. The family allowed me to stay and work, for there is no such thing as 'charity' among Yerbrans. Those who do not work, do not eat."

Jregli didn't look like she'd gotten much to eat. Compared to the lean and trim Shdr'edno, she was thin skin and thinner bone. Neim could tell she hadn't been too lazy to be fed; she'd been busy the whole time he'd been talking to her, making drinks, cleaning, working on the console.

"My dam and I were alone, so I never knew I had any other kin. It was good luck, indeed, that my Uncle found me." Now Jregli's voice warmed considerably. "Can you imagine, Commander, how wonderful it is to be here? This station is marvelous! Uncle lets me eat anytime I want, I have my own glass of water," she pulled a small glass out from under the bar to show him, "and there are so many different sentients here! It's amazing!"

Neim had to chuckle at her enthusiasm. Oh, she was leaving a lot out. He hadn't negotiated with Qwadesixos for six years running and not learned when someone wasn't telling everything.

"Commander, I see that your meal is ready for you," Shdr'edno inserted smoothly. "Please, do not allow us to keep you from when it is at its freshest."

Oh, Shred really didn't want him talking with the niece. Neim would have to do just that. Later, though, because he did need to get back to the bridge.

The meal was actually really good, even better than he'd remembered. Shame to hurry through it. Neim ordered another cold water to go and paid for his meal. A bit pricey, but not so bad that he'd complain about it.

As he left the Pub, he checked the chronom; only five Mins before he was due back. He linked up to the officials-only comm and Sent Sar a brief message. Spotting a Station conveyor drone, he used his override to commandeer it. With transportation, he was only ten Mins late getting back. Drifn gave him a nasty look but kept his mouth shut.

Putting the matter of the ugly little Yerbran in the back of his mind, Neim focused on the meetings scheduled for the rest of the day. He really did enjoy commanding the Station, but the bickering got to him. Nobody wanted to get along and everyone tried to outdo everyone else. Five meetings/shouting matches later, he wanted a very stiff drink. Maybe another cold water with a splash of Ewonian malt?

"Commander, Representative Liteo has requested an emergency meeting with you regarding the wormhole residents," Fruns piped up excitedly. "He says it's most urgent and that the residents are quite agitated by the recent increase in traffic and that he simply must speak with you immediately!"

"A moment, corporal, while I check my schedule," Neim cut him off. Qwadesixos could talk for Days without breathing. Neim called up his schedule on his console. No room for the rest of the shift, so it looked like he'd be making up those ten Mins today. And then some.

"Tell Representative Liteo I'll meet him at shift change in the small conference room. That's the earliest I've got." Neim threw that in there to make sure the Vun wouldn't be offended. Or, at least, so he'd know that Neim wasn't deliberately putting him off. Vuns were easily offended, as a rule, but they got over it pretty quickly.

Neim knew he couldn't put off any request to meet about the wormhole or its resident sentients. The short sub-space Corridor was the reason the Mutuality had put a Star Station in this part of the sector. It provided the best link between the Fredan and Unlind Sectors and skirted a really nasty asteroid belt. That alone made it worth regulating, since it shaved over four Months of travel time, but the residents were the real reason to put a Mutuality Domain on either end.

Most wormhole Corridors were regulated by corporations, who built their own stations on either end and charged whatever fees and tolls they could get away with. The Fredan-Unlind Corridor, however, had the Mutuality on both ends, which made the fees almost nothing. Lower fees meant higher traffic, and the sentients who lived in the sub-space fabric lining the hole didn't like that. When they didn't like something, they made it hard on everyone.

The sentients in the Fredan 'hole would only talk to the Vun, who considered themselves favored by their god for the contact. Why the beings chose to deal only with the Vun, Neim had no idea, but that's how it was. Vun Home was the closest system to the 'hole, which probably had a lot to do with the sentients' choice of representative. Neim knew of at least eight other wormholes that had sentient residents, but none of the others were as hard to deal with as these were.

The Vun guarded their "divine" charges fiercely; they wouldn't even tell any other Race the name of the things. The name the Vun gave the sentients was Flioim, which meant something like "angelic beings". The Flioim rarely showed themselves to anyone other than the Vun and gave their erstwhile protectors exclusive rights to some impressive technology.

That technology made for fancy goods the Vun could sell, and precious few Races were willing to hack off the Vun or their "angels" and risk losing access to those goods. Or risk having the sentients close of the Corridor to inter-stellar traffic, which they had done twice before. A blocked trade route was Bad For Business. So the Mutuality regulated traffic between the sectors. Boiling it all down, when a Vun wanted to talk about the wormhole or its residents, you made time to listen.

Space & Time: page 12

Jregli hurried to clean the private room after the Werdsulian party. She was most intrigued as to how they had managed to get so much klem up in the light fixtures, but that investigation would have to wait.

They had spent a full Star-Standard Hour more in the room than they had booked (and Uncle had made them pay extra for it), so Jregli had virtually no time to get it clean before the dinner crowd showed up. Mahl and Yurs-ond had picked up the plates, utensils, and remaining consumables, but it fell to Jregli to actually scrub the wreckage from the floor, walls, ceiling, fixtures, furniture, and everything else. The employees didn't seem to find anything curious about this arrangement, which was just as well. No need to tell them how demeaning Yerbrans considered having to clean up after others.

Jregli was currently halfway up the far wall of the room, clinging to the ventilation shaft with the claws on her right foot as she scraped dried klem out of the sconces. Finally getting the last bits of crud loose, she wiped it down, put the shade back in place, and dropped to the floor.

She'd just rinsed her rag when she heard a soft foot-fall at the doorway. Whipping around, she watched her Master enter the room. He looked carefully around at her work, scrutinizing everything. His green vest shimmered in the work-lighting, flashing an array of sub-coloration that many sentients couldn't see but would subconsciously appreciate or hate. He made a very impressive figure. And a very frightening one.

"Still cleaning, little pet?" he said softly in their language. He advanced slowly towards her. "It must have been a marvelous occasion for our customers, if it's taking this long to ready the room for the next guests. Who are currently waiting."

Jregli couldn't help it. She shrank back, trembling, her tail pressed against her legs. Shdr'edno had paid her very little attention until now. He'd been so busy being mad at Wesf'er that he'd ignored her as much as possible. She now knew that it had been a good thing, a very good thing. He stopped a pace away, towering over her, hands curled loosely at his sides, tail waving gently, powerfully, behind him.

A part of her was amazed at his ability to project so much menace in so few gestures; he'd made no threatening moves, used no threatening tones or words, and yet she was shaking. The part of her that was shaking (which was the larger part) told the analytical part to shut up and help get her out of a beating.

"I shall work faster, Lord Uncle," she replied breathlessly. Fear made her voice shrill, and his lips pulled back at the sound. Shdr'edno had fed well his entire life, so his teeth were in excellent condition. They gleamed in the strong lighting, the front ones four deci-Units long and very black. Shdr'edno turned the sneer into a stretch, opening his mouth wide and revealing his inner teeth, which gleamed white in contrast to his outer teeth. The inner teeth were half the length and twice the thickness of the outer teeth but just as sharp. He finished the stretch and looked over his slave.

"I'm sure you will, little pet," he replied smoothly. "I know you do not want to displease our guests or inconvenience them any further."

Jregli bobbed and waved her tail in agreement.

"I wanted to tell you, little pet, that I have noticed how hard you've worked since you came here. It's quite...impressive." His tone lightened to almost playful. Which meant that he had figured it out. He was on to her. Oh, no. No, no, no.

He was also calling her "pet." Yerbrans didn't keep pets. Pets were just another mouth to feed, and body to use up already-scarce resources. Yerbrans had domesticated animals used for various labors, but they were not pets. And he emphasized her stunted body, all in a way that most sentients would consider a term of endearment. Her very clever Master had found a way around his inability to call her a slave and still keep her status fresh in her mind.

"I've given you food and shelter generously," which meant she should be grateful, so she obligingly curled her tail, "but I haven't given you any treats. Hard work should be rewarded, my sire taught me. What favor would you ask of me, little pet?"

Had it been any other Master who asked that, she knew how she would have replied: she would have demurred modestly, claiming she needed nothing but the pleasure of serving or some other nonsense. That would have started a lovely bargaining session that would end with not just the favor but with a more favorable status. Shdr'edno was not going to treat her like any other Master would. She had defeated him, and he would never forgive her for that.

Have to think quickly, have to think carefully. Shdr'edno shifted slightly, easing himself backwards, giving her some room. The fabric of his vest shimmered as it rippled across his chest.

"Oh, Uncle; you are too kind!" she stammered out. No, mustn't sound so pathetic. She'd beaten him once, when he wasn't aware. Now he was aware, which made the battle more challenging. Wasn't she equal to the challenge? She was smarter than he was! She was more clever! She would beat him again! If she could just get the shrill tremor out of her voice and kink out of her tail.

"If it's not too great a thing, Lord Uncle," she hoped she wasn't laying the obeisancy on too thickly, "I would like to have a vest to wear, such as the employees have."

That surprised him. He'd been priming her to give away her secrets, her true motivation. She was no fool! He paused for a moment, considering his next move.

It was actually an odd request. Yerbra Home was so windy that no one wore clothing there except for ceremonies. Yerbrans had developed their thick, scaly hides to protect them from the cutting gales and did not need to cover themselves for modesty. Alien visitors quickly found their flimsy garments shredded if they stepped out of the caverns for any length of time. When Yerbrans first began traveling the stars and interacting with other Races, the issue of clothing had been a problem.

Many Races considered clothing a basic societal requirement and thought the lack of clothing a heinous offense. Time and negotiations had smoothed over the worst of the friction, but Yerbrans sometimes found themselves donning outfits in certain situations.

Shdr'edno chose to wear vests while working to make himself more obviously the proprietor and more acceptable to those prudish Races, but he seldom wore anything else. His employees he required to wear a uniform of sorts (the cost of which came from their wages, naturally), but Jregli had gone without anything to mark her as part of the staff, save her position behind the bar. Ergo, it was an odd but reasonable request.

"Ah, my little pet," Shdr'edno finally replied, "you are so very clever!" It wasn't a compliment. "But this favor, I will not grant. It has not escaped my notice that you are somewhat ... clumsy. Were I to give you clothing, you would surely ruin it within the hour. It is your place to clean the messes of others, and I cannot see the purpose to buy a costume that you would make filthy. I do not like the waste of my resources; it does not make me feel ... charitable." He leaned in towards her as he spoke. "You will have to think of a different favor, one that is not so unreasonable."

"Of..of course, Lord M-- Uncle," she quavered in response, tail clinging to one leg and hands clenched tightly enough that her stubby claws cut into her palms. Clumsy. Just because she couldn't move like a Wind-Dancer, she was clumsy.

"But now, our guests are waiting. Do hurry, little pet, and get the room ready for them. Then go tend the bar; your clumsiness isn't as evident when you have something to hide behind." He waited for her servile bob before he slowly turned and stalked out of the room.

Jregli waited several heart beats after he left before she collapsed to the floor, shivering and gasping.

Space & Time: page 13

Neim hurried into the conference room as calmly as he could. Representative Liteo sat at the table, a scowl drawing his thick eyebrows so far down his eyes were hidden.
"My apologies for keeping you, Representative. Something came up, as it often does."

Neim sat down across from the stocky Vun.

Liteo's brows shot up, revealing his small, white eyes with green pupils. Vuns had no irises, which Neim still couldn't get used to.

"Of course, Commander! Of course! You are an important sentient with many duties, and all of Vun respect and admire your great efforts!" Yeah, the Vun got over offenses fast.

"Thank you, Representative. How may I be of assistance today?"

"Commander, oh, Commander, the blessed ones are in greatest distress! They beg and plead all through the days and all through the nights for our help, our service, and we are undone! We can do so little that we weep endlessly, for we can do nothing to ease their plight!" Neim let Liteo go on for several Mins. Vun needed to be expressive (read: dramatic), and if Neim cut him off too soon, he'd never find out what the Representative's real complaint was today. Let them feel that they've been heard on their own terms, and then they'll get down to business. Basic Mutuality Negotiating. The hard part was not zoning out. It had been a long Day.

When Liteo began repeating himself, Neim knew he could jump in. "Please, honored Representative, enlighten me as to the current, most urgent needs of the Flioim." Liteo brightened.

"Commander, oh great one! Surely you are the greatest of the servants in all the Mutuality! Your humble entreaties, your gracious labor, all shall be accounted to you in the fabric of eternity! You shall reap a thousand-fold return of the honor you give to others, to those unworthy of you and those more worthy than you!" Liteo went on about that for several Mins, too. Neim had been listening to the Vun talk for about ten Mins now, which was not bad, considering. When the flowery adulation started to move from hyperbole to outright distortion, Neim cut in again.

"You honor me, Representative, with more than I have earned. Tell me how I may serve." Liteo beamed. Neim was definitely getting better at this.

"Oh humblest of officers, we beseech you to convince the Mutuality to lessen the burden placed upon the glorious ones and their delicate abode! Surely the Mutuality, in its marvelous wisdom, can see the reasonableness of this request! Every Domain has the right to peace in its own borders, quiet in its own fields! No other Race is forced to endure the trampings of thousands of sentients across its very threshold, all through the days and all through the nights, without end! The Mutuality permits every Race except the Flioim to choose who may enter their Domain and with what frequency!"

This was the main argument, the one the Vun repeated every chance they got. Leave the residents of the 'hole alone, no trespassing allowed. Violators will be shifted into the Void. Never mind that the residents of the Corridor made no effort to be part of the Mutuality and therefore were outside any rights given to member Races. Hearing nothing new in the Representative's appeal, Neim timed his reply.

"Representative Liteo, I will make your request known to the Mutuality and will personally ensure that those whose decision it is to make know how serious the matter is." Time to wrap this up.

"Oh, Commander! Commander! This is the very thing that brings me into your great presence today and causes me to weary your noble ears with our woes! This matter is very serious! The bright ones have endured too much! Their travail is too great! They can no longer protect us, if we do not protect them!"

That was different. Neim straightened up and focused on Liteo.

"Protect us from what?" Liteo frowned slightly. Neim mentally cursed himself for slipping out of proper Vunan speech.

"Oh! The greatest of all evils! The unbinding of destruction! Commander, Commander, the Flioim are all that stand between us and Trezaq!"

"Trezaq? What's--honored Representative, please enlighten me. I have not heard that word before."

"Oh, Commander! Oh! I tremble to be the one who must bear such distressing news to you! I curse my birth, that it should have led to burdening you with such horror! Trezaq is the end of all things! The chaos that consumes and destroys all in its path! The sacred duty of the holy ones is to preserve life from the Void, to stand between our frail existence and Nothingness!" Liteo launched into the theological history of his Race, and Neim let him. There might be something useful in the religious spiel, something he could actually report to Mutuality Commerce and Passage.

After over an Hour, Neim though he had the gist of it. Around the dawn of time, the Vunan god fought a bunch of Bad Guys. To end their battles, the god ripped apart the fabric of the universe to shove them back where they belonged. Or maybe it was that the Bad Guys broke through in the first place. At any rate, that's where the wormhole came from; it was the passage between here and there. The Flioim lived in the 'hole to keep said Bad Guys from coming back and finishing what they started. What the Bad Guys wanted was to destroy everything the Vunan god had made, an event the Vun called Trezaq.

While Neim waited for Liteo to loop back around, he ran through the possibilities. First: the whole story was true. Neim didn't believe that for a nano-Sec. Theology was never historically accurate. Second: none of the story was true. Neim didn't believe that, either. The dogma came from somewhere, some kernel of truth. Third: parts of it were true. That was most likely, but how to figure out what parts were true? Heh; that was simple, actually. Get Fruns to research it; he'd love that. But how to get him to condense it to a manageable report...?

Neim suspected that the Flioim were just being territorial and used the Vun to make their excuses. Wouldn't be the first time that a Race had used another as religious pawns. Make up an end-of-the-world story, back it with some flashy displays of power, and there was your devoted following, ready to defend you to the death. No matter how ridiculous the reason.

Neim almost missed his chance to get back into the conversation. "Honored Representative, I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you have brought these matters to my attention." Not going to tell, actually. "I was unaware of these important details, and I will make certain that the Heads of the Mutuality are aware. This will take time, sadly, but rest assured that I will do everything in my power to speed this information to those who may act on it."

That sparked another half-Hour of flowery gratitude from Liteo, but at least Neim had gotten something out of the meeting. Maybe, with a defined threat to close the 'hole if the demands weren't met, the C&P heads would take the Vun seriously.

Space & Time: page 14

Work, hard work, was the best way to take one's mind off of something. Jregli threw herself into the evening's demands, making every drink that popped up on the console's order menu, rushing to get food orders placed, even sweeping the floor behind the bar manually. It took her nearly two Star-Standard Hours to calm down.

Since she was doing all the work, Ressnib, the other barback on duty that night at the main bar, teased her about putting him out of work and started chatting up the customers. Jregli had been largely ignoring the custom in her panic, something she never did. Customers paid the bills, and happy customers paid many bills. That thought helped snap her out of her blind fear.

Forcing herself to breathe calmly and think, Jregli dipped her cleaning rag into the cleansing solution. Master liked having real water used for cleaning because it was wasteful and therefore a sign of status. Jregli didn't mind, especially now, when she hissed and a tiny whimper escaped her as the cleaning solution stung her wounded palms. It wasn't exactly medicine, but it might keep her from getting an infection. Slaves didn't get medicine unless their Masters decided they were worth it. Master wouldn't give her any medicine, even if she were dying.

Three more orders blinked onto the console's readout, and she hurried to mix them up. Since they were in Mutuality Domain, if he were forced to, Master might pay for her to receive medical care. If she made a scene, he'd have to. It would be a small victory, one she needed after the face-off in the private room. But would that be the best action at this time? She plunked the prepared beverages down onto the server's display, which would show the name of the server and the table each drink belonged to until that server came and signed off for it. A nice piece of equipment, really.

Now that she thought about it, making a scene over her oozing palms probably wasn't a good idea. It would be a small victory and might prevent larger victories down the way. Every strike invited counter-strike. So, what was the counter to Master's maneuver earlier? First: evaluate his goals for the action.

Master had wanted to make her both aware that he knew what she was doing and afraid of his knowledge. She knew, and she had been afraid. So she should stop being afraid; at least, he should never know that she was afraid. Planning her next attack actually helped in that regard, helped calm her down. In fact, wasn't this a small victory? Uncle wanted her afraid, and she wasn't.

That took the kink out of her tail. No, she would not be afraid! Cautious, oh yes, very cautious. Thoughtful, too. She'd been foolish, thinking he would never guess, that he would never strike back. Now she knew better. Wasn't there a saying out there that knowledge was the larger part of victory?

Jregli lifted her gaze to the customers in the Pub. She'd ignored them for too long. Let Shdr'edno threaten; she would still do her work, and better than anyone else. She scanned the three levels of the Pub, counting sentients. Approximately fifty-seven in the lower seating, thirty-five in the upper, and ... seventeen in the balcony. About half-capacity, but they were in between shifts now.

She glanced at the chronometric display in the console. Actually, the next gust of custom should blow in at any moment. The later crowd was often rowdier and more festival-minded. She should be able to take in a tidy amount from the revelers. And here they came!

Howling like F'wiooo before the rain, the sentients spilled into the pub in a large pack. Jregli spotted several of her favorites among them, not surprised that they'd brought friends with them. The docking hands received their pay on Fourth Day, so this was their night to spend it. Of course, this left many of them without sufficient means to pay for their lodging and other needs, but she wasn't going to point that out to them. She was going to smile and keep their drinks topped off.

"Zregie!" Gurts shouted above the din. He fought his way over to the bar and slapped it with his meaty hand. "Line 'em up, girl! We're thirsty, and it's been a curst long Day!" Jregli was ready and made a row of shots appear on the bar top with some of the flair she'd learned from the twins. This brought approving yells from the workmen, who snatched up the glasses and downed them expertly, if with little grace.

Those customers who had been enjoying a quiet meal glowered at the rowdies, finished their dinners, and hurried out. Jregli made a row of ale mugs appear on the bar, noticing that Yurs-ond had cleared part of the lower floor for dancing. A group of female sentients poured through the doorway then, earning another round of shouts from the dock hands. The two groups crashed into each other as Yurs-ond switched on the dance-lights and fired up his sono-tainment system. The customers snatched up the drinks almost before Jregli had them poured and crowded onto the dance floor. This was Jregli's favorite time of night.

In truth, the loud sonics and strobing lights made her head ache, but that was nothing to get to witness sentients revel. Yerbrans had their parties, but they were all the same. Being on the Station meant witnessing variety, which was a sweet scent on a dusty day. She could learn so much from simply observing their interactions, listening to their conversations, smelling their exertions.

Most of the sentients who came to the Pub and Arcade at this time came to rejoice, but many also used it as a time of courtship, which was equally fascinating. Jregli was Cycles away from that and would gladly put it off as long as possible, but it was just so interesting to see the habits of aliens! None of them actually mated while in the Pub, although it was sometimes hard to be sure.

This is what made her glad to rise every Star-Standard Day and sad to close her eyes at the end of every Star-Standard Night. All this life, the richness of experiences, the wonder of learning, that was what she lived for. Therefore, that was what Shdr'edno would try to take from her. Therefore, that was what would drive every plan she made, every strategy she considered.

Fortunately, the sheer volume of the crowds made it easy to limit her interactions with the custom, giving her time to think. Times like this would be her only chances to think, now that dear "Uncle" had her scent. She would have to make the most of every chance because he wouldn't give her any, if he could help it. So.

If staying on the Station and being able to regularly interact with aliens was her purpose, she must make sure that Shdr'edno never guessed it. She must draw his attention away from that, make him think that she was after another target; however, she must also be certain that she didn't make it too obvious what she was hiding. That was as foolish as asking for it outright.

Jregli mulled over the possibilities as she continued making drinks and the occasional food item for the crowd. At any moment, Uncle might come over (she could see him stalking around the edges of the rooms, though he tended to stay in the Arcade during dancing hours), so she must plan swiftly and well. She was equal to the challenge. He might have Cycles of experience, her Lord Uncle and Master, but she had intelligence. She would beat him; oh, yes, she would.

Hidden by the bar, she flicked her tail back and forth.

Space & Time: page 15

It was a full Week before Neim had the time to go back to Shred's Pub & Arcade. He'd sent off Liteo's information and started Fruns on the research. Fruns had been more than merely excited at the prospect.

Neim had to threaten him with everything up to court-martial to get the Quadesixo to keep the research covert. No sense in stirring up attention about looking into religious matters. Other Races would wonder, take offense, and demand either that it be stopped or expanded to include them.

Then had come all the regular tasks of being Station Commander (read: bureaucratic babysitting), which kept Neim busy for most of each Day. His Day off he'd already scheduled a link-exchange enviro-tainment with one of his buddies on Randaras. The link relays established in the 'holes boosted the signal strength so that there was less than a Min of delay between communications. Not perfect, but not bad for going cave-fishing with someone stationed five trillion astro-klicks away.

Ambassador Trogvan had been waiting for him when he got done, ready to scream some more at him. Neim knew that belligerence wasn't exactly a societal requirement for Uffniorns, but it sure seemed that way to him. Neim had finally gotten mad enough to push back at the Ambassador, something he tried very hard to never do. Threats weren't diplomatic.

That hadn't stopped him from threatening Trog with an Unseemly Conduct demerit and hinting at forcing him to relinquish his position to someone else who was more cooperative. Surprising that the Ambassador hadn't started to literally steam over that. Still, several sentients who had been passing by in the corridor where Trog had cornered him were overcome by the stench of his slime and one even required medical attention. Slightly satisfying.

Trog had backed off, but Neim wasn't fool enough to think he'd given up. Fortunately, Mutuality Justice moved fairly quickly and the hearing for the accused Uffniorns was on Sixth Day. Neim was fairly certain that they would be convicted, though it was even odds that the slimy sentients would come up with some loophole to slide out of. In any event, Trog would stop yelling about it. Depending on the outcome, it might even take him a whole Day to come up with something new to grouse over.

So, after shift on Fourth Day, Neim headed around the Station to the Pub & Arcade. He'd have a leisurely meal, watch things for a bit, and then go sit at the bar to talk with ... damn. What was her name? Yerbran names were impossible to pronounce, but he should have remembered something. Wait, it was ... Draglee? Jugee? Just call her Miss; that would do until someone called her by name.

The concierge seated him in the woodsy section, where he had a clear view of the bar. Scooting his chair around the table, he gave himself a direct view without being too obvious. His server this time was a tall Jeftryo named 'S. Well, tall for a Jeftryo, who normally stood about four Units high. 'S was brisk and terse but not unfriendly, bringing Neim's cold-water almost before Neim could blink and serving about twenty other tables, from what Neim could see. He liked Jeftryos, especially as mechanics.

He had the time to enjoy his meal, so he did. He'd been a little surprised to find that Shdr'edno had real meats and vegetables to serve; most food off-world was formulated. Of course, the real stuff was three times the price of the formulated, and Neim wasn't paid that much, so he stuck with the cheaper fare. It was still really good, though. As he ate, he watched the bar.

The Yerbran girl stayed behind the counter all night, but she didn't stay in one spot. She was all over the place back there, serving, cleaning, working the formulators, and other tasks he couldn't determine from the far side of the room. Energetic creature. She also spent a lot of time talking to the customers, many of whom seemed to enjoy the conversation. She talked to a lot of different Races, which was odd.

Most sentients tended to gravitate towards a few other Races and ignore the rest, when they had the choice. Maybe that was it, but Neim didn't think so. Yes, she had to serve every customer who came in, but she didn't have to initiate and prolong conversations with them. Yet she did, and she seemed to be enjoying it. That, or she was a phenomenal actor. Again, he didn't think so. She was too young (judging by her height) to have developed such skill, and he hadn't gotten that feel from her before. If she didn't try to butter up the Station Commander, then she wasn't going to butter up anyone of lesser rank. Those Yerbrans were all about rank and status.

Business looked normal in the place tonight. The restaurant was about half full, as was the game room. Soft music came from small sono-disks in the center of each table, covering most of the sounds from the Arcade as well as muffling the quiet conversations from nearby tables. The servers moved quickly, and Neim saw only one mishap during the hour he spent on his meal. The clientele seemed pleased and relaxed, not making any fuss. That itself was surprising; hard to keep so many different sentients happy. Well he knew.

As Neim took the last bite of his greel-berry torte, a sudden shout made him nearly jump out of his chair and sight for targets. A large group of what looked like docking hands burst into the Pub and headed for the bar. Forcing himself to breathe normally, Neim finished chewing and swallowed. At least he hadn't lost his edge. The dockers were making a huge fuss at the bar, but it looked like a party getting started, not a fight. The little Yerbran vanished behind the sea of burly workers. Damn. He'd forgotten this was payday for most of the Station.

Before long, the main lights went down and the music ratcheted up. Most of the sentients were on the dance floor, but enough of them streamed back to the bar that Neim's chances of talking to the Yerbran were slim. That, and it was too noisy to be heard. He debated for several minutes. He wasn't a man who enjoyed crowds and loud parties, and if he hung around much longer, he'd never get to sleep. He had a link-exchange meeting with some of the C&P heads first thing, and he'd need to be sharp for that. Sighing, he ordered a malted cold-water to go and paid his tab.

Space & Time: page 16

Jregli was very glad that it was Fourth Day. All the sentients made for more activity for her, and more activity helped hide her smug satisfaction. The battle was going quite well, and it would not help her cause to let Shdr'edno know she was so pleased.

She'd decided to build on his description of her as clumsy; it had worked before, and she could make it work even better here. Back Home, she only needed to make Wesf'er want to get rid of her. Here, she needed to make sympathies come to her. Most other Races valued children and tended to coddle them, which was something she could use. As far as the other employees knew, Uncle Shdr'edno was bullying his niece.

She'd also kept up the façade of fear, increasing it slightly whenever her erstwhile Uncle was around; the fear was an excellent excuse for the increased clumsiness. She scurried around each day, head down and tail kinked, occasionally bumping into things. Anytime her Uncle appeared, she made sure to drop something, even if it didn't break. Sometimes she knocked things over.

When the others asked her about it, she carefully denied that anything was going on. Having studied up on the mannerisms of the verbally abused in several cultures, she purposefully insisted that nothing was wrong, Uncle was wonderful, and she was just a little off-health, maybe some congestion throwing off her balance. The employees swallowed it without chewing.

In a small way, it made her feel a little badly that she was lying to them. Battles should be fought against those who had the ability to fight back, leaving bystanders to enjoy the spectacle. These sentients didn't have any idea that there was a contest engaged, and they wouldn't understand if even if they did. They also wouldn't understand if it ever came out that she was Shdr'edno's slave. Some cultural barriers simply couldn't be overcome. Others, however, could be enjoyed, and she did enjoy the attention she got from the employees.

The twins had been the first to bring up her change in behavior, and they'd been the hardest to lie to. They'd come up the night Shdr'edno had challenged her and demanded to know what was going on. It was then that she'd had the brilliant idea to turn it all back on her Master. They weren't immediately convinced, but after two days of watching her grow ever more "fearful", they believed her.

Hunsids had large families (the twins had over twenty other siblings) and considered family to be sacred. In fact, they had all but officially adopted her as a sister, campaigning for her with the other employees. Jregli had needed to caution them against making too big a fuss, because Shdr'edno was her legal guardian (of sorts) and could decide to send her back Home. Her fear of being sent back was no act, so she'd worked to keep it level with her pretending. So Hevrit and Harvit made themselves her defenders against her guardian. It was odd, to have protection. And affection.

Jregli just didn't know what to make of the outpouring of concern she got from the employees. Yerbrans were not an "affectionate" people, so she at least had that to lend excuse to her confusion, and the employees didn't take offense. Mahl had taken to calling her "urbii," which was a term Rundion dams used on their young, supposedly a tender appellation. Immud began leaving little treats for her when he came in, which Engrads only did for those they greatly cared for (she tactfully did not mention that she couldn't eat any of them).

Ressnib insisted on doing the heaviest lifting, 'S would fetch anything for her, and even grouchy old Funnwrub was nice to her. All the servers made sure to bring back compliments from the customers, and she overheard Inop, the concierge, telling more than one party that she made the best drinks they would ever have. All these sentients, from all these disparate Races, liked Jregli.

No one had ever liked Jregli before. Even her dam was too tired at night's end to do more than look to see if her child was were she was supposed to be. The other slaves were too focused on keeping their own tails safe, and Masters never liked slaves, not even the ones they favored. Yerbrans always looked with the weather eye for the next best chance. These sentients on FSS5 were not looking for anything. They just ... liked her. And Jregli really just didn't know what to do with that.

She'd have to think more about that later, because the late shift was here. She kept the drinks flowing and the conversation superficial. Maybe a few of the customers realized that something was going on, but she'd decided to leave them out of the battle. For now. So she chatted, mixed, poured, and cleaned as fast as she could.

When the crowd moved to the dance floor at Yurs-ond's sonic invitation, Jregli noticed that the Station Commander had finally left. He'd been eyeing her the whole time he'd been eating, and she'd been afraid he would try to come talk to her. Having the Station Commander interested in her was not good. Not good at all. She'd need to come up with something plausible for him. In addition to everything else she was plotting.

Finally getting a large enough pause between custom to update the supply logs in the console and send a bot down the floor behind the bar, she noticed a new customer standing a few Star-Standard Units of Immediate Distance from the bar, looking around with a displeased expression on his face. After a moment, she identified him as an Ounfub, a tri-ped Race from the Regnari Sector.

With the dance lights flashing, she couldn't make out his specific coloring, but it was probably safe to assume he was orange with yellow spots and green stripes like most of them. He was richly, if simply, dressed, and appeared to be sizing the Pub up. This was something Jregli had been waiting for.

"May the evening lights shine only for you, favored Lord!" She pitched her voice to cut through the din. "Let the waves roll and the tides rise under your keel." No harm in flattery. He nonchalantly turned his head towards her, but she could tell she'd surprised him. He must be a minor ranker, if she could startle him. Ounfubs prided themselves on appearing unconcerned with what anyone else did. They also prided themselves on throwing expensive, lavish parties. This one must have been sent by his Lord to determine if the Pub measured up. Jregli would make sure it did.

He looked over at her, doing his best to take her for part of the decorations, but he was thrown off by her formal greeting. Definitely a low-rank, then. But, if he was sent to pick a place for a party, then someone must be giving him a chance to advance ... or fail. Jregli had no problem in helping him succeed, especially since it helped her succeed, as well. Wasn't the win-win scenario touted as the best in Mutuality Negotiation manuals?

"This is a noisy place." He ignored her compliments, as any well-mannered Ounfub would. "Why would any being desire to come, let alone stay, in such?"

"An intuitive question, favored Lord." If he were as low-ranked as she thought, then the more flattery, the better. "This is but one of the many services provided by our great Master, Shdr'edno. Truly, the ways of other Races are most baffling, but we who are but lowly servants do not question. We serve."

He'd edged closer as she spoke, and now he was nearly at the bar.

"What could you serve that could possibly compensate for this ... noise?" Not a polished answer, by any leap. If she could make him succeed, he'd owe her. And she'd owe him, not that he would ever know it.

"Indeed favored Lord, it is a monumental feat to overcome things such as this. We begin by limiting when such pandemonium may occur; indeed, most nights are as quite as a lady's whisper, when sentients of gentility may gather for enjoyable intercourse and excellent dining."

He snorted at that. It was an elegant, disdainful snort; he'd been practicing.

"Ah, most favored one, I understand how difficult such a claim is to believe; did I not partake of it myself, I would not believe, either!"

They were interrupted then by another wave of thirsty sentients, and Jregli scrambled to serve them with no appearance of effort. Ounfubs liked that.

When the crowd thinned again, she turned back to her mark ... customer.

"Allow me, honored guest, to demonstrate this to you." She should have enough in her tips tonight to cover a few samples. It would pay off handsomely, she was sure.

Space & Time: page 17

Shdr'edno stepped far enough out of the Arcade to get a good look at the doings of the Pub, but not so far that he was in danger of touching the gyrating dancers. Maintaining his welcoming demeanor, he firmly squelched his disgust.

This is what passed for dancing in the Mutuality, and it sickened him. Not only did it cause the sentients to smell atrocious, but it was an affront to art. Dancing should be a thing of grace, of beauty, not ... that. He himself was no dancer, but he could do so much better than this disgusting mob.

He scanned the rest of the Pub. The brat was talking to a fat blob of some kind. His façade almost cracked. She thought she was so clever, didn't she? She thought that getting pity from the workers meant something. Stupid brat. He didn't care what they thought of him, what any hired hand thought of him. He could do whatever he wanted with a minor in his care; the Mutuality didn't dare interfere with how Races treated their young. That was internal policy, something sacrosanct to each Race. The brat could act as pathetic as she wanted, get everyone as riled up as she chose, but she still belonged to him. He turned and swept back into the Arcade.

He made certain to greet and soothe as he made his way around the game stations. The Hunsids alone had already grossed several thousand creds with two and a half Hours yet to go. Mahl kept the half-bar in decent order, though she could make more effort to be presentable. Shdr'edno tried to ignore the sight of her as he stepped behind the bar's console to check the automated game tallies. A decent take this evening.

Suddenly thinking of something, he ran an historical analysis. He had to forcibly stop himself from grinding his teeth when he read the results. Tonight's "decent take," with over two Hours left and a full Arcade, was nearly the equal of each of the previous six years' highest grossing night.

He would kill her. He would destroy her. How dare she make more profit than he could? Than he ever had?

He stepped swiftly from behind the counter, slightly slower than a run, and immediately engaged the group of gamblers nearest him. He charmed, flattered, encouraged, sympathized, and did everything he could to not think about the brat. He would not. Lose. Control. Of himself. He was better than that. Far better than that. See how he proved it here in the Arcade, his Arcade. See how the sentients turned towards him, flocked to him. How they responded to his suggestions, asked for his picks. He had built this place, made this Arcade. This was his Pub, his business. He had crafted it, created it, positioned it himself. He had defeated dozens of the greatest minds to get where he was.

He had begun with his siblings, crowding them out of favor and using their weaknesses to displace them. He'd done his sire proud when he stole the family business from him. His grandsire had favored him for that cunning, promoting him above the others to a minor position on the Merchant's Forum Cycles before anyone else had gained such a place.

The other, older merchants had approved of him as much as they feared him. His data security systems were astro-klicks beyond any other available, so they'd had no choice but to buy his. They knew they were leaving themselves open, inviting betrayal, but they welcomed the chance. Because of him, Shdr'edno. Because of his skillful speech, his handsome appearance, his charm, his wit.

Once he had taken them for all they were worth (five had never recovered from the disgrace), he'd moved out into the greater Galaxy. Fredan Space Station 5 was an ideal location in so many ways. So much traffic, so many things to slice his claws into. Building the Pub & Arcade had been masterful; no one thought that a Yerbran would stoop to running an eatery. There were so many more lucrative occupations!

But a simple eatery was an excellent front. It established him as a legitimate businessman, one above the level of suspicion normally given his people. Those fools never thought beyond the moment, never realized that they clipped their own claws by being so obviously greedy. Everyone knew they were on the prowl, so only the desperate came to them.

A simple, honest pub gave no one second thought. Arcades were harmless enough, weren't they? So no one, not even Mutuality Security, gave him any trouble. They came, ate, and gambled. And he laughed at them all. There were indeed more lucrative opportunities out there, and the cover he'd created made them that much easier to snatch.

And then the brat had come. She'd made herself out to be a machine, a prototype from a desperate inventor who needed immediate funding more than he needed to hold onto what he'd crafted and its long-term profits. Oh, she'd suckered him, offered him a morsel he'd swallowed without chewing. Perhaps he had become a bit complacent, rested on his past victories. No more.

By the time the night ended, he had several ideas.

Space & Time: page 18

The last of the revelers stumbled out of the Pub a quarter-hour after Closing, still cheerfully drunk. Jregli tried to not sigh as she closed and locked the door. It had been a good evening. She'd worked a bit more on undermining her Uncle and secured a large party for the next Second Day with the Ounfub Uny and his Lord GrandFather, Itre. That made her tail nearly lash in satisfaction, but she couldn't show that.

She shuffled back to the bar, allowing her fatigue to seem even greater (though she was tired). She was halfway through her Closing duties when the Twins bounded up.

"Dear Jregli!" Hevrit cried.

"Precious Jregli!" Harvit echoed. Then they started talking so quickly she couldn't keep up with who said what.

"We have a surprise for you!" "Yes, a special gift, just for you!" "We know, we have seen, how diligently you work for your uncle, how uncomplainingly you serve even the most callous of customers! You are such a delight, such a wonder! But you are also a person, and persons need to have time away from work! You can't spend all your time buried in this room, with no place to run! Oh, yes, we know how important it is for Yerbrans to be able to stretch their legs and outrace the winds! So we're taking you out of the Pub tomorrow! We're giving you a special treat, such as you can't imagine! And your uncle has given us this permission, and you have the whole Day tomorrow to enjoy and relax away from the Pub!"

"Uncle gave his permission?" Jregli managed to interrupt them. How had they managed that? Jregli covertly watched Shdr'edno stalk out of the Arcade with a smug curl in his tail.

"Oh, yes!" Harvit winked slyly. "We know how valuable a Yerbran's time is, how much your presence is worth! We wouldn't dream of requesting this without adequate tribute! We negotiated with Shdr'edno for Days to arrive at just the right amount to earn your company for all of tomorrow!"

The Twins were correct that Yerbrans didn't give anything, even their company, away for free. In fact, it was insulting to think that any grown Yerbran would attend any event, even between friends, for nothing. The more paid for one's company, the more valuable on was, the higher the status one had. History said that Diuw'nfre, the greatest Wind Dancer known, once fetched a price of more than five million seeds (about 4.78MM Mutuality Credits at current exchange rates). Every grown Yerbran considered it her due to be paid to be with anyone for any reason, even a Day off from work.

But Jregli was not a grown woman. Moreover, she was a slave. Freemen and women commanded their own price and time. A slave's Master commanded hers. And Jregli's Master had just sold her services for a Day. He had sold her like the slave she was.

Time to think fast, to not think about what Master had just done. Hevrit and Harvit looked at her gleefully, never realizing what they had done. They meant to compliment her, to cheer her up. How could they know that one didn't pay for the presence of a child and that one always paid for the services of a slave? Shdr'edno meant it as an insult. He wanted to remind her that he could do whatever he wanted with her.

At that moment, she felt the first stirring of futility in her heart. She was a slave, after all. What did it matter if she won a few rounds against an adult? He would always win, in the end. He would be a free man, and she would be a slave. That would never change. And what would she really gain from all this? No one remembered slaves; her name would never be mentioned or honored. The best she could hope for was that someone would recall that Shdr'edno had been defeated by someone. She would pass into obscurity. This was all for nothing.

She could never be anything more than she was at this moment: a slave. A child. Even if she lived to physical maturity, slaves were always children in the eyes of the law. No matter how old she got, she would never become a legal adult, with all the rights and privileges an adult had. She would never own herself, never decide for herself. She would always have a Master.
.
"I ..." The twins grinned at her expectantly.

A slave had nothing, was nothing. A slave could achieve nothing. And if she did continue to battle and defeat Shdr'edno, he would make her more and more miserable with every passing Day; every Cycle would be worse than the one before. If he sold her to a new Master, that Master would already know to watch her, would keep her under such heavy guard that she would never have any joy. She would probably be sent to work in some deep, dark cavern, washing roots or some other endless, meaningless work. She would never see light again, would never feel the wind again, would never see aliens again. Never learn again.

She would live and die without a name, without a purpose. She could have no status. She could have no money. She could have no choice about anything in her life. Taking what was cast at her by her Master, she would simply exist by his will.

"I accept your offer!"

The words startled Jregli, even though she had said them. As the Twins cheered and told her how much she was going to enjoy it, her mind spun. Why should she go along with this? Behind the twins, she saw Shdr'edno's sneer turn to startlement. Well, why shouldn't she? After all, the one thing a slave had control over was her mind, her thoughts. Perhaps it was futile, worthless, to rage against her Master. Was it not as futile to give in to despair? The one thing she could claim for herself was joy, enjoying her life. If engaging in pointless activities was what got her up each Day, then she would do it!

Shdr'edno stalked closer. "I'm so pleased that you are willing to venture out into the Station, little pet," he crooned. He actually sounded pleased. What did he have planned? "But this celebration will have to wait for the morrow; the Pub won't clean itself. Little pet, the lavatory in the Arcade appears to be malfunctioning. Since you are so very clever, do take a look at it before you go to bed."

That was another attempt to belittle her, but she wasn't going to chase it. Cleaning up food and general household things was demeaning enough, but lavatories ... Lavatories were just disgusting. It was perhaps the most humiliating task he could have assigned her. But she was not going to let him win over her mind!

"Certainly, Uncle!" She jumped over the bar and dashed toward him. "And thank you so much for allowing me outside!" She made certain to brush her tail against his in gratitude as she passed. He couldn't conceal his shock and disgust at her contact, but he couldn't say anything, either. It was perfectly acceptable for a kin-child to touch its guardian in gratitude (didn't most other Races wrap their arms around one another?), and it was utterly unthinkable for a slave to initiate physical contact. She clicked her inner teeth merrily as she scampered to the Arcade's lavatory.

Her humor evaporated when she got within ten leaps of the lavatory and skittered to a stop. Malfunctioning? If her poor olfactories could pick up the smell from here, it had to be more than malfunctioning. She crept closer, trying to not gag. By the time she actually poked her head into the small space, her stomach was heaving dryly. She'd never seen anything so foul, and she wasn't sure she really wanted to know what sentient could possibly have done that. Behind her, she could hear a soft chuckle. Not looking back, she steeled herself and opened the service cabinet.

It was worse than she could ever have imagined. Every movement of the service bots created a fresh gust of miasma. Much of the filth had to be scrubbed manually, and the cleaning solution burned her unhealed palms. She kept at it, doggedly refusing to lose the contents of her small stomach, refusing to show her disgust. She could win! Shdr'edno could never do this! He could never have the ... sheer tenacity to get through such a task. That gave her some extra strength, and she continued to attack the muck.

Two and a half Hours later, she finally put the bots away. She gave herself exactly one Minute to rest before she started pulling access panels and looking at wiring. Several things were wrong, and she spent over an Hour puzzling them out. Eventually, however, she had it set to rights and tested it a few times to be sure. And she knew that it was no accident that the lavatory had "malfunctioned."

Without accessing the security Feed, she had no way to prove how it had happened. She wasn't about to try to access that, either; Shdr'edno had nearly taken the head of the last employee who had thought to be "helpful." That had happened Cycles before Jregli came to the Station, but the others had told her about it in great detail. In the end, it didn't matter how it had happened. What mattered is that she was not beaten by this attempt. More importantly, she would use this to defeat him! He could not beat her, take away her joy, and that was her victory over him.

But for now, to bed. She had three Hours before the Twins would arrive to take her on her very first trip outside the Pub and Arcade. Oh, wait. Before she could leave, she had to make certain the Pub was ready for Opening. Good thing she was used to going without sleep. It was a skill every successful slave had.

Space & Time: page 19

Hevrit and Harvit were ten Minutes early for the outing. Jregli didn't mind because excitement had begun to overtake her weariness. She was going out! Even if all she did were stand in the Corridor, she would be outside her Master's domain, acting like any free sentient. Yes, it was just pretend, just an illusion, but it was something she had never done before. And the Twins treated her like a free woman. This was going to be such a Day!

Stepping out of the doorway was an adventure all of its own. Yes, she was on her Master's orders, but it felt like an act of freedom. Did free sentients ever think about walking through a doorway? Stepping out of the place they had been assigned, leaving the zone they knew behind? Her former Master and Mistress had occasionally ordered her outside their luxurious cavern, but it was always on an errand to something nearby. And every person on Yerbra Home had known her for a slave. Every sentient on the station would think her as free as they. What a marvel!

As she stepped outside, placed her foot onto a floor not owned by her Master, the Twin pounced. Their heads only came up to her shoulders, but they wrapped their thick, short arms as far around her as possible and hugged her, one on each side.

"Dear Jregli!

"Wonderful Jregli!"

"Fondest little sister of our hearts! We have so anticipated this Day!"

If they hadn't been holding her up, she would have fallen over in shock.

Yerbrans were not a physically affectionate people. Touching another person was strictly reserved for particular relationships and circumstances. Jregli had come to know that other Races, Hunsids in particular, considered touching each other as normal as breathing, as a daily requirement. They had no claws, which made contact simpler, and they had to at least brush up against each other as often as possible. Jregli had been astounded to learn that they considered working at separate tables in the Arcade a difficulty; they were less than a leap apart! But even that distance was too much when it was forced on them.

Jregli had carefully observed how aliens interacted, trying to familiarize herself with their preferences and habits. But observation and experience were just not the same thing at all. Feeling them against her scales, their warmth, their heartbeats ... It was just a shock. She held herself rigid, afraid to move. The only time anyone had ever deliberately touched her before this was to beat her.

The Twins quickly released her, still grinning. "Sweet sister!" Harvit chuckled. "You are too kind to us! You endure event he strangest things from us!"

"Yes," Hevrit chimed in, "we know how strange it is for you to be touched; you are not Hunsid, after all!"

"And yet, you patiently allow us our ways! Such a gracious, wonderful sentient you are!" Harvit bowed, with Hevrit quickly following suit.

"Mmm ... yes, well, I could hardly do less for those who are as near as brothers, now, could I?" It took Jregli an instant to get her mental feet back under her.

"Such a dear! Such a wonder! Let us be off! We have whole Day to fill!" The Twins grabbed her hands (she made a small squeak as her palms twinged) and dragged her away.
They started with a tour of the entire Station. Jregli hadn't seen much of it when she'd come in; she'd been focused on her new Master and making sure he didn't see past her story. So it was a pleasure to be out and actually look at things. The station was enormous, bigger than the city she'd lived in back Home. The fact that it was entirely enclosed didn't bother her at all, to the Twins' surprise. But then, their people favored open plains and sprawling, single-story buildings, whereas Jregli's lived tightly packed into cave-riddled mountains.

The largest portion of the Station was the harbor, which ran around the perimeter. The Station was circular, like a great wheel, to allow the greatest number of ships to dock at once. Thousands of vessels passed through the Station every Day, transporting goods and sentients to and from the farthest reaches of the galaxy. Jregli couldn't even begin to imagine how much work it took to keep track of them all. She'd seen Grunfe, Master Wesf'er's first slave, trying to keep all the household in line and order, and he'd always been at wit's end with the twenty-seven slaves under him. Taking care of the thousands ... millions of sentients passing through the Station ... it was boggling.

She stared out at the harbor from the observation decks of the Station core. The giant portals held powerful energy fields that kept the Station's atmosphere from leaking into space; Jregli could see them shimmering softly between her and the blackness. At first, she didn't know what the glittering colors were, and the Twins didn't know what she meant when she asked about them. Fortunately, a sprightly young Vun happened to overhear and offered the explanation.

"Ah, honored Yerbran, visitor to this great Station! That which you have so astutely observed is the great energy barrier, our protection against the cold embrace of the stars! Your esteemed companions cannot see this wondrous feat of technological splendor, for their eyes have not the ability to see beyond the merest of spectrums! Your great Race and mine own humble one have this exalted ability, to see that which is beyond the vision of most."

Harvit and Hevrit were delighted to learn that Jregli could see visual ranges beyond what they could, and immediately began peppering her with questions about what ordinary things looked like to her. It was hard to explain to them, since what seemed strange to them was ordinary to her. Still, she tried, and they loved it.

Space & Time: page 20

The harbor connected to the Station core by twenty corridors, each lined with facilities to serve the ships that docked closest to it. Jregli learned that the harbor was divided into forty sections that each met a specific shipping need. Fifteen were passenger-only docks, divided by the physical needs of the sentients. They snuck into one of the bays set aside for non-pedal travelers to watch the proceedings. There must have been at least forty different Races there!

The corridors held even more fascinations, depending on the needs of the docks beyond. Every Corridor held eateries, of course; the lowest-quality ones were closest to the docks. Sentients in a hurry couldn't afford to be picky, so they had to put up with whatever slop at whatever prices was easiest to get to. Jregli made a disdainful noise that the Twins found hilarious. They all giggled their way back toward the center of the Station.

As they walked around the Station core, the Twins pointed out more sights. There was the biggest mechanical shop in the Sector, servicing not only individuals and business but the ships that came in needing repairs. The owner was a Jeftryo named 'P, and rumor had it that he'd fled to the Station because of legal trouble back Home. He'd been exemplary since coming to the Station, as far as anyone knew.

The other side of the Station from Shdr'edno's Pub was devoted to businesses, mostly the various shipping firms that made the Station a primary hub. There was even a small exchange, dealing with all manner of goods in enormous quantities. Brokers stood around in tight clusters, yelling over one another, attempting to out-bid each other for the goods. Jregli hid a shudder; it reminder her distantly of some of the slave markets back Home.

They passed by an unobtrusive hallway that the Twins identified as the main entrance to the Mutuality Domain Command Center, where the departments that actually ran the Station were. That area, of course, was off limits to sight seers, and it would not do to be caught sneaking in. Jregli spared a moment to think about the Station Commander before the Twins dragged her onward.

The next section they came to was the residential area, divided again to meet the physical needs of the various Races. Jregli finally got to look at the Education Center that she was not allowed to attend, and that produced mixed feelings. Sometimes, the simple-mindedness of the sentients who came into the Pub wore on her; some sentients were just so dull! What would it be like to be surrounded by the young of those dull sentients? She had grown up around other children, but her interactions had been limited to either slave-to-Master or slave-to-slave. As they passed the EC, she watched several groups of children busy themselves in the adjacent park under the supervision of surprisingly few adults. She was trying to figure out what they were doing Harvit provided the information.

They were playing. Again, Jregli felt knowledge and experience collide. Playing? What was that? She knew, in theory, that it was a relaxing, enjoyable activity that many sentients pursued, but she just couldn't understand it. Taking time to educate children made sense. They needed to learn how to do their anticipated work. But what purpose did playing serve?

"Dearest sister of our hearts, you look puzzled," Hevrit broke into her thoughts. "Please, ask what you wish!"

"Mmm ..." how to phrase this? The Twins didn't seem to think the sight of unproductive children odd. "On Yerbra, children who are not being educated are put to some useful task. This seems ... a waste of their time and skills, somehow. Why do these younglings not work?"

"But these are so young, so tender! It is far too soon to expect them to toil and labor!" Hevrit replied. "Why, what sort of things do Yerbran children do, if they do not play?"

"We work," she replied.

"At what? Some simple task, surely! No child should be put to--"

"A moment!" Harvit interrupted his brother. "'We'? Do you consider yourself yet a child, precious sister?"

"I am not not yet nine Standard Ages old, so of course I am still a child; did you not know that?" That would be harder to answer the older she became.

"What!!" The Twins looked at her in horror and babbled over each other. "Impossible! This cannot be so! But you are so well developed! Your mind is so sharp, and you are so skilled! How can your Uncle let you work, work so hard as you do!"

Their crowd-drawing cries ended abruptly as Jregli's empty stomach twinged and gurgled. Her tail curled under in embarrassment as she hunched backwards. She hadn't had time to eat before the Twins had picked her up. Traitorous body! She'd eaten last night ... hadn't she? She usually ate just before the late crowd came, so she ... she hadn't eaten because the Station Commander had been eyeing her, and that had made her nervous enough to forget her meal.

"Was ... is ... are you hungry, child?" Harvit demanded.

Shamed, Jregli ducked her head. "Please forgive me, sirs. I neglected to prepare properly for this--"

Back Home, this is where the beating would have started; Jregli's spine ached dully in memory. A slave not entirely focused on serving, a slave distracted by anything, was not a slave in favor.

"When did you last eat, child?" Hevrit interrupted her.

"Mmm ... I ate yesterday ..."

"What!!" The Twins seized her hands, prompting another small squeak of pain, and marched her back to the restaurant sector, scolding the whole while.

"You should have told us you hadn't eaten! Silly little girl, precious little girl! How could you trust us, to hide your hunger from us? Do you think us monsters!"

No, Jregli did not think Hevrit and Harvit were monsters. She thought they were the two most marvelous sentients she had ever met. But nineteen Cycles of lessons taught with a flail did not sweep away in two and a half Months. She couldn't tell them that! Her feeble attempts to distract them disappeared under their reprimands.

They dragged her into one of the larger eateries just to the other side of the residential area; Jregli didn't have time to read the name before she found herself inside and standing by a table. "Sit!" Harvit jabbed a long finger at her. She immediately dropped to the floor.

Space & Time: page 21

"Fool!" Hevrit snapped at his brother with a glare. "Have care; be gentle with the child! See, you have frightened her!" That fear warred with amazement in Jregli's mind. She'd never heard either of the Twins speak harshly to each other (or anyone else, for that matter). Hevrit turned a softened gaze back to her.

"Come, dear little sister; no need to lie on the floor. Up, now," he gently encouraged her. Harvit glowered but made himself calm down. Hevrit turned and located a waiter, summoning him with a three-fingered snap.

"A seat suitable for our sister," he ordered politely. The waiter, a youngish Randaran who hadn't outgrown his splotches, goggled for a moment before a glare from Harvit sent him scurrying. Harvit turned back to the table; Hevrit was still trying to get Jregli up off the floor.

Hevrit seemed to read something in his brother's posture that Jregli couldn't make out. "Well, she can hardly sit on something designed for a sentient without a tail, true?" Harvit blinked and looked slightly abashed. "These seats are also unsuited to legs that bend as hers do. It is hardly unseemly, dear brother, to request such accommodation."

Jregli has allowed herself to be coaxed off the floor, though she did not straighten to her full (if meager) height. This was so far outside anything she had ever known, ever thought possible ... yes, the Hunsid brothers had always treated her well, but this ... this was inconceivable. Caring if she had eaten that day? Bringing her to a restaurant? Ordering a seat for her, let alone one designed for her anatomy? It was just so fantastical that she was afraid to believe it.

It was dangerous to receive treatment like this. She was still a slave, for all that she had freedoms that no other slave dreamt of. What if she began to expect this kind of treatment? What if she became accustomed to it? Started wanting it? That was extremely foolish; she could never forget her place. Hevrit was still smiling at her and saying kind things in a gentle voice. Maybe ... just for a little while, just for Today ... she could enjoy it.

She gave the Twins a timid smile just as the waiter dashed back up, struggling with a large, plush-topped stool. He set it down with a thunk (Jregli winced slightly; that sort of carelessness was not proper etiquette) and began rearranging the chairs at the table to make room for it. Finally scraping the seating into some semblance of order, he bowed awkwardly to Jregli and indicated that she could sit.

She managed a tiny "Thank you" and looked at the stool. It wasn't exactly Yerbran design, but it was definitely adequate, with enough surface for her to comfortably balance. Resisting the urge to whimper, she sternly took hold of herself. These fine aliens had paid to have her for the day, so she should give them full value for their credits. Just like Diuw'nfre would have. Calling on the memories of Mistress Fun'gryu, Jregli settled onto the stool, legs folded neatly beneath her and toe claws delicately resting on the rung at the front. Well, griping the rung in terror might have been a more accurate description, but she was pretending. She crossed her wrists carefully on the table and smiled politely at the Twins.

They beamed at her, all good humor restored. Seating themselves, they brought up the menu display on the table's center opti-projector. The waiter hovered from a safe distance, looking worried. Jregli wondered what could possibly be upsetting him. Perhaps it was the oddity of seeing a pair of Hunsids with an ugly little Yerbran.

"Sweet little sister," Harvit broke her train of thought, "what would you like? We mean to fill you to the tip-top of your lovely head with food! And mind you well that this is our gift to you; we'll hear nothing but that you have eaten all that you can!"

"You might consider the braised wuerd roast; it's very good!" Hevrit put in excitedly (Jregli noticed a covert hand motion to his brother). "And their selection of fowl is quite tasty, though I prefer ours much more." He winked slyly at Jregli, who had been the one to suggest those additions to the Pub's menu.

"They also have a selection of uncooked meats, if you prefer," Harvit began scrolling through the menu.

"Mmm ... well, some greens might be good," Jregli managed to insert, trying to not tremble at how much this meal would cost. Harvit had said that they were paying for her meal, but she couldn't assume that they would be willing to pay that much for her to eat.

"Ah! Of course, dearest little sister, you should have a meal of many good things! I recommend the blanched icegreens salad to begin with; the fried bits of trug loin in the dressing are delicious."

"All right," Jregli agreed, "I'll try that. But ... without the meat. Just the vegetables."

"What is this? No meat? A growing child needs more than merely a salad for dinner!" Harvit exclaimed.

"But I can't eat meat," Jregli tried to explain.

"Of course you can! This is an occasion! We can certainly do to have something special to lunch on," Hevrit frowned, puzzled.

"No, I mean I can't eat meat. No Yerbran can eat meat; we're herbivores." The Twins stared at her in amazement. Had they really not known that?

Space & Time: page 22

"How is this possible! You have the teeth of a hunter, such fearsome claws! How can you not eat meat?" Hevrit gestured at her features; Harvit simply looked stunned. Jregli managed a wry smile.

"I take it you've never seen a Yerbran eat," she commented, "or what we eat. We eat mostly roots, such as from the y'rufds trees or the tubers of w'unpz that grow deep in the caverns. They are not the delicate plants that seem to grow on other worlds; they are as hardy and strong as Yerbra itself." Jregli warmed up to the topic. Recitation was a good way to take her mind off the bizarre situation.

"You have seen what the main bar looks like?" The Twins nodded dumbly. "That's a synth of a y'rufds root. A root that size would feed a large household for nearly a Star-Standard Month. And all the tables and seating in the front section of the Pub are synths of other kinds of Yerbran vegetation."

"You eat wood?" Harvit asked, incredulous.

"That is one of many things we eat. And, since most of what we eat is so fibrous, we have to have very sharp teeth to chew it with." She pulled her lips back to show her dark incisors. "We use the outer teeth to bite off a manageable chunk," she opened her mouth further to show her not-quite-white inner teeth, "and these to masticate it into a pulp that we can swallow. It's very nutritious, and one meal lasts most of the Day." That should keep them from making too much of a fuss about not seeing her eat as often as they did. It was true that one meal lasted Jregli most of the Day; she just didn't add that she'd never had any choice about the matter.

"How fascinating!" Hevrit exclaimed, looking very interested, indeed. "Now that we are better educated, let us order a fine meal of roots and tubers for you!" Jregli held back a resigned sigh as Hevrit snapped at the waiter, who practically jumped to comply. They were the only customers in the their section, so perhaps he hovered out of boredom. It still struck Jregli as unsophisticated. Perhaps he was in training.

They chatted about inconsequentials while they waited for their meals to come. Watching Jregli eat made for great entertainment for the Twins, especially since she could talk clearly with a full mouth. Jregli made what she hoped were appropriate comments about her meal. In truth, this was a Day of many firsts for her, and she was nearly worn out from it all! This was the first real meal she'd ever had, and it was so hard to act as though it were normal. Had no one been watching, she would probably have swallowed it whole. So many flavors rolled through her mouth, so many textures! The twins had ordered a variety for her, and she wished both that she could eat it as fast as possible and that she could linger over every mouthful. She distracted herself by keeping up near-constant chatter.

She couldn't eat nearly enough to satisfy the Twins, though she felt ready to explode. Three mouthfuls was the most she'd ever had at once before this, so eight plates covered with seven different entrees and six side dishes made her feel slightly dizzy. And the cost! She had to keep reminding herself that a lady of status would expect to have such lavish treatment, but she felt awkward and stiff the whole time.

The meal finally came to an end, and Jregli's cobbled-together excuses finally satisfied the Twins. Harvit insisted on bundling up the remainder of her meal and hiring a transport bot to take it back to the Pub for her. They made their way out of the eatery, the Twins bouncing ahead of a stuffed Jregli. Head up! She told herself sternly. Act the part! She forced herself to pay more attention, to focus more carefully on the cues the Twins gave her and on her own responses. By the time another Hour had passed, she felt nearly comfortable in her role. Clamping down on her old habits, she made herself be a Lady of Status.

An enterprising Tolp had received Mutuality permission to offer tours of the exterior of the Station, and Hevrit and Harvit insisted on taking one. It was amazing. Jregli's trip from Home to the Station had been the cheapest possible fare, so she'd had no access to view ports and almost no sense of what space travel was really like. The tour shuttle's walls were nearly all view ports, offering a panoramic view for the whole trip. Thousands of ships streamed to and from the Station, and the first time Jregli saw one appear from the wormhole, she couldn't stifle a gasp. The Twins grinned as though they'd invented interstellar travel.

The little ship cruised alongside the Station, getting as close as possible so that the tourists could see suited sentients making repairs to the hull in exaggerated slow-motion. Bright flashes from their atomic-bonding torches made little stars appear on the hull and were particularly visible on the side of the Station opposite the Vunan system, whose star was close enough to provide soft illumination. And every time the 'hole opened to pass a ship, it created a brilliant flash of sub-particulate matter in the widest spectrum that Jregli had ever seen at once. She spent a good portion of the journey trying to describe that to the Twins and several other passengers. The tour guide was somewhat miffed at that.

The two-hour tour finally dropped them back at the passenger dock, not far from the Corridor leading to the Pub. The Twins had no intention of taking her back just yet, though, and herded her into one of the largest multi-tainment operations on the Station. Star Central Multi-tainment had a shop on nearly every Station in the Mutuality, and most considered it a requirement to visit every one on their travel route. Jregli expressed misgivings about trying the games offered, as much because she really didn't know what to make of them as to twit the Twins. Eventually, she allowed herself to be be persuaded to try one of the racing games.

It was not the most humiliating thing she'd ever done, and she even found it mildly enjoyable. She'd never been allowed to run full-out before, so "racing" across the virtual landscape projected in front of the running platform, which moved under her with every step took some getting used to. Back Home, she'd scurried hastily from place to place, but that wasn't the same as running. Not at all. The simulator blew a small jet of air into her face as she ran, increasing its speed as she increased hers. It smalled staley of 'cycled Station air, nothing like the clean breezes of the Plains. Still, it was ... an experience. It made her feet hurt; they hadn't healed perfectly from the last time they'd been broken.

Next, the Twins had her join them for an enviro-tainment tour of their Home. That was exciting; Jregli had never been allowed near an environmental entertainment unit before, let alone to use one. She'd settled for the flat, purely optical images displayed where anyone could see them. Stepping into the single-sentient machine designed for her class of sentient gave her a little thrill; this was something she'd been longing to do! A good enviro-tainment system (which SC prided itself on having) brought all a sentient's senses into play, recreating an environment so exactly that you'd never know you weren't there! There were several popular theatrical productions whose plots included putting the protagonist(s) in enviro units to convince them of something that wasn't true.

She was slightly nervous with anticipation as she waited for the machine to power up. The hum of the power cells would be inaudible to about 60% of the Races comprising the Mutuality, and the knowledge that she could hear what so many others could not gave her a different kind of thrill.

Space & Time: page 23

When the unit abruptly switched on, it was a sensory deluge Jregli had never thought possible. The whine of the machinery startled her before swiftly disappearing into bright sunlight and hundreds of unfamiliar noises. Jregli reflexively closed her eyelids most of the way against the glare as she tried to catalogue the sounds.

Wind. That she could recognize, though it was more gentle a wind than she'd ever known. Rustling. The wind moving something, moving through something. High-pitched sounds, short blasts in the warm air: animals of some type. Quiet thuds and scrabblings under her feet: more animals under the ground. Her feet stood on something soft and fibrous, long strands of ... vegetation, perhaps? Her head vibrated with an unfamiliar hum.

The air was warm and brought hundreds of unfamiliar scents to her. Water, earth, animals, decay, new growth ... she thought she could classify most of the smells, but some she just wasn't sure of. Having had a few seconds to adjust, she slowly opened her eyes fully and looked down.

She stood on a plain covered in what had to be a type of grass. Yerbra had little vegetation, all of it clumped tightly around water sources and fighting for survival. This grass, if that's what it was, stretched out beyond her range of vision in every direction. The young growth was a pale green with delicate stripes of purple veining it, the full growth stood nearly a Star-Standard Unit high and boasted both a deeper green and more vibrant purple in its ... leaves or stalks? The dead and dying strands faded to a pale brown that matched the dirt they had grown in. This grass was the soft stuff Jregli stood on.

The sky was truly shocking; it was a brilliant blue-tinged green and spotted by whitish fluffs. The white-yellow sun rose higher than Jregli thought possible; after a second, she realized that Hunsid Home must be farther from its star than Yerbra was from its own. That must be why the air felt warm but not hot. There was also another ... feel to the air that Jregli couldn't quite place. The air felt thick, somehow, and breathing was more difficult than she was used to. Whatever it was created unfamiliar patterns in the air; she could see the wind more clearly than she could back Home.

A small, winged animal burst from the grass off to her left, startling her. It made a series of fast, staccato sounds as it zoomed away. In the distance, a larger land-bound animal poked its head above the grass, looked at her with its long ears raised, and then dashed away; she could hear its feet hit the ground rhythmically. She kept seeing small things float through the air without direction; they moved against the wind (such as it was) under their own power.

"Jregli!" She turned to her right at the shout. Harvit waved as he bounded up to her; Hevrit jogged up behind him. "Welcome to our Home! These are the Yuyrb Hidgrac Tuov, the Plains of Plentiful Gatherings. Are they not magnificent?"

"Mmm ... they are stunning," Jregli agreed. Hevrit joined them and playfully slapped his brother's arm.

"Come now, Brother! Give the dear child a moment to look around! How can she know if this is magnificent if she has not yet seen it?" Harvit grinned at his twin. Hevrit turned to Jregli. "Now, what would you like to know about our beloved birthplace?"

"Mmm ..." Jregli temporized. What should she ask first? It was all so strange! If only her head didn't hum so; it made it hard to think. "Why does my head tingle? There's this sound that I can't understand, and it keeps changing."

"Ah! More of your incredible aural ability!" Harvit cried with delight. "Please, little sister, tell us what you hear, and perhaps we may be able to name it!"

"What does it sound like to you?" Hevrit asked quickly.

"It's ... like a soft roar, a buzzing, like a wofrid-class collection servo whose gyro-amps need to be replaced." That was as close as she could come to describing it without using terms that would make no sense to them, since they couldn't hear the things those terms described.

"A collection servo ..." Harvit mused. Then he laughed, a brief, barking sound, and turned to his twin. "She means the junif!" They shared another laugh.

"Insects?" Jregli repeated in the Hunsid language. "You mean ... insects are making this awful noise?"

"Yes, dear one, of course!" Hevrit turned and swiped something from one of the grasses that rose around them. He turned back to Jregli and displayed his catch. The thing was incredibly delicate-looking, with a triple-jointed body and six overlapping wings. Hevrit held it by several of its six legs, and it flapped angrily in his grasp, creating a membrane-tingling sound in Jregli's head.

"That's just what it is!" Jregli cried, drawing back slightly. Not that it did any good, since the sound was all around her.

The Twins laughed again as Hevrit released the thing. "I take it that bugs are not so noisy on Yerbra, little sister."

"Oh, no; they'd be eaten to the last one inside a Star-Standard week if they were! All natives of Yerbra are very sensitive to sounds, so anything that's noisy makes a target of itself."

"But then, sweet one," Jregli wasn't sure if she was getting tired of their incessant endearments or not, "how do you account for the winds? We have been told that the winds of Yerbra are so fierce, so mighty, that they destroy anything so foolish to remain in their path. Surely such a thing would be noisy, indeed!" Harvit motioned that they should begin walking.

"The Winds are indeed fiercely strong and loud," Jregli agreed, falling in with the Twins' shorter steps. "And quite destructive. That's why we Yerbrans are so hearty and strong! We have learned to not listen to the roar of the Winds, but rather to the messages they carry."

"Ah!" the Twins cried in understanding. Harvit stopped suddenly. "Dear little sister, whatever is the matter? You seem strained!"

Jregli had hoped they wouldn't notice, that she could hide how hard it was to breathe. A slave should never appear to be less than ... no. Today, she was not a slave. Today, she was a Lady of Status, and she must act the part! Tonight, she would be a slave again, but for now, she should be making certain demands as befitted her role.

"It is most difficult to breathe," she admitted with far less certainty than she intended to. "The air is so strange, so heavy ... I cannot draw it in properly."

Hevrit smacked his chest in dismay. "The humidity! Of course! Brother, she comes from a dry world; she has no experience with such moist air as ours!"

"System command," Harvit snapped. "Environmental adjustment in unit 37A-s4: reduce relative humidity by 35%. Effect!" Immediately, the air lightened and Jregli's lungs filled properly.

"Is that better, little one?" Hevrit asked anxiously. "This is only a little higher a mixing ratio than that of the Station."

"Mmm, much better," Jregli confirmed. "I believe I can manage in this."

"We can lower it further! Harvit's unit has control for both of ours, and he can adjust the psychometric calculation in yours again, if you need it! Oh, do not hide your distress from us!"

"I am fine," Jregli nearly snapped. She made herself gentle her tone, appalled at her audacity. Lady for the Day or not, she could never afford to forget her true status and the behaviors acceptable for that status. Perhaps it was the strain of so many new things, perhaps it was discomfort for the Twins' fawning attitudes. Perhaps it was too much food still roiling in her gut, perhaps it was the dull sting of her infected palms. No matter what had caused her flare of temper, she had to quash it immediately. "I want to experience your world as it is, not as I would have it be. I can accept this atmospheric condition, so I will."

Hevrit and Harvit both searched her face (for all the good it did; Yerbrans did not use their faces to express much other than contempt) for several seconds. Then Hevrit turned to his brother and nodded.

"End system command," Harvit said to the invisible sensors in his unit.

"Well!" Hevrit said with forced good humor, "now that we've solved that, let us show you the rest of our Homeworld!"

Space & Time: page 24

The Hunsid Homeworld was a fascinating place. Jregli felt incredibly exposed on the open plains covered only by the comparatively short grasses. The Hunsid people averaged about five SS-UH tall, so they could drop and hide in the grasses if they needed to. They could also crouch down enough to effectively hide themselves as they moved. Jregli, even so short as she was, could not do either with any skill. Perhaps if she were trained as the Wind Brothers were in stealth and tactics, she might manage it. But she felt exposed and vulnerable.

The Twins laughed gently at her fears; there was so little on their world to be afraid of! They had not the vicious storms nor the number of aggressive animals to worry about. What dangers there were, they assured her, were easily met by an established clan. As they topped a rise in the Plains, the 'tainment units created just such a clan encampment for them to explore.

Being nomads, the Hunsids favored portable buildings that endured for generations. Technological advances and their expansion into the stars had necessitated permanent cities, but tradition still undergirded the society. This enclave was a historical reconstruction from pre-tech days, and the Twins were as delighted to explore their ancestor's habitat as they were to introduce Jregli to it. The buildings, they informed her, were called tents (in Mutual speak) and made from the hides of various animals. They lasted much longer than their flimsy appearance suggested and had been standard housing for the Clans for thousands of generations. The Twins showed her the campfires, the drying racks, the corrals for beasts of burden and food. Harvit had the units create a small herd of opir, the primary domestic food beast of his ancient Race, and trot them into the corral.

Jregli had to force herself to stay close to the flimsy fence when the beasts entered. She'd never had anything to do with the domesticated animals back Home, and all wild animals back Home were dangerous. When the Twins told her how common it was for Hunsid children to claim one of the four-legged, shaggy creatures with wicked horn and hooves as special favorites, she thought they had to be lying to her for fun. All the flying fur, the smell, the constant noises they made ... not to mention how dangerous they might be ... why would any adult allow a child within a hundred leaps of such a creature?

Again, the Twins laughed and assured her that the opir were the most gentle and harmless of animals.

"Why then do they have such sharp horns?" Jregli demanded. "You can't convince me that they eat with those!"

"Of course not!" Harvit managed around his laughter. "They use those to defend themselves against predators! But these would have been birthed and reared amongst people and know them for no threat!"

It still didn't make sense to Jregli, but she let the matter drop. The Twins finished with the ancient encampment and then showed a modern one. The only real difference, Jregli decided, was the materials used. The layout was basically the same, the cooking still done at community centers, and the animals still kept in pens. Jregli was interested in all she saw, despite the ... well, the alieness of it.

Then it was a quick tour of one of the major cities and an "overflight" of a small mountain range. They were just "touching down" when their time ended and Jregli abruptly found herself back in her unit. The disorientation lasted long enough that the Twins were knocking on the hatch before she opened it.

"Soooo, what did you think?" Hevrit grinned up at her.

"Mmm ... well, I know now what all the fuss about enviro-tainment is!" Jregli gave them a smile. "And your Homeworld is fascinating. Thank you for showing it to me!"

"Wonderful! Now, we all need some refreshment!" Hevrit crowed and steered her towards the entrance.

"Some water would be nice," Jregli allowed. Surely they didn't intend to eat again? It had been barely four Hours since that enormous meal!

"Water would indeed be nice," Harvit agreed, "but we mean to give you a thorough education this Day! We shall introduce you to the delights of flavored beverages!" Which is what they did, dragging her into a smaller eatery whose placard declared it to be Profindos' Beverage Emporium, Home of Every Beverage Known in the Mutuality. Jregli highly doubted that; formulators could create vast amounts of items, but even those incredible machines had their limits. It would require hundreds of formulators to produce every beverage known in the Mutuality. It made her wish that she could metabolize an Ihgriso funeral draught, just to see if Profindo could actually create one.

Hevrit ordered something called a "blended" beverage for her, adding in nearly a dozen ingredients, all plants (he assured her) that Jregli had never heard of. What was a carrot or a pursd? Hevrit just smiled and said she'd love it before ordering some milk-based concoction for himself while Harvit ordered something that apparently sparkled. The drinks came out in tall, clear glasses coated with frosted condensation and decorated with ridiculous miniature items like sun-shades and plastofab fruit. The real fruit that topped Jregli's drink was deliciously sweet, and she savored it while watching the Twins enthusiastically taste their orders. Harvit's drink didn't literally sparkle, to her disappointment, but it did bubble and fizz quite a bit.

Her own drink awaited her. She'd been sniffing at it hesitantly, trying in vain to determine what was in it. the Twins sat in silent expectation, so she had no choice but to lift the glass to her thin lips and let the foreign mixture spill into her mouth.

Space & Time: page 25

Jregli nearly dropped the glass as the chilled liquid invaded her senses. She managed to catch it before it did more than slop the drink a bit and lowered it to the table. She held herself motionless except for the muscles required to slowly swallow. Staring but not seeing, she began to keen softly.

"Oh, child! What is it?" Hevrit's soft, worried voice sounded from far away. She couldn't reply. A small, soft hand with too many fingers laid gently on her arm, but she couldn't do anything about it. She continued the soft, barely audible keening.

"What have we done?!" Harvit's anguished snarl sounded closer. Jregli tried to reply. It was so hard. The Twins' distress grew louder, clearer. Finally, she managed a small whisper.

"It's ..." Their talking cut off abruptly. "It's delicious." Harvit started to say some thing but chopped off the sound.

"You like it, little one?" Hevrit asked gently, moving his hand to her elbow. Yes, it was his hand, she could see that now. Could see their faces, twisted with worry. Alien faces were so mobile, so overly expressive, that it was sometimes as hard for her to read theirs as it was for them to read hers. But she knew they were genuinely concerned for her. So she tried to pull it together.

"I like it. Very much." So much that she couldn't stop keening, couldn't stop that tiny sound of sorrow she so rarely allowed out. The drink was more than delicious. More than fabulous. It was, without a doubt, the most incredible thing she'd ever tasted. The vegetables at the restaurant had been delicious, a treat so rare she still couldn't believe that she'd eaten them. Food on Yerbra took so long to grow, was so hard to grow, that all young, tender, green plants were jealously horded. It was the most extravagant of events to have greens at a meal; only the wealthiest could afford them and only then for the greatest of occasions.

Slaves never got green food. Slaves never got anything their Masters might have considered worth keeping. Before coming to the Station, Jregli had never eaten anything that wasn't so dessicated and withered that it had torn her gums to chew it. She'd made her meals at the Pub out of scraps from the customer's plates, just as she'd done back Home, taking unnoticeable bits of what was leftover and not coated with meat or sauces. She kept a little stash near her water glass and gulped it down at each of her set eating times. No one had ever given her food that hadn't been someone else's first, and it had never been fresh.

Green food was so precious that it was always served whole, so that it could be recognized and the host envied. With alien influence, Yerbrans had begun combining and cooking various vegetables, though always keeping each identifiable. Pureeing food was unheard of; even the oldest, most infirm Yerbran still had enough teeth to at least chew his own food. Jregli could only decide that no other Yerbran had ever tried a blended drink. If any had, if any free Yerbran had, he would never have gone a meal without one. Which only made Jregli's predicament worse.

Of all the dangers available to a slave, knowing, really knowing, what you were missing was the worst. Bad enough that she knew that things were out there that she couldn't have. A thousand times worse to have tasted them, knowing that she could never have it again. The memory wold haunt her for the rest of her miserable life.

She took a deep breath to still the pathetic wailing in her chambers. She made herself look at the Twins and forced her lips into a smile. "Thank you so much, dear brothers of my heart. I have never tasted anything such as this, and you were well justified in telling me that I would love it. I cannot think that any Day would be complete without a drink like this." Not a bad speech, considering.

The Twins broke into tentative smiles, both of them with hands covering hers, which were wrapped around the cold glass. They finished their drinks quietly, speaking gently about nothing in particular.

Space & Time: page 26

Shdr'edno hummed happily as he worked behind the main bar. It was well worth demeaning himself to working alongside the employees given what he knew was happening to his slave. The kinds of things that were happening to his little pet were most pleasing to contemplate, oh, yes. She wanted to make herself the darling of the employees? Well, let her. And let her realize how futile that was, how self-defeating. The thought made him want to dance.

Of course, he had better self-discipline than that. Gloating too openly was in poor taste, and he held himself to the highest possible standard, both professionally as well as personally. Which is why he'd put himself behind the bar instead of taking on of the Hunsids' spots in the Arcade. He'd spent most of his time, these last two Months, back there, so he knew his skills at the tables were sharp. He hadn't worked the bar much even before the brat came, and he couldn't afford to allow himself to be lax.

The brat's organization left something to be desired, but he'd figured it out. He'd curled his lip when he found her stash of rotted food and dumped it into the disposal bin immediately. Wasteful, wasteful brat. Allowing anything edible to go bad ... what a wretched thing she was. He added a throaty bass line to his humming. He would have to remind her to ... be more careful with resources.

He'd arrived early enough so that none of the employees would witness him familiarizing himself with his own operations. It took less than half an Hour to remember how to operate all the formulators and learn the new ones. Another half Hour, and he had the menus memorized. By that time, the drudges began showing up and he could play the all-knowing proprietor he was. Although he didn't know how the brat had managed to leave the Pub spotless for Opening and have that lavatory in mint condition. That had upset him until he realized that she must have stayed up all night to get it all done. She'd be so exhausted that everything she went through today would have double the impact. That cheered him up considerably.

Working the main bar was a good refresher for him; he'd allowed himself to forget how much of a command center it could be. He'd been so relieved to be able to move around at will, keeping two weather eyes on everything and everyone that he'd allowed himself to forget. Being behind the main bar gave him another kind of visibility, another kind of power over every sentient in his personal Domain. He was tall enough, at ten and a half Standard Units, to be seen by everyone despite the bar, and putting himself where they could always see him instead of lurking through the shadows had its own benefits. Yes, he couldn't surprise them or catch them slacking as easily, but they would constantly be checking to make sure he was still there. None of them wanted to give him a reason to leave the bar. As was proper.

The patrons would be able to see him more clearly, as well. They would remember that he was the owner, the Master, of this Pub. He'd been neglecting the sentients in the Pub because of their disgusting habits. At least those in the Arcade kept themselves reasonably clean and orderly; the patrons in the Pub were disgusting. Watching them eat made Shdr'edno want to gag. The smell of meat was still nauseating, even after all these years. He'd learned to tolerate, not show his distaste, but it still made him miserable. But there were far worse things in the galaxy than smelling cooked flesh, and he was great enough to overcome this inconvenience.

Another benefit to working the bar more often would be the effect it would have on his slave. He'd been so furious at the defeat that he'd kept as far away from her as possible. That has been a mistake, and he would correct it now. He'd allowed her too much time to herself, too much time to entrench. Well, now he would invade her defenses, put himself firmly within her encampment. He'd already tidied up her sleeping hole in the back room, getting rid of the unnecessary things that accumulated there. He'd begun reorganizing the bar, putting it back to rights as well. He'd made his mistakes, allowing his control to relax, but that time was over.

The brat would remember her place, he would make certain of that. He would spend at least a few Hours each day behind the bar with her, where he could watch the light go out of her eyes and that defiant, stubby tail droop. Theirs was an unusual relationship, to be certain, but he was man enough to make it work. He was still the Master and she was still the slave. Maybe no one else would know it, but she would know.

He continued humming as he mixed up a fresh batch of drinks.

Space & Time: page 27

Neim took a few moments to stretch his legs in between meetings. He didn't go very far; in fact; he didn't leave the CC area. Just over tot he small mess and ordered a cup of steaming coffee. Or whatever they called coffee at this mess. It did the trick, though, warming him up and sharpening his mind. The meeting with Commerce & Passage had actually gone fairly well, all things considered.

His reports were never complete enough for them, so he'd endured that lecture for the fiftieth time with practiced patience. It didn't matter to those esteemed admirals and and policy makers that running the third-largest (by tonnage) Station in the Mutuality and the busiest (by traffic volume) Station in the Galaxy left him little time to cross-reference the endnotes of his reports. Or that they wouldn't allow him to assign one of his junior officers to that task. Or hire a civilian to do it, for God's sake.

He brooded over his coffee for a few minutes longer, watching the wall-mounted opti of the Corridor and the ships moving to and from it. Busy little bees, flying to and from the nest. Each one convinced that it was the queen. He snorted humorlessly over his cup. No, there were actually only a few "queen bees" in the traffic out there, but they were large, fat, and very dangerous. His granny had raised bees, and she'd told him time and again that there could only be one queen in any colony. New queens were either killed by the incumbent or killed that predecessor. And damn if these little bees weren't trying to do the same thing to each other and everyone who got in there way.

The meeting had gone well, though. The updates on which multis were currently highest in favor and were entitled to the most royal treatment was necessary and the changes not entirely unexpected. The Uffniorns and Jeftryos had been vying for the top shipping slots for the last Decade, and the slugs were slightly ahead at the moment. Neim frowned at that thought and mentally cursed.

He had to stop thinking about them in those terms. Sure, it was satisfying to call them that, but one Day it was going to move from brain to tounge, and then his career would be over. You thought something long enough, you'd start saying it. And if the Uffniorns heard him say anything even remotely insulting, they'd eat him alive. Neim took another sip of coffee and wandered over to a chair.

At least C&P hadn't blown off his report on the Vun's Trezaq. Neim could tell they were as skeptical as he was, but they took it in stride. Fruns' preliminary findings were as wordy as any bureaucrat could want and actually had some facts worth noting. Vunan history didn't go back far enough to evidence when the Flioim showed up. In fact, there wasn't a scrap of reliable documentation that didn't include some mention of the 'hole residents, and that was from going over 53,000 Star-Standard Years of records. Remarkably, the Vun weren't so far off when they claimed their angels were as old as time itself. At least, "time" as the Mutuality knew it. Such a long-standing relationship might actually entitle the secretive sentients to some collateral protections from their ... well, what were the Vun to them? Servants? Dupes? Officially, it was probably "colleagues".

The opti showed another transport vanish into the aether as Neim leaned back in the chair. Those Flioim might well be one of the oldest civilizations known to the galaxy. If it was true they had established contact with the pre-historic Vun that long ago, there were a lot of possibilities to consider. For one, the Mutuality would want to pump the sentients for information about life way back when. There were a lot of gaps and contradictions in the official records, and any information was better than none. Plus, if the "angels" were going to threaten cataclysm, maybe the diplomats could turn that into a bargaining session to get some of that nano/bio tech the Vun had such a monopoly on. Give and take, that's the rule. Neim snorted derisively.

Of course, that assumed that the 'hole dwellers were, in truth, the Flioim of Vunan legend. It could very well be that the sentients had learned of the legend and styled themselves to fit it. There were a few "manifestations" Fruns hadn't gotten to the bottom of yet, so that remained a possibility. Another point was that since the sentients did have such obviously impressive tech, maybe they'd altered the history books to include themselves. Why they'd do that, Neim hadn't a clue, but it was still something to consider.

Neim drained the rest of his coffee and stood up. Can't avoid work forever. Especially can't avoid unpleasant work forever. C&P had dominated his morning, and his afternoon was packed. There was the surprise drill at 1345 Standard, another meeting with Trogvan about the trial (which would be very short, whatever the Ambassador thought), the inspection of Engineering, the Daily write-up of the Corridor Report, and all the other "normal" activities. Oh, damn; he'd almost forgotten about having to go in for his quarterly physical. So, shift over the inspection a half-Hour ...

Space & Time: page 28

They were in the 34th docking bay when it happened. Statistically speaking, it had to happen; she couldn't expect to them to never find out. But Jregli really wished the Twins had learned of her injured palms in a less dramatic fashion.

The Twins had been able to tell that the incident in Profindo's had upset her; she hadn't been able to hide it. They didn't know why it had upset her, though. At least she'd been able to keep her wits that much. She'd spun just enough truth into her answer that the drink was so unexpectedly delicious that she'd been completely overwhelmed that they didn't push for any other reason(s). For a few moments there, Jregli had been honestly afraid that she would lose all self-control and tell them everything. It was frightening to realize that she could break like that.

Truthfully, it was more than frightening; it was terrifying. Despair-inducing. If she could be brought so low by a simple beverage ... although, it wasn't just the beverage. It was all the implications that went with it. She was smart enough to realize that such a beverage was something a free woman would take for granted. Would take as her due. Slaves had no business drinking anything more than warm, stale, dirty water not clean enough to scrub a lavatory with. Slaves who drank, tasted, tried anything a free person could have only set themselves up for disaster. Like the crashing realization of just how stupid they were.

Stupid. Jregli really just couldn't believe she'd been so stupid. She should have stayed in the Pub, kept her head down, and been a proper little slave. She should have stayed back Home! She should never have tried to beat Master Wesf'er or Shdr'edno! Master Shdr'edno, who had known this would happen if she left his watchful eyes. Who was smarter than she was, so much more experienced. Pretending to be a Lady of Status? Laughable! She was a slave, a legal child, and uglier than any Yerbran in history. All of which meant that she was nothing, no one, and worthless. Something no one would ever care about.

"I know!"

Harvit's exclamation crashed her pity-party. They were now walking slowly down the Station Core, next to the observation areas, commenting inanely on the stars and ships.

"The bays! We have so many dear friends there! And you have not yet seen how great an operation it is to move the cargoes and all the things that must be done to the great ships that travel throughout the depths of space! And I am certain that many will be most pleased to see you, dear little sister of our hearts!"

"Yes!" Hevrit chimed in. "That is an excellent idea! Why, we are but a few steps from the Corridor that leads to the bay where the most of them labor! Come, sweet little sister, let us go see them!"

Jregli agreed numbly, trying to not feel both irritation and despair over their continued endearments. Didn't they realize, have any idea how inappropriate it was to fawn over a slave? Well, of course not, the didn't know she was a slave. She was just an ugly little child to them, one who had to be coddled and treated like she couldn't even chew her own food. Well, she could chew her own food! She could even pick her own teeth clean, too! She might be a runt, but she could do more work than any three grown slaves! Than any three adults, even! She might be a slave, but she wasn't helpless, winds blast them!

The profanity shocked her. Did she really just think that? No slave ever dared to think such things! If her Master ever found out ... he couldn't. He wouldn't. She would never let him know that she'd dared to use a phrase reserved exclusively for adults. Just like she would never tell the Twins that she had been so upset with them. After all, they were just trying to be nice, to show that they cared--

Jregli stopped in the middle of the Corridor, stunned. The Twins actually continued for two and a half paces before they realized that she had. They turned immediately, babbling worriedly at her. She didn't hear them. Or rather, she heard them, but she didn't pay attention to them.

They cared about her. They didn't know she was a slave. They didn't mind that she was ugly or stunted or deformed. And if they ever found out she was a slave ... Hunsids had never been a slaving Race. Their focus on family precluded the idea of owning another being. If anything, discovering that she was a slave would make them care more. They would be furious and fight for her freedom. No matter that it was impossible to free a Yerbran slave. Once a slave, always a slave. But they wouldn't care about that, because they cared about her.

She looked down at the smaller aliens crowded up to her, patting her arms and making worried noises. They cared. They really cared. Nothing mattered to them, not Racial differences, not Status, not Law. Only she mattered to them.

She crouched swiftly, not allowing herself time to reconsider. Her arms snaked out and pulled the Twins close. She made sure to hold her stubby, pathetic, but still potentially dangerous claws away from them as she enveloped them in the first hug she had ever given anyone. It was incredibly unnatural, but it was the right gesture to make.

"Thank you, fondest brothers of my heart," she whispered to them. "This Day has been the best of my life, and I thank you for giving it to me. Thank you for caring about me."

The Twins were momentarily stunned, but that didn't last long. The scene they made rivaled any Jregli could have imagined, but she refused to let it bother her.

Then they proceeded to the docking bays, and that was when they found out about her palms.

Space & Time: page 29

It had started out innocently enough. The docking bay they brought her to was for the largest merchant ships with the biggest cargoes, which was were many of their regular customers worked. Not surprisingly, the large Gurts was there, single-handedly lugging an enormous flat of cargo across the low-grav bay.

The Twins were explaining how the reduced gravity made it easier to move things but didn't truly compensate for mass when Gurts spotted them. He yelled cheerfully and waved as he nudged the pallet into place and then pushed off the deck in their direction.

"Zreggie, love! What'r yeh doin' out here? Hah; yeh two sliders! Might'a known yeh'd draggin' th' pur darlin' out!" Gurts gave each twin a jovial slap on the back that caused them to stagger. They took it well and punched him back, though he surely couldn't have felt it. The big sentient then turned to Jregli and gave a bow that was surprisingly well-formed in the lessened gravity. Gurts obviously had much experience moving in the low-grav, and the Twins looked as though they'd at least experienced it before, but Jregli was completely unfamiliar with it. Her toes barely touched the decking, and the floating sensation was one of the strangest she'd ... no, it was the strangest she'd ever experienced. She couldn't not have imagined this near-weightlessness, despite all the 'tainments she'd reviewed.

"Hah; yeh know 'em too well, Gurts!" Jregli mimicked his speech while trying to get her stomach to stay put and her head to stop floating away.

"We saw that she had not had a single Day's rest from her labors on her uncle's behalf, so we persuaded him to set her free for a while!" Jregli really wished Hevrit hadn't used that wording, but what could she do but go along with it?

By then, several other dock hands had noticed them and come over. Ungrut, Fardes, Draon, and Pug hurtled themselves over the decking with the ease of those long familiar with low-grav. They were all Fourth Night regulars and just as massive as Gurts. She wasn't sure what their respective Races were, though Pug and Draon were probably from the same Race as Gurts.

"Look who's come a-visitin', lads! Our own lovey likker lady!" Gurts gestured to Jregli oddly. After a beat, Jregli realized what made it look so odd: he was being deferential, or maybe it was gentle. Did he think she was going to break?

"Well, an' we're sure th' luckiest dawgs in th' yard, t' have such a purty dame a-come ta visit!" Draon gave another bow like Gurts, with Pug a second behind him.

"Come off it, lads!" Ungrut waved at them disdainfully as Fardes pretended to be sick. "Your fardlin' Tingort manners haint em-pressin' no one, so lay it be." He grinned as he cuffed Pug's arm. "So, Dreggo, m'gurl, what's new on th' tap? What ser-prises ya got fer us next week, eh?"

"Ya think I'd give it up so quick, do yeh?" Jregli challenged him. "Ya has ta come if yeh wants ta know! It's a surprise, yeh great oaf!"

The other workers laughed loudly at her reply, slapping Ungrut on the back and arms. This attracted yet more attention, in the form of their manager.

"What's all this? Who gave you permission to stop? We have three ships to unload and five more waiting in line!" The much shorter sentient wearing the shift-boss's badge on his left arm scowled at the five workers towering over him.

"We're on break, Wuns. Take easy," Pug drawled. "We done th' first load already an' half th' second." Wuns (Jregli now identified him as a Westro; the shrill voice should have been her first clue) lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. "Yeh ken check; taint ours ta lie ta yeh. 'Sides, we gots us a guest, and we has ta make polite."

"A guest?" Wuns turned angrily on Jregli. "What is an unauthorized sentient doing here? This is no place for tourists!"

All the other sentients, Twins and dock workers alike, turned on the diminutive Westro, forming a wall between him and Jregli. "Hah, now, Wuns; she haint crossed inta restricted space, so there's nothin' ta fret over," Gurts said evenly. Jregli could tell from Gurts' tone that Wuns' sudden look of fear had a good foundation. "We're each o' us on our approved break time, an' this lady haint doin' anythin' wrong. Yeh might wish ta 'pologize ta th' lady f' bein' so harsh an' all."

"You've no call to threaten me!" Wuns cried shrilly, slapping a device fixed to the shirt under his cover-alls. "I'll not tolerate insubordination!"

"Nah, we're not tryin' ta be any threatenin', now, Wuns," Draon put in calmly. "Just pointin' out that nothin' wrong's been done, and that there's no call ta be insultin' a lady." Jregli could see several other large sentients headed towards them across the docking bay. One even jumped down from a walkway so far above the deck that only the low-grav kept him from breaking something. Jregli wasn't sure a Wind-Brother could have made such a leap safely.

"A lady?" Wuns snorted disdainfully. "That's the ugliest Yerbran I've ever seen."

Space & Time: page 30

Harvit actually growled. Jregli hadn't realized that Hunsids could produce sound in that range. Hevrit placed a restraining hand on his brother's shoulder, but the tension in his body told Jregli that he didn't want to have to hold back.

In fact, the workers standing between her and Wuns (and his backup) all looked ready to pounce. Jregli, of course, was just as tense as they, but her tension was from fear, not ... whatever these males were thinking. What were they thinking? It was almost as if they were ... protecting her.

That thought thawed Jregli a bit. She looked over the sentients in front of her (not too hard, since only Gurts and Draon were taller than she was) and wondered. Why would they protect her? What would they gain from protecting her?

The sentients who'd replied to Wuns' signal arrived at their little group. Bigger and brawnier than those facing them, they glowered at everyone, including Jregli. She tried to not cringe. Couldn't show fear.

"'S'matter, Boss?" one of them rumbled.

"These inriipiin need to be reminded of Protocol!" Wuns snapped. "No unauthorized sentients in the bays, no taking unauthorized breaks, and no insubordination is ever allowed!" One of Wuns' sentients put his left fist into his right and pressed it, creating multiple horrid popping sounds that scraped through Jregli's chambers and down her spine.

"Hah, now, Wuns, an' we a'member Protocol, nice an' all. We'll us get back ta work an' double-time; just yeh 'pologize ta th' lady an' we'll be done." Gurts shifted carefully, as did the others standing with him. Jregli tried to carefully shift backwards. When free sentients started arguing, it was always the slaves who got caught in the middle.

One of the sentients standing behind Wuns flinched at Gurts' statement. His eyes widened (mmm ... that was an indication of ... surprise, wasn't it?) and darted to Jregli, giving her a more thorough look. Jregli looked at him, too, and realized that he must be from the same Race as Gurts, Pug, and Draon. Wait, hadn't Ungrut called them ... mmm ... Tingort? What did she know about Tingorts? Something about manners?

"There's no need for me to apologize to anyone! Unlike you layabouts, I'm doing my job!" Wuns jabbed a stubby finger at Jregli. "Now get that thing out of here and ge--"

A massive hand landed on Wuns' shoulder just before Ungrut and Fardes reached out to restrain the Tingorts in their party. Wuns yelped (Jregli winced at the piercing sound) and looked up at the Tingort behind him.

"Hah, Boss; they do have th' right ta short breaks, an' visitin' is allowed right o'er here. Th' Union 'llows it, an' they could make trouble if they'd mind ta. An' Frudorn, he'd be might upset a' trouble wi' th' Union."

"How dare you support their insubordination!" Wuns was nearly screaming now, and his face had changed colors.

"Rund's got a point, Boss," another one muttered. "Union's fierce about the agreements for working, and Frudorn don't pay us to get them angry."

Jregli could actually hear Wuns' heart pounding, and she watched with sick fascination as a blood vessel swelled in his neck. The short manager whipped his head back and forth, trying to glare at all of them at once. Several tense Seconds passed, marked only by the distant sounds of machinery and Wuns' rapid breathing.

"Fine!" he snarled. "Five Minutes, and not a Second longer! And you're all still going to be written up for insubordination! You, too, Rund!" He spun around, planted a booted foot on the decking, and launched off into the bay. His followers left more slowly, glaring at Gurts and the rest and muttering quietly to one another. Except for Rund. He and Pug stared calmly at one another for several beats. Then he turned to Jregli.

"Sorry f' th' trouble, m'lady," he bobbed his head in an abbreviated bow to Jregli. "But yeh might be wantin' ta move along quick an' all. We've work ta do here, Union 'r no, an' we can't be too long 'bout it." Rund bobbed his head at the group and then again at Jregli and left.

Jregli's defenders relaxed as Rund left. Jregli did not relax. What had that all been about? Was visiting in the docking bays truly forbidden? No; Runds had gotten them all to agree that it was, within limits, allowed. And if visits and breaks were allowed, what had Wuns been so upset over? Oh, think for a moment! she chided herself. Of course Wuns was desperate to prove himself superior. He would seize any opportunity to exert his power. He was shorter and less physically capable, and nearly every sentient in the galaxy would feel threatened by someone bigger and stronger. Jregli certainly did. Plus, Wuns was a Westro. They were just mean people.

Space & Time: page 31

"Glad ta see yer brother haint fergot his manners," Draon said casually to Pug.

"Nah, he's only lost his good sense. Bein' mannerly is fer survial," Pug replied just as calmly. "D'ya think our Da would'a let him live if he weren't?" Soft chuckles helped relieve the tension.

Manners; that was it. Tingorts had a deep-rooted set of social behaviors that dictated every part of their lives. The rules of greatest concern to the situation that had just played out was How to Treat a Female. Female Tingorts (and, by extension, all females of any race) were to be cherished, nurtured, and protected from harm. That was because there were so few of them and reproduction was so hard on them. Yes, so Tingorts like Gurts, Pug, Draon, and even Rund were socially hard-wired to be courteous and careful with females. That made sense. That explained their actions, yes.

"Well, Zreggie, m'love, I hate ta say it, but I guess yeh'd best be goin' on now," Gurts turned to her with apparently genuine regret. "We do have th' cargoes ta offload. But don' yeh worry none 'bout Wuns an' them all! We've th' right of it, so they'll no harm be done for yeh comin' out t'day."

"'Tis truth, Dreggo," Fardes put in helpfully. "We've had worse from that 'un. Afore yeh go, though, how's 'bout yeh give us a rek-o-men-da-shun, eh? Since yeh won' tell us no secrets!" He grinned cheerfully as the others chorused their approval.

"Mmmm ..." Jregli scrambled to think. "I'd recommend a Grasil Reaction Drive with Revory Dry, Butres dark mix, and a twist of Wunit Argent." Fardes' mouth opened in a comical fashion, Ungrut whistled through his lips, Gurts groaned, and Draon and Pug burst out laughing.

"Bright Stars, darlin'!" Gurts exclaimed. "Tha' would cost me a whole paycheck, fer jus' one drink!"

"Trust th' barmaid ta sell ya th' most a-spensive bottle o' th' top shelf!" Pug managed around his laughter.

"Are ... are yeh serious?" Fardes demanded.

"Well, an' why not?" Jregli dared to shoot back. "If yer goin' ta spend yer whole pay on booze anyhow, yeh might so well as spend it on the good stuff!" The five laughed even harder, some agreeing, some disagreeing. Jregli decided to dare a little more. "'Sides, can yeh blame a girl for makin' a livin'?" She turned her head to the left, angling her right eye at Gurts, and flipped the eyelid closed and then back open in a credible (she hoped) imitation of a wink.

The dock hands actually howled in amusement at that (except for Gurts, who turned a strange shade of brown). Four meaty hands began pounding on Gurts' shoulders and back, sending him shooting forward towards Jregli. He flailed his arms, caught by surprise. Jregli somehow had the sense to not try to dodge out of the way; she'd only have wound up upside down and bouncing off the bulkheads, certainly! Gurts recovered quickly; there was no way for him to not bump into Jregli, but he made it more of a catch than a crash. Jregli instinctively flinched, pulling her arms close to her body as the massive alien reached for her.

"Hoo, now, Gurto, yeh've got yerself a good 'un now!" Ungrut called out.

"Hah, and now yeh've got ta be proper 'bout it, lad!" Draon hooted. Gurts turned himself and Jregli towards the group, his arm now around her shoulders and his hands gently clasped around hers. He started to say something (he looked more than flustered, Jregli spared a Second to notice) when the Twins suddenly shot into the middle of the group. Where had they been?

"Remove your hands from our sister!" Harvit snarled.

"How dare you! To place hands upon a child!" Hevrit snapped. They looked ready to take on all five of the larger, stronger, dock hands. For some reason, Jregli almost believed that they could.

The five immediately stopped laughing.

"Child? What d' yeh mean, lad?" Gurts looked from the Hunsids to Jregli and back. "Sure an' she's not reached majority yet, but nineteen haint still a child!"

"Nineteen Yerbran Cycles, you lump; not nineteen Standard Years!" Hevrit said through clenched teeth.

"Yerbrans age far more slowly than most Races. Her nineteen Cycles only equal eight Standard Units of Age!" Harvit glared at all of them.

"WHAT?" Gurts' bellow joined with the other's to ring painfully in Jregli's chambers. She flinched again at the sound, drawing Gurts' attention, and unfortunately, startling him into squeezing her hands. Which is how the Twins found out about her palms.

Space & Time: page 32

A sharp knock on the doorframe of his office startled Lieutenant Dr. Greenwich from his intense concentration. Jumping slightly, he had to refocus his eyes to make out who stood there.

"Commander!" He stood up quickly, knocking his chair backwards and spilling a stack of memo boards. "Good to see you, sir!" He grabbed the boards and tried to restack them. Neim chuckled.

"Good to see you, Sam," he replied. "What's got you scowling so hard? You looked like you were thinking 'biological warfare' involves hand-to-hand combat!"

"Ah, sorry about that; just ... ah, caught up in some research, you know?" Greenwich combed his pale brown hair back from his face self-consciously.

"Oh? What's caught your fancy now?" Neim scratched his own close-cropped locks casually.

"Ah, well, I really can't say, sir. Patient privacy, you know."

"Say no more; I get the drift." Neim smiled crookedly. "Well, I'm just in for my quarterly physical, and I don't have much time, so I'll leave you to your research and get on with my check-up. Oh, you up for some 'fishing this weekend?"

"Umm ... I think so, but let me double-check my calendar ..." Greenwich located his chair, tugged it to the desk, and plopped down in it. After a moment, he'd brought up his schedule on the console display and glanced over it. "Yes, I do have two hours tomorrow afternoon. Say 1445 at the officer's rec room?" He glanced back up at Neim.

"Sounds good. I'll reserve the 'tainment units when I get done here. See you then!" He waved and was gone. Greenwich waved half-heartedly and chuckled to himself. He and Frank Neim had known each other for years, ever since they'd served at the Randaran Post. It had been his first Post out of his residency, and the last year of his stay there had been Neim's first. Their mutual love of cave fishing provided the introduction, and they'd found other shared interests since. 'Fishing would be a relaxing distraction from his current problem.

He just didn't know enough about Yerbrans. Not about their physiology, and not about their culture. The young Yerbran he'd treated a short while ago had bothered him deeply. No, he was more than bothered; he was horrified. The last time he'd encountered someone with so much physical damage had been the time he served with a Marine Battalion, and those injuries had been earned through combat. The Yerbran who'd been his patient looked like she'd been torn apart and glued back together backwards.

She had come in with two Hunsids, which had surprised him greatly. Greenwich had been in his office then and knew that only Hunsids could make that kind of ruckus, so he had hurried to the waiting room. It looked like they had forcibly dragged her to the Medical Facility, and they were in a towering rage. What surprised him, actually, was not that they had decided to "adopt" someone from another Race. He knew that Hunsids tended to latch onto anyone they liked; in fact, Greenwich himself could claim a tenuous kinship to a clan for his treatment of one of their own who had come down with a nasty virus. That had been, what, six Years ago? No, what surprised him was that there were only two of them. He had never seen Hunsids travel in family groups of less than ten.

Though he was not surprised to see a Hunsid "adoptee," he was intrigued that they had chosen a Yerbran. Yerbrans were as unaffectionate as the Hunsids were over-affectionate. Two more different Races he could not imagine. But that was immaterial, and if he stood there gawking one Second longer, the two before him would have started throwing things.

"I'm Dr. Greenwich," he walked forward to meet them, saving the receptionist, who was too fresh from her Home world to know how to handle Hunsids with an injured family member. Dinnie was an excellent receptionist but tended to get overwhelmed by new things; it was far better to let her sit this one out. "How may I be of service?"

"This is our sister, Jregli," the one on the left announced flatly. Greenwich blinked. They actually claimed her for their sister? Usually, they called other sentients they "adopted" kin-sister, kin-cousin, or something like that. Oh, boy. This was worse than he had thought. "She is injured; her hands are severely infected!" The Hunsid thrust the wrist he held forward, jerking the Yerbran slightly, and turned the palm up. His brother mimicked his movement, and Greenwich obligingly examined the Yerbran's hands.

Space & Time: page 33

"You're right; these lacerations do need attention," he soothed, glancing up at the patient in question. That gave him his first shock of the afternoon. The first of many. Somehow, he instantly recognized that it was a very young child who stood before him, and his next realization was that she was badly frightened.

Greenwich had never seen a Yerbran who wasn't fully grown, and never had he seen one less than nine SS-UH tall. This child was a little over six and shook like the proverbial leaf in the wind. He could see the tension in her body, and he could see nearly every bone in her body. The child had been starved; in fact, it might have been the worst case of malnutrition he had ever seen.

"I will see to filling out the required forms," said the Hunsid on the right, "so that you may begin treating her immediately." He looked just as upset as his brother, but he was holding up better, was in better control of himself. Greenwich pegged him for the level-headed "diplomatic" half of the Twins (which would make the one on the left the "protector" and more volatile Twin) and decided he could probably keep himself together long enough to not scare Dinnie witless.

"That sounds fine," he said calmly. "Dinnie will help you with the forms while I treat your sister's injuries." He had a feeling that there would be more to treat than just her hands, which looked absurdly large for her body and whose claws were rough and cracked, an indication of improper nutrition and lack of cholecalciferol -- or whatever the Yerbran equivalent of vitamin D was. He'd never seen a Yerbran with less than pristine claws, and his concern mounted considerably.

As a medical professional, Greenwich had learned how to distance himself empathetically from his patients so that he could focus on treating and healing them rather than on the emotional trauma that so easily distracted both patient and family. He didn't make himself not care, and he certainly wasn't unkind to them, but he'd learned to let the emotions slide away from him. It was a defensive measure that everyone in medicine practiced; they had to, or they would be completely consumed by the tragedies they saw every single day. Even Fluerans, the most unemotional Race in the Mutuality, had to keep extra distance in their hearts and minds to be able to help sick and hurting sentients on a regular basis.

Treating the Yerbran girl (he determined that after a quick glance at her feet, which had no spurs at the heels indicating the male gender) was one of the hardest cases he'd ever worked. It was worse than his first post-battle triage of the 673rd Marine Battalion, when he was still green enough to think that wars didn't really hurt people that badly. His horror then had been due to his ignorance and his innocence. A decade later, his horror was due to his knowledge and experience. And he had known from the moment the girl spoke up that he had never come across anything like this.

"Oh, please, it's not that bad!" she had protested pathetically. Her voice was like gravel, indicating a malformation in her vocal membranes, likely due to lack of proper lubrication by the mucus glands. "I was just clumsy; I tripped and scratched myself, that's all!" She tried in vain to free her wrists. "There's no need for all this fuss!" She spoke excellent Mutual for one so young. Then Greenwich had the thought that she might be older than she looked. Malnourishment didn't allow children of any Race to grow properly.

"Well, if it's not bad, then it won't take but a few moments to clean them up and get you on your way," Greenwich had said with calm he did not quite feel as he ushered the patient (dragged by her smaller "brother") into a room. "If you would just hope up on the table and make yourself comfortable, I'll get this over with."

It wasn't hard to convince the Hunsid (named Harvit) when the girl had admitted to never having had a full physical that Greenwich should thoroughly examine her. She kept cringing and protesting, though her protests grew weaker after a while. In fact, she seemed frighteningly resigned by the time Greenwich was done. When the other brother showed up and introduced himself as Hevrit, Greenwich had nodded politely and finished the examination. He had disinfected the girl's hands and sealed them with a bonding medical wrap and given instructions for their care. He had also prescribed some of the basic nutrient supplements and an anti-biotic to help with the healing. And then came the hard part. Who did he reveal his findings to?

Space & Time: page 34

The Hunsids claimed her as family, but she was legally the ward of Shdr'edno nn 'Ovvunnith, who apparently ran one of the better Pubs on the Station. Both the Hunsids and the girl obviously did not care for him and did not "want to bother him" with the knowledge of "their sister's" condition.

The girl was terrified of her uncle while the Hunsids were disgusted by him. The problem was that she was both his legal ward and an officially adopted family member of a Hunsid clan; Greenwich had been quick to note that in the file Dinnie had created. This was shaping up to be a nasty custody case. And some one had to be told just how bad off the girl was. Frankly, Greenwich didn't know how the child was still alive, and he didn't have high hopes that she could live much longer.

Most of the long bones in her body had "greenstick" fractured at least once, and none of them had healed properly. Chronic blunt trauma to her thoracic and lumbar vertebra and upper caudal vertebra had caused permanent damage to her tissues, nerves, and overall boney architecture, resulting in malformation, stage three degenerative arthrosis, and atrophy to those systems. The gross osteochondral deposition at her main areas of trauma had effectively capped her growth plates, which meant that her tail in particular would not be able to grow much longer. That would be a problem; Yerbrans needed their tails to balance when they ran or jumped, which they did a lot of.

Integumentary depletions made her scales thin and weak, offering no protection to her desiccated skin, which was badly scarred. Her muscles were acutely underdeveloped, and she had depletion of her adipose tissues, which resulted in no reserves of subcutaneous or visceral fat, even on the pads of her feet, which was supposed to be the last reserve for any Yerbran. The resulting catabolysis gave her the extreme wasted look as her muscles were metabolized to compensate for her lack of caloric intake.

As he'd suspected, the mucous membranes in her aural chambers did not function properly, with the nasal turbinates operating at 8-74% of normal capacity. That had upset the entire physiology of her sinuses and aural cavities and resulted in high-grade dysplasia. The membranes that had received the least mucous lubrication had become inflamed, ulcerated, and eventually tore under the stress of everyday speech. The small flaps of skin that should have covered her fore and aft sinuses had atrophied and were incapable of proper function, resulting in acutely diminished protection against airborne alien particles.

Her hearing was above standard, but Greenwich felt that was due more to her desire to pay attention than her physical ability; one of her primary aural bones bore a large complex fracture that had healed non-aligned, and her third and fourth secondary aural bones had large amounts of osteochondral deposits. She also had significant buildup of foreign matter in her cranial cavities.

And that didn't even being to go into the fact that she couldn't walk properly on feet that had stress fractured, healed with yet more bone deposits, and re-fractured more times than Greenwich wanted to contemplate. Since she wasn't walking properly, her entire skeletal structure was out of alignment, and her constant cringing posture didn't help that, either. She was even more under-nourished than he'd thought, though he had detected recent increases in trace minerals that indicated she'd been getting some real food in the last Month or two. And she was much better hydrated now than in the past.

Yerbrans didn't actually have marasmus in their diagnostic manuals, and the girl didn't have the distended abdominal, but she had already degraded past any hope of correcting the depletion. When the Hunsids mentioned that she had come to the Station less than three Months ago, a few things fell into place. Not enough to complete the picture, however.

That picture was far from complete, and now Greenwich sat at his desk, head in his hands, as he tried to determine his next move. The Hunsid's claim on her was legally binding in their culture and by their law, but it was not legal by Mutuality Law. They would have to file a lot of paperwork to have that. Her legal guardian should be immediately notified of her condition, but everything they'd said, and especially what they hadn't said, made Greenwich pause. Was her guardian somehow responsible for her horrible injuries?

It sickened Greenwich to think of how much pain the child had to be in every Second. She couldn't be sleeping restfully. She hadn't been eating properly, even if being on the Station afforded her more access to better food. And why were the three of them so adamant that her uncle not be told?

Greenwich had spent most of his time since discharging her researching Yerbran anatomy, physiology, and sociology. He had picked up quite a bit on how a grown Yerbran was supposed to look, but nothing about Yerbran children. There was also a complete dearth of records on the kinds and extent of injuries the girl had. Yerbrans were noted for being a non-violent Race; every Yerbran Greenwich had treated (which was relatively few) had made it extremely clear how they hated exchanging blows. They preferred to do their fighting through commerce and politics, and there, they were deadly. But they didn't like even casual touch, so why was this girl so badly beaten?

She had to have been beaten, Greenwich decided. That was the only logical conclusion he could come to. Repeatedly, forcefully beaten. Some of her injuries could have come from falls, "clumsiness," as she had called it. Yet the normal adult physiology for Yerbrans did not allow for them to have endured this kind of trauma in the developmental years. So she could not have had a normal childhood to this point. But what was a normal Yerbran childhood?

Greenwich searched for over half an Hour before he found an article discussing Yerbran children. After reading it, he could understand why he'd had such trouble learning about them; they weren't officially a part of Yerbran society. Until they passed at least their 50th Cycle (which came to 24 Standard Units of Age and 57.47 Standard Years), they were not considered adults and not afforded any rights or privileges.

Three-quarters of an Hour after that, Greenwich found another article discussing how Yerbran children were expected to prove themselves "worthy" of becoming adults by displaying the commercial/legal relentlessness that hallmarked their Race. Children of higher-status adults had an edge in that they appeared to have better training and breeding, but it was possible for a child of a lower class to come up through the rankings and establish himself among the top-feeders.

None of the articles, however, so much as hinted that the Yerbrans were ever physically cruel to their children. Greenwich sighed morosely and leaned back in his chair. His neck was completely cramped from hunching over the console for so many hours. Hours? A quick glance at the chronom brought him to his feet.

He was late for dinner again; Kathy was not going to be happy. She wouldn't say anything, since she'd agreed to marry a doctor and knew that his work was important to him, but she still wouldn't be happy. Greenwich preferred to have her as happy as possible, so he usually got home right after shift end. But not always. He saved his notes and shut down the console, still stewing over his gut-wrenching mystery.

Space & Time: page 35

Jregli tried to be cheerful for the Twins, but it was hard. She couldn't help thinking over and over about how much trouble she was going to be in when Shdr'edno found out. The bandages were subtle, but a close look would spot them right away. Her hands didn't hurt nearly so much, but it was a small relief.

Snap out of it! she ordered herself. The Twins took her to the medical facility because they cared. They cared about her. They had yelled at Gurts because they cared. Gurts had apologized profusely because he cared; he hadn't realized that she was so young, and he hadn't meant anything serious when he'd grabbed her to avoid smacking into her. The others had protested just as forcefully that they had meant nothing inappropriate by their comments; they had been joking, was all!

The Twins hadn't stopped to hear those protests or Jregli's. They'd marched her to the med center, where the human physician had treated her. He'd been gentle with her, trying to make the painful process of cleaning out her wounds as easy as possible. It wasn't his fault that the situation was so awful; he didn't know what treating her was going to do! She shook herself mentally. Think, Jregli! What are you going to do?

Instead of panicking, try using that brain you're so blasted proud of! She deliberately swore, made herself do something she shouldn't, trying to shake loose the mental fug. Logically, it was understandable that she would have such trouble with all the events of the Day. She was still very young, for all her mental acuity, and relatively inexperienced. She was in a alien place, with alien sentients, surrounded by alien experiences. Any one of those factors would cause acute mental and emotional stress, and she was experiencing all of them simultaneously. Oh, and she had injured palms, too.

So, knowing that, she should take a different approach to things. To all of this. She could allow the events and the stress it created in her to lead to panic or mental/emotional shut down, or she could face each one and deal with it as it came. She could overcome each one. That would be a different battle, a battle with herself. The great philosopher Pruy'thipms, the founder of the Wind Brothers and Wind Dancers, had asserted that the inner battle was of greater importance than any outer battle, and that inner battle was one of the tenets of the Sect of the Wind. And she, Jregli, could certainly meet such a challenge!

She was strong, stronger than anyone could ever imagine! Her Masters certainly did not think she was strong. They beat her, starved her, degraded her, and expected her to break apart. They thought she was as frail as the grasses of the Hunsid Plains! She was strong! A daughter of Yerbra. No matter that she was a slave. That didn't matter. Even if she never earned a name that history could remember, if she never left any deep, dark cavern some miserable Master stuck her in, she had herself and her strength.

Masters, free men and women, grew thinking they were better, stronger, smarter than everyone else. They had to prove it, and those that did rose to higher and higher status. And when they reached the top of the cliffs, they always found someone was there above them. Masters never knew that they weren't perfect until something drastic happened. Such as when Shdr'edno defeated the Merchant's Forum; those old Masters had been shocked to realize, discover, that someone was better than they were. That shock caused them to lose their grip on the cliffs of status, and how they fell!

Jregli had the advantage over them; she already knew how disadvantaged she was. She knew that there were those who were better than her. So she wouldn't be destroyed by events that proved that. Yes, she could be startled, thrown off, but she could, would, recover faster than they. That was an advantage to being so young; she was still flexible and could adapt faster. The alien location she found herself in was the place of her choosing. Her wit and guile had won her this place. had she not said time and again how she adored being surrounded by so much diversity? And so many different sentients created that diversity, that cherished variety of life. This is what she wanted. This is what she would fight to keep!

She would fight herself, fight those thoughts of despair and bewilderment. She would fight against the habits and mindset her Masters had beaten into her. She would still be a slave, but she would be a slave as no other. She would be the slave that was remembered!

Jregli forced another smile for the Twins, firmly shoving aside the pain that still stung her, deep inside.

Space & Time: page 36

The arrival of the bot with a package of food surprised Shdr'edno. The message it bore shocked him. Those stupid Hunsids had paid for the brat to eat? From the amount of food left over, they must have spent a ridiculous amount of money on her. If these were the remains, Shdr'edno wondered if he could have eaten the entire meal, and he was a man grown! It galled him to think that they had done something like that for a slave. His slave.

He was sorely tempted to throw the whole mess in the waste bin. He was very tempted to eat it all; she belonged to him, so anything that came to her was his, as well. But too many of the employees had seen it come in and knew who it was for (Inop had seen to that), and Shdr'edno had appearances to maintain. He couldn't be thought to have lowered himself to something a slave would certainly have done. Slaves were crass creatures and would eat anything they could shove behind their teeth if they thought they could get away with it. Shdr'edno could "get away with" eating his slave's delivery, but that would mean eating something that she had touched. That realization made him nauseated.

How could he have allowed himself to sink so low, that he would even consider such a thing? Shdr'edno covered his loathing with brisk activity, leaving the bar to make his rounds and check up on his slovenly employees. A lengthy dressing-down of Funnwrub for failing to understand the definition of "clean lavatories" took the edge off his temper. Really, what did these fools think he was paying them for? To sit around and eat his food? They had agreed to work, by the Gales! Why were employees the Galaxy over such lazy louts? His temper started to climb again.

Realizing that he would not be able to control his expression in front of the inferiors, Shdr'edno stalked off to his office. His 'feeds would keep as close a watch on them as he could wish, and here he could distract himself from the brat and all the problems she presented. He usually didn't work on the truly profitable projects when the pub was more than a third full, since the employees couldn't be trusted with any more responsibility than that, but today was an exception. Firing up his most secure console, he began flipping through the files for something to do.

Mm, the latest shipment from Trenoff was en route; in fact, it should arrive in the Morning. 'P would be relieved; his customers were growing anxious, and one did not wish to have something as ... influential ... as the Ino Coalition upset with one. The Jeftryo was a fool, in Shdr'edno's considered opinion, to be involved with such a volatile and publicly denounced criminal organization, but that was 'P's business, not Shdr'edno's. His business was helping 'P get the materials the Inos wanted, such as raw openy from Trenoff.

Now, openy was not a restricted trade good; it was needed for any number of legal, highly valued products. Openy was, however, quite expensive, and the purity of each batch of the processed powder increased it price. The most valuable final product requiring openy, of course, was not legal, and it was an open secret that the Ino Coalition ... facilitated the black-market trade of the dream-inducing liquid known by hundreds of different names and officially labeled lodon by the Mutuality Comptroller. But Shdr'edno was not part of that business at all.

Shdr'edno participated in the absolutely legal business of acquiring the purest openy at the lowest prices and passing those savings on to customers who had legitimate reasons for buying the stuff. The fact that they chose to use it for illegal reasons was not his fault, now, was it? He cheered up a bit as he sent 'P a message to meet him in the docking bay to review the shipment together.

What else had turned up in the past few hours? Mm, yes, good. The Ufniorn merchant had agreed to his proposal. Shdr'edno had never doubted that she would, but it was better to have a deal made than pending. Acting as his courier and occasionally moving small cargoes was a small crack to jump for making certain that her superiors kept promoting her. And with the information Shdr'endo could provide ... and hide ... she could be well-promoted, indeed. Even after she was no longer a mere ship's captain, she would owe him, and she would continue to make good on that debt.

Which would be very handy for instances like the transfer of the Drinon bio-spheres he had been waiting to make. That tidy little package lay patiently in the secure care of a certain food vendor whose shop was conveniently close to the cargo bay that good Captain Prregven usually berthed at, and it would be a simple matter for her to pause for a snack and perhaps buy one of the small trinkets also for sale. Prregven was good at not asking the right questions, which was one of the biggest reasons Shdr'edno had chosen her to join his little fleet of opportunists.

He worked contentedly for several more hours before deciding he was feeling well enough to return to his Pub and Arcade.

Space & Time: page 37

When the Twins told Jregli where they had made reservations for dinner, she nearly fell over from shock. The Glass Room was the foremost hot spot on the Station, and it was known across four sectors and had a list ten Months long. She hadn't been on the Station for ten Months! The Glass Room had the best food, drink, and entertainment (the proprietors bragged, and enough others echoed them that it was generally believed) in this half of the Galaxy, and it was the entertainment that made Jregli's mind race and her tail quiver.

"How ... how is this possible?" she demanded, staring at the grin-split faces of the Twins. "I haven't been here nearly long enough for you to have made a reservation! And I ... I ..."

"Ha ha ha! Oh, little sister, precious one, do you not believe that you are worth any extravagance?" Hevrit cheerily asked.

"You are worth any price to us, dear one," Harvit chimed in, saving Jregli from the potential danger of trying to explain that of course she wasn't worth it, "and we mean to prove it!" There was a sparkle in Harvit's eye that seemed slightly dangerous to Jregli.

"But do not fret yourself over this, darling sister," Hevrit cut off his brother with a subtle warning glance, "for in truth, we have a standing reservation at the Glass Room." He grinned again at Jregli, and Harvit's matched his again.

"How can you have a standing reservation at someplace like the Glass Room!" Jregli made a note to somehow find a way to record all the events of this Day. They were just too fantastic to believe.

"Our cousin Novin is the maitre d' at the Glass Room, so of course we have a standing reservation!" Harvit laughed merrily. "And Cousin Gonal is the Head Chef, and Cousin Ronal is her first assistant."

"And Uncle Frindes and Aunt Eundos manage all the electronics for the Glass Room, from the lighting to the sound to the 'tainment," Hevrit chimed in. "And all the little ones who are old enough run all the errands for everyone."

"Does your whole family work at the Glass Room?" Jregli couldn't quite conceive of so many cousins. Aunt Eundos must be forever laying eggs! Wait, Hunsids bore their young live, so Eundos must be forever gravid!

"Oh, no, not at all," Hevrit replied seriously. "The Glass Room couldn't possible employ all of us." Harvit nodded. They were serious.

"Just how many are there in your family?" They had told her they had twenty siblings, but she just hadn't believed it. Not really.

"Well," Hevrit began, passing Jregli the cup of whatever drink he had just ordered for her from the vendor whose stall they had paused at, "in the first circle, there are thirty of us." Jregli's tail nearly hit the floor at that. "That's Mother, dear and blessed lady of our home! and Father, great and noble sire that he is. And then the eldest, which are Trinuy and Tranoy, Rindov and Qindov, and Eugnop, Iopon, and Pongue. Yes, we do have triplets in our family!"

"Two sets, in fact!" Harvit added. "Triplets are very rare for Hunsids, and it's a huge boon to have not one, but two in our first circle!" For lack of a coherent response, Jregli took a swig of her drink. She couldn't have told anyone afterward what it tasted like, though.

"The second eldest," Hevrit continued, "are we two, Onith and Enith, Konder and Lendor, and Anos and Sona. Sona died at a very young age, tragically, so Anos joined the first of the thirds." Both of their faces crumpled at the thought of their lost sibling.

"The third eldest," Harvit took up the narrative, "are Sonfri and Ginfro, Wendo and Frendo, and Jurik, Korij, and Lirkoj. The second triplets are only four Standard Ages old, being a tender three Hunsid Seasons, are are an absolute delight!"

"You might enjoy time with Anos, Sonfri, and Ginfro; they nearly your same Standard Age," Hevrit put in. "Although, you are so mature for your Age that you might find it better with Trinuy and Tranoy!" They both chuckled at that. Jregli concentrated for a moment on not tripping over a group of Oonparian tourists and wondered when she had begun walking. They were quite a ways from the drink vendor. If she didn't start paying better attention to her surroundings, she was going to land in serious trouble.

"Mmm, that's twenty-four of you. Who are the other six?"Jregli took another swallow when she saw Harvit glance covertly at her cup.

"Ah! Those are our adopted siblings! They were not born to us, but they are as dearly loved by us as our own blood!" Hevrit took Jregli's now-empty cup and tossed it with his into a disposal hatch. Harvit paused for the half-Second it took to to put his in there as well. Hevrit ticked off the adopted siblings on his right hand.

"Yonfr-onf was born Grevian, Win was born Pontan, Rungoltu was born Ekwan, Saffid was born Qwadesixo, 'L was born Jeftryon, and you were born Yerbran!" Hevrit finished triumphantly.

Space & Time: page 38

"Me??" Jregli had wanted to ask how so many could all be the eldest at once, but that was no longer important. "I ... you ... I'm part of your family?"

"Of course you are, dear one; we wouldn't call you sister if you weren't." Harvit looked put out.

"Ah, I see that you have not researched that part of our culture, sweet sister; our apologies." Hevrit gave Harvit a sharp jab in the ribs for some reason. "You are so astute that we assumed you already knew our ways. You are one of our true siblings, part of our first circle. We spoke at length about you with our dear Mother and honored Father and all our siblings, and we all agreed that you belonged with us!" He smiled broadly.

"You ... you ..." They had no idea what they had done! Jregli groped blindly, frantically, for words. Of course they had no idea! How could they know? She pulled up everything she could recall about Hunsids and their family ways. What cloud-blessed reason could they have had ...?

"We've been watching you from the Day you arrived," Harvit piped up. "It was obvious to us that your 'uncle' was not expecting you and did not care that you had come to him." Harvit laced his tone with contempt. "His own kin, and he neither knew nor cared that you were orphaned! Completely alone and destitute! Why, even these Months later, we can still see your bones! He is obviously unfit t--"

"We were so very concerned for you, sweet Jregli," Hevrit interrupted his agitated brother. "No child should look so wretched as you did when you came to us! And no child should be so alone in the Galaxy. Your parents dead and gone, no family on your Home world to care for you, slaving away," Jregli hid a wince at the term, "for obviously irresponsible masters, and finally, when you do find a relative to look after you, he does not even care!"

"Yerbrans do care!" Jregli protested desperately. "We do! Just because we don't act the way that you do doesn't mean we don't!"

"We have seen how Yerbrans care!" Harvit spat contemptuously; Hevrit grabbed his arm and glared his brother to silence.

"Yes, we have seen how Yerbrans care for one another," he agreed more calmly. "And we have seen that Yerbrans do care, in their way. But we have also seen the your kin-uncle does not care for you, and this is not right. You should be allowed a happy childhood with loving family surrounding you."

"But I am happy! Can you not tell how happy I am to be here, on the Station, with my Uncle?" They tried to interrupt, but Jregli didn't let them. Couldn't let them. If they tried to take her away from her Master ... it would be an intergalactic incident! They just couldn't understand how it was right for her to stay with the man who had bought her, legally. "My Uncle may not 'care' for me the way you think he should, but he cares far more than anyone else ever did! He does not beat me! He does not starve me! He lets me sleep when I am tired and learn whatever I want to. I may speak when I wish and to whom I wish. I get to meet so many different sentients from all over the Galaxy, and, for the first time in my life, I have friends!"

Her voice had long since gone from desperate to sobbing. Yerbrans didn't waste bodily fluids the way that other Races did when upset, but the shaking in her voice produced a similar aural effect. The words began to tumble out, and a fraction of her mind hoped that she wouldn't blurt out something she shouldn't. It was just so ... so ... how in the Galaxy was she going to talk her way out of this one? And not dig yet another pit to climb out of? She didn't want to lose the Twins, but she couldn't, just couldn't run away from her Master! It was impossible! Bad enough that she openly defied him, but running away--!

"Maybe I should have something different, more affection or whatever. But I have more now than I have ever had in my entire life combined and multiplied! Do you know, can you imagine, how it felt the first time I realized that you liked me? Actually liked me? No one has ever liked me before!" She threw her bandaged hands wide in Hunsid fashion. "I was nothing, and no one! Back Home, I was just another body to do work. Here, I am doing work, and I am rewarded for it. Sentients enjoy the work that I do, the fact that I am the one doing the work. And even if I weren't doing anything useful, I think you would still like me!" She dropped her hands and her volume. "And that makes me so very happy."

Hunsids were one of the Races that did exude clear fluid (saline?) from their eyes when emotionally aroused, and the eyes of both Twins leaked large drops as they reached to put their arms around her waist. Jregli took the moment to try to think of some coherent arguement.

"Perhaps my kin-uncle is not the most demonstrative of men," she allowed, "and perhaps he has reason to be that way. After all, I am a reminder of an embarassment." The Twins' heads popped up at that. "The reason he didn't look for me is becasue he didn't know about me. We are related because his great-great-grandsire was ... indiscreet ... and I am the most recent result." The Twins looked horrified. "Yerbrans don't enjoy the idea of by-blows, so having me around is not something that pleases him. Legally, he must provide for me, but it is not something he enjoys." Just enough information to confuse the scent, she thought.

"Oh, tragedy! Oh, shame! That a child should be made to suffer for the faithlessness of adults!" Harvit looked even angrier now. Not good.

"All the more reason for you to be part of a family that gives no thought to such nonsense!" Hevrit put in. "It is no fault of yours what your ancestors did or did not do!"

"And it is for me to climb above it! I am Yerbran," Jregli said firmly (and not, hopefully, desperately), "and I must do this the way that Yerbrans do things. Oh, I am so honored that you think so highly of me! But I must stay with my Uncle and be what I am. You want me to be one of your family, though I am of a different Race. Could I perhaps be both? Yerbran and Hunsid? I do not think it right that I should give up one heritage for another. Here at the Station, I have both. My Uncle to provide for me and you to ... love me." She tripped a little over that word.

Love was not a great part of Yerbran life. At least, not the exuberant, elaborated "love" she had witnessed in other Races. Yerbrans did care; she knew this. There were incredible dances about the caring of mates for one another, and there was the saga of Unip'onthru, who defied the ancient Council of Elders to save his young from being sold to cover his debts. Even in recent times, there were stories of Yerbrans who sacrificed themselves, even in small ways, to help someone else. Perhpas it didn't look the same to an alien, but it was there. It was caring. That was Yerbran "love". Yerbrans just didn't put it into words.

The Twins sniffled noisily, wiping suddenly draining noses on squares of cloth they'd pulled from somewhere. "Ah, precious sister; marvelous, darling sister Jregli!" Harvit bawled.

"You are so wise, so wise beyond your tender years!" Hevrit managed. He didn't know that she'd cobbled her little speech together from half a dozen epic 'tainments. She wasn't that wise, but she was clever. "We will honor your request, dear one--"

"Oh, yes! We will!" Harvit blubbered.

"And we will give you so very much love!" They both threw their arms around her again and squeezed.

That was one storm dodged, Jregli thought, patting the Twins awkwardly. She was glad they were holding her, actually. For one, she was so worn from trying to think of how to convince them to not try to take her away from her Master that she might have fallen down. For another, she thought she might actually enjoy the sensation of another living being in non-violent contact with her. It was ... nice. This alien comfort might have some merit to it, after all.

Space & Time: page 39

It took the Twins nearly half an Hour to calm down and dry their faces. Jregli didn't mind, since it also gave her time to mentally recoup. She really wanted to curl up in her little pile of blankets back in the storage room, but that wasn't an option. She'd learned long ago that slaves never had the option of resting when the Masters were still awake. The Twins were her Masters this Day, so she had to do whatever they wanted to do. Though she really did want to see the Glass Room and the--

"--Dancers! We are so fortunate indeed that this group decided to come to the Station!" Hevrit bubbled. "We were given to understand that the Children of the Wind rarely left Yerbra Home." He glanced quizzically at Jregli.

"Mm, well, the Wind Dancers don't often leave Yerbra, this is true, but the Wind Brothers have ever been the first to explore new territory. The Sect of the Wind is very old, and they have always been outside regular Yerbran society. They do not hold with many of our most cherished ways, which makes their exalted status somewhat confusing. They don't focus on business or commerce the way that most Yerbrans do, yet they manage to keep themselves solvent. They don't seek status, and yet they have it. The Brothers embrace combat and the use of arms, and the Dancers focus exclusively on the Dance and history. And still, they are the most forward-thinking of our people."

The Sect of the Wind was all that and so much more, Jregli mused. The fact that held highest place in her mind was that they rejected slavery. That was enough to make her revere them, all their other traits aside. If she were one of them, she would not be a slave. But since she was a slave, they would never buy her, so she could never be a part of their enclave.

"Dearest little sister," Harvit said slyly, "do you secretly long to be a Wind Dancer?"

"Dear brother, that's impossible. I could never be a Wind Dancer!"

"Ah, but he asked if you wanted to be one, not if you could," Hevrit teased. "There's no harm in wishing you could be one of them!"

Oh, but there was such great harm in wishing when you were a slave.

"If you must know, I have thought that it would be so wonderful to be a Wind Dancer," Jregli played along. "They are so beautiful, so graceful! But I am unable to dance, and, more importantly, I cannot sing."

"Why not?" Harvit asked. Hevrit looked at his brother as though he couldn't believe his Twin was that thick. "Oh," Harvit said after a moment.

"Wind Dancers sing the great histories as they dance, and since I cannot sing, I can never be one of them." Well, that and her status. "So, yes, I have thought about it, and I have put it from my mind. Still, I would greatly enjoy seeing them dance! I've never seen a full performance before!"

"Then let us make haste!" Hevrit cried and sprinted off down the corridor. It wasn't much of a sprint, given his short legs, and even Jregli had no trouble catching up with him. The Twins, of course, couldn't keep the pace very long, so they soon slowed to a fast walk that the Hunsids could maintain.

Before long, they arrived at the intersection of the eateries and the residences; this was where the most important sentients lived, so this was where the nicest eateries were. The Glass Room dominated the intersection, towering three levels over the main walk way. The outer walls were plastofab, of course, not real glass, but it was still impressive. The facade must have been designed by an artist who had been given free reign; it defied the mostly utilitarian look of the rest of the Station. The walls curved gracefully around the corner of the corridor, lit from behind with softly colored lights. Frosted patterns etched on the panels (which were all three Units wide by four Units high) caught the lights and threw beautiful shadows on passers-by.

A live garden extended a Unit from the base of the walls, filled with exotic plants and flowers and even a few water features. Jregli was fascinated by the trickling water and the tiny animals that darted through it. She was about to reach out to touch one when Harvit grabbed her wrist and pointed to a small device hidden by the large green leaves. Jregli instantly recognized the muzzle of the anti-theft projectile launcher; her hand had almost crossed its line of engagement. In fact, that looked like one of Shdr'edno's designs, a emnios 257 multi-dart launcher. In that case, there should be a ... yes, there was the unrewd-class alarm, a 42 model, it looked like. That was how the Glass Room could afford to keep real foliage in full public view. And if they had Shdr'edno's systems guarding the place ... her estimation of the Glass Room went up several more points.

Space & Time: page 40

"Thank you," she said to her brother (she was determined to re-order her thinking). "Although Uncle might be as pleased as he would be upset to see I had proven the efficiency of his systems." She made her smile wry.

"Hmmf," Harvit grunted. "You are certainly right about that, precious one."

"Now, before we go in to dine, let us take a few moments to freshen ourselves!" Hevrit announced. "Standing reservation or not, we should not appear in so fine a place as the Glass Room with the day's dust on our feet! Come this way, sweet sister!" The Twins shooed Jregli around the corner to the second doorway beyond the Glass Room. Not giving her a chance to get more than a glance at the unremarkable portal before moving her through it. They entered into a large room filled with comfortable (if boringly designed) furniture and sentients from several Races.

"Cousins!" several voices chorused from across the room. By virtue of her well-placed eyes, Jregli didn't need to move her head to see the gaggle of Hunsids jump up from a grouping of settees (couches?) and hurry towards them. She managed to sort out four sets of Twins and one extra who could have been either a triplet or an add-on like Anos. Mmm, three females, five males, and the extra was female.

"Cousins!" her Twins replied, moving forward to meet the family. After a few Seconds of hugs and pressing their lips to each other's cheeks (was that kissing?), her new brothers turned to her. Hevrit motioned her forward.

"This is our little sister, Jregli!" The light-speed introductions sorted the cousins out into one set of female twins (Unid and Enid), two sets of male twins (Trinds and Frends and Ontrup and Ontret), one set of female-male (Wondi and Wopna), and the extra was waiting for her female twin to finish her shift at the Glass Room. They were Yepna and Yapne. Jregli hoped that she could keep the right names with the right faces. Hunsid names were nothing like Yerbran names, so they didn't make much sense and were hard to pronounce. And there were just so many of them!

The cousins (all the children of Uncle Frindes and Aunt Eundos) spent a brief five minutes welcoming and gushing over Jregli before the Twins (Jregli's Twins; mm, this was going to be hard to keep straight!) cut them off.

"There will be ample time later to greet dear Jregli!" Harvit announced. "Now, we must tidy up for dinner!" That brought a chorus of approval, and the female cousins grabbed Jregli's arms and hands. The doctor had done good work; Jregli managed to not make a sound at the small stabs of discomfort in her palms.

"Careful!" Harvit barked, bringing the group to a halt. Nine heads whipped toward him and five sets of eyes narrowed in a familiar manner. "Her hands are injured; we must take gentle care of her!" Those five sets of eyes widened and joined the other four to stare at Jregli's hands, which had by now been turned upwards. Jregli pretended to not mind. She focused instead on the five who had responded so curiously. They glanced covertly at one another and at Harvit, communicating in that secret way she'd seen her brothers use before. They were ... acting like Harvit, as though they wanted to find someone to hurt. Because she was hurt. Jregli had to conclude that some Hunsids were more protective than others, and it looked like one per set was more ... aggressive than the other. How did that work with triplets?

The protective cousins (Enid, Trinds, Ontrup, Wopna, and Yepna) finished their silent conversation and turned sunny smiles back to Jregli, as though nothing had just happened.

"Oh, do excuse us, dear cousin!" Unid said contritely. "We shall not be so careless again!" The others, naturally, chorused their agreement. Then the females dragged Jregli up several flights of stairs and around three corners into a chamber smaller than the gathering area downstairs but still fairly spacious. The walls were covered in some shiney substance Jregli didn't recognize, the wall to the right was covered in mirrors on the top and small basins on the bottom, and furniture Jregli couldn't figure out filled the floor space. There were three-quarter-doors along the far wall, apparently leading into small stalls, medium-sized ... well, the best she could call them was reservoirs along the left wall, with fabric suspended from the ceiling pulled to one side of each (curtains?), and the heavy smell of water in the air.

"Now, darling little cousin," began one of them, "we have learned that Yerbrans consider 'cleaning up' differently than we do, so we have prepared most carefully!"

"Oh, yes," added Wondi, "we researched most carefully when dear Hevrit and Harvit told us about you!"

"We think you will like what we have found, but be certain to tell us if even the least little thing is less than perfectly agreeable!" Yepna added.

With that, the cousins produced a shockingly familiar box.

Space & Time: page 41

"Is that ..."Jregli couldn't make herself say it.

"Indeed, little cousin!" Yepna seemed to take great delight in calling her that, given the disparity in their heights. "This is an authentic lady's toiletry box! Now, it wasn't actually made on Yerbra Home, but it was made for Yerbran ladies such as yourself!"

Jregli was afraid to touch the box, so shiny from hours of hand-rubbing the synth-wood. It was exquisite, beautifully crafted by a master, surely! The box was the standard size, 0.53 Units long by 0.45 Units wide by 0.37 Units deep. The grain of the wood proved it be synth-yinrit'h, the most expensive material to make such a thing from. Yinrit'h wasn't edible, but its rich fragrance more than made up for that. The smell, Jregli thought, taking a shuddering breath, was almost as good as eating. Formulating the wood made it easy and cheap to created the aged, well-cured look that made the box look even more expensive than it was. And inside ...

Wondi lifted the lid with a flourish, and all the cousins wore now-familiar grins as Jregli stared at the rows of stone bottles. Synth-stone, of course. No one could afford real bottles such as these! Wed'sinl, ui'nitsd, reugn, blena'c ... Jregli recited the minerals as though reciting a ballad. Surely this was straight from a tale! Even Mistress had never had such gorgeous toiletries!

The box's lining was a rich synth of tryy'tr fabric, whose thick pile was a deep blue that once could only have come from the powdered shells of the tiny oonuy' bugs on the Plains of Deepness, the Unri'horia nn Wis'naire. The bottles nested gracefully in the royal color of the box, while the similarly-lined lid held the tools every Lady considered daily requirements. Carved from synth-Fw'iooo bone, the delicate instruments for shaping, smoothing, and sharpening claws, polishing scales, and trimming cuticle sheaths gleamed in anticipation of service.

"And, of course, let's not forget this!" Enid said, pulling out a smaller box of the same make. Lifting its lid, she proudly showed Jregli the granulated contents. Nearly any sand would do for scrubbing scales, but the cousins had continued their extravagance by filling the box with powdered lgo'tce crystals. Unid hefted a small mountain of soft cloths onto a bench. Wondi and Enid set the boxes on another bench as Yepna produced a synth-wood tray; the three of them began arranging the bottles on the tray while Unid began sorting the towels.

"You'll have to forgive us, darling cousin, but we couldn't determine how to pronounce the proper names for all of these," Yepna said conversationally.

"The large box is a ma'ekeu, the smaller box is an ott'resg. The bottles are called llot'ebs. How could you afford all this?!" Jregli's initial numbness vanished under her astonishment. "Even being made of synths, just one of these llot'ebsu would cost more seeds--more credits than most could make in a Cycle! A Year! A Star-Standard Year!"

The cousins had the same mischievous looks Jregli had come to know from the Twins. Her stuttering also seemed to amuse them. Unid answered for them.

"Well, telling would be revealing our sources, wouldn't it? Now that we have a Yerbran in the family, we have to learn to not embarrass her in public! You're not the only one who can make a clever deal, sweetling!"

"But--"

"Do not worry yourself, sweetling! We did indeed make a very clever deal, and acquiring these gifts for your welcome gave us no great hardship! They were neither difficult to procure nor harmful to our finances. It is so very thoughtful of you to have such concern for us!" And unwise to continue arguing.

Jregli just couldn't believe it. But she'd have to accept it. These Hunsids, she was coming to learn, were quite determined to spoil her. Which made no sense.

"I have come to know, from the example my brothers have set, that showing concern for one's family is proper," Jregli tried to be diplomatic. "And that learning as much as possible so as to be well-mannered is also proper. And giving gifts is proper. But what possible justification is there to spend so much on me??"

All four cousins stopped and looked at her. After several breaths, Yepna reached out and shoved Jregli. Obligingly caught off guard, Jregli stumbled backwards into a bench and fell onto it. The four arranged themselves to stand over her, their heads now barely topping Jregli's.

"There is no need to justify anything for family," Yepna told her quietly. They stared at Jregli; Jregli stared back at them.

"Yes, ma'am," Jregli whispered, leaning back slightly.

Yepna, Unid, Enid, and Wondi stared down at her for several beats longer. "Wonderful! Now, let's get started!"

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Jregli had to correct the cousins several times on how to properly use everything, but not as much as she'd thought she would. They had definitely done their research.

A proper Lady's toilette began with general cleansing; Jregli could have recited these steps in her sleep, so often she had assisted Mistress with them. But not once had Jregli ever received the attentions of others. She could tell her new family members what to do, but she couldn't tell herself how to act. Wondi poured a small amount of emd oil from the first llot'ebsu onto one of the cloths, dumped a handful of the powdered lgo'tce on that, and began gently scrubbing Jregli's right arm. Yepna did the same for her left arm, Unid started on Jregli's back, and Enid began on her tail. Jregli tried to cover her discomfort by giving extra instructions: use the scoop for the powder, always set the jars upright on the tray and put the stopper back on immediately, scour in a circular motion towards the hearts ...

It was very uncomfortable. The scrubbing itself wasn't so bad, but there were so many cracks, scratches, nicks, and bruises for the oil and powder to get into! The Station was far more humid the Yerbra, and some of the sore spots had begun to heal, but not all of them. Without the sharp rocks and constant winds to aggravate them, the innumerable small wounds in her hide had faded enough that Jregli had been able to ignore them for almost four weeks now. But the kindly ministrations of the Hunsid sisters found all too many of them.

Enid's touch on Jregli's tail was soft, but a Yerbran's tail was extremely sensitive. Aside from being nearly prehensile and used to create the subtleties of communication that most other Races needed their entire bodies to generate, tails had a large number of nerve endings. This made it useful for gathering information from the winds, whose force could be deflected by the head to flow down the back and over the tail. This also made the tail, particularly its base, an intimate part of Yerbran anatomy. Not the most intimate, by any leap. But it was a ticklish area, if nothing else. And the one spot Mistress had aimed her stick at more than any other.

So when Enid first touched the cloth to the base of Jregli's tail, Jregli couldn't hold back a yelp. Enid apologized, and Jregli made excuses, but she didn't mention that the reason she'd cried out was not because Enid had tickled her. The base of Jregli's tail hurt more than any other part of her body. It had always hurt more, it seemed, even more than the time Mistress had beaten her hard enough to lay open a gash on her back from her shoulder blade to her hip. It had taken almost two Cycles for that wound to heal up, and the scar wasn't as bad as it could have been. But even that didn't hurt as much as the constant ache in her tail. And now Enid was rubbing right on that spot.

The cousins made pleasant chatter as they worked, and Jregli supposed that she must have made appropriate responses, since she didn't later recall anything out of the ordinary. There was some exclamation over the poor condition of her scales, which Jregli explained easily enough; she was poor, and poor people didn't have access to good grooming tools. The cousins seemed to accept that, though they made it clear that Jregli would always have good grooming tools after this. How they thought they would get that by Uncle, Jregli had no idea. But she was long past arguing by now.

Since Jregli had never had a grooming before, she expected it to take a long time. The cousins, however, moved with a speed Jregli had thought impossible. Before she realized it, they had scrubbed her from head to toe-claws and begun oiling her down. The subtle fragrance of the im'of oil filled the bathing chamber (Wondi had been chattering about the function of everything in the room for over fifteen Mins now) as Jregli's parched skin soaked it up. The cousins were embarrassed that they didn't have enough oil; Jregli was humiliated that so much of such an expensive oil was needed.

Mistress Fun’gryu was a vain woman and spent a great deal of time, effort, and resources on her appearance. Jregli had assisted her former Mistress for hours each day on the very things the Hunsid cousins were doing for her. But even Fun'gryu had never used as much on herself as Jregli's new relatives had used on her. Of course, Mistress had been caring for her skin her entire life; one could absolutely argue that maintenance was far easier than repair. Jregli's tattered hide definitely needed repair, so the amount of resources required should not be surprising. In truth, it would take months of intensive treatment to bring Jregli to the merest appearance of respectability. The cousins seemed determined to start on that with a focus bordering on aggressive mania, Jregli was sure.

Maybe it was more than simply a cultural thing, she thought as Wondi and Unid began on her hand claws and Yepna and Enid began on her foot claws. Or, perhaps there were additional factors that created the cultural differences. Yerbra Home and Hunsid Home were vastly different worlds, so only a simpleton would think it odd that the Races that grew up on them would also be different from one another. Hunsid Home had lots of resources: plenty of water, plants, minerals, an easy climate, a good location relative to other inhabited worlds ... In contrast, Yerbra Home was isolated and limited, with inadequate resources to support a growing population of sentients. Small wonder that Hunsids thought nothing of being lavish and wasteful. No, Jregli corrected herself sternly, they were not being wasteful. That was a Yerbran mentality.

Yerbrans had little to work with, which created the hoarding nature that so many in the Mutuality complained about. Sentients, Jregli had come to realize, could be incredibly short-sighted. People were the way they were for often valid reasons. Didn't mean that they should stay that way, of course. Take the situation Jregli now found herself in: being polished, oiled, sharpened, and generally dandified by a pack of Hunsids that had claimed her as kin. Hunsids who insisted on spending large amounts of resources for her, such large amounts that there was inevitably inefficiencies that led to waste of resources. They came from a background that made some amounts of waste acceptable; they did not need to conserve every spare drop. In fact, they expected that not every input would go towards the final product. And if Jregli insisted on holding to the conservationist attitude of her Race, she would offend these sentients needlessly.

But they shouldn't be spending anything on her! something inside Jregli howled. She hadn't earned this, she hadn't paid for it, and she hadn't beaten them for it. She could philosophize all she wanted, but that didn't change the fact that this all blew directly across everything she'd ever known. Jregli was not Hunsid, she was Yerbran. She was a genius, intelligent and educated far beyond her years, smarter than the smartest of her Race! And she was also still a child! Not a social child, a real child. And this real child had had just about enough for one Day.

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Somehow, Jregli got through the rest of the "cleaning up" and the fawning approval of the males. When she'd been allowed back downstairs to the common room, she found the Twins dressed in neatly pressed suits and two more sets of cousins. She didn't bother trying to remember their names. She saved the last bit of her reserve for the dinner and hoped the Twins would let her go back to the Pub immediately afterwards. They were kinder Masters than most, so ... yes ... mmm, so tired!

She regained some focus when the Twins guided her out of the residential building and into the Corridor. The Glass Room glittered ahead of them, and Jregli tried to take it in. Many other sentients roamed the Corridor now, heading to their residences after their Day's work. Some were heading into the Glass Room, just as Jregli, Hevrit, and Harvit were. The Twins were in a fine mood, strutting arm-in-arm with Jregli as though escorting a princess. They did look sharp in their matching suits, with their hair combed and styled and their shoes polished. And Jregli supposed that she looked better than she ever had before, with her scales cleaned and her claws properly sharpened for the first time in her life. Those sentients who saw them gave them odd looks, but they seemed more surprised than disgusted. So that was something.

A small queue had formed outside the Glass Room, and the trio took their places in it. Jregli spared a moment to find it odd that someplace as nice as the Glass Room would make its customers line up outside. Then she realized that it was perfectly logical: the Glass Room was a place of Status, and those who patronized it wanted everyone else to know they did so. Being seen at a place of Status increased one's own Status. So, what did that do for a slave and a pair of Arcade workers?

The Twins chattered quietly, and Jregli didn't really pay attention to them. She concentrated on staying upright and mostly cognizant of her immediate surroundings. Her weariness tended to sneak up on her, she'd realized. She could go for hours at a time, all Day long, and then, it would all hit her at once. Of course, she'd started the Day tired, hadn't she? Had it really been only this Morning that they'd started out? This Day felt like it was taking Weeks to finish, and it wasn't finished yet. She still had to get through yet another meal (the first one was still rumbling through her shriveled gut) and a Dance.

A Dance. That's right! She perked up, the realization giving her a small spurt of energy. She was going to finally see a Dance, with real Wind Dancers! She'd seen a Wind Dancer once before, in passing. Mistress had sent her to the market for more ypren'r (as if the woman needed more calorie-filled delicacies; she was already plump enough that she couldn't climb a child-sized wall without pausing for breath), and there Jregli had seen one of the beautiful, etherial Sisters. The Dancer had moved like a ... a dream, a fantasy, too smoothly and gracefully to describe. Her scales had glimmered in the bright lighting of the market cavern, flowing gently over her trim muscles and stopping at her perfectly shaped claws. Her tail had swung gently with good humor as she spoke with the lordling who accompanied her.

It had been such a brief glimpse, but Jregli had treasured it. She had been only nine Cycles old, scarcely old enough to go out on her own, but Mistress' cravings took priority over other considerations. Jregli had been a little scared; the market was a big, bustling place, and one tiny slave would have easily been lost under the throng. But seeing that Dancer had made the trip more than worth it. Jregli held carefully to that memory, bringing it out late at night when she hurt too much to sleep, when she was too cold to shiver, anytime Mistress decided to yell at her. There was beauty and goodness and right among her people. That gave Jregli hope.

"Are you well, dear little sister?" Hevrit asked.

Jregli's attention crashed back to the Station and her brothers. "Mmm, yes, I am well. I'm just a little tired, is all." Surely she had performed well enough today to hope they would let her-- Fool! she chastised herself. These were her brothers. Moreover, they were her Hunsid brothers; she didn't have to earn favors from them. When was she going to get her thinking straightened out?

"Oh, no doubt of that, dear one! This has been a long and exciting Day for you! Well, do not worry yourself about it; you are entitled to your weariness! Why, we shall have a quiet, relaxing dinner, enjoy a lovely performance, and then we shall take you back to your bed and tuck you in!"

"That sounds wonderful. A good ending to a good Day." What 'tainment was that line from? Never mind.

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Soon enough, they settled around the table Cousin ... Whoever had assigned to them. Jregli told the Twins honestly that she had no idea what would be good and that they should order for her. That, of course, delighted them, although Harvit seemed to be nursing more of that clamped-down anger. What was he so upset about, anyway? While the Twins argued over the courses, Jregli looked around. She would probably never have the chance to come here again, cousins or no, so she wanted to remember as much as she could.

The main dining room was as grand as Jregli could have imagined. Well, a different kind of grand than she could have imagined. Jregli had studied long and carefully, but she was, after all, Yerbran, and everyone was limited to her own point of view. Having spent all of her life in one place, Jregli couldn't have imagined anything like the Glass Room actually was. It was far larger, more open, and designed far differently than anything she'd ever seen before. The soft lighting was bright enough that most sentients would feel comfortable, and the overall color of the room was a pale white. There wasn't much that could be called "glass," though, so Jregli decided that something else must have inspired the name of the restaurant.

The room rose some twenty-five Units tall, fully high enough for two Yerbran-sized stories. The expected tables covered the floor, ranging in size from less than a Unit square, barely big enough for two Jeftryos, to about four Units in diameter, which would seat about six Yerbrans or perhaps ten "average" sentients. Tablecloths whiter than clouds draped elegantly over each surface, falling all the way to the floor. If Jregli had to name the decor style, she might have called it "Traditional Classic," but she really didn't know enough about design history to be sure. In simpler, less exact terms, the interior of the Glass Room was "posh." All of the light fixtures were leafed in precious metals, with argentium being the predominant choice. Folds of soft fabric flowed down the far walls and several of the support pillars, adding to the airy feel of the space as well as helping to dampen the noise of so many conversations.

A balcony ran around three-quarters of the room, much as the one in the Pub did, although this one was proportionately larger and graced with a bannister made of spetler-painted metal; the Pub's railing was simple plastofab tinted a dark brown. The service staff moved gracefully between the tables, carrying trays almost as large as they without spilling a drop or looking the least put out by the loads. Their uniforms were not much different, stylistically, than what Shdr'edno's employees wore, but there the similarity ended. For one thing, these servers wore their uniforms with pride. They wanted to be here, waiting these elegant tables. It wasn't just work to them. Jregli, tired as she was, could see that clearly. What would it take to bring that kind of elegance, that kind of ... beauty, to the Pub?

"And what do you think so far, dear one?" Hevrit asked. Jregli dragged her attention back to the table, away from the elaborately-garbed patrons she'd been about to evaluate.

"It is beautiful." That was nearly all Jregli could say, and it was perhaps the best she could have said. Whether her new brothers realized it or not, just being allowed to glimpse this place would have been enough for Jregli. She didn't need to be a patron here, didn't need to be fussed over, to gain so much from this experience. Could they ever understand that?

"Ah, you have said it precisely! This is a truly beautiful place," Harvit agreed. He waved a hand, indicating the entire room. "A far cry form the Pub, I must say! We have tried, you must understand, to infuse this sort of work ethic into our fellow employees, and you have seen our success with that! Sentients should take pride in what they do, not try to get out of their appointed tasks at every opportunity. Look here, at how carefully each worker assumes his role, performs each task! It matters to them, dear sister, as it matters to us, to you, and perhaps three others at the Pub!"

"Why don't you work here, then, if the Pub is so distasteful?" That came out a bit more sharply than she'd planned. She was just too tired for this! Mmm, but no excuses.

The Twins looked at each other uncomfortably. Was there a trace of guilt there? Jregli sat up a bit straighter. They were using that silent, eye-to-eye communication again, which didn't have enough movements to it that Jregli could begin to unravel it. Hunsids weren't telepathic, were they? Mmm, no, they weren't. But they were good at non-verbal communication.

"That, dear one, is ... an unpleasant story, one that we will gladly tell you, but perhaps at a different time?" Hevrit asked hesitantly.

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Jregli stared at them for several beats. Of course, she was now insanely curious. She was also ridiculously tired, and she really needed to save everything for the Dance. "If that is your preference, of course. I'll wait."

"Ah, it isn't that we wish to keep it from you, sweet little sister; it's just that we don't wish to spoil your first Day out on the Station with bad memories," Harvit hastened to add.

"I will take your word for it, my brothers."

"Good! Now, I believe that our server is ready for us, so let's not keep him any longer, hmm?" Hevrit nodded to the impeccable Ewon hovering a few paces from the table. The Twins ordered the meal (which looked to be as large as the first one) with muted glee before turning back to Jregli.

"So, dear sister, what should we expect from this evening's 'tainment? We know a small bit about the Wind Dancers of Yerbra, but not enough to be prepared." They leaned in closer as the waiter came back with elegant glasses of chilled water. Jregli waited until he'd placed them down and left, as much from admiration of the craftsmanship as a case of the "stares". Shaking herself mentally, she set about answering the question.

"Mmm, I suppose the thing that's going to ... be the most different for you is how much movement there will be. Nearly all of the great Dances include a representation of the winds of Yerbra; so much of our cultural development has centered around avoiding the effect of the winds. As you noted earlier, the winds of Yerbra are fierce and strong. They are also virtually omnipresent. They rarely stop blowing, and they are rarely gentle enough to bear for extended periods of time.

"Yerbra's climate is dry and mostly hot, which is why the larger portion of the Dance will have Fw'innoo nn Endws, the 'Fire Winds.' Yerbra's extreme axial tilt and close proximity to its sun create these atmospheric conditions. Perhaps a third of the climate is extremely cold, usually at night, when the face of the planet hides from the sun or during our brief winter, when we are farthest from the sun." Jregli was very glad now that she'd memorized so much of the background of the Dancers and the most popular analyses of their Dances; it kept her from sounding too much like a blithering idiot. So tired!

"These cold times are represented as the Fw'innii nn Ttrens, the 'Frozen Winds.' Both are extremely dangerous to anyone caught unprotected in the open." She paused for a moment to savor the chilled water.

Hevrit interrupted briefly. "And yet, your people do not wear clothing; why, if these winds and temperatures are so harsh, do you not protect yourselves against them?"

"Because we really don't need clothing. Yes, the winds are dangerous, but we are tough enough to withstand all but the most extreme conditions. We can regulate our body temperatures at will and retain water far longer than most Races." The Twins nodded appreciatively and motioned for her to go on. "We might wear clothing for a specific task, such as scientific research that requires prolonged exposure, but we usually only wear clothing for ceremonial reasons. Such as the Dance.

"The Dance is perhaps our most sacred tradition, that and the Song. You'll hear both tonight, I think. The Dancers and Singers are usually the same group, and they are the ones who wear the garments. The dresses are made of a fabric called loget, which is made of threads created from a liquified crystal. This gives them an incredible visual pattern that I believe you will not be able to fully see, unfortunately. If you couldn't see the hhruty'd in the safety fields covering the observational portals, then you probably won't be able to see all of the colors in the Tro'tti n'n Refin'sifr, the dresses of the Dancers. You should be able to see enough to appreciate them, though.

"The Refin'sifr will have the colors of the Winds melded into their make-up to help distinguish the Fire from the Frozen. Again, you probably won't be able to see them, but the style of Dancing should help make up for that. I don't know that I can adequately explain what the Dance will look like to you; they will mimic the Winds, and if you've never seen the Winds, all their colors and patterns and devastation, then ... I suppose you will have to wait and find out." Jregli made a small smile at that.

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"It sounds fascintating!" Hevrit rubbed his hands together gleefully as Harvit pulled a folded leaf of printfab from his jacket pocket. He unfolded it and scanned the page quickly.

"This says they're doing a Dance called 'Breath of Life'," he informed Jregli.

"Mmm, I'm not familiar with the translated names of the Dances. Does that happen to give the name in Yerbran?"

"I think it does, dearest sister, since I cannot read this type here," Harvit handed Jregli the printfab.

"It does indeed! Although I do not think I would have translated it 'Breath of Life.' That is too ... simplistic to truly convey the meaning. But I suppose it will have to do." Jregli paused as the server brought their drinks and appetizers. Picking up a slice of something she suspected was fruit from the rim of her glass, she took a bite before continuing. Tart but not quite sour.

"This Dance is one of the more famous ones. It's quite complex and requires at least twenty Dancers; it usually has thirty or more. They break up into groups ... yes, if you look over there and over there, you'll see two other stages that are nearly the same size as the main stage, over there. Oh, good; they put up the connecting platforms to the main stage. Now, this Dance tells a story, as all the best Dances do, and there are even Wind Brothers in it. The Brothers represent all of life on Yerbra, and the Dancers are the Winds. The Fire Dancers will probably be on that side, with the Frozen Dancers on the other, opposite them. The Brothers will have to fight their way through them to the center stage."

"And what is on the center stage, that they should wage so desperate a battle?" Harvit obliged her leading pause.

"Mmm, that is where Life is! The Fw'nnae nn Str'enb, or 'Verdant Winds,' will be the smallest group of Dancers as well as the most important. The Winds that bring life to Yerbra are few and gentle, so they are easily overwhelmed by the heat and the cold. In the few days before and after our long summer, the planet is just the right distance from the sun for the rains to come and the plants to grow. When the plants grow, all creatures on Yerbra may eat, and Life continues on! The time just before dawn and just after dusk are also verdant times, although far shorter and less productive. The Wind Brothers will demonstrate all of Yerbra's struggle to overcome the fierce Winds that seek to control and destroy us in order to gain the blessings of the gentle, nurturing Winds. It's quite symbolic."

The Twins stared at her for several beats as she munched another piece of fruit, which was not at all tart but not sweet, either. Then they simultaneously clapped their hands. "We can hardly wait!" they squealed in their synchronized way. Jregli managed a chuckle at their naked enthusiasm. The more she talked about the Dance, the more excited she became, as well. She continued as their server gracefully set several more trays of appetizers on the table. Or was it the second course?

"I already told you that there will be a lot of movement; there will also be a lot of sound. The Winds are very noisy, so the Dances include that. Oh, it's all very musical and purposefully orchestrated, but there will be a lot going on all at once. The trick is to pick out the important parts from the rest of it. That's what we do every day on Yerbra Home. You have to find what's important and focus on it, not letting the unimportant bits distract you."

"There is much wisdom in that," Hevrit observed. "Oh, this will be a wonderful 'tainment! And I am so very happy we are able to share it with you, dear, sweet sister!"

"So, if we will not be able to see all the colors of the ... erm ... dresses, what will we see? What do they look like, or what will they look like to our simple eyes?" Harvit picked up an hors d'oeuvre and started into it like a hexacat with a stalk of celeraic. Jregli noted belatedly that all the dishes were vegetarian; in fact, there wasn't a scrap of meat in any of them, despite the Twin's omnivorous natures. They didn't need to do that; Jregli could handle the smell of flesh quite well. It wasn't nearly as unpleasant as, say, a lavatory. Before she could think to offer an objection, she automatically began answering Harvit's question.

"I have no idea what they will look like to you, brothers. You might as well try to describe weaving with fourteen strands to me! I've never not been able to see what the Tro'tti n'n Refin'sifr look like, and you've never not been able to hold more than I can. You have more fingers than I do, so what's natural to you is unnatural to me, and vice versa." She picked up a small bit of fluff from one of the trays and popped it past her teeth. One good thing about being so tired was that the amazing flavors filling her mouth couldn't distract her from her recitation. "That said, the descriptions offered by several 'blind' Races, which is the term we use for those who cannot see the full spectrum, is that the dresses are mostly white and catch the surrounding colors easily. In fact, that may be done here tonight; using lights to simulate the colors of the fabrics."

"Ah! yes!" Hevrit exclaimed. "Uncle told us that he had been very busy on a special project for the last several Weeks! In truth, that's why he recommended we bring you out today and bring you here tonight!"

"You're right, brother! So clever of you to put that together!" Harvit clapped his twin on the back.

"I am the smart one, everyone says," Hevrit replied loftily. The next several Minutes passed in a flurry of filial insults.

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By the time the Twins tired of ribbing each other, the server had laid out their main course. There was a chilled juice of some sort to drink, a basket of grain-based breads, and the single largest pile of greens Jregli had ever seen in her life. In fact, there were more than just greens in this mountain, she realized. Small bits of other vegetables hid under the leaves and stalks, and lighter bits of some soft solid tumbled down the sides. It was lightly coated with a glistening liquid glaze that appeared to have herbs mixed into it, and the whole thing smelled tangy, sharp, slightly sweet, and most of all like water.

Yerbran plants retained water as well as any of the other life forms sharing their parched home soil, and their tough fibers prevented easy loss of that careful horde. But the plants on the tray-sized platter in front of Jregli looked ... too delicate to hold as much water as they smelled like they were holding. Surely the slightest brush of wind would rip open those delicate leaves and snatch their life away!

"You're looking at your salad somewhat askance, dearest one," Hevrit chuckled.

"Although it's somewhat difficult to tell what she's looking at at any given time. Her eyes don't exactly give anything away, now, do they?" Harvit had apparently decided that Jregli needed to experience the brotherly affection he'd been giving his twin.

"This is true! What, precisely, are you looking at, Jregli?" Hevrit had no trouble picking up his brother's lead.

"Mmm, well, I'm looking at everything, actually. Mmm, everything I can see, I mean. Which is everything around me ... mmm ..." There really wasn't much Jregli could do about how idiotic she sounded, but that didn't stop her from performing a swift mental kick.

"Ah! I know! This is more of the difference between your natural abilities and ours! Why, with the placement of your eyes and the fact that you have one more than we do, why, you can see everything at once, can't you?" Hevrit abandoned his teasing as quickly as he'd started it.

"Well, not everything, but a lot of it. Mmm ... I can't see directly in front of me until about here," Jregli indicated a spot about half a Unit in front of her face and described the volume of the area with a gesture, "and I can't see directly beneath me until about here." She indicated the beginning of her field of vision at about halfway down her chest. "I can see behind me until just a few centi-Units from the back of my head, so there's not much I'm missing there. And I can see everything above me, as well."

"And you see all of at the same time?" Harvit asked.

"Yes."

"How do you stand it? I mean, how can you see all of that all at the same time? Well, obviously, you can see all of it because of ... I mean, but how do you see all of that and not go mad from it?" Harvit tried to ask.

"This is why I'm the smart one," Hevrit muttered. Jregli chuckled despite herself.

"How do I stand it? How do I not stand it? That's a question that cannot be answered! You may as well ask a Fhringos how it can not be claustrophobic or ... Yurs-Ond how he can have so many arms all at once! It's so natural that I can't describe it any better." Although she could quote at least seven others who'd tried to and published those attempts in various social and medical journals.

"Ha ha ha! Just as we cannot explain to you why a roast of smoked innyb is simply the best thing to bring to a clan meal!" Hevrit replied.

"This is true. You could tell me all the reasons for it, but I can't understand them because I'm too different." Jregli waved a hand in minute despair since the Twins couldn't see her tail and probably didn't understand it anyway.

"And we love that you are so different, precious one," Hevrit reached out to pat her arm.

"Yes, of course we do. But how do you see everything at once? What do you do with all of that information coming into your mind all at the same time?" Harvit persisted.

"The same way you do, I imagine. I do apologize, Harvit. I just don't have a better way to explain it; it just is."

"But --" Harvit broke off and jumped slightly in his chair before glaring at Hevrit.

"Then I suppose we'll simply have to accept that, little sister," Hevrit inserted smoothly, not looking and his angry twin, who seemed to be rubbing his leg under the table. "We can accept that something is without understanding why it is that way." He shot a covert glance at Harvit, who clamped his mouth and started in on the soup in front of him.

"Now, sweet one, why don't you give that salad a chance? It would be a shame to let it sit too long."

"Yes, sir," Jregli mumbled automatically and reached into the pile of leaves and pieces. This "salad" was a messy prospect.

"Ah, no, Jregli! Use the fork! That's what it's there for!" Harvit exclaimed. Jregli immediately dropped the handful and shrank back.

"I'm sorry, sir; I didn't think--" she began to whisper. Harvit jumped again and half-raised his hand in the direction of his brother.

"Stop that," Hevrit snapped at Harvit. "Yerbrans don't use utensils for eating, which you have seen if you had paid the slightest bit of attention! Of course she didn't know what it was there for!" Before Harvit could voice the retort that had leapt to his lips, Hevrit turned back to Jregli and spoke in a gentle voice.

"You may find the fork helpful, little one; the dressing makes the salad a different project than your normal fare. I know how Yerbrans like to keep their claws clean," he picked up Jregli's hand and began wiping it down with his own napkin, "so it might be worthwhile to try it out."

"It's going to be hard for her to hold it, considering that she has claws and all," Harvit muttered grumpily with the air of someone trying to say something intelligent to make up for other unintelligent things he'd already said.

"Well, all she has to do is hold it like so, without curling her fingers under, and she can manage it." Hevrit manipulated Jregli's hand to hold the fork. It felt cool and tiny in Jregli's over-sized, ungainly hand. She tried to not show how little she liked Hevrit picking up her hand without asking permission; that sort of thing just Wasn't Done amongst Yerbrans. But Hevrit is not Yerbran, she reminded herself, so stop complaining.

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Delicately clutching the argentium-plated instrument, Jregli made an experimental stab at the pile. Following Hevrit's instructions and ignoring Harvit's fuming, Jregli managed to lift a reasonable amount off the plate. Now what? Hevrit demonstrated, inserting his fork into his mouth and using his lips to pull the bite from its tines. Not liking the idea of putting metal into her mouth, Jregli hesitantly copied his motion. Fortunately, the delicate plants slid easily off the fork, though the metallic taste gave her an unpleasant shiver down to her toes. Now the problem was that she had a bite of food in between her lips and outer teeth with no idea how to get said food behind her teeth.

"Mmm ... now what do I do?" she dared to ask.

"Why, you just chew!" Hevrit replied, surprised.

"But it's not anywhere that I can chew it. It's outside my outer teeth."

"Just use your tongue to move it back into your mouth, dearest." Harvit looked oddly at her, as though he wondered why she would ask such a thing.

"My tongue?! You want me to put my tongue over my teeth??"

"Well, of course. How else do--" Harvit broke off as Hevrit smacked his palm to his own forehead.

"Ah! Brother! How could she put her tongue over such sharp teeth as she has? Of course not! Oh, dear sister! Please forgive us for not thinking of this sooner!"

"Ah! You're right! Oh, Jregli, sweet thing, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to--!"

They can be sorry all they want, Jregli thought darkly, but that doesn't help me do anything about this soggy lump of stuff behind my lips. It was kind of tasty, though, from the little that had leaked between her teeth. But swiping her tongue over her less-than-perfect-yet-still-sharp teeth was unthinkable. There wasn't much on Yerbra that was sharper than the outermost teeth of its sentient species, and Jregli had no desire to find out if her tongue could dart past hers unscathed.

While the Twins tried to figure a solution that didn't involve having her spit out the bite, Jregli thought about it from her end. Well, she was capable of sucking liquids around her teeth, so perhaps she could suck the greens as well? She worked her thin lips experimentally. The skin covering a Yerbran's mouth was some of the toughest on her body, to withstand contact with those fiber-shredding teeth, but it wasn't impervious. She hadn't scratched herself yet, but she could feel the prick of her biters on her lips. It was very difficult to maneuver the limp greens, but she managed to move them slightly. The Twins were babbling quietly, but she ignored them and continued working on the food that wasn't quite in her mouth. After a couple of Minutes and two small nicks to her lower lip, Jregli managed to get most of it above her lower teeth and suck it behind them.

"I think I got it," she informed her "brothers," who had been arguing about whether a fork or a spoon would be a better choice for scooping out the pieces.

"Oh, marvelous! Oh, dear, clever little sister!"

"But I didn't get all of it; there's still a little bit here and there. Mmm ... let me try some water." She'd seen Mahl do this several times; Jregli took a large sip from her water glass and swished it around her mouth. As she had hoped, it swirled the last little bits from the crevices they'd hidden in and carried them into her inner mouth.

"Mmm; that got it all."

"Oh! Precious one! We shall order something better right away, something that won't be such an impossibil--"

"No." Jregli cut him off with a brusqueness she would never have attempted even that Morning. "I'm going to beat this."

The Twins stared at her with something like shock. Well, they could just learn to accept it. Maybe they didn't, couldn't, realize it, but allowing a little thing like a plate of food to get the better of her was unthinkable. She was Yerbran. The best Yerbran. She would figure this out.

Jregli stabbed the fork into the pile and lifted another wad of salad. She stared at it for a few Seconds, thinking. Well, using her lips to pull it off the fork didn't work, so maybe she should use her teeth. Her outer teeth. She could place the bit directly on her her inner teeth, the way she would if she were eating something normal. That decided, she proceeded.

The metal scraped horribly across her teeth, and she steadfastly ignored the sensation to concentrate on the food. Her motions were still sloppy, dribbling little bits of the salad on the table and managing to get at least one leaf stuck between her lips and outer teeth again. But she got most of it, so she chewed determinedly on the fast-disintegrating bite. Swallowing, she took a sip of the juice this time to clear her mouth and repeated. The Twins stared at her, glanced at each other, and then down at their own plates before returning their gazes to her. The second attack went more smoothly than the first. By the time she started on the third wave, Jregli felt measurably more in control of the situation. Stupid food wasn't going to defeat her, not by any leap.

"You're right brothers; this salad is quite tasty. What are these soft bits here?" Jregli speared one of the items in question (effectively if with little grace) and held it up for inspection.

"Ah, um, that's cheese. Ah, goat's-milk cheese," Hevrit managed to reply. They continued to stare, not quite certain what to do now.

"Mmm. I see. I don't think I've ever had 'cheese' before, or at least not any like this. I think I like it." Jregli popped the tiny morsel behind her teeth to savor it. "Aren't you going to eat, brothers? I think your soup is getting cold."

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It took the Twins nearly half an Hour to decide that Jregli meant her determination to conquer this alien method of eating. Yes, it was bizarre and unnatural. Yes, the metal tasted foul and scraped hideously against her teeth. Yes, salads were messy, and drinking soup from a tiny spoon was a ridiculous prospect. But she would defeat it. It was ridiculous to allow something so insignificant, so trivial, to get the better of her. Eventually, the Twins accepted it. Once they did, of course, that meant they just had to throw more weird methods of eating at her to see how quickly she could figure them out. They obviously didn't realize that not being defeated was not the same thing as searching out an unpleasant task.

Jregli ate whatever was in front of her. She was so far beyond caring by now; she just wanted to see the Dance and go to sleep. She was distantly aware of the bloated pain in her belly, but it was far easier to humor the Twins at this point than protest.

Finally, just after the server set their desserts out, the Dance began.

It was a perfect beginning; there was no warning. Just like the winds, the Dance began suddenly, abruptly. The lights flickered, again, and then nearly blacked out. Sound roared into the dining room, filling the quiet, elegant space the same way a drystorm would fill an exposed cavern on the eastern edge of the Desolate Hills. The music roared into their ears, and Jregli heard many patrons cry out in startlement or fear. How would they respond to a real storm, then?

Lights flared up around the three stages as the Dancers leaped out into view. Like the edge of a grit-squall, bathed in dusty lights that turned their Refin'sifr the shade of pale brown most terrifying to the natives of Yerbra (who associated death with that color), the Dancers burst out into the audience, singing in five-part disharmony, creating the scream of the winds with eerie accuracy. They moved so quickly, so dangerously! Even Jregli had to think for a moment to pick out the carefully choreographed pattern to their flight; they looked exactly like a squall line spilling over and into a vale! The violent, seemingly aimless way they leaped over tables, dashed in groups past panicked waiters laden with trays, over the walkways between the stages, and finally up onto the platforms themselves ... it was so natural! As though someone had recorded a horror and substituted people for winds. Well, of course; that's exactly what they had done.

As the Dancers regrouped after their spectacular overture, the lighting changed again, bathing the Fire Dancers in withering "heat" and the Frozen Dancers in burning "ice." Jregli had never seen the dresses before, but she thought the lighting was a wonderful addition to the colors already in the threads of the fabrics. Gave it another layer of subtext. The dagged, raw edges of the fabric not only threw extra flashes of color across the room, they also created their own music, which Jregli had not expected at all. The crystaline fibers made a sound all their own, which the composers had obviously taken into account, since the throbbing orchestration fit the "instrumentation" the Dancers provided into the roaring whole with ease.

The shivering sound of the loget sent reciprocal shivers up and down and back up Jregli's spine and tail. It was ... such a delicious sound! So exquisite! Every twist, every turn of the graceful Dancers threw waves of music across Jregli's chambers. And the singing! Non-Yerbrans might find it overwhelming, but it saturated Jregli's aural bones blissfully. Mistress had forced Jregli to sleep outdoors far too many times, and Jregli had been caught out in those terrifying storms. This "storm" gave that terror a beautiful edge, made it a thing of awe that clenched deep in Jregli's bowels.

The Dancers paused briefly, so slightly that most of the audience probably didn't see it, and then launched into the first movement. Staying on their respective platforms, just as Jregli had told the Twins to expect, the Dancers began demonstrating the Power of the Winds. The Fire Dancers moved with angry, ferocious steps, claws bared and swiping very close the patrons seated next to their platform, who cringed as the "heated" Winds slashed by. They moved first as a unit, ten Dancers mimicking the hatred the hot gusts had for any living thing they could touch. Swirling around the large platform, their tails lashed out, their feet pounded in deceptively simple-looking patterns as they sang the fury of the Dry Hot. Teeth bared and snapping, four of them stopped in the circle the others made and lifted their heads. The long, scale-shattering cry of the Fwi'ooo ripped from their aural chambers, causing some of the audience with sensitive ears to cry out and clap hands to their heads.

The Frozen Dancers moved on their platform at the same time, creating a starkly different pattern. They were not as fierce, not as many, but their movements carried a more subtle danger. Winter on Yerbra was not as violent, but it was just as deadly, and the Fw'innii nn Ttrens brought that to the performance and gave Jregli a literal chill as she watched them. Their swipes into the audience were slower, more measured, than their Sister Winds', but the watching sentients drew back in just as much fear. Even those from the gentlest, most welcoming of planets knew to fear Winds that needed no violence to wreak havoc. And kill.

The Frozen Dancers moved quickly but without the frenzy of their counterparts. Their Song was lower, more mournful, and set Jregli's teeth on edge. That was the sound made by frigid air blowing across hot rocks, cooling them far too rapidly, breaking them, carving hollows out of them, shattering the bones of anything caught in their path. That had been one time Jregli had flatly disobeyed her Mistress, that Winter's Night seven Cycles ago. Mistress had ordered Jregli to sleep outside on the first night of the cold season, when these freezing winds would come and kill, but Jregli hadn't. She'd spent the night shivering in the storage cracks just inside the cavern entrance amongst the crates sealed against sudden temperature changes. She'd listened to that deep, relentless howl, knowing she would die. And then she'd discovered that one of the crates had not been sealed properly. Crawling into that crate and leaving it barely cracked open so she could breathe had allowed her to live through the night. She was more afraid of the cold than the heat, now.

The two groups flowed opposite one another, separate and united in their purpose as the Winds that dictated the terms of life for all of Yerbra. They sang, twirled, pounded, enticed, destroyed. In a microcosm, this was Yerbra.

And then the Brothers charged onto the stage.

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They appeared from nowhere, suddenly on the center stage with as little warning as the Dancers had given. Jregli was almost (only almost) disappointed to see them; she'd thought there would be more time for the Dancers to build the fury of the Winds before the story changed. But there wasn't time, this wasn't the time, to think about petty things like that. The Brothers paused on the central stage, giving the audience plenty of time to see them. How magnificent they were! As beautiful as the Dancers were, the Brothers were as handsome. Sleek and powerful, they were surely more than a match for the real winds of Yerbra, let alone the symbolic Winds of the Dance. They, too, wore loget fabric, though it was not the same pattern as what the Dancers wore. Where the Dancers' garments flowed over their shoulders and hung down over their torsos, the Brothers' outfits bared their chests, clinging to their upper legs and arms.

Completing their pose, the six Brothers raced towards the Fw'innoo nn Endws, bathed in their flame-colored bubble of stage lighting. Jregli half-expected to hear an audible crash as the two groups met, both the very example of strength and power! Her hearts leapt in her chest as the two groups met ... and the Brothers immediately dropped under the brunt of the Fire Wind's might. Exactly as someone faced with the scorching winds of the Wasted Rocks Desert, they staggered and clumsily crouched as the Dancers flowed over and around them. Then the Dancers turned, creating a maelstrom of movement, throaty Song, and ripping fabric around the valiant Brothers.

But the Brothers were not beaten, not by any imagination! They half-rose in the runner's crouch and braved their way through the howling storm. Oh, how Jregli wished they had a proper-sized stage to work with, so that they could add even more to this Dance! Yet, seeing it in the microcosm created by the stage they had was just as thrilling; it distilled the deadly struggle to a purity Jregli hadn't though possible. Though she'd studied the Dance, only seeing it could make the clenched-teeth reality into beautiful art.

The Dancers remained beautiful, despite their impassioned attempt to "kill" the Brothers. Their tails lashed in fury, yet the fury was contained, controlled, contrived. It was deliberate, which somehow made it elegant. A small part of Jregli's mind recognized that the real winds could, in their way, be just as elegant. Winds weren't sentient, no matter what the stories liked to claim, and their impartial brutality gave them an odd sort of nobility; they simply were what they were. A part of life, a part of the reality of existence that every Yerbran had to come to terms with. The truth in the symbolism struck Jregli powerfully as the Brothers turned to confront the Winds.

Not content to allow the Winds to control them and dictate the terms of the engagement, the Brothers turned as a group on the far end of the platform where the Winds had driven them and charged. The Winds met them with a swirling howl, and several Dancers actually leaped over the Brothers, curving their long bodies into a gorgeous arc and they launched themselves more than fifteen Units into the air. One Brother looked up, horrified, as a Dancer descended directly towards him. With a hollow cry, he threw himself down as the Dancer, the Wind, crashed onto him and smothered him. The remaining Brothers wailed at his "death," but they continued grimly onwards. The other Dancers pounced on the fallen Brother, who disappeared behind their pounding feet.

The Brothers turned at the other end of the platform and charged again, this time with a furious cry of their own. How mighty their voices! How thunderous their charge! Why, you could almost hear them over the music, the Singing of the Winds! Such courage! They surged back towards the Winds, which used the same trick of swarming. But this time, the Brothers were ready for it. Three of them split off, dodging between the gusts, using their innate ability to see the Winds, and the other two leaped above the pouncing eddies that had "killed" their companion. Jregli gasped as the Dancers and the Brothers jumped into the air, directly at each other, at the same time. The Dancers repeated their fifteen-Unit arcs, but the Brothers jumped twenty Units, so close to the ceiling that half the audience cried out in awe and alarm.

All five Brothers came through, though not unscathed. One Brother "landed badly" after his powerful jump, limping as he rejoined his fellows. Another Brother (the handsomest, in Jregli's opinion) had been battered as he dashed through the Winds, and he now favored his left side, tail twitching in pain. Still, they all turned to face the Winds with grim, fierce determination. With another cry, they charged again, the whole Brothers trying to protect the injured ones. No incredible leaps this time, they clung together in a tight group and punched through the middle of the Fire Winds. They almost made it. Just as they burst from the far side of the Dancers, one "gust" lashed out with her left foot and caught the ankle of the limping Brother, who fell with a breathless grunt as the Winds swarmed back over him.

The remaining four Brothers stumbled back to the central stage, sides heaving dramatically (though only a small amount of drama; they'd expended a lot of energy in the brief exchange!). They stood for a moment, heads bowed and legs bent, as they remembered their lost comrades. The Dancers' Song dropped slightly in volume, allowing the deep mourning of the Brothers' own Song to rise above the orchestration. The bass rumble of male voices washed over Jregli, warming her from weather-eye to the tip of her tail to the ends of her toe-claws. But their respite was too brief, and as the injured Brother clutched his bruised side, the small group made their way to the Fw'innii nn Ttrens, who had not paused in their languid Dance once during the action on the other side stage. After all, there was always a small pocket of winter on Yerbra somewhere, at any given moment.

As Jregli had told the Twins, there was constant movement, constant sound in this Dance. She'd been able to focus on the Dancers telling the primary part of the story, but she hadn't ignored the others, oh no. Only a fool would forget about the winds on her right simply because of the storm on her left. And that fool would soon be dead. Jregli crouched down over her table, bringing her eyes level with the knees of the performers, as though she were facing the winds herself. This was so exciting! A thrill of dread washed over her as the Frozen Winds snapped around to consume the Brothers.

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The Frozen Winds dropped their lazy attitude with a cry as the Brothers came into reach. Jregli didn't feel her claws dig into the tablecloth as she heard that familiar shriek; suddenly, she was back on Yerbra, huddling between the crates, listening to the approach of the wind, waiting to die. The Brothers, too, looked pale in the face of the advancing Winds. But they rallied, ducked low, and ran to meet the dancing Winds.

The Dance with the Fw'innoo nn Endws had been swift, furious, full of passion and movement. The Dance with the cold also had movement and passion, but it was slower, more deliberate. The icy shriek that had frozen Jregli's hearts in place gave way to the equally familiar moan that the winter winds normally made. The Brothers staggered as they hit the wall of cold air the Dancers represented. The loget worn by the Frozen Dancers had undertones of blue melded into it, and blue stage lights washed over the top of the fabric, really only creating shadows in the folds of the garments. Even the Brothers' neutral-colored outfits took on a frost-bitten gleam in the lighting.

Movements slowed by the "cold," the Brothers struggled through the first wave of Dancers. You couldn't move fast for long in wintertime; the cold leached more energy out of you than the heat did, for some reason. When the diminished group of Brothers finally got past the Dancers, who turned with the graceful carelessness of a predator certain of it prey, the injured one fell, shivering and grasping his side. The instruments wailed in panic and terror, sending more adrenaline pounding through Jregli. No! He couldn't die! He was the best, the noblest of them all! If Jregli could have drawn breath, she would have begun keening for him. A man, injured and without shelter, caught out in Winter's reach, always died. Unless he could find shelter in the next few moments, he would become the next "casualty" of the Dance.

Wasn't just like life? Jregli thought angrily. Someone who has so much potential, just flicked out of existence on some whim! Someone who could be great, who could do things, be someone ... and then something happens and he's gone. And he can't even help himself now! He's out in the Wastes, with few resources; why didn't he prepare better? Could he have prepared better? Sometimes, you do everything right and it still goes wrong. It is just a Dance, they wouldn't bring packs and such for props; you can't dance wearing those. Not well. So maybe he did do everything possible, and he's going to die anyway. Look, he's fallen down, the others have gone on already. He's dead. Jregli drew a breath to make a tiny little keen that wouldn't disrupt the performance. What a waste.

And then the Brothers did something completely unexpected, something so unbelievable that the shock froze Jregli as totally as the sound of Winter's First Cry had. They turned back and picked up the one who had fallen. Carefully, trying to not jostle his wound any more than necessary, they lifted him in their arms and pulled him aside just as the Dancers swooped past. Shielding him with their own bodies, they laid him down on the edge of the stage before turning to form a barricade against the Winds. When the Winds had swept past again, one of the Brothers turned and crouched down by the injured one.

Mmm; that's why they took him with. They can use the resources in his "pack," perhaps even his body as a distraction for predators. The-- What is he doing? What ... It looks like ... But ... Is he tending his wounds?

Indeed, the Brother was putting "medicine" on the injured man while the other two continue to stand against the Winds, who had realized their hunt was not as easy as it had seemed. The injured one "fell asleep" after the other finished his work, and then the healer stood and joined the others, fighting the Winds' attempt to take another of their number away. Every time the Dancers tried to get to the man lying on the stage, legs tucked underneath him and all eyes closed, completely helpless, one of the Brothers stood in their way. Sometimes they jumped out to meet the Dancers, catching them with a clever distraction and diverting their dreadful power. When the Fw'innii nn Ttrens drew back, giving them a temporary respite, the healer checked on the injured one, who still "slept," while the other two conferred about something.

Winter did give small pauses every now and again, and Jregli was incredibly grateful that the Dance replicated it faithfully. She needed the time to think! What did they think they were doing? The man was as good as dead; why waste resources on him? That made no sense! The standing Brothers trembled with "exhaustion" from shielding him. Why drain themselves for someone who would likely never be able to repay them? It defied logic. What did they get from protecting him? There were no markings indicating he was kin or owed some sort of fealty. Even the most powerful leader knew that when he slipped, he fell, and no one would help him or spare more than a glance as he dropped past them. So why would this Dance have anyone helping anyone else? Unless they were going to show how senseless it was? That could be.

The injured man "awoke" just as the Winds charged again, this time breaking through the defenses and swarming over all the Brothers. The Brother lying down sat up slightly and pulled the healer close, protecting the healer just as the healer had protected him. They huddled together, heads bowed and back bent under the brunt of the furious Winds, whose Song was now the vicious chant of Deep Winter, the time when Yerbra was the farthest from its sun, at the farthest end of its orbit, and the farthest from hope. This is the lesson, Jregli thought; they spent effort on him when they should have spent it on themselves, and now they will all die. But I don't remember that the Dance ends this way; there must be another group of Brothers that stays focused and make it through.

The Frozen Winds dragged the hems of their dresses over the Brothers, "freezing" them and sucking the warmth they tried to conserve. The two Brothers on the edge of the stage dragged themselves over to the other two, and the four of them crowded together as the Winds surrounded them, closing for the kill.

The Dancers exploded backwards to the sound of heavy percussion and a sharp, brassy crash. The Brothers half rose from their circle, all their hands holding up a fluttering scrap of loget painted with several strategically placed lights as a brilliant flame. The Winds did not like that! Their Song crescendoed with hate for the heat the Brothers had "discovered", but try as they might, the Dancers could not overcome it. The Brothers stood as a group, congratulating one another on their accomplishment. Then they turned and attacked the Winds.

Each Brother now had a flame of his own, and how the lighting operators kept up with their impossibly fast moves, Jregli had no idea. But each scrap managed to keep its color-giving light as the Brothers wove in and out of the Dancers, laughing as the cold was forced to retreat. The Frozen Dancers retreated, Jregli suddenly realized, as much from the fire as because the "seasons" were changing and it was the end of Winter's rule. But the Frozen Winds were not finished, were not done yet. As the Brothers rejoiced at having survived the onslaught, one of the Dancers crept up and managed to snatch the flame from the Brother who had been injured. Another came right behind her to pounce on him and claim his life.

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Jregli gasped as she watched the Dancer leap towards the Brother whose flame was now gone. He held up his hand in astonishment, as though expecting the cloth-fire to still be there. Just before the Dancer reached him, the Brother who had healed him shoved his "brand" into the other's hand and put himself directly between the Wind and his brother. The Wind didn't care; it snatched the Brother now closest to it and dragged him back to the waiting embrace of the the other Dancers. He disappeared without a cry.

The surviving Brothers looked as stunned as Jregli felt. What could have possessed the fool to do that?

The other two Brothers dragged the twice-rescued one back to the main stage, away from the Fw'innii nn Ttrens, who resumed their languid, deadly dancing. The Brothers stared at one another, shocked by the senseless sacrifice the one had made. For nearly three beats, they stood stock-still, trying, as Jregli was, to understand. Then the handsome Brother, whose "life" had been saved twice over, stood as tall as he could, raised his head, and began to sing.

The Dancers muted their song so that the Brother's lament could be heard. His voice was powerful, like silken aurelate, and better even than Shdr'edno's. His were the first words sung in the performance, and their beauty made Jregli keen softly (or would have, could she have breathed; it was so ... incredible!). He honored the fallen man as he had not the Brothers who had perished under the Fire Winds, promising to remember him and to live worthy of the gift he had given. The others joined his Song after the first round, adding their own resolve to his. Even the Winds began to respond to their words, tuning their Songs to support the melody made by those rich masculine voices.

The lighting on the stage grew warmer, becoming a subtle verdigris. Vague shapes began moving behind the Brothers, who now circled one another elegantly. Those shapes slowly resolved into yet more Dancers wearing viridian-colored dresses. In fact, the lighting made all five of them look green all over. Their Dance was slow and passionate, yet so much kinder than either the Fire or Frozen Dancers. They surrounded the three Brothers just as their Lament ended, wisping around them with a gentle sigh. These, then, were the Verdant Dancers.

The Brothers relaxed for the first time since they had come on stage, easing into the "embrace" of the life-giving Winds. The Fw'nnae nn Str'enb sang, as their sister Winds had, without words, but their Song was so rich, so soothing, so ... well, full of life! that surely even the non-Yrebrans in the audience could understand it! Jregli relaxed, as well, in the restful sound of their Song. The Dancers swirled around the Brothers without the viciousness of the other Winds, who swarmed around their respective stages, their shrieking Songs now a mere backdrop to the Song of the Verdant Dancers. One paired up with the handsome Brother while the others spilt between the remaining two Brothers. As the lead pair slow turned around each other, the Dancer came into full view, and Jregli's hearts missed two beats.

All down her back, small patches of the Dancer's scales glittered with an undeniably emerald tint. Her scales were gorgeous enough, a rich, deep brown that any woman would give her claws for, but to have the Rain of Life markings! Nearly iridescent, the natural markings that so resembled the delicate moss that grew only during the verdant times and only in the scantest of clumps took the graceful Dancer from Beautiful to Ethereal. Many women counterfeited those markings (as Mistress had, with varying degrees of success), but this woman had been born with them. She swept across the stage with the handsome Brother, whose black scales glittered as brightly as her brown ones, both of the them the perfect image of Life. Jregli's insides clenched and she ground her teeth, trying to not scream with awe and amazement.

How long the Dancers and Brothers swept around one another, Jregli could never remember. It was an instant that lasted forever. When the steps brought the Brothers to stand next to one another again, the Verdant Winds slowly withdrew, gently caressing the Brothers one last time. The Brothers looked at each other and heaved a great, contented sigh.

With a howl, the other groups of Winds sprang from their stages and pelted towards the Brothers with fury. The Brothers gave a howl of their own, triumphant and defiant, and charged down the center of the main stage, over its lip, and into the audience. They swept past the tables (including the one at which Jregli sat) and out of the room. The Winds, angry at the escape of their victims, turned on the audience. Repeating the wild moves of their entrance, they swept through the tables and out the side doors.

When the music had faded, the general room lights came back up on a crowded room of diners who looked much like they had been in a real wind storm. Finally, someone began clapping, which started another cheering, and soon there was another storm in the room.

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"Oh, that was simply marvelous!" Hevrit exclaimed, clapping wildly.

"Oh, yes, stunning! You were right, dear sister; there was so much going on, but if you simply focused ... Jregli? Are you alright?" Harvit leaned towards her and gently touched her arm.

Jregli flinched away from him. She didn't mean to, but she did. She wanted more time to soak in the Dance, to puzzle over the story, to ... sit in awe. The noise of the diners, the voices of the Hunsids ... it was nearly a sacrilege to destroy the beauty with mere words.

"Mmm, I apologize, Harvit, I did not mean to ... it was so beautiful, and then to hear you speak; it was like breaking something fragile, and--"

"Ahahaha! Do not worry, little one! We know just what you mean!" Harvit patted her arm jovially. "But it could not be helped. Now, do you think you could manage to lift your hands for a moment ...?"

Jregli immediately cocked her head to the side so she could see her hands and squeaked in horror. She recalled clenching her hands several times during the Dance, but she hadn't realized that she'd dug them into the table. Who knew her grip could be strong enough to sink her pathetic claws nearly two centi-Units into the woodfab? She released the tension in her fingers, but it still took several Seconds and much wriggling to pry herself loose.

"We want to make certain you haven't injured yourself, dear one," Hevrit said, scooting around to take her other hand. The Twins turned her hands over, checking the dressings (which were intact) and gently picking tiny splinters and threads from the table cloth from her claws. Fortunately, Jregli hadn't hurt herself or reopened her wounds, though the Twins still made little disapproving noises as they quickly cleaned her hands.

"I am very sorry; I should have paid more attention to what I was doing," Jregli apologized with a dull lump in her belly. "I will repay the damages I have--"

"None of that," Harvit rebuked her mildly. "Accidents will happen, and I am certain that this was not the greatest done during the performance."

"Indeed," Hevrit snickered. "I believe the group of Uffniorns over there is a bit more embarrassed than you are, dear one." Jregli looked in the direction of Hevrit's head jerk to a table surrounded by the non-pedal Uffniorns. There seemed to be a lot more slime than usual on the floor, and some of it was ... purple? The twins snickered derisively as the ever-present floor bots struggled to clean the goop, which was apparently far thicker than normal. The Uffniorns were flailing their stubby arms and whispering frantically at one another; when Jregli caught the edge of their hushed conversation, she barely swallowed the burble of laughter that tried to escape. Yes, deep though the gouges in the table were, they would be far easier to repair and conceal than that mess. As well as more sanitary!

The thought of sanitation made Jregli realize that she had ignored something for far too long. "Mmm, your pardon, brothers, but I must excuse myself. I, mmm, need to find the lavatory."

"Oh, but of course! It's over there, just beyond that Durishin sculpture." Hevrit pointed the way as Harvit finished cleaning her right hand. Jregli got up unsteadily (how long had she been sitting?), used the table to regain her balance, and made her way carefully to the lavatories. The farther she went, the more difficult it became to move. All the food she'd eaten that Day was not sitting well, at all. In fact, she might actually--

Jregli stumbled into the lavatory just in time. The next quarter Hour was perhaps the worst of her life; Yerbran bodies were not designed to move food in that direction. Add to that the additional discomfort of bile on her gums, and she was very miserable. And then she discovered that a violent muscle spasm in one gastronomical direction could cause additional spasms in another ... it was humiliating. And painful. And draining. Jregli was very glad that the lavatories were divided into private sections so that no one else could witness her collapse. She spent another five Mins regaining her composure (and breath, despite the smell) before locating the service panel and starting on cleaning up her mess. It took her nearly twenty more Mins to finish because her arms and legs were trembling so much.

Once the lavatory was clean (she would not leave the slightest trace of her humiliation for anyone to find!), she set about cleaning herself up. It would not do, not at all, to go back into that elegant restaurant smelling of fluids! The Twins would be frantic, she was sure, but they would just have to wait. When she felt reasonably clean, she sat on the floor for several moments to regain her composure. It didn't really work. She was too tired, too drained, too sick. Hauling herself up, she took a long drink of the water from the sink and steeled herself to go face the Twins.

Jregli walked with carefully slow steps, hoping desperately that she looked composed and not still sick.

"Sweet rains! What is that?" a dulcet voice exclaimed in Yerbran.

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Jregli froze at the exclamation. Someone had seen her! An instant later, she realized just who had seen her; it was one of the Dancers. No, two of them! They stood to her left, near the wall, where they might (presumably) have been discretely observing the remaining diners. And they had just seen her. These beautiful, talented, ethereal creatures had just seen ... her.

"It appears to be a child," the other Dancer said.

"Are you certain?" the first one snorted delicately. "I'm not quite certain it's even Yerbran. It has the general shape of it, but ..." She trailed off flippantly.

"The child is a little girl, Gp'nifse," the second replied levelly. "It's impolite to speak about her thusly."

"Come now, Jujk'anrl! I can see that the child is a girl; but have you ever seen such and ugly little thing? Truly, she's hideous!"

"Her appearance does not excuse us from our manners."

"Do you not agree that i--she is ... somewhat misshapen?"

"She is, at that. One must wonder, then, at her upbringing, that she takes so little care for herself."

"'T'would appear she tried to clean herself up tonight, but it was perhaps not as effective as hoped for." Gp'nifse flicked her tail with mild distaste.

Jujk'anrl sniffed the air carefully. "I do believe the child has just come from the lavatory ... one might wonder if the facilities in this establishment are quite safe, such an odor clings to her!"

"Perhaps, given the child's general appearance, she does not yet know how to properly use facilities."

The two had been speaking quietly to one another, and it was quite likely they didn't think that anyone could possibly overhear them. They didn't know how developed Jregli's hearing was, how carefully she paid attention to what adults said.

"She has stopped," Gp'nifse said, surprised.

"Perhaps she has never seen a Dancer before and merely wishes to enjoy our presence," Jujk'anrl murmured.

"I do hope she doesn't try to come any closer. I, for one, have had quite enough of the closeness of admirers for one evening."

"And the air that clings about her is ..."

Jregli finally managed to unhinge her joints, breaking free from her shock with a sharp jerk. Already unsteady, she shambled away from them hurriedly. These beautiful, talented creatures shouldn't have to be offended by her presence, she shouldn't insult them by gawking, she had to get away ...

"Oh, and see how it moves! How terrible!" Gp'nifse exclaimed. Jregli tried to steady herself, which naturally made her gait worse.

"Jregli! There you are, beloved! We were so worried; you were gone so long!" Jregli lurched again as Hevrit's loud call distracted her. Both Hunsids hurried over to her, ducking around the tables and seats with another Hunsid and a server whose Race Jregli didn't have time to determine close on their heels.

"What are those? What did they say? Why, they seem to know the child!" Jujk'anrl twitched with surpise, though it was an elegant twitch.

"I don't know; they spoke so quickly that I could not catch it," Gp'nifse replied.

The Twins reached Jregli and threw their arms around her waist. As the Dancers gasped in quiet horror, Harvit cried, "Oh! Sweet little Jregli! We were so afraid that something terrible had happened!"

"Yes! We were about to send someone in to check on you!" Hevrit added, using his head to motion to the server and the Hunsid. Jregli could tell that the Hunsid was female, but her head was spinning so fast now that she still couldn't identify the server's Race, let alone gender.

"Oh, dear little Jregli, is everything alright?"

"Why, Jregli, you are trembling! We must have you seated at once!"

"I ... I do not feel well ..." Jregli managed to say and the Twins began urging her away, exclaiming over her and issuing commands to the server and their cousin.

"I think its name is Jregli," Jujk'anrl whispered behind them.

"What an awful name," Gp'nifse sniffed.

"What are you two gossiping about now?" Another Dancer appeared behind Gp'nifse and Jujk'anrl. Jregli's hearts sank as she recognized the most beautiful of the Dancers, the one with the Markings of green down her back. With the dress gone, Jregli could see a few of the lovely splotches on the Dancer's chest, as well.

"We were merely wondering about that little girl over there," Jujk'anrl said innocently. The third Dancer saw Jregli and stiffened in shock.

"Blessed clouds!" she half-whispered.

It was too much. Just ... too much. The Day had been too long, filled with too many things, too many thoughts and experiences. Too much wonder, too much discovery. The Twins meant well, but they had tried too hard, pushed too far. Suddenly, Jregli couldn't bear their touch, couldn't bear the sound of their voices. She didn't belong here, didn't belong with them. She didn't belong anywhere but with her Master! A slave was not supposed to do any of the things Jregli had done today. A slave wasn't supposed to act like a free person, wasn't supposed to think like an adult ... wasn't supposed to offend anyone (especially not Wind Dancers!) with her presence. And Jregli knew what she had to do now.

She ran.

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Jregli ran as fast as she could. The tables and seats got in her way, tried to slow her down, but she ignored them. Tripping over the leg of a chair, she stumbled out into the foyer and finally made it out the door.

There were sentients in the Corridor, but she ignored them. With more room, she could stretch her pathetically thin legs to their fullest and really run. Oh, it was not graceful. It was not elegant. It was merely forward motion. It got her away from the shame, the hurt, the Dancers, the Twins, and all those strange, uncomfortable things she'd been through Today. Every pounding step took her away from all of that and brought her closer to where she was supposed to be.

Jregli didn't really see the sentients she ran past, dashed around. She noted their presence they way you would note a rock or a skeleton lying in the sand, as something to not step on and perhaps to go around. Some of them cried out, some of them tried to dodge her, many of them yelled at her after she'd gone flying by. Let them yell. It was their right to yell, the right of free people to get upset with an ugly, presumptuous slave. Slaves learned to accept the scorn and wrath of their betters as a natural thing, a normal thing. To accept it and continue to perform the tasks given them. Slaves knew their place. Jregli's place was with her Master.

So she ran. She ran and ran and ran, ignoring the yells, ignoring the pain in her side, in her feet, in her head ... in her hearts. Someone up ahead of her saw her coming and dove out of her path. He'd left his luggage cart in the way, though, but Jregli didn't pause. She couldn't. Gathering herself up, she jumped as high as she could, clearing the five-Unit-high cart and its contents with centi-Units to spare. Her tail, however, slapped the case perched atop the pile, sending it crashing to the floor. That brought even more yells and curses from behind her. But she could not stop. Dared not stop.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! her mind chanted as her feet pounded the flooring. You were stupid; ARE stupid! Stupid slave, thinking you could pretend to be a Lady! Thinking you could act like a free person, an adult! Stupid child, stupid, stupid, stupid! Go back to your Master! Never again forget your place! Never again reach for things you can't have! Never again be so stupid!

The Corridor curved on endlessly in front of her as she slithered and scrambled through the crowds that never seemed to leave the Station. The Pub was on the far end of the row of restaurants, opposite from where the Glass Room ruled. It was less than a third of the way around the Station, more like a quarter, and Jregli's panic brought her there far faster than even one of the emergency response carts could have. After all, those carts were programed to be careful of the crowds.

When the façade of the Pub finally appeared around the bend of the Corridor, Jregli stumbled. She barely kept herself from driving her face into the floor with whatever scrap of inner balance she had and kept going. There was a crowd in front, but a small one. It was Fifth night, so there weren't too many--as many people as there would have been--had been last night. They, too, saw her coming and got themselves and their less-observant companions out of her way.

Jregli flung herself into the Pub, past the welcome station and Inop, past the tables and seats. She was almost to the bar, with the safe storage rooms and her bedding beyond, when a sharp command slashed at her.

"Stop!"

Jregli stopped running, but she could not stop moving. Her momentum carried her several leaps further as she tumbled to the floor, striking her chin and shoulder and turning end-over-end. She finally halted when she slammed into the bar.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Shdr'edno stalked angrily over towards his shivering slave. "What is going on? What happened?" A casual observer might think he actually cared.

Jregli couldn't reply; her breath had been gone since she'd run ten leaps away from the Glass Room. She gasped, needles of pain slashing through her lungs, and just lay there on the floor against the bar. Her whole body shook with the exertion of the run, and blades of pain sliced through every one of her bones.

"Speak, pet! What happened?" Jregli couldn't reply. She couldn't have replied even if she'd had control over her lungs. It was too much, too much. She couldn't speak, couldn't have spoken ... too much. Just too much!

Shdr'edno glared down at his slave, trying to contain the fierce glee that surged through his hearts. Oh, he could not wait to hear what had reduced his arrogant, foolish slave to this quivering mess. Look at her; how pathetic! He'd never been delighted or even pleased with his slave before, but he was both now. Now, where ...?

"Where are the Hunsids? They were supposed to be taking care of her Today." He glared around at the crowd that had gathered, trying to find the wretched game-sharps. They weren't there, and two of the employees rushed out into the Hall, one would hope to try to find the pair. Mahl shoved her way through the crowd and rushed over to the brat.

"Stay back, Mahl," he ordered. She paused and stared at him in astonishment.

"But she's hurt! We should check--"

Shdr'edno cut her off with concealed satisfaction. "You will not touch her; you know nothing of how to care for Yerbrans. If you startle her, she could hurt you with her claws. And I think you know how little she would like that, once she is well again and realized what she had done." Mahl's expression held a different kind of worry now; let the filthy alien think about that! She would hold back because she wouldn't want the brat to have anything to be ashamed about. As if it mattered.

"Everyone should sat back and give her room to recover. She does not need to be crowded when she is in such patent distress." It took great force of will to keep his tail uncurled and the delight out of his voice. The brat was now the focus of everyone's attention; let her realize that they were all staring at her, disapproving of her appearance and her actions. In fact, given how hysterical she seemed, all she probably realized was that everyone was staring and no one was doing anything.

Shdr'edno swept around, taking what the other sentients would assume was a protective position in front of his wretched "niece", and stared at them all until they began to slip away to whatever they had been doing. Most of the customers had stayed in their seats, and the few that had come to take a look now went back to their meals and drinks. One or two, sitting at the end of the bar where the brat huddled, kept glancing down at her, but they kept their thoughts to themselves.

He remembered, looking from the back of his eyes at the slave, that he had once been in that very position: on the ground, heaving for breath, shuddering like a building exposed to the wind. Actually, he had been only a few Cycles older than the brat. Ykn'frkol, Shdr'edno's sire, had never taken particularly great care for his appearance, and Shdr'edno had become determined to make his physical prowess as attractive as his mental. He'd thrown himself into a brutal conditioning program, and the first night after he'd begun, he'd lain on the ground of his personal chamber in little better shape than the brat was now. His dam had come in then, bringing him cool water and a tender root and a slave to massage his exhausted muscles. She knew that his Status when he became an adult would affect hers, so she'd made certain to give him every chance to raise her up. It had felt good to know that he had value, that he was worth the effort. He'd made certain to repay her investment with interest.

The brat, however, was not worth any investment. And once she got over her panic, that too-clever mind of hers would realize it.

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Shrd'edno kept his position in front of the brat for appearance's sake. He stayed there to keep anyone from getting to close to her, as well; he didn't want her to lose that shattered ego she'd so recently acquired. He'd planned carefully to bring her to this point, so carefully that it had felt like he was doing nothing. He'd allowed her to build herself up in the eyes of the employees, done nothing to defend himself against her indirect attacks. Ah, but patience was a mark of superiority, and he had learned to be patient.

When the Hunsids had first approached him with the idea of taking the brat out on some kind of holiday, he'd rejected it immediately. Treat a slave to anything special? Make a child the focus of a Day's excursions? Ridiculous! Only a half-witted alien would think of something so stupid. But then he'd thought about it for a few moments. The brat was trying to make herself important, wasn't she? And wouldn't be treated like a real person make her feel important? And wasn't she foolish enough that she couldn't see what kind of disaster she was creating for herself? Oh, yes. This definitely bore consideration.

And here, now, was the result of his patience. His slave wallowed in the mess she'd made of things. She'd pretended to be a person, and her little mind had finally worked it out that she was not a person and never would be. Why, she even stank; maybe she'd managed to fall into a midden? Even as his stomach twisted from the smell, he rejoiced in the thought. Filthy, exhausted, and finally convinced of her proper place ... mmm, his slave had made him quite happy this Day.

Shdr'edno's happy contemplation ended as a new sound filled the air. It started softly, but quickly grew in volume, coming from behind and below him. The brat was keening. So, she'd finally gotten enough breath back for that, had she? Time for some "paternal" concern.

He turned without haste and crouched down beside her. She had her eyes shut, but she could still sense him there and pressed herself closer to the floor. Her wailing continued, growing even louder. "Be quiet," he whispered in his native language. She paused for a Second, and then she continued her pathetic cry at a much lower volume.

"That's not what I meant, little pet, and you know it," he whispered calmly. Knowing their actions would be reported to every employee and many of the customers, Shdr'edno reached out and stroked the back of his hand across the brat's head. He hated touching her, but he also knew that the other sentients would interpret it as a caring gesture. Her crying wavered as she tried to flinch away, knowing that he did not mean for his touch to be comforting. Shdr'edno finally allowed himself a cheerful, triumphant little tune.

"Do you see now, little pet? Do you finally know? You are a slave, and you belong to me. Defy me and pay the price. Have you learned this yet, pet, or do you need further instruction?"

Commotion at the entrance drew his head up, so he didn't hear whatever reply she might have made. So, the Hunsids had arrived. And they brought extras, how droll. Shdr'edno held his spot in front of the brat, waiting for them to come to him. Blasted Hunsids all looked alike to him, but he could tell which two were his employees, which was all that mattered. This was his territory and his slave. He wanted to bare his teeth like a predator, but modesty prevailed.

Before they got close enough to start jabbering at him, Shdr'edno issued his demands. "What is the meaning of this, my niece in a hysterical fit on my floor? What have you done to her? Why does she shake as though terrified? Speak up, you two! Tell me what you did to her!"

"We didn't do anything to her!" one of them cried (Shdr'edno had never bothered himself to remember which names went with which one).

"We treated her like one of our own!" the other added angrily.

"Mmm, then that may well be the problem. She isn't one of you."

"Yes--" the second one began before Shdr'edno cut him off smoothly.

"No, she is not one of 'your own'. She is Yerbran, and she is my child. She belongs to me and with me, not with sentients who don't know how to take care of her properly. Oh, I'm certain you treated her the way you might treat one of your children, but this child isn't a Hunsid. You can't treat a Yerbran child the same way you would treat a Hunsid child." Shdr'edno was fiendishly happy that he had no trouble calling the brat his child in Mutual speak; after all, the Yerbran words for "child" and "slave" were almost identical.

"We know that! We know that she is different and must be treated differently than our own own babes! We have learned many of those differences, and we are ready to learn more! Though all of the children born to us are Hunsid, each one is still unique; we know that we must handle all of them in their own unique ways. And we apply this to our little sister, as well!"

That defiant speech drew another crowd, though smaller than the one the brat had generated. Some of them began murmuring to each other at his last words. No matter.

"You would appear to applied too little of that to my child, and this I cannot tolerate. I do not think you are fit company for her, at all."

"You are not fit kin for her, 'at all'!" the second one spat. One of his followers put a cautioning hand on his shoulder, and he predictably shrugged it off and jabbed a finger at Shdr'edno. "You neglect her and abuse her with your words, and you didn't even realize that she had been dangerously injured!!"

"What do you mean, injured?"

"You see?" the first one cried, to whom Shdr'edno had no idea. "You didn't know! She'd cut her hands, both of them, and they were severely infected! What kin-adult doesn't know that his child was injured Weeks ago!" The other Hunsids began voicing agreements. With at least fifteen of them clamoring at once, it made far too much noise.

"Enough!" Shdr'edno pitched his voice precisely to cut through their babbling. "This is neither the place nor the time to discuss this. I suggest that you take some time to cool your heads. You may come back tomorrow to discuss this with me; right now, I have a sick and injured child to tend."

The fact that they were fighting so hard for her gave Shdr'edno another good idea. Why, if they wanted her, what might they be willing to do to have her? And how would they respond when they found out that the only way to get her away from him would be to buy her? Oh, this could make for Cycles of 'tainment!

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"You will leave now," Shdr'edno told them evenly. "Whether you go of your own will or not is, of course, your choice."

"Jregli comes with us!"

"No. She does not."

"She has the right to--"

"You continually miss the point, which I confess to finding most astonishing. The child is not Hunsid; she is Yerbran. Hunsid concepts do not apply to her. Hunsid laws do not apply to her. She has no rights. She is Yerbran, and Yerbran children do not have 'rights'. They belong to their parents or guardians, who make all decisions concerning them until they achieve adulthood. Is that not clear to you?" Oh, how much fun this was!

The second one started to say something when the first one cut him off with an angry gesture. Then they started arguing with each other in their bleating language. Shdr'edno allowed his tail to wave gently over the brat in carefully damped satisfaction. She was still keening, though it was nearly inaudible now. She would feel the passage of his tail, know that he stood over her, literally, figuratively, legally, and symbolically. He was glad, now, that she'd beaten him, tricked him into buying her. He'd grown soft, complacent, here on the Station. There weren't many challenges here,and he'd needed the reminder to never allow himself to slack. Perfection took constant work, after all.

The first one made a decision for the group. "This is not ended, 'Uncle' to our sister. We will return tomorrow at the eighth Hour to discuss this further. If that is agreeable to you?" Mmm, the creature almost managed to say all of that with his teeth shut; how amusing!

"I will be tending another matter at that Hour. And then, of course, I must see to the opening of the Pub, so that timeframe is taken. Mmm, it would appear that I may not have the time to speak with you tomorrow at all ... Perhaps on First Day? I do not have anything planned for eighth Hour on that Day." Oh, just look at the impotent fools fume!

"We will be here then," the first one replied in a low, threatening voice.

"Mmm, one other thing to note; my office is not large, so there is not room for all of you. If you could limit your company to just one or two extras ...?"

"We will." With that muttered reply, the group turned and walked out (dragging the second employee with them; he looked about ready to explode, which would have been amusing despite the mess).

Shdr'edno waited until they had left and everyone had returned to their duties before looking back at the brat.

"Little pet, if you're feeling up to it, why don't you go to the back room and lie down for a while? Stay there until I come to you, dear." He deliberately spoke in Mutual so that the fools who were carefully not listening would have more proof of his good care. It was not as much fun to perform for them as it had been to perform for the Hunsids, but he was in a good enough mood that he didn't mind.

The brat didn't respond for a moment; she continued to lie there like something a Fw'iooo had chewed on and given up as a lost cause. He shifted his weight pointedly, and that finally got her going. Opening her eyes, she slowly scrambled up onto her feet, though she crouched so low she might have been on all fours. Hunched over like the whipped cur she was, the brat shambled around the bar and into the back, where her now-uncluttered bedding awaited her. When she finally removed her decrepit carcass from sight, Shdr'edno turned happily back to the business at hand. Let her stew for a Day or so. It would do her good.

Jregli didn't really know what was going on. She knew she'd made it back to the Pub. She knew she was back with her Master. Why did it still hurt? Why couldn't it all just go away? Master said something to her, and she heard the command behind the soft words. Did she obey? Perhaps she had; she didn't feel any blows raining down on her back. There were other noises, other sentients there, but they didn't matter. Must listen for Master's commands. When the Twins came, their voices broke through the outer edge of the haze.

Oh, why had they followed her? Why were they trying to take her away from her Master, from her rightful place? Why did they think she could be anything but what she was? She wanted to tell them to go away. She wanted to tell them to leave her alone.

She wanted them to stay, to take her with them.

Master spoke to them, and that frightened her all over again. They mustn't anger Master! Didn't they know, couldn't they hear, the sharpness within him? He toyed with them, played with them, the way the winds drove the flesh from bones. They must go away before he destroyed them! She tried to speak, tried to say something, but she couldn't. She had no voice left, no strength. She was empty.

Finally they left. Oh, finally they were out of Master's reach. Now she was back where she belonged, alone as she belonged. When Master told her to go to the back, she really did try to obey immediately. Not until he threatened her did she find the energy to move somehow. She made it to her nest of blankets and collapsed upon it.

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She awoke with a start and a small gasp. That was completely normal, but the noise out in the Pub was not. She always woke up quickly, ready to serve, hopefully before anyone decided she needed help getting up. But it was not supposed to be noisy. Completely disoriented, Jregli remained still until her brain caught up with everything.

The first thing her brain noticed was how horrible she felt. Her gut had been turned inside out and scraped raw, her gums and teeth ached with a dull burn, and her whole body could have been one big bruise. Even her scales hurt. Not seeing anyone, she continued to lay still. What had happened?

Mmm ... there was the Dance, which had been incredible. And strange; she would have to think about the story later. And the Twins, cleaning the table out of her claws. Oh, and then she'd gone to the lavatory. That would be why she felt wrung out and her mouth hurt. She'd never vomited before, but she'd read about it. I could gladly have gone my whole life without adding experience to that reading, Jregli thought with a muffled moan. Yerbran stomach bile was three-point-seven-six times more acidic than the Star Standard Average, and she felt every point of that percentage as she tried to swallow. Her mouth was so dry; was she dehydrated? That couldn't be, not after drinking so much yesterday ... it was yesterday, wasn't it?

Jregli decided to try sitting up, which turned out to be much harder than she'd expected. After two unsuccessful attempts, she determined that a little more rest would be prudent. So, what had happened after the lavatory? She'd cleaned herself up and gone back out to meet the Twins, who had been very worried ... and there was music .. no, not music. A musical sound, a very soft musical sound, almost like --

Jregli's stomach heaved again as the memory crashed over her. The musical sound of voices, softly speaking in Yerbran. Two of the beautiful Dancers discussing how hideous a tiny slave was. Her stomach clenched and twisted as pain that wasn't physical tore through her hearts. She'd always known she was ugly, deformed, stunted, and offensive to look at, but to hear one of them say it, confirm it ... And then, the most beautiful, most graceful Dancer had echoed their words. Oh, why had they seen her? Why had she gone out there where they could see her? A soft keen whispered through Jregli's chambers. She had destroyed something beautiful, just by being there.

Jregli didn't know how long she lay there, despairing. The noise of the Pub faded into her subconscious as she chastised herself again and again. At some point, though, a sound interrupted her train of thought.

Someone was laughing.

It was a joyful sound, the sound of someone enjoying something. There was nothing harsh about that laugh, nothing mocking. After a few seconds, Jregli identified it as Ressnib's laugh. Ressnib was a Niklon, a strong, solid Race from a heavy-grav world. They had the reputation of being fierce fighters with short tempers, but Ressnib was one of the most genial sentients Jregli had ever met. To look at him, to take just a quick glance, one might think him as dour as the stereotype. A real look at him, at his face with its constant smile and eyes with a friendly gleam in them, proved otherwise. He'd always been pleasant to Jregli, and since she'd started playing the victim, he'd been even more kind. His warm words were ... comforting to hear.

Ressnib finished laughing and said something. There were too many walls in the way for Jregli to make out the words, but she heard Mahl's voice respond. Mahl, who'd begun treating Jregli like a grand-child, fussing over meals and rest, insisting that Jregli not work so much. Who called Jregli by a name that was affectionate, not a curse, not an insult. She was the first sentient to address Jregli that way; even Hfertt had only ever called her own youngling by name. A name that Master had chosen at random, without thought, the same way he named all the slaves hatched in his household. But Mahl made that slave-name somehow sweet.

Immud was sweet-tempered, Jregli noted as she closed her eyes again. He wasn't much for conversation, true. He took a long time to learn a new task, or even a different way of doing an old one. And his personal habits were not what a proper Yerbran would consider acceptable. But he was dependable and unfazed by just about everything, even Shdr'edno's cutting insults. He also left Jregli presents. She'd been staggered when she'd found out how significant a gesture that was for an Engrad to make. She hadn't been trying to get that from him, hadn't even thought he might do something like that, until he had and Funswrub commented on it.

Jregli thought about each of the employees who worked in the Pub: Inop, 'P, Yurs-ond, Trikk-jan, Wilson, Quorb ... they all had accepted her, allowed her to join them. Yes, Funswrub was a grouch and hard to warm up to, but he had his good times. Especially when his favorite politicians had Done Something; his scathing commentary made Jregli laugh so hard her chambers ached. And Trikk-jan could be such a know-it-all that she annoyed everyone around her, but you wouldn't find anyone quicker to back her friends in any confrontation. Such as when the Twins started one of their pranks--

The Twins. Jregli choked back a cry and tried to sink further into her meager nest. She hadn't thought she could feel worse than she did from all the bruises and muscle strain and vomiting, but she did. What was she going to do? What could she do? They meant so well, tried so hard, but they just didn't understand. It was almost as though they were trying to own her. They were such fun to be with, so encouraging and supportive ... and completely smothering. Like the high humidity of their Home world, they made it so hard to just breathe! It had been better before they took her out, before they announced that they'd adopted her without telling her, without even hinting at it!

And, instead of trying to talk with them about it, like a rational sentient, she'd run away. Her feet felt bruised to the bone and ached in time with the beats of her hearts. She'd run away like a jup'ol scenting the Fw'iooo on the wind. Jup'olu were the most cowardly creatures on Yerbra as well as the dumbest, and she had acted just like one. She'd run away from a problem, from a situation rather than trying to figure out someway to actually handle it. If that was how she was going to handle anything that got to be a challenge, then she deserved to be a slave!

"Urbii? Are you awake?"

Space & Time: page 59

Jregli's eyes snapped open. How had she not heard Mahl coming? It must be worse than she'd thought! She struggled to get her feet under her.

"Ah, child, be still! Do not stir yourself; you're still quite weak! Oh, you poor thing, lay back down for a bit. I'll just sit here next to you, won't I?" Mahl gently pressed Jregli back down into the blankets and sat on the floor, placing a message box she'd been carrying on the floor next to her.

"I'm glad there were some blankets back here for you to lie on. I've often wondered why Shradnoh kept them here, but they turned out to be useful, didn't they? And you, clever child, you remembered to find them and put them out before you fell asleep. How you managed it, I don't know; you were so tired, weren't you? Now you've had a bit of rest and you must feel a bit better. Perhaps in a bit, you'll feel up to a bite of something to eat, hmm? Maybe a drink of water?"

Jregli watched Mahl as the older sentient continued chatting in a low, calming voice. Mahl didn't offer to touch her, which Jregli thought was a considerate gesture. From her observations, Jregli knew that most sentients considered a light touch soothing and appropriate for a distressed being. That Mahl knew Yerbrans didn't endorse that action said a lot for her. It also said a lot about what Mahl thought of Jregli.

What did Mahl think of Jregli? Of what had happened last night, or whenever it was? And what did the others think? If this was any indication, they didn't look down on Jregli for her behavior. They didn't hold anything against her. If they had been Yerbrans, the whole thing would have been Jregli's fault. Losing self-control like that in public ... it was shameful. But these sentients proved their alieness again by their casual acceptance and forbearance. It was as uncomfortable as it was comforting.

Jregli wanted to press that comfort to her chest, try to absorb it into her hearts. It would be so wonderful to not be judged, to be allowed to make mistakes and forgiven for trying and failing. But she couldn't. Jregli was Yerbran, and Yerbrans just didn't act that way. Not unless someone's current or potential value was so great that it outweighed the error.

"Now, I know how much you care about the Pub and keeping it clean and well-run; don't fret yourself one bit on that, urbii. We're all pulling together and making certain everything gets done. Funswrub came in early to prep for Open, and Rassnib checked all the supply logs. IP maintenanced all the bots. Wils'n and Quorb checked the Arcade ... we never really realized just how much you do, urbii! You are so industrious! Such a short time you've been with us, and already you are so important to the running of the Pub."

Mahl's praise could be argued as the reason the employees were willing to overlook Jregli's behavior. They valued her work and the fact that it made less work for them. But Jregli didn't think that was how Mahl meant it. Or how any of them would mean it, if they thought about it. They had enjoyed how she had lightened their workloads, but they hadn't realized what she was doing, Jregli was certain. Which was as it should be; the primary function of a slave was to perform essential tasks invisibly. There was a kind of pride there, perhaps the only kind slaves might be permitted to own, in performing flawlessly. Jregli had been performing well, and Yerbran slaves might be willing to allow her to mess up now and again in order to keep the second-hand benefit of her labor around. But you can't keep thinking about them like they were Yerbrans!

Jregli made herself look carefully at Mahl. Dressed in her uniform, Mahl looked like nearly any employee of any mid-quality eatery. A bit older, yes; her gray hair had faded in patches on the sides of her head above her ears. Age had creased the skin around her eyes and mouth slightly, though her complexion was as ruddy as any Rundion in her prime. She had pulled her hair back into a small bundle at the base of her skull, a utilitarian if undecorative fashion. Mahl had the small, thin not-claws on the tips of her fingers as so many Races did, and she'd colored them with a shiny lacquer that gleamed in the dim lighting of the back storage room. Shoes covered her feet, which she had tucked under her folded legs.

Mahl's eyes roamed around the back room as she talked, resting mostly on Jregli but often darting to look at other things. When her eyes did point at Jregli, that tender expression filled them and her voice had a warmer tone. She kept her pitch low and her pace easy, just the way you should to calm an upset Yerbran. Perhaps she couldn't keep her eyes still, but Mahl made every other effort to treat Jregli the way a Yerbran needed to be treated. And Jregli wasn't convinced that her reasons were the same as a Yerbran's would be.

And that left Jregli with a difficult problem. She hadn't considered this at all when she'd hatched her great plan to come to the Space Station. Yes, she'd known there would be aliens and that she would interact with them, but she hadn't considered just how weird they all would be. And how weirdly the would act, or how they would expect her to act. She'd come with the assumption that she would continue on the Station as she had on Home. These sentients weren't acting the way Jregli had expected them to, and she couldn't figure out what they expected of her. Well, she could know what they expected, but that didn't mean she understood it. They wanted her to act like they did, to be like them. It was as though they wanted her to stop being Yerbran, to stop being who and what she was.

And Jregli did not want to do that.

She remembered what she had told the Twins back in the Hall, when they had talked of taking her away from Uncle. Could she not be both? Would it be possible to keep the Yerbran in herself while also being like the others? But there were so many others! And she was too tired to think about it any longer. She'd slept longer already than she ever did, but she was still so weary ... and Mahl's voice was so soothing ...

Space & Time: page 60

Neim wasn't satisfied, but he could probably be described as mollified. The Uffniorns had wriggled out of the fullest measure of justice, but they had been slapped with heavy fines and officially blacklisted by Mutuality Security. The comprehensive genetic scans attached to their profiles would make it hard for them to move around the galaxy for a long time. It wasn't as good as seeing them incarcerated for ten or twenty years in a heavy labor camp, but it was better than Neim's worst-case projections. And it was definitely worth it to see Trogvan fume.

Neim sighed as he waited for the lift to drop him off at the bridge. He'd gotten a lot done today, and it was almost time to go meet Sam for 'fishing. The 'tainment session wouldn't last nearly long enough, but it never did. Still better than nothing. The lift doors swished open and Neim stepped into his second-favorite spot on the Station.

"Commander on deck!" Drifn snapped to the crew on duty. Everyone who wasn't engrossed in something came to attention as Neim paced over to his console. Drifn, his face twisted into his customary scowl, saluted and stepped back.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I have command," Neim nodded to Drifn.

"Sir." Drifn was always perfectly correct, but his attitude left so much to be desired. He did his job well, and Neim was slightly confused about why he hadn't been promoted already. Politics, most likely. Pissed off the wrong sentient somewhere along the line. Neim settled into the command chair and set the console to reconfigure to his preferred settings. Sar was off today, so he turned to Ensign Yum.

"Begin reports, Ensign."

"Sir. Hourly inbound Corridor report: Eighty-seven percent of scheduled traffic accounted for at this time. Fifteen percent of those were delayed; ninety-one percent of those delayed credit Corridor hyper-fluctuations for the delay. No collisions in the approach vectors ..."

Neim hid a frown as he scrolled through the details on his console. That was a lot of delays and a lot of late ships. Were the Flioim making another point? He'd never heard of anyone being able to create large enough disruptions to the gravitational flow of a Wormhole's hyper-space to seriously delay a ship. But the Flioim had tech they weren't sharing, even with the Vun, because none of the other 'Hole's residents could even dream of closing off their Corridors to traffic. The Flioim had done it twice: the first time by narrowing the diameter of the sub-space variance that was the entrance/exit of the 'Hole so much that not even a slip could get through it, and the second time by masking that variance so that no one's sensors could pick it up to plot a course.

It was entirely possible that they were doing something like that again, this time by allowing ships in and then making it too dangerous for them to pass through. Looked like the fluctuations reported by the traffic were all along the Corridor, not localized to any particular area. The ships not delayed also reported that the hyper-space readings were closer to the red zone than they liked. It wasn't unheard of for normal hyper-space waves to fluctuate and come apart in response to astronomical changes, like a star going nova or even a really big battle explosion, but Wormholes were, by anyone's definition, far more stable than that.

Neim's grasp of astro-physics was solid enough for him to have passed his required courses and continuing education programs, but he wasn't an expert. Still, Wormhole 101 was something you learned in Primary. Wormholes were permanent, specifically directed passages within hyper-space, which was otherwise just the area defined by the gravitational effects of the galaxy. Star systems, black holes, comets, and just about everything else contributed to the river of energy that swirled just beyond the grasp of pre-space Races. The more gravities an object commanded, the greater its influence on hyper-space. But Wormholes weren't as easily affected by those everyday little changes; their hyper seldom shifted, even for a M-7 nova. And their gravitic flow also seemed unimpressed by the events that often buckled the stronger parts of hyper. Wormholes were virtually immutable.

So what the Hell could make the Fredan-Unlind Corridor shiver like Granny in the wintertime? And were the Flioim the ones doing it?

Fruns had dug up a lot of data on the Vun's history, but it still didn't provide much insight on the 'Hole residents. The Vun insisted hotly (and at length) that their celestials were not dangerous whenever a hint of concern came up. Neim was inclined to agree. For now. What data they had showed a pattern of peaceful interactions. And the fact that every story consistently backed up the idea that the "angels" stood between Life and Trezaq was impressive. Not even the religious dissidents among the Vun would argue against that, which was telling. But just because there wasn't any evidence (yet) that the residents had unpleasant motives didn't mean that they were everybody's friends.

So, boil it all down. The Flioim had lodged an official complaint through their proxies. Traffic reported dangerous sensor readings from an area that should not have dangerous things to sense. Ships were significantly delayed or unaccounted for. And C&P had agreed to look more closely at the situation. Which they definitely would now, since merchants were not making their runs on schedule. Unhappy merchants were the bane of ever--

"Hold a moment, Fruns. Did you mention something about Yerbrans?"

Space & Time: page 61

She awoke with a start and a small gasp. That was completely normal, but the noise out in the Pub was not. She always woke up quickly, ready to serve, hopefully before anyone decided she needed help getting up. But it was not supposed to be noisy. This time, however, Jregli was not disoriented, and she felt far less awful. But she was still confused about many things.

Firstly, she needed to determine what duties she was supposed to be at. Opening her eyes, she listened carefully to the sounds of the Pub. Someone mixing drinks at the main bar, quiet voices discussing the drudgery of being a ship hand, the clink and clatter of tableware in the distance ... no music, no loud voices. So, possibly still early in the Day. What Day was it? It had been Fifth Day when she went out with the ... when she went out, so it was at least Sixth Day.

She needed to get up and help open ... no, Mahl had said that everyone else had come in to open. Was it First Day already? Had she slept that long? No! Master would be furious--

But he said to stay back here, hadn't he? Jregli forced herself to remember. He'd said ... to stay ... in the back room, that was it! Go lie down and stay there until he came. When would he come? How could she let him know that she was awake and able to get back to her duties? There was no lavatory in the back room, and now that she was awake ...

Oh, he would delay for as long as possible, wouldn't he? Make her lie back here until she became either bowel-bound or lay in her own filth. That would be a fitting punishment for her behavior. And it would be just like him, too. He couldn't be content with making his point. He had to drive it home again and again. It was perfectly acceptable to humiliate an enemy more than she had humiliated you, but there came a point when it was really overkill. Didn't it? Come to that point? Maybe it was only for free people that that line of temperance appeared; slaves weren't worthy of such niceties.

"Ah, good! You're awake again!" Ressnib came around the corner into the storage room, making enough noise that Jregli should have heard him moving before he'd begun. But she hadn't; she'd been caught up in thinking, and this was just another item to add to the long list of her inadequacies. Any Yerbran worth her tail should have heard any sentient coming--

"How you feeling, kiddo?" Ressnib asked as he pulled a sack of formulator MS-087 off the shelf. "You hungry yet? Thirsty?"

Master hadn't said she couldn't speak, had he? She didn't think so. "I'm alright."

Ressnib frowned at her and lowered the sack to the floor. "I'm not gonna call you a liar, kiddo, but I don't believe that a Minute. You started out here pretty bad off, and the way you looked when you come in Fifth Night ... I don't think you're 'alright'. Answer me straight, now. You hungry?"

"Yes, sir." She tried to shrink into the blankets, but it wasn't as easy as it usually was. It was almost as though there were fewer blankets in her nest ...

"You thirsty?"

"Yes, sir." Glancing around, she noticed that several things seemed to be out of place.

"You hurting?"

"Yes, sir." Her data pad was the only thing on the shelf she'd claimed for her own. Where were her ...?

"You need the lav?"

"Yes, sir." And what--

"Fine, then. First things first. See if you can get up, and we'll get you to the lav. Then Winston'll--"

"I can't get up."

"You hurting that much, kiddo?" Ressnib left the sack propped against the shelving and came over to her, his face all wrinkled up in concern.

"Mmm, no, not that much, but Uncle said I had to stay back here until he came to see me. Check me over, I mean." Was it bad that her voice sounded so flat? She usually tried to be upbeat and project happiness so other's wouldn't have to be distracted by her attitude. She was failing miserably at that now, wasn't she?

Ressnib grunted unhappily. "He did, didn't he. I'll go get him then--'cept he's holed up with the Twins right now. They been at it for Hours now." He frowned again, and Jregli just lay there. It didn't matter now. Didn't matter at all.

"Fine, then. I'm calling it. You're going to the lav with Mahl, and if he's got a problem with it, then he'll talk to me about it."

Whatever. It didn't matter now. Ressnib helped her up and guided her out to the Pub. Her feet shuffled, her tail dragged, and her hands lay limply along her thighs. The storage rooms were kept dim unless someone was in them, but Ressnib hadn't turned up the lights when he'd come back for the mix. When they got to the bar, the stronger illumination of the pub hurt Jregli's eyes. Not that it mattered.

"Mahl? You wanna get the kiddo to the lav and back? She's not too steady."

"Of course, Rassnib." Mahl set down the glasses she'd been wiping dry and took Ressnib's place at Jregli's side. Right, to the lavatory. Jregli shambled around the bar and to the closest lavatory.

When she was done, Mahl quietly guided her to a small table hidden by the corner of the bar. An upholstered square of adequate size replaced one of the chairs, and Jregli dropped onto it at Mahl's gesture. Someone put a glass of water in front of her, so Jregli drank it. Someone put a plate of food in front of her, so Jregli ate it. The glass was full again, so Jregli drank that, too.

She was starting to feel better when Shdr'edno's voice cut through the quiet chatter of the Pub.

Space & Time: page 62

"And what is this? My dear little niece is up and about? Why didn't anyone tell me?" No one was fooled by sweetness of Shdr'edno's tone.

"Apologies, boss," Ressnib said. "You were in a meeting, and she was ready to get up. I decided to bring her out and get her fed up and such."

"I don't recall having given those instructions."

"You didn't. I took initiative of her." He looked squarely at Shrd'edno, as though there weren't a difference of more than five Units in their heights. Shdr'edno returned his gaze evenly for several Seconds before sighing gustily.

"It isn't that I don't appreciate what you've done, but caring for a Yerbran child must be done in a particular way. Yerbrans are very different from most Races, and our young must be--"

"Begging your pardon, Shradnoh, but we do know that," Mahl interrupted her employer with brazen calmness. Jregli nearly gasped, certain that Shdr'edno would have cause to do something awful to her. "We've studied up on the subject, since we've a little one here now. We know she's different, so we treat like she ought to be treated."

"And how is that?" So cool, so dangerous! They should leave her be, leave her to her fate! Why did they insist on being so foolish?

"Don't offer to touch her, give her space. Make her move on her own, expect her to figure things out. Give orders, but speak gently so she learns to do things willingly and develops initiative. Give her both praise and punishment as needed, so she learns from both success and failure. Monitor her closely, but give her leeway enough to grow. Make her prove herself, and let her know when she has..."

Jregli felt her tail drop in astonishment as Mahl continued to recite. Where had she learned all that? Young-raising wasn't something you talked about, and certainly not something you wrote about, at least not on Yerbra. Many other Races wrote copious volumes on the best ways to rear a youngling, but not Jregli's. But Mahl did have one detail wrong. All the things she spoke of applied when raising a child. They did not apply to slaves.

Shdr'edno finally cut Mahl off. "You do seem to have learned quite a bit about how we treat our children. You will understand, I trust, my skepticism that 'feed-learning does not equate to actual experience. I have no reason to believe that you can take care of the child properly, which is why I have not suggested it. And, since I am the child's only living adult, I take particular care where she is concerned. She is my child, and I view that duty most seriously."

But for that vicious little twitch in his tail, you might almost think he meant it the way he said it. Mahl kept her eyes on Shdr'edno's face, but her posture made Jregli think that maybe she'd seen the twitch and, more astonishingly, knew what it meant.

"The proper concern of a worthy guardian," Mahl replied so smoothly that Jregli tensed with shock. She might be speaking Yerbran and not Mutual with that beautifully concealed scorn!

"We're yours, too," Ressnib put in. "You owe us wages, not kin-debt, but we look after your things. Shouldn't we look after the kiddo, as well? Hear it's not uncommon for Yerbran employees to teach and ride herd on the boss's kids. Part of regular duty, sometimes."

Jregli sagged on the stool. Where had they heard that! How did they know so much? Why did they care?

"Mmm, and I have seen how well my non-Yerbran employees take care of my child!" Shdr'edno snapped. "Running her all over the Station, stuffing her full of alien foods she can't properly digest, subjecting her to so many bizarre things that she was forced to run away from them and fell at my very feet, too sick to speak or move!"

"We all learn from mistakes, Shradnoh. Sometimes, the only way to learn is to make mistakes."

"I will not tolerate such 'mistakes' where my child is concerned!"

"And we will not make them again," a familiar voice said from behind Shdr'edno. Jregli jerked upright and leaned backwards to see the Twins and two older Hunsids standing a few Units away. Hevrit continued, carefully not looking at Jregli.

"We did not properly prepare; we acknowledge this. We have learned much in the past three Days, and we will continue to learn. Jregli is your kin-child, and she is also our sister. We have begun making reparations, and we will continue until we have discharged the debt our rashness incurred. We owe Jregli kin-debt, as well, and we will make good on it!" Hevrit's eyes blazed with conviction, and Harvit's barely controlled emotions made him tremble slightly. The other Hunsids, a male and a female, tempered their passion with age. Were these Uncle Frindes and Aunt Eundos?

"It will be some time before you have paid for your foolishness, and even longer before you convince me that you are safe for my child to be around!" Shdr'edno replied acidly. "Be content that I have not fired you or pressed charges against you for your reckless behavior!"

"We accept our punishment, and we will learn from our mistakes," Hevrit replied with barely contained ... fury? Shame?

"I do hope so," Shdr'edno replied disdainfully.

"Um, Jregli! Here's you package!"

Space & Time: page 63

"My what?"

"Her what?" Shdr'edno asked at the same time. "What package? Why was I not told of this?"

"Your pardon, sir," Inop bowed, still holding the messenger box. Jregli thought it was the same one Mahl had had earlier, when she'd come and sat beside Jregli in the back. How long ago was that? "You were away on business when it arrived, and there has not been time to mention it to you since."

"Who is it from? What is in it?" Shdr'edno gestured impatiently for Inop to give him the box. Inop, however, calmly held the box under his arm.

"We did not open the box, sir, since it was not addressed to any of us. And the origination point is in the Gribban Sector, Dringe System. Any more than that, I cannot tell without opening the message. Which I have no right to do." Inop carefully did not imply that Shdr'edno had no right to, either. Which he, as Jregli's adult guardian, actually did. But Inop (and the others) seemed ... they seemed to think that only Jregli should open the box?

And that, of course, completely ignored the main question, which was who had sent Jregli a box in the first place? Jregli had no idea.

Shdr'edno seemed to think that his slave did have some idea, judging from the slow tension building in his body.

"I ... I have no idea who would send me anything ... I don't know anyone in the ... the Gribban Sector." Jregli tried to project as much truthfulness into her voice and posture as possible. She really didn't know anyone who might have sent her mail from any sector.

Shdr'edno paused for several beats before speaking. "This is ... unusual. Well, little pet, it would seem you have an admirer somewhere in the Galaxy. You should open your package and see what it holds." He stepped back a pace and motioned for Inop to give Jregli the box.

Jregli tensed as Inop laid the box in front of her. Wilson had moved the platter and glass out of the way already, so she didn't have those to fiddle with and try to buy more time. She didn't want to open the box, didn't want to give Master another reason to be cruel ... but there was no way out of it. Everyone was looking at her: Shdr'edno, Mahl, Ressnib, Inop, Wilson, the Twins, Aunt and Uncle. She reached out and pressed the release panel.

The panel beeped quietly and flashed an inquiry; Jregli hesitantly typed in her name. After a moment of processing, the panel glowed white and then blanked as the catches released and the lid loosened. The panel popped upright, indicating a recorded message. Jregli glanced around, but no one seemed inclined to move. She pressed the icon marked "Begin Message".

The small screen displayed the face of a female humanoid. She smiled and began speaking in a soft, rich voice.

"I'm greetin' ya, Zreggie of Yerbra. I be Ketis, th' mother o' Gurts. He told me that ya been a good friend ta him, e'en though ya been there such a short while. A mother worries 'bout her boy when he's so far from her, an' it does me good t' know he's a staunch bein b'side him. He was doin' poorly fer a long time there, e'en with all his friends from the dock. Wasn't 'til ya came to the Station that his messages Home turned bright." She chuckled gently.

"At firs', ya'll unnerstand, I wondered if'n he'd found a lady ta court, but he set me straight on that! He says that Yerbrans an' us aren't compat'ble, but he still thinks highly o' ya an' appreciates ya takin th' time ta hear him out when he's down. An' fer that, I thanks ya from th' bottom of m' heart.

"Now, I never heard o' Yerbrans afore m' boy's message come Home, so I had ta do a bit o' readin' to get an idea o' what ya look like. Gurts tells me that yer folk don't wear no clothes o' any kind, which hits me square in th' eye, bein' a simple wife an' mother from lil' ol' Tingort Home! But I ken that folk aint the same ever'wheres, so I've no issue with ya bein' th' way ya are. That said, though, I did want ta 'spress m' gratitude fer all ya done fer m' son. Since ya mind th' bar where m' son spen'ds his pay, I'm thinkin' this might be a 'propriate way o' sayin' thanks.

"There be no need ta send anythin' in return, m'dear, so don' fret yerself. 'Tis a gift. Though if yer wantin' ta send me a message now an' then, ta tell me what m' boy's been up ta, I wouldn't find it amiss. Ya have yerself a good 'un, Zreggie, dear." The screen blanked and lowered back into the top of the box.

Jregli stared at the box. So did everyone else.

"Well, well, little one. You seem to have made quite an impression on a customer," Shdr'edno said quietly, tail flicking ominously.

"Indeed, urbii! I didn't realize you had spent so much time with Gurts. I thought he was usually on the dance floor," Mahl added.

"He ... he is. Usually. I ... well, when I first came, he would sit at the bar, but then he was always out dancing.: He only comes back for drinks now." Jregli was afraid to believe that this wasn't some kind of prank. Or a mistake.

"What did you say to him when he sat at the bar?" Wislon asked curiously.

"Mmm, well, I knew he was a Tingort, and I'd just read something about Tingort Home, something about a recent political event and how it had historical precedents and ... mmm ... so I mentioned that to him, and he was interested. So he started talking about Home and ... things, and I just let him talk while I mixed drinks. I was still getting used to all the formulators, so I didn't say much, and he just talked for a long time. I found out what kinds of drinks he liked and recommended some meals to him, and he liked those ... I don't know! It wasn't anything special!"

"And that's what makes you special, dear one." Mahl smiled gently at her, as did everyone but Shdr'edno and Harvit (who looked like he might have smiled if he weren't busy glaring at her Master).

"But that's what I'm supposed to do! I was just doing my work!" Jregli protested. "You don't thank someone for doing what they're assigned to do!"

"This Ketis thinks otherwise, and it's no shame she did," Ressnib stated.

"Why don't you look and see what she sent you?" Mahl suggested as Shdr'edno silently fumed.

Space & Time: page 64

Jregli stared at the folded fabric as she set the lid aside. Hesitantly, she picked up a corner and lifted it. As it cleared the box, it unfolded itself, revealing a somewhat rectangular piece of white fabric edged on three sides by a mottled green strip of fabric evenly gathered and a long strip of the same green fabric sewn flat across the fourth side and extending a Unit to either side. The white square was gathered into the long strip, and two smaller squares of the green were patched onto the white. Jregli noted that the green squares were only sewn on three sides, like little pouches.

"What is it?" she wondered.

"Why, it's an apron!" Mahl cried as Ressnib, Wilson, Inop, the Twins, and their aunt and uncle made approving exclamations. Shdr'edno looked as puzzled as Jregli felt.

"Oh, urbii, it's just darling! Such a thoughtful gift! A little barmaid should have a little apron to wear!"

"You ... I wear it? How?" Despite her confusion, Jregli felt a stirring of excitement. This was clothing?

"Yes! Stand up, stand up! I'll show you how it goes." Jregli scrambled to her feet and watched Mahl wrap the "apron" around her waist. "See, she even included a loop here in the front to put the extra length of the ties through; they're long enough to wrap all the way around you. Such a clever seamstress. Watch how I tie it, urbii, so you can do this for yourself later. Now, there's a pretty bow for you! And Ketis knew just where to put the pockets, too; they're in just the right spot for you to reach anything you put there!"

Everyone (except, obviously, Shdr'edno) voiced approval. "It looks lovely! Looks good on you, kiddo. Ah! Little sister! Your gift is a delight upon you!"

Jregli gently stroked the back of her hand across the fabric. It was thicker than the materials normally used to make clothing and yet still soft. The ruffles shifted under her touch, making a quiet sound. She could smell Ketis' scent, the same warm, earthy scent Jregli associated with Tingorts and yet unique to the female ... the woman who'd made it. As Jregli lifted the corners of the apron, she could almost taste the odor of the fibers; they were organic, not fabricated. The dyes, too, were organic; Jregli thought they smelled somewhat sweet and tangy at the same time.

"I do think that Ketis must have sewn this completely by hand," Mahl gushed. "See how the stitches are just slightly uneven? A machine would have made them all exact, without any personality in them at all! A hand-made item always has a bit of the maker in it!"

Yes, the apron did have something of the alien mother in it, Jregli agreed silently. It had gratitude. And approval. It had the value that this strange female, who'd never met, spoken to, or seen a single Yerbran placed on one ugly, stunted slave.

Jregli felt her tail begin to lift as warmth blossomed in her hearts. This apron was a mark of favor. The responses from the employees were marks of favor. She was favored! And her master, fume though he might, could not change that!

"Such a clever little garment!" a new voice exclaimed. Everyone spun around to face the speaker, who had come up quietly behind the group. It was the beautiful Dancer from the Glass Room! The two Dancers who'd first noticed Jregli come out of the lavatory stood behind her, and the dashingly handsome Brother stood behind them.

"It does become you, child," she said kindly. Jregli stared back, dumbfounded.

"My Lady! I bid you most welcome to my humble establishment!" Shdr'edno stepped in smoothly and bowed to the Dancers.

"We are truly well met, my lord," she replied, and all three of them made the most graceful bows possible.

"I am the Master of this place, Shdr'edno nn 'Ovvunnith."

"I am the Matron of this family of the Children of the Wind, Kkle'drqo nn Uunfe Dpolqr, the Stars Watchers," she translated for the others, "this is our family Patron, Rnn'fern nn Uunfe Dpolqr, and these Daughters are Gp'nifse and Jujk'anrl. We have been on this Station a brief while and have found it wondrously different. One of our hosts, knowing how this strangeness pressed upon us, mentioned a certain Pub and its owner to us. He indicated we might find something of our Home in it furnishings and might hear the breath of the winds in the master. Our duties have thus far kept us from learning the truth of his words until now." Kkle'drqo's rich, sweet voice washed over Jregli, causing a quiver that started in her chambers and ran all the way out her toe claws.

"You have honored me and raised my Status with your presence in my establishment. I beg you tell me how I may repay this favor," Shdr'edno replied. Though his words were exactly proper, they somehow sounded flat and unctuous after the Wind Dancer's speech.

"I would expect no less, my lord," Kkle'drqo said politely. "You will repay us by hearing our apology."

Space & Time: page 65

Shdr'edno paused, nonplussed. Jregli froze, shocked. The others looked at each other, confused.

"The wind is in your favor, my Lady," Shdr'edno said slowly. "I know of no offense you have given, yet if this apology is so great that it will repay the honor you have given me, I will be most attentive."

Kkle'drqo bobbed a short bow, and Gp'nifse and Jujk'anrl dropped into the lowest bows Jregli had ever seen. Rnn'fern kept his watchful stance, though he lowered his tail respectfully.

"I am told the child Jregli belongs to you. This is so?"

"Yes," Shrd'edno answered slowly.

"These Daughters have given the child and therefore you great offense. They encountered her at the place called the Glass Room, where we Danced these two nights past. They were impolite in their speech and callow in behavior, insulting the child and not caring that she could hear them. They have been corrected for their actions, and now they offer you their apologies." Kkle'drqo flicked her claws reprovingly at the two Dancers bent behind her.

"We humbly beg your forgiveness, lord Shdr'edno," the two Dancers said in synchronized Yerbran. "We have acted without thought or honor and shamed our family. We have slighted you by slighting she who is in your care. We have betrayed our founder and our sworn way. We have rightly received the wrath of our Matron and Patron and our Sisters and Brothers. We would know what price you place on this crime, that we may repay it in full."

Jregli's hearts turned to stones in her chest. NO! Did they have any idea what they had just done!

Shdr'edno tried to keep his lips from curling back with moderate success. This was too perfect! Wind Dancers coming to him, begging him to name a price for an insult? Oh, this was even better than seeing Dko'llp's face when Shdr'edno had taken the entire shipping line away from him. A feral snarl of triumph was not proper etiquette, but it was so hard to restrain himself! Two fetching young Dancers all his for the asking? How perfect! How perfect indeed!

And something this perfect should not be rushed. Shdr'edno took a deep breath to affect his distress.

"How dreadful! Now I understand why it is the child came back to me in such great upset! Why, she was so overwrought that I could get no word from her about what had happened! Indeed, until this very morning, she has not stirred from her nest; this is the first I have heard of the events of that night. I am deeply affected by the strain that you have caused my child. It will take some time for me to fully consider the ramifications of these things. You must allow me a Day or two to consider, and I will consider most carefully, of that you may be certain!"

Kkle'drqo dipped another brief bow and flicked her tail in acknowledgement. "You shall have the time to consider, lord Shdr'edno; this is a grave matter. We await your answer on the morrow."

Shdr'edno managed to turn his tail-curl of triumph into one of resigned acknolwedgement. Then Kkle'drqo shocked him.

"Child, you are called Jregli?" she gently asked. The child asked felt her petrified hearts explode into motion as the elegant woman focused on her.

"Nnn--nnn ... mmm, yes, gracious lady, I-I am," she somehow managed to reply. Kkle'drqo flicked her clwas at the two Dancers again, and they, still bowed to the floor, gracefully turned to Jregli.

"We humbly beg your forgiveness, child Jregli. "We have acted without thought or honor and shamed our family. We have slighted you and slighted the one who cares for you. We have betrayed our founder and our sworn way. We have rightly received the wrath of our Matron and Patron and our Sisters and Brothers. We would know what price you place on this crime, that we may repay it in full."

Jregli's legs buckled, and she fell to the floor with a loud thump. Shdr'edno looked like he wanted to fall over as well, but he remained standing. He was so stunned that he couldn't even protest the unprecedented, even obscene, action.

"Yo--you--you-- Don't apologize to me!" Jregli wailed. "Don't ever apologize! You are great and noble and beautiful and--and--and I don't deserve any apoologies! I'm a child, a-- You don't have to apologize to me!"

Gp'nifse and Jujk'anrl recoiled slightly at her outburst, and Gp'nifse's tail twitched slightly, though with what emotion was unclear since Rnn'fern immediately tapped it with his toe-claw. Kkle'drqo nodded once.

"We understand your confusion, child. It is not the way of most Yerbrans to consider younglings, but we are the Children of the Wind, and we consider everyone we encounter. Younglings have the same rights as adults among us, and we extend that courtesy to you. These Daughters insulted you; therefore we have insulted you. You have the right, even as your lord does, to claim recompense."

Jregli could only stutter nonsense.

"Take ease, child Jregli. This is some shock to you. When we return for your lord's answer, we will hear yours, as well. For now, we shall leave you to think. And to enjoy your lovely garment," she added with warmth. Kkle'drqo and Rnn'fern bowed again, Gp'nisfe and Jujk'anrl dipped their heads, and then the four left.

Space & Time: page 66

"Well, that was nice of them!" Mahl commented brightly.

Jregli remained on the floor, unable to move. There was no ... what had just ... Why??

She knew that the Wind Dancers, all the Children of the Wind, were different, that they didn't hold to the same social standards of the rest of Yerbra, but what did they think they were doing?? How could they even think of speaking to a child, a child they did not know and who held no potential Status? They knew she had no Status because Shdr'edno had called her his child, not his heir or progeny or any of the other terms used for a child who was being groomed to inherit. Kkle'drqo had called Shdr'edno Jregli's "lord," so she knew that Jregli was nothing. Did she suspect that Jregli was a slave?

It was impossible to tell, just as it was impossible to understand why she'd forced her Dancers to apologize. If all of them were like that, treating younglings like that ... Jregli wasn't so sure she wanted to be like them anymore. They were too bizarre.

"There is still work to be done; I'm not paying you to stand around!" Shdr'edno managed to throw off his shock and snapped at his employees. They melted away to their tasks, but far more slowly than they should have. Mahl, the fawning, unattractive one, gathered up the message box and moved towards the bar.

"I'll take that," he snapped. "It will be useful for my own messages."

Mahl nodded, wisely keeping her mouth shut for once. She detatched the message screen and handed the box to him.

"All of it," he said calmly.

"The message is Jregli's--"

"I will hold it for her." He was done arguing with these idiotic sentients! Mahl stared at him in challenge for several seconds, but she finally gave it over. Then she went back to her station, even more slowly than the others had. Shdr'edno turned to his slave, who sat like a sack of rocks on the floor.

"What to do with you now," he murmured in Yerbran. He knew she heard him, but her pathetic little mind seemed to be completely overloaded. Which was, after all, what he wanted.

"Pet!" She flattened herself with appropriate servility. "Go check the lavatories; Funswrub has been lax in cleaning them. Make certain they are spotless, and then go receive the new inventory. It will arrive by Noon; have it entered and shelved before the Lunch crowd leaves." If she could get that big a delivery checked in that quickly, he'd have to think of something else for her to do. If not, he'd have a pleasant time yelling at her about her failure to obey. And if she got it done, but made mistakes ... well, that was even better.

Jregli scuttled away, only half aware of what she was doing. She'd heard the orders and knew what she was suposed to do, but her mind was still spinning. The favor, the gift, the apology ... and her stomach still hurt, her gums still ached, her feet still sent slivers of pain up her legs.

The front lavatory was essentially clean, but Jregli needed something to do, so she pulled out the bots and set them to overdrive. She also pulled out the hand-held scrubbers and set herself to the crevices the bots couldn't reach. Her mind felt like a winter storm raged inside her head, and she let it. That was how you survived a storm; you holed up and waited it out.

The other lavatories were cleaner than the first, but she went over them again anyway. By then, it was Noon, so she scampered up to the front, arriving just as the delivery carts pulled up. Some part of her mind might have commented that delivery personnel were never early and always only just on time, but that went unnoticed as she directed the pallets to the store rooms and reviewed the log sheets. As she mechanically checked off the last item, verifying that it was in the crate, the bulky Prinffin delivery sentient offered an opinion as he detatched the grav-dolly.

"Nice apron."

"Mmm--what?" The direct comment broke into her mental disarray.

"Nice apron. Minds me of the kind my Mum would wear back Home when we had company over."

"Mmm, th-thank you. It is a gift."

"It's nice. We good here?" He shifted the grav-dolly around and reached for the data board.

"Yes. Yes, it looks good. Here." She handed it back to him. He nodded pleasantly and dragged the dolly behind him as he left. Jregli closed the big doors used for loading supplies in and out and turned back to the stacks of crates.

A nice apron. The kind an adult woman would wear to recieve honored guests. A gift of honor from an adult. Adults showing favor. Yerbran adults giving respect due only another adult.

By the sacred waters of the Growing Valley! She was fifty Cycles ahead of schedule!

Space & Time: page 67

It's an odd but real fact that one can be both excited and numb at the same time. Jregli could feel the energy building in her chest, but it didn't go anywhere or make itself known in any outward fashion. Maybe she was still too tired, too drained from the past few Days. Maybe she was getting smarter about not letting her emotions show. Maybe she just didn't have a leaping clue what she was doing.

Doing with her private war against Shdr'edno, she amended. What she was doing with her hands was checking in the new inventory and lugging it to the proper shelves. Fortunately, she'd upgraded the existing receiving SOP to eliminate an entire step and cut the completion time by a third the Week after she'd arrived. Shocking how inefficient her Master was when it came to organizing his shelves. She'd updated the Pub's database at the same time she'd checked off the items on the delivery 'pad, having slaved the Pub's log to it from the start. Now, she scanned the ID codes of the individual items and the shelves they went on as she slowly emptied the crates.

So far ahead of schedule, she mused, wrestling a box of formulator parts onto a shelf just above her head. Most Yerbrans could reasonably expect to have a loyal (of sorts) following about ten to fifteen Cycles after becoming an adult. Gaining a cortege of supporters, banded together for mutual gain and advancement, was crucial to establishing one's place in society. A strong, smart adult would be the leader; less strong or smart adults would be the supporters. A very smart adult would have an expendable figurehead to take the unwanted attention.

Jregli had such a group now in the employees of the Pub. Too early to tell who held what position, especially since Jregli was still a child. But still workable. If she were careful, she wouldn't have to worry about building a network once she became an ad--

If she becam--

Jregli paused mid-motion, hands halfway into a crate of dry goods. She never would become an adult, would she?

So what was the point of thinking about her options, of planning for her future? Slaves never earned adult status. Slaves never had any Status. Slaves might enhance their Master's Status, but would never have any of their own. Did Jregli want to use all of her talents, all of her brillinace, for a Master?

A few Months ago, it wouldn't have been a question. Of course she would; helping her Master was the best way to help herself. Now ... it wasn't so clear. It's wasn't as easy to answer. She drew on that curious calm, that oddly controlled passion, and thought about it as she lifted the packets of powdered innfp grain from the crate and placed them on their shelf.

Helping her Master was the only choice, really. If she witheld any of her ability, any of her accomplishments, from her Master, it would ultimately circle back to bite her. He would find out and punish her, or he would fall and she would fall with him. Even if she managed to avoid to consequences of his fall, she would just be sold to someone else and it would begin again. Even if she managed to choose her new Master (or Mistress), it would be the same Cycle, over and over and over.

She had to make Shdr'edno so happy, so safe, that no harm could come to her. But that was a hard run, indeed, she thought, flattening the empty crates and stacking them for pickup. There would always be stray currents, unexpected storms, blowing up from nowhere and catching even the most wary off guard. Yet a prepared person had a better chance of surviving that squall.

But could she do it? Could she stand to so abase herself to a Master she had defeated and determined to continue defeating? A Master determined to grind her into the dust? No matter how she groveled, how she served, Shdr'edno would never forgive her and never forget what she had done.

She knew the logical arguments. She wasn't so sure about the illogical ones. Like the pleasure she had from working unfettered in the Pub. The thrill of winning a word-riddle against Ooan or Eaor or any of the other Quadesixos. The challenge of pleasing every customer of every Race who came into the Pub. The joy of learning freely, without having to hide that she did so. The fierce pride at having accomplished what no other slave had.

Being ruled by emotions and emotional gratification was foolish. So was trying to block emotions out completely. But where was the line? Where was the balance? Jregli didn't know. Dozens of philosophers from dozens of Races had written dozens of books on the topic, and what Jregli had read didn't really clarify anything. Those writings were either so esoteric that no one could apply them or they tried to affix a universal standard to every sentient that was just impractical. Jregli just couldn't relate to a concept of social obligation based on the Drignalian caste system, for example.

Logically, Jregli needed to support Shdr'edno. Illogically, she wanted to support herself. Logically, supporting her Master would support herself. Illogically, she didn't want to share her successes with him. Logically, she could not help herself unless she helped her Master. Illogically, she wanted to stand on her own.

There. She'd put it into words. She had the impossible desire to be an adult. To own herself. A desire that could not be satisfied, could not happen. There simply wasn't a way for a Yerbran slave to become a free adult. It just didn't happen. Logically, continuing to harbor such a desire would only bring ruin upon herself. Illogically ... it was a hard dream to forget.

Space & Time: page 68

The Lunch crowd wouldn't officially leave for another half Hour, so Jregli decided to use the time to think and double-check the stock. She had the foundation of a cortege, of a following. How could she use that to do what she wanted as well as what she needed? She wanted to support her own interests, to be free. Yes, she had the run of the Pub and lived far more freely than any child could reasonably expect, but she was still, always, a slave.

Jregli shook her head angrily. Keening for water spilled won't put it back in your cup, she firmly scolded herself. She could spend all her days longing for what she couldn't have, or she could do something with what she did have. Freedom was out of the question, but there were many other possibilities. Her hands flew over the shelves, straightening and counting items, as her thoughts raced ahead.

For instance, had she not done what no other slave in (recorded) history had done? What thousands of slaves even now dreamed of doing? She had bested her Master! She had bested three of them, in fact, counting Fun'gryu, and all at the same time, with the same jump! She had supporters and physical evidence of favor from someone other than her Master. And, she thought with excitement, hands beginnging to tremble, Shdr'edno did not have those things. He might be a free man, but he had no followers, no gifts of favor. Sentients feared him, and so far from Home, he had no way to gather a group to himself.

Or rather, he wouldn't have the insight to realize that a following of non-Yerbrans could give him as much Status as a traditional group. Jregli had the feeling that her little rag-tag group would be more loyal than an entire organization, for their loyalty was hatched of personal concern. They cared about Jregli, not about what she could give them or do for them. In a way, that made her stronger than Shdr'edno. Any followers he gained would last only as long as he did; as soon as his purchase on the cliffs of Status slipped, they would abandon him. Jregli's friends would never abandon her.

Her legs trembled at the thought, and she grabbed the shelf in front of her for balance. Friends. It made it easier to think of them in Yerbran terms of followers and supporters, but they were actually friends. Friendship was so rare among Yerbrans, who always looked with the weather eye for the next chance. It was too easy for one to claim to be a friend and then let the other fall. In fact, you didn't even call someone "friend" in Yerbran unless you were absolutely certain of them. And being absolutely certain of someone was a huge risk.

I think I could take that risk with these aliens. I really do think I can. Certainly Shdr'edno would never take that risk! Here again she would best him! And he would likely never know it because the idea of friendship was so foreign!

Jregli gave a breathy titter as she sank to the floor. She could help herself and her Master at the same time! She could build up her fol-- friends, gaining from their care, and use that to improve things for her Master. He probably wouldn't understand exactly what was going on, though that wouldn't stop him from trying to strike against her. If she built the protection offered by her friends ... although, how much protection would that really be? She did belong to Shdr'edno, and free children belonged as legally as slaves to their adults. Well ... mmm, Shdr'edno didn't care what anyone thought of him unless it affected his business, so the ill will of the employees wasn't worth anything that way.

But if ... if he could be made to realize how much trouble it would cause him to alienate all of them ... he'd have to hire all new staff, train them, and put up with their errors while learning. If he sent Jregli away or sold her, then he'd loose all that she was doing and would do for him. Shdr'edno needed to realize just how invaluable Jregli was to him. If nothing else, the need to beat her should be enough for him to keep her close. Some might find revenge in banishing an opponent to oblivion at the bottom of the caves, but Shdr'edno was ... too competitve for that. He had to beat her the way she'd beaten him.

Mmm, so she should play on that. Keep him mad enough that he focused on defeating her instead of thinking about why she was doing what she was doing. How would he respond to her little cortege?

A soft foot-fall caught her attention, and she flattened herself to the floor. A long shadow preceeded Shdr'edno into the storeroom. He paused slightly when he saw her huddled on the floor, shaking ever so slightly. He took that as proper fear of him and curled his tail happily.

"Little pet, are you not done? The patrons are leaving," he crooned in Yerbran.

"I have finished, my Lord. The 'pad is there," she replied softly and pointed to the shelf where the inventory 'pad lay. Some of the lift went out of Shdr'edno's tail, but he turned to the shelf and lifted the 'pad to inspect it. After several moments, he lowered it and stared at his slave.

Wind-blasted brat should still have half the load to shelve; how had she managed to get done so quickly? Jregli stayed on the floor, unaware of her shivers. Why her muscles twitched, she couldn't have said. Shdr'edno found her quaking appealing. She must be so afraid to disappoint me now.

"It is good that you have finished, pet," he half-snapped. "There are other things you need to be doing. Come."

Jregli lept to her feet and hurried to follow her Master, who suddenly stopped. Jregli managed to come to a halt with enough room to spare that Shdr'edno would think she was too close, but only just. His back was to her, but he could see her clearly in his peripheral vision. She still wore that stupid ... what was it? Apron. Fah! The brat shouldn't have such a thing, shouldn't have anything. He should rip it off of her scrawny carcass, if he could bear to touch her.

Or should he? Many had seen her open the cursed thing and heard the ridiculous message from the sow of an alien. Letting her keep it would add to the fiction that he cared about the brat; she was doubtless trying to figure out some way to position them against him. For all the good it would do her. In the other eye ... letting her keep it and wear it might actually play into his incubating plans.

Space & Time: page 69

Shdr'edno kept her busy for the rest of the Day, running all over the Pub and doing the worst jobs (mostly tedious) he could think of. Jregli didn't complain, didn't comment; she just did what she was told. That weird calm kept her detached from everyone she encountered, and she only spoke to them in reply. She was aware that some gave her odd looks, but she didn't try to capitalize on them. She wasn't quite sure why.

Jregli was at the main bar's secondary console, back-checking the past several Years' audits and cross-checking them against inventory records when an alert popped up on the display. Stars! She'd forgotten about the Onifub party on Second Day! That was Tomorrow! Abandoning her assigned task, she scrambled to check the current supply lists. Good, good, the special ingredients for the festival dishes had arrived with the shipment she'd shelved Today (how had she not noticed that?), as had the dishes (Ressnib had received them yesterday). But where was the table display?

Jregli searched the logs again, but there was no record of the display arriving. Pulling up the order form, she found the confirmation of the order by the vendor, but nothing more. Hurriedly, she shot a message off to them to get the status of the pieces. She stared at the console for several moments before realizing that any answer would probably take a while. She sighed quietly and pulled the archived data back up.

"Somethin' up, kiddo?" Ressnib came up behind her.

"Mmm, no, Ressnib. Not really. I was just wondering where the table display for the party for Tomorrow is. I saw that you checked in the serving dishes; did you happen to see it then?"

"Nope. Just dishes. Who's got a party that needs platters like that?" he asked with mild curiosity.

"A group of Onifubs. It's an anniversary feast for their clan, and their clan leader will be here for it. It's quite the occasion for them; usually, they have to travel Home to attend, but this time, their leader decided to bring the clan here, to meet with those who live on the Station."

"Not familiar with 'em. Big group?" Ressnib moved to the other console and began tapping it.

"Fairly large, though we've had larger. They'll take up most of the balcony," Jregli replied as she logged an inventory discrepancy from five Years ago.

"Why not the big room?" Ressnib glanced over his shoulder at her as he mixed a drink.

"Onifubs need to be able to see and be seen for major occasions. It's integral to their social structure. Like tattoos for your people."

"How do you know about that?" Ressnib whirled around to stare at her, incredulous.

"Why, they're common knowledge, aren't they? You don't show them -- oh! I've never seen yours, Ressnib! I wouldn't dream of prying into something so personal as your tattoos! I just know that all of your people have them, in some form or fashion."

"All good, kiddo. Scared me there. You know so much, seems like. Thought you might have seen though me." He gave her a lopsided grin.

"Oh, no! No, I just know that you have them, and that they're none of my business. Forgive me for--"

"Nah. All good, kiddo," he repeated soothingly. "So. Big group. Wilson, Chinu, and Dillone serving?"

"At least, yes. We may need to ask 'P and Eddes to help, as well. Onifubs are particular about their servers and the service given them. In fact," Jregli brought up another system on her console, "let me make copies of this etiquette manual for all of them; if we do this well, the whole Onifub clan will favor us. That means big tips now and repeat custom later." She gave Ressnib a weak smile.

"That's what we like about you, kiddo. Good thinking." He gave her another lopsided grin and took the tray of drinks he'd just prepared to a large table in the back.

Jregli pretended to work for a few moments while her mind whirled. Ressnib had just given her a clue, an insight, into the minds of her little cortege. Now if she could only understand it! She was thinking about the profit to be made from the Onifub party; Ressnib seemed to think she was ... what? Being considerate? That's what his tone had implied. So, what Jregli thought was thorough and sensibly prepared was considerate to others? Mmm ... Yes, she could see how it might appear that way to others.

She could build up her friends far more easily than she'd thought! And if they thought she had always been considerate of them, that explained some of their devotion. Who would have thought being nice could have such a yield?

Space & Time: page 70

Jregli felt the excitement that had hidden inside her chest all Day begin to seep into her limbs as she forwarded the Onifub etiquette to the servers. She saw a slight tremor in her hands and tried to quell it. Wouldn't do to be clumsy because she was pleased. That was one of the main causes of falls. Holding herself stiffly, she wondered if she looked pleased or terrified.

"Mmm, Wilson!" she squeaked as the Human server came back to the bar for an order. "I've sent you an etiquette manual to review for the party you'll be serving Tomorrow. Onifubs are quite particular, but they're generous when they're pleased. You, Dillone, Chinu, 'P, and Ennes should be sure to look it over and plan your service so you can get it just so. It's not too hard, not nearly as hard as serving Uffniorns, but if you do it well, I mean, as well as I know you can do it, I mean--" Wilson laughed and cut off her babbling.

"Not to worry, Jregli! I know what you mean, and I'm glad you brought it up. I saw that on the schedule and meant to ask about it, but I clean forgot. I'll round up the others and we'll all have a look at it. Thanks, chica!" He lifted his plate-covered tray to his shoulder, tossed her a wink and a grin, and headed back to his customers.

Jregli sighed in relief. One good thing about having a cortege was that they were more willing to overlook less-than-perfect communication. But what did chica mean? She spent a moment looking it up before going back to the inventory log review.

As the evening carried on, Shdr'edno came up with more tasks for Jregli to do. One of them was minding the main bar for several Hours under his watchful eyes. Jregli found it somewhat unnerving to have her Master standing at the other end of the bar, scrutinizing her every move, but her excitement countered that nicely. She still had to control her shiverings, which made her ache from forcing herself to hold still. She finally got a reply from the vendor about the centerpiece, and that took a lot of the lift out of her tail.

"My Lord?" She approached Shrd'edno carefully. He didn't bother to turn towards her, merely flicking his tail at her to speak up. "The centerpiece for the large party we have scheduled for tomorrow will not be delivered in time. The vendor made an error in ordering, and they gave our pieces to another customer. The centerpiece is very important to--" He cut her off with another tail-flick.

"Had you kept better track of the vendor and made certain it would fulfill the contract, this would not have happened. So, pet, how will you correct this mistake? This was your idea, after all."

"I know of several who may be able to provide what we need, my Lord. And I will make certain the vendor pays for its error and does not charge us. By your leave, my Lord, I will devote myself to this task." Was she being servile enough? She cringed a little more. Shdr'edno sighed gustily.

"So not only did you fail to make certain the order would be completed, now you wish to take time away from your current duties to attempt to correct your failure? This is not an efficient or effective use of resources, child." He emphasized the last word in case she might have missed his implied meaning.

"I will complete the work assigned me, my Lord," Jregli replied. Really, when a Master was in a mood like this, you couldn't defend yourself.

"Mmm," was Shdr'edno's reply. He ignored her and continued to work at his console. Knowing better, Jregli stayed put behind him, patiently waiting for him to give her her orders. She carefully kept her submissive pose, noting in passing that her trembling was actually contributing. While she waited, she looked around to see what the employees (her friends!) were up to. Naturally, they were busy at their assigned duties, but Jregli took a closer look at how they were going about their tasks.

'P seemed to really enjoy serving the tables. He moved with his customary energy, yet all the guests seemed to respond as though he'd spent Hours with them. How did he do it? It must be a subtlety, a small thing that he was doing, since Jregli hadn't yet been able to pick it out. Immud plodded between his tables as he always did, and Jregli had a hard time determining if he enjoyed his work or not. Engrads were so ... colorless that Jregli had more trouble interpreting their signals than she did the more expressive Races. Yet Immud didn't complain.

Wilson joked with his tables, teasing his customers into better moods and bigger tips. He flirted outrageously with all of them, and most of them replied favorably. Occasionally, one wouldn't take it well, and Wilson would have to correct himself. Still, he didn't get many complaints, and Jregli hadn't heard that he was looking for other work. Yurs-ond had made it clear both that he wasn't going anywhere and that he wished he could. He seemed to hate working for Shdr'edno, yet he never tried to leave. But he was one of the best sono-tainment jockeys on the Station, and Jregli knew the Pub needed him to stay.

Chinu and Dillone were off Tonight; there wasn't enough custom to call them in. Eddes worked the small party room, and Jregli hadn't seen him in a while. Those three were the type who knew they were good enough at their jobs to get away with a lot of grumbling. Any time anything changed, no matter how small, they complained about it. They'd hated when Jregli came to the Pub and still didn't quite trust her. Every Station inspection threw them into a dither. The new items on the menu had caused such a fury that Jregli had felt sure they hated her. They were pleasant enough to the customers, and Jregli knew that they were the best choice for serving the Onifubs, but honestly! Did they ever draw breath for something other than griping?

Jregli wasn't sure that Eddes, Dillone, and Chinu realized that competency would only carry them so far. She'd seen it often enough back Home; employers would only overlook bad attitudes so long before casting off a capable employee. Those sentients convinced that the Galaxy owed them were not pleasant to work with, at all, and Jregli had carefully avoided those three for the almost-three Months she'd been at the Pub. But was that a good thing? Maybe she should try to add them to her little band of followers.

Space & Time: page 71

Jregli continued to wait for her Master to bother answering her. She knew he was trying to unnerve her, so she didn't take it to hearts; she just played along, cringing and waiting.

As she watched the activity in the Pub, she had another strange thought. (She was having a lot of those!) She could see nearly all the activity in the Pub by virtue of her well-placed eyes. Harvit had pressed her at that dinner so many nights ago on what it was like to see so much at once. How limited he was, to see so little. Other Races had to move their heads and swivel their eyes to see things that weren't directly in front of them. That seemed to Jregli to be terribly inefficient. She would feel blind if she couldn't see all around her! Why, at this moment, she could see the Pub, the floor behind the bar, the ceiling, and the reflection of everything in the mirror-fab behind the bar shelves. Did other sentients find it strange to see double? Or triple?

It would be quite an experiment to cover one (or two!) of her eyes and try to function for a time without it, she mused as Shdr'edno shifted his weight. He was enjoying making her squirm, so she obliged him with a tiny fidget. Keep him happy, keep him unawares.

The Arcade was nearly empty Tonight, and the balcony was closed off. First Nights were always slow. For once, Jregli hadn't minded the slowness, since Shdr'edno was giving her so many systems tasks. She was learning a lot about how the Pub functioned, more than Shdr'edno seemed to realize. Didn't he think that by ordering her to slog through all those back office reports that she would thereby be learning how to operate them? How to keep the Pub running without him? He must not, or he would have kept her running around cleaning or organizing the shelves in back by the number of grains in each bag of lerrinth. Were she his heir, he could be accused of preparing her to take over for him. But she wasn't, so he wouldn't. He couldn't be aware that he'd inadvertantly taught her how to run the Pub without him.

Shdr'edno watched his slave carefully from the back of his eyes. She was properly submissive, but he couldn't help but think there was something ... off about her pose. What was she thinking now? Too bad all the bone and chambers in Yerbran heads made telepathic observation of their thoughts nearly impossible; he might toy with the idea of hiring a 'path to deep-scan the brat. That would be worth spending the cred on. It would be invasive, demeaning, and the next thing to rape (which was why it was illegal and would cost him quite a bit of cred to find someone willing to do it). It occured to Shdr'edno that considering such actions was not the mark of a civilized man. Fah; it wasn't as if he could do it, anyhow.

"Why are you still standing there, child? You have work to do!" he snapped at her. Her guilty jump was mildly satisfying, as was her disgusting tripping over her own feet. She scuttled to the main console and began frantically punching things into it. Shdr'edno continued watching her and his other employees as he worked on his own console. He mixed some drinks and fabbed some food, but mostly he kept careful eyes on things. Things seemed to be going well Tonight, and that made him uneasy. It meant that something was about to be screwed up. The next order that popped up on the console confirmed his suspicions.

Someone had ordered fresh food. Shdr'edno looked at the table number and then out into the Pub to find the customers. Oho; a pair of Uffniorns. A courting pair, by the look of it. The male probably wanted to impress the female by ordering freshly made ... likvr nu uniunz? What was-- oho!! His tail curled with malicious glee.

"Pet!" he snapped at the brat. "Fresh food order! Go prepare it now!"

She froze for two beats before falling all over herself in order to get back to the prepper in the back room. Shdr'edno repressed a happy trill as he thought about what the brat would have to do to prepare the meal. Not only was the order a meat dish, it was one of the most disgusting ones ever created. He flipped on the vidfeed in the back so he could watch her from his console.

Jregli scrambled to pull the ingredients together. She flicked the prepper to life as she passed it, headed for the cold storage where the fresh stuff was kept. Likvr nu uniunz had to be one of the most evil inventions she'd ever heard of, right up there with bomb-strafing planets, religious murder, and Gerbdisan folk music. The stuff smelled atrocious, the meat jiggled even when cooked, and the vegetable was so over-seasoned and over-cooked that you couldn't even tell what it was supposed to be.

She knew exactly why her Master had ordered her to make it; it wasn't because there was no one else who could. Too bad for him that she was used to horrible-smelling stuff and had made herself very familiar with how to prep alien meals. The customers who'd had the poor taste to order this culinary horror would find it the best-made one in the Sector! Jregli clenched her teeth as she pulled the pack of chilled meat off the shelf and grabbed a pair of uniun roots from the bin. She placed them carefully on the counter by the prepper and ran back for the seasonings.

Putting it together wasn't too bad, particularly since she'd had the foresight nine Weeks ago to rig one of the unused fab accessories for the prepper. Now, all she had to do was dump the roots into the hopper and direct the chute to dump the shredded vegetable onto the hot prepper plate. The mass hit with a loud sizzle, and she hastily covered it with powdered spices. After a quick stir, she left it to caramelize (whatever that originally meant) and turned to the meat. It was so gross! But no, she had work to do. She carefully slid it out of the sealed wrapping and into a dish. She doused it liberally with the flavored sauce, turning the pieces to coat both sides. As she stirred the uniunz again with the spatula, she was very glad she hadn't had to touch them after they'd been cut; she'd never have gotten that acrid scent off her hands!

The stinging odor of the uniunz burned her sinuses, but she ignored it. Judging the vegetable sufficiently caramelized, she scraped it all off the plate and into the dish with the likvr meat. Pulling open the prepper's cook-chamber door, she popped the entire dish in, barely managing to not slosh herself. She closed the door, set the timer, and began cleaning the prepper plate and shredding device. Again, she blessed her foresight as she cleaned the juicy scraps of roots out of the accessory without having to touch it. She finished with barely enough time to grab the fancy serving plates before the timer sounded.

Jregli walked back out to the Pub very carefully; the tray was heavier than she could safely manage. Turning sideways to navigate the corridor, she eased her burden out to the bar. She stumbled slightly and began falling forwards, the tray nearly sliding from her grasp. Horrified, she struggled the keep her feet underneath her and just managed to get the edge of the tray on the bartop before she crashed. It slid crazily a few deci-Units and stopped. Jregli took a deep, rattling breath as she steadied herself. The sauce hadn't slopped out of the dish, so disaster was averted. She straightened the meal just as 'P rushed up.

"Ah, me, Jregli; you fixed this up? Splendid! It smells delicious, biba!" The tiny sentient hefted the tray easily over his head and dashed back to his waiting customers without making the sauce so much as quiver.

Jregli took another deep breath and felt pleased with herself. Especially once she realized that Shdr'edno did not look pleased.

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Second Day came on time, but Jregli thought it was a bit earlier than usual. Perhaps that was because she still had so much to do. She'd made contact with three possible suppliers of the pieces needed for the Onifub centerpiece and received confirmation of a full refund from the vendor who'd failed to supply it. She hadn't had to threaten too much to get them to give the whole amount back, which was nice. Either they really felt badly about it, or Shdr'edno's reputation was working for her. She wasn't sure, and she had no time to spare thinking about it.

Rushing through her opening chores, Jregli thought carefully about what she needed to do Today. Most of it, she could accomplish from the consoles, but there was a real chance she would have to go out into the Station to pick up the items. She wasn't sure "Uncle" would allow that. Well, leap that crack when it came.

She was busy at the console, trying to wrangle the best possible deal from her potential suppliers when Shdr'edno arrived. He looked happy, which immediately put Jregli on guard.

"Little pet, the Uunfe Dpolqr will be here soon. For your price, you will ask them to teach you to be a Dancer."

The Station tilted and spun off its axis. At least, Jregli thought it did. What?!?

"And when they are teaching you (and I do hope you learn to be something other than the pathetic klutz you are), you will learn everything you can about them and report back to me. Everything about the family: how its hierarchy functions, where their money is, how they may be brought to serve me. You will not allow them to suspect this, Understood?"

Now that the Station had abruptly returned to its normal orbit, Jregli felt hollow inside. She would never have expected this. She should have, though. Of course Shdr'edno would want more information on the Dancers and Brothers. Of course he would want to defeat them. And, of course he would use her in any way he thought he could.

"Y--yes, my Lord," she managed. She must obey her Master. She must. But she did not want to! And yet ... for the chance to learn to be a Dancer ...

"My Lord, I have found the pieces needed for the party Tonight. I have secured the lowest price possible for them, lower than the original offer. I must go to the vendor to retrieve it." She held her breath; would he let her go?

"Mmm," was his reply as he neatly jumped over the bar and took his place at the console. Oh. So he was still doing that I'm-ignoring-you power play. Very well; cringe, and slightly whimper.

"The vendor who erred has paid us the full amount in recompense, my Lord, for the entire order. Not only the pieces it failed to deliver, but even that which it did send us."

"But nothing more than that, mmm? Nothing additional for the hardship this has caused me, nothing to assure my goodwill and continued business? You should have bargained better, pet, to protect my interests."

"My apologies, my Lord. I will do better in the future." Grovel, grovel. Was he done yet?

"Go let the employees in," he snapped idly, still scrolling through console data. Probably noting the timeframes listed by her notes on the centerpiece items, trying to determine how little time he could give her to go get them. Likely, he would give her just barely enough; he did need the party to go well, after all.

Jregli hurried over to the service door and keyed it open, revealing Ressnib and Funswrub. They greeted her cheerfully (Ressnib with a friendly word and Funswrub with a grunt) as she let them in. Ressnib shook his head gently after taking a look around.

"Dunno how you do it, kiddo. We clean up 'fore we leave, and the place still gets better 'fore we're back. Funs, she'll work you outta job soon!" He gave Funswrub a playful punch on the shoulder. Funswrub grunted thoughtfully. the door chimed, and Jregli turned to it as Ressnib and Funswrub moved off.

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As anticipated, Shdr'edno kept her busy with make-work until the last possible Second, but he did let her go get the pieces. Before she left, however, the Dancers came back.

Shdr'edno offered flowery greetings before getting down to business. "The price I place on the insult done my child and me must be heavy, indeed, for much damage has been done. Due to the distress the incident caused, the child rushed back to me in ill haste, inadvertently causing much damage in her blind panic."

That was a direct swipe to Jregli, who winced. She knew she'd broken some things in her mad dash, but she'd never heard anything about it. Looked like Shdr'edno was going to make her aware of it now.

"The Station Security Officer contacted me regarding the claims filed for the damages, and they were not insubstantial. All told, for paying the damages, the fines, and the extra care the child required, I demand payment of one million seeds." Shdr'edno stood as the very image of dignified resolution. Jregli felt her mouth trying to sag open in shock. Gp'nisfe and Jujk'anrl started visibly, Rnn'fern's tail tightened dangerously, and Kkle'drqo nodded as though she'd expected it.

"I had heard that the child's flight was perilous," the beautiful woman said, motioning sadly at Jregli. "It grieves my hearts that she was driven to such desperate measures by such inconsiderate actions. If I might enquire, what damages were so costly?"

"You might indeed, Lady. There were damages to the furniture of the Glass Room, various minor injuries done to private sentients who either were forced aside by the child's passing or who were forced to move themselves aside to avoid her, and damage to personal property. The personal property totals were most serious; it appears that the child knocked over and destroyed a priceless antique in her haste. She tried to jump a small cart loaded with artifacts destined for auction but failed to do so."

Jregli winced again. She had vague recollections of jumping over several things, but she couldn't trust those memories.

"That single artifact would have had an opening bid of over 300,000 seeds," Shdr'edno continued, sounding pained at the loss (one might be tempted to think) of such antiquity. "The auction house demanded reparations of nearly 500,000 seeds, for which I was required to arranged a payment plan, as such a large amount is beyond my immediate means."

Oh, Jregli could see where this was leading. So could a blind root-grub.

"As it is currently beyond ours," Kkle'drqo replied with chagrin. "By your leave, my lord, we will make a similar arrangement to repay this debt."

No bargaining? What was wrong with these Dancers?

"But of course, my Lady, but of course. I would not expect even one of the greatest members of the Merchant's Forum to have such a sum at hand. By your leave, step into my office, and we shall discuss mutually agreeable terms that will place neither of us at a difficult pass." Shdr'edno gestured grandly towards his office.

This was bad. Very bad. Shdr'edno would talk them into a long, drawn-out repayment program filled with hidden clauses and penalties and a deceptive interest rate that would end up costing them as much in usury as in principle. And there was nothing Jregli could do about it.

Kkle'drqo nodded an elegant bow. "So we shall; but first, we would know the child's will in this matter. Jregli, child, what repayment would you require of us?"

Jregli froze for a moment. She had her orders, but could she obey them?

What was she thinking? Could she obey her orders?! How could she think of not obeying? What was happening to her? Considering, however minutely, disobedience? Defiance? What idiocy had overcome her?

This was the consequence of pretending to be a Lady out with admirers; this was the result of thinking like a free woman! She simply could not afford to disobey, to defy. It was unthinkable!

And she had thought it. She had thought it, and for the merest of Seconds had considered it. For that split instant of infinity, she had actually considered defying her Master. She was doomed.

She'd seen this before, had heard countless tales of slaves who'd decided that Masters didn't need to be obeyed. Every one of those tales had ended badly for the slave in question. Yet hadn't she already defied her Masters? They had wished to keep her where she was, and she had scorned their wishes. She had disobeyed their implied orders and created a plan of her own.

Now, was it her turn to have an unhappy end? Was she the next in a too-long line of slaves to reach for a higher place only to discover why such a thing was impossible?

The confused jumble of despairing thoughts flashed though her mind as everyone stared at her. How could she even consider it?

Some things, she thought, are worth any risk.

"By your leave, great Lady ... I want to be a Dancer!"

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Jregli's feet pounded the deck of the Station's main corridor once more, but this time, she was in control of herself. She had to stay in control of herself if she were going to make this all work. Shdr'edno's smug expression when she'd made her request of the Children of the Wind had been somewhat satisfying. The expressions of the Dancers had been confused and taken aback, but Jregli knew she could deal with that in time. She would make it all work. Somehow.

Right now, though, she had a long way to go and very little time, so she applied herself to carefully running down the center of the corridor, where faster traffic was permitted (and expected). Her lungs burned, and her chambers felt like they would rip apart from breathing so hard, but those were minor distractions, really. It was all the planning that threatened her focus.

Focus! she ordered herself.

Before using all the time she'd allotted to the first leg of the trip, she arrived at the shop that had given the best bid for the first of the items she needed. Wheezing painfully, she dashed inside and slapped the 'pad on the counter.

"Whotchew won'?" the obese sentient on the other side of the counter demanded. Sides still heaving, Jregli pointed at the 'pad. The sentient glared at her before picking up the 'pad and reading it. He grunted.

"Gotcher righ' 'ere," he said, pulling out a small package from the under the counter. Jregli was relieved to see that it was wrapped the way she'd specified; it was a simple thing to slip it into her carry sack, sling that onto her back, and dash off to the next stop.

At the third stop, the items were not wrapped correctly, so Jregli spent precious Minutes re-wrapping them and fitting them carefully into sack. She tried to not grumble; she'd asked for them to be wrapped specially on purpose, after all! Fitting the bits into the sack just so made them that much easier to carry. If she'd tossed them in haphazardly, then she would have had them banging against her the whole way and might have damaged them. Still, she wasn't behind schedule, so she didn't waste precious breath berating anyone. She did spare a few choice thoughts, however.

The last stop was a live-grocer to pick up the plants. Fitting them onto the sack, rather than in it, was a tricky operation. Good thing she'd had practice back Home when Mistress had gone through her phase of demanding fresh yio'nnf every Day. She spent an extra two Minutes making certain the whole thing was secure before she took off down the corridor to return to the Pub. She was pretty sure she got a lot of odd looks, but dignity was a small price to pay. This party would return such huge profits that she could afford to look silly.

Due to a grav-lorry collision, she was several Minutes late getting back to the Pub, earning her a few snide remarks from Shdr'edno. He wasn't important right now, so Jregli shoved that to the back of her mind and set to making the centerpieces. Wilson and Eddes were early, so she drafted them to help. After getting some of her breath back, she hurriedly drilled them on the etiquette for the party, emphasizing certain aspects so much that Wilson finally laughed and told her to stop worrying.

Jregli carried the centerpieces to the tables in the balcony personally and fussed over them for a while. She did want this to go well, and being up here meant she was away from her hovering Master for a few Minutes. The centerpieces overflowed with plant life native to Onifub Home, lots of delicate little leaves that stirred in the slightest draft and tiny flowers in a half-dozen colors. Jregli arranged them according to the research she'd done and studded the groupings with little luck-charms and bless-pieces. The bowls and platters were scribed with a swirling motif that happened to closely resemble the clan's design, which Jregli was most thrilled to have found.

The servers set out the servingware and other odds and ends while Jregli fussed. 'P settled the platters Ressnib had found so odd into place while Chinu and Dillone readied the serving carts and filled the pitchers. Wilson brought up the appetizers, and Eddes made the final checks on the console. When they were all done, Jregli shooed them down the stairs and took a small pouch out of her apron pocket (which had proved useful, indeed!)

"Now, remember! The Clan Chief must be the first up the stairs! He'll be easy to recognize because he'll be the best-dressed and the one the others defer to, and if you aren't perfectly servile, he'll be very offended! This stuff I'm spreading around will feel like the sands they use in their ceremonies (they'll take off their footwear; offer that if they don't realize they can here), and it will make them feel more comfortable. This is the first time they've held this celebration away from Home--"

"And we need to make sure it's perfect; we know, we know!" Wilson was smiling, but Jregli could feel the muted hostility of Dillone, Eddes, and Chinu.

"I know, you know," she said by way of apology, "I'll stop berating you about it. But just think! Once word gets out that you served an Onifub Clan Chief to his satisfaction, why ... well ... you could write your own tickets! You could go anywhere!"

Eddes' eyes lit up at that, Jregli noted. Dillone and Chinu still looked put out, but she was reasonably certain they would do the job. Reasonably certain.

For being Second Night, the time certainly flew by. The Onifubs arrived precisely on time (which was ten Minutes after they'd said they would be there) and seemed pleased with the preparations. Shdr'edno had left Jregli in charge of the main bar and gone back to the Arcade, and this Second Night was, of course, far busier than usual. Not busy enough to spoil the Onifubs' celebration, but busy enough to keep Jregli rushing from one end of the bar to the back room to the front.

The party must have been going well, Jregli decided as she saw the orders ticking across the console. They'd even ordered two bottles of 2kay Wisc! That was true top-shelf liquor! In this case, literally top shelf; Shdr'edno liked to have certain things on display. Were Jregli fully grown, she would have been able to simply stretch up and gently lift each bottle from its carefully lighted (and guarded) case. As it was, she would have to climb up the shelves and bring them down one by one. Best not keep the Chief waiting.

Jregli swarmed up the shelving to the display case and punched in the codes. When the display read all-clear, she punched in the secondary codes and waited for the backup trips to deactivate. When that read clear, she opened the case and carefully grabbed one of the bottles. With a quick flip, she climbed back down head first, set the bottle under the bar, and went back for the other. When it was safe on the ground, she went up one more time to reset the alarms. This time, she didn't bother with climbing; she just let go and dropped to the floor. It wasn't that far, really, and she'd seen Wilson and 'P headed her way. Good thing she had the glasses and trays ready. A quick swipe with a damp cloth, and the bottles were quite presentable.

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Jregli dabbed a damp rag on a spot that had appeared on her apron. From what she'd read, it would be improbable that her gift of favor would remain pristine if she chose to wear it while working, and she was determined to keep it visible. People wouldn't know about it if she never wore it when they could see it. So she'd studied up on how to clean it and keep it looking neat, which was why the rag was damped with a mixture of water and carbon-soda. The splotch of sauce came out rather easily, which pleased her to no end.

Wilson glided up to the bar with his customary quick-step. "Hey, chica! You have the desserts ready?" His eyes sparkled; the party must be going rather well.

"Yes, Wilson, here you go. Mmm, isn't anyone else going to help you carry these trays?" Jregli slid the second tray onto the counter.

"Yep; you are." Wilson grinned, baring his blunt teeth.

"Me? I have to mind the bar! And the others are sup--"

"Special request, chica. Chief wants to talk to you. I paged Ressnib; he'll mind the bar for a few while we do this." Sure enough, Ressnib had left the Arcade and was making his way over.

"Oh. Well. Very well, let's not keep the Chief waiting, then," Jregli replied. She wasn't sure whether to feel excitement or dread, but she hopped over the bar and carefully grabbed the heavy tray of desserts. Onifubs liked their sweets, and she'd found a traditional recipe she thought would please them. Fortunately, it required no special formatting of the fabbers, but they didn't need to know that. Ressnib stepped behind the bar (not being equipped to jump it as Yerbrans were) and tossed her a wink and she trundled carefully behind Wilson.

Negotiating the stairs was an experience all its own. Yerbrans didn't often include stairs in their architecture, and Jregli hadn't had a lot of experience with stairs even since coming to the Station. What experience she had gained did not include balancing a large tray of delicate sweets while going up them. At least she wasn't going down with a full tray! She caught her toe claws on the edges of a several stairs but managed to not stumble. Much.

They finally made it all the way up, and Wilson lead the way to the table where the Chief sat. Jregli eyed everything critically as she approached; it looked to be in reasonable order. 'P an Dillone were tidying away the last of the platters, and Chinu and Eddes were refilling drinks. Good, good. She set her tray down on the server's stand and turned to the Chief. As gracefully as she could, she dipped an Onifub bow, right hand to her chest and left extended in entreaty. She hoped it didn't look too silly coming from a non-Onifub.

The Chief ignored her, as was proper. It was for one of the underlings at the far end of his table to make mention of her, and one of the females quickly did so. Just as quickly, a male three seats closer to the Chief echoed her announcement, and the male seated on the Chief's left (the one who had arranged the party with Jregli, Etro) casually glanced at Jregli. He was doing a much better job of maintaining his composure than when he'd come in, Jregli noted with approval. Probably because it was quieter.

"Honored Lord-Uncle, great Chief Itre. It seems the creature is here," Etro said in an elegantly bored tone.

"Is it now?" Itre's voice was rich, melodious, and beautifully tinged with just the right amount of scorn. He must be very great among his people! "Such a strange thing it is. What is it?"

"The type of thing is a Yerbran, my Chief. This one answers to the call of Jregli." He deliberately mispronounced her name, and Jregli silently applauded him. He would go far in his society, she decided. If he managed to balance this with knowledge of with aliens he could insult and when, he would even do well in the Mutuality. Jregli was a menial servant, so she "deserved" all the scorn they chose to heap on her, especially in the context of this Clan celebration. Any other time, though, they would have to treat her according to Mutuality custom, not their own. Yet the fact that they were treating her like this was a good sign; they were enjoying the feast and felt relaxed enough to slide into tradition.

Chinu and Dillone wore carefully neutral expressions, but Jregli could tell they didn't like the Onifubs at all. Eddes didn't seem to mind them one way or the other, but Wilson and 'P were hiding huge grins. Jregli could tell which of them had read the etiquette manual and which hadn't. She held her bow, trying to not tremble with the strain of the unfamiliar position, as he servers glided behind her to begin serving the sweets. Itre sighed gustily.

"Don't stand there like a fool, Yerbran Jregli," he said, waving a pudgy hand at her. "Approach."

Jregli gratefully dropped her hands, walked up to the table, and crouched in front of it so she wouldn't tower above the guests. She had to suppress a giggle at the thought; imagine, a scrawny runt like her towering over anybody! Three Months on Station wasn't enough to overwrite the idea that she was half-sized. She knew that few aliens were as tall as Yerbrans, but it hadn't really sunk in. She tilted her head up toward Itre, who toyed with his cup.

"When Etro informed me of his choice for this sacred day, I was displeased. Such a place is not in keeping with our ways. Still, the boy must be allowed to chart his own course and set his own sails, so I held my peace; I determined to see where he would navigate." Itre then stared directly at Jregli for several beats.

"I have determined that I am no longer so displeased."

Etro nonchalantly sipped from his cup to hide his elation, and several others at the table either drank as well or nibbled at their desserts. 'P was nearly dancing, Wilson could no longer hide his grin, and even Eddes perked up. Itre spent several moments sampling his dessert.

"It is not an entirely appropriate location, and the absence of all the traditions glares in my eyes. Yet for all these failings, Etro did not wreck upon the reefs, and you managed to weather the journey. I have heard that you encountered certain dangers and hardships for the sake of the Clan." He looked at Jregli with mild disdain, as though he doubted she had gone to any effort. Jregli could see his intense curiosity carefully hidden behind the noble façade and felt a surge of exultation.

"Revered Chief Itre, it was but a small thing to extend myself on behalf of the Clan," she began, ducking her head humbly. "I did merely what was needful to properly honor the festival."

"Merely needful!" the one female at the far end of the table exclaimed, right on cue. "Great Chief, I am told she labored Day and Night on our behalf!"

"And when other failed her, she personally sailed out to find the merchants and secure our feast!" a male put in.

"Did no one see how she bravely scaled the heights to fetch a whim?" the female to Itre's right (his mate, perhaps?) added quietly, flicking her glass of the 2kay Wisc. Jregli covered a start at that. Mmm, yes, Onifubs weren't great climbers; of course they would find it exciting that she'd gone up the shelves without a ladder. She hadn't realized they could see the bar from ... well, yes, they could, Jregli noted.

"She also drilled us in proper etiquette, that our alien ways would not so greatly offend," Wilson put in quietly, refreshing Itre's glass of the Wisc. He had been studying!

Itre gazed at the glass of intoxicant for several beats before taking a slow sip. The other Onifubs followed his lead, and the servers arranged themselves in the background. Jregli remained crouched in front of the table.

"Yes, it would appear that you have gone to some lengths, at least, for the sake of the Clan. Very well. Etro will arrange some suitable recompense for you. Go now. We must complete the ceremonies."

Jregli managed to not skip down the stairs. Much.

Space & Time: page 76

Hanging her apron carefully beside her nest in the back room, Jregli allowed herself a small, contented sigh. It had been a very good Second Day, if she did say so. And she did. Herself. She repressed another giggle. Stars, but she was tired! Far more tired that usual, in fact. Her legs and arms were shaky, her belly still rumbled painfully, and her mouth felt ... burned. At least her hands didn't hurt anymore, though.

She was closing up the main bar when Shdr'edno sauntered over. Jregli knew she should cower or cringe or otherwise acknowledge him, but she was just a bit too worn out to make the effort. Tomorrow. She would cower tomorrow. Right now, she needed all her mental energies to correctly complete Closing duties.

"So, my little pet, you seem to have satisfied our guests," Shdr'edno purred in Yerbran. "They had many fine things to say about you as they left. One of them indicated that he would be in touch with a special gift of some kind."

"Yes, Uncle," Jregli murmured, sparing him a small amount of attention as she punched up the Night's tallies.

"You must tell me, little pet, just how you accomplished this feat. I recall that you had several obstacles to clear, and I am most interested to hear your version of events."

Yes, and the greatest obstacle was you, Jregli thought sourly. And now you want to tear me away from my duties, keeping me up far too late and still expecting me to have everything done right. Big jerk.

A small lump that had nothing to do with her physical aches and pains formed in the pit of her belly. Dutifully, she abandoned the console and turned to her Master. Carefully (to hide her weariness), she recited her actions regarding the party, from the moment she'd spied Etro last Week until the clan had left just before Closing. Ressnib and Eddes came behind the bar while she talked, and she moved out of their way without thinking about it.

"Mmm, you have been very busy, little one. Very busy indeed." Shdr'edno eyed her obliquely for several beats after she finished her recitation. His tail waved gently, giving no hint to his thoughts. Jregli's tail gave no hint to her thoughts, either, but that was because she was too tired to have any body language.

"So well, in fact, that you deserve a reward. You may keep whatever gift the Onifub sends you, provided that it is not currency. If it is currency, I will use it to buy you some new aprons. How does that sound?"

It sounded like a trap. He was too smooth, too conniving, too ... stingy to give her favors. Besides, there was also the small matter of his humiliation at her claws to consider. Probably trying to lull her into complacency so he surprise her and destroy her. Worked on the Merchants' Forum back Home, hadn't it? Wouldn't work on her. Oh, no. Not on her. After she'd have ... had some sleep, she would show him. Wouldn't show him.

"That sounds most generous, Uncle. I thank you!" She must have sounded appropriate because Shdr'edno stalked off with a pleased flick of his tail. Jregli stood there for several beats more, waiting for her brain to catch up. Console. Right. Finish that.

"All good here, kiddo. You go get some sleep. Look 'bout done in." Ressnib smiled gently at her from the other end of the bar.

"Mmm. All ... done? The console is closed out? I have to tally my count ... count my tally--"

"Ai, chica! You're about to fall over! We remember how to get this place shut down, so don't worry. Besides, all these little fixes you've made over the past coupla Months makes closing a lot easier. So go get some shut eye, eh?" Wilson turned her toward the back room and gave her shoulders a gentle shove.

"Trust us; we'll do you proud, kiddo," Ressnib added.

"Trust you; yes, I can trust you. Trust my friends. I can do that. I have friends ..." Jregli mumbled as she stumbled to her nest. She drew up short when she realized that someone was in her space. Mahl looked up from arranging the blankets.

"Ah, there you are, urbii! You look exhausted, poor dear. Come, come! Your bed is all ready for you. There's a dear, lie down now. Don't worry about your apron, I've washed it out for you and hung it up to dry so it will be fresh for Tomorrow. Why your Uncle makes you sleep back here, I don't know. Seems strange to leave a child all alone in a back room while he goes off to his own quarters, but that's Yerbrans for you! I'm only a simple alien, aren't I? I can't pretend to understand all your ways, so I won't; I'd make a fool of myself, wouldn't I?"

The soft sound of Mahl's voice faded as Jregli closed her eyes. As she slid into sleep, Jregli wondered what in the Galaxy Mahl thought she was doing.

The sweet darkness of slumber shattered with a chamber-splitting shriek that sent Jregli about five Units into the air. Hearts thudding erratically, she searched wildly for the source of the alarm. After agonizing Seconds, she realized it came from her little 'pad, which she kept on the shelf next to her nest. With hands made clumsy from shock, she grabbed the 'pad, knocked it to the floor, sent it skittering halfway across the room, and finally got her hands around it. The screen was locked, and it took her long enough to figure out the code that she was fully awake by the time she silenced the alarm.

What, by all the scouring Winds in the Dun'dresnn desert, was her Master up to now?

She located the event linked to the alarm, a sono file. She felt her shoulders tighten as she keyed it to playback.

"Dear little pet, I thought that you might not recall your appointment to meet with the Uunfe Dpolqr, so I took the liberty of setting a reminder for you. They rise early; you will need to be there before the fifth Hour. Don't forget to complete your chores before you leave."

The smooth, silky voice of her Master made Jregli want to gnash her teeth. Of course she wouldn't remember the time of the appointment; he'd never told her! He'd sent her off on her errands before arranging that with Kkle'drqo. He'd deliberately not told her just so he could do this to her. And he'd made certain to wake her up with almost no time to get anything done, too. If her followers hadn't taken all the duties last Night, she would have been critically short of sleep.

The dull lump in her stomach flared hotter. She gripped the 'pad tighter.

Well, it would do no good to get upset about it. Jregli took a deep, long breath. It was the right of Masters to do whatever they wished, and if it brought her Master pleasure to do this, then it was for her to accept it. It didn't matter whether or not she liked it, but getting her tail in a bend wasn't going to make it any better. Besides, not being upset would be a grain of sand in Shdr'edno's eye, now, wouldn't it? She kept telling herself that as she stomped out to the Pub.

When she punched up the console, a message light flashed at her. Surprised, she saw that it was addressed to her, from Ressnib. She brought it up.

Kiddo, enjoy your morning. We took care of everything before we left, so you shouldn't have anything to do when you get up. There's a meal for you in the cold box; maybe left from when you went out last Week. Have fun with the Dancers. Don't think you heard, but the reason the Twins aren't around is Shdr'edno made them take a Week without pay for all the trouble they caused. Some other things, too, but that's all we've heard of for sure. Yurs-ond sees them each Night, and they're fine. Missing you and send their love. See you Tonight. R

Jregli stared at the message for several Minutes. Then she checked the console. What do you know; they actually did take care of everything.

Space & Time: page 77

Shdr'edno sighed as he stretched, feeling his muscles loosen after a good night's sleep in his luxurious nest. He kept his quarters modestly decorated, in keeping with his Status as a simple Pub owner, but anyone with a careful eye would see the quality carefully hidden beneath the modest veneer. He always awoke ravenous, so he headed to the prep room of his simple quarters to sate his belly.

Mindful of nutrition, he served himself first a generous piece of w'rrdll root marinated in its own leaf-oil. Most people would consider that a plain meal, but it was good for you. Shdr'edno actually liked the subtle, woody taste of the root, particularly in contrast with the bitter tang of the oil. Once he finished that, he allowed himself a serving of fresh, succulent shoots imported directly from Home. That was an extravagance worthy of his Status as the most powerful man of Yerbra.

Savoring the green flavor of the tender plants, he took some time to reflect on where he'd been, where he was, and, most importantly, where he was going. He was already incredibly powerful, controlling vast portions of the Yerbran economy and substantial portions of the economy of the Fredan Space Station 5. His claws hovered above several possibilities in Uffniorn, Ferlindis, Vun, Human, and Enndes. Since the delightful debacle of the last Week, he'd begun probing into Hunsid and Tingort.

He had so much already. What more could he acquire? Mmm, he knew exactly what he wanted next.

He put the platters into their slots in the cabinet, closed it, and activated the sterilizer. He then went to his spacious lavatory for his morning toilette. Setting the buffer to begin on his back, he began thinking.

He'd always accomplished what he'd set out to do, even when it took several tries. He didn't give up and didn't allow set-backs to deter him from his goals. He'd hatched with ambition in his hearts and passion in his eyes, tools he'd used to make himself the man he was Today.

His sire was a fool, an idiot unworthy of his noble lineage. His greatest accomplishment was siring Shdr'edno, but that was not enough to redeem his pathetic existence. Shdr'edno's grandsire, Dsunf'ppo, was a man worth admiring. He had taught the young Shderd cunning and business, encouraged him to practice, attempt, and persevere, had sponsored his adulthood and given him his adult name. Shdr'edno had made certain to repay his grandsire handsomely, with a beautifully-crafted coup of the family security business. Dsunf'ppo now proudly served under Shdr'edno, maintaining things back Home. Shdr'edno had, of course, made him the chief of the servants.

Servants that he lacked here in the Mutuality, Shdr'edno reflected as he turned the buffer off and began applying oils. A simple Pub-owner could never afford to employ more than the occasional cleaner, certainly not all the staff that was Shdr'edno's right to have. But he made do without them; he made do.

Keeping the low profile here on the Station was not due to any concern of actions from Home. Oh, no, the Merchants' Forum belonged to him now. He'd gained the contracts to design their security systems, which gave him access to all of their files. He'd built in back-doors and programmed special sub-routines purely for his own use. He'd carefully arranged a variety of "accidents" to give him the excuse to work on-location and impress them with technical jargon. It had taken less than three Cycles for all of them to become completely dependent on him to maintain their systems. Sensibly, they had been terrified of him.

They couldn't prove anything, of course, so they'd had to let him continue. Watching them gnaw themselves into a frenzy, waiting for his strike, had been a joy. He could and did give them the most ridiculous excuses for why programs and machinery failed, and they had to accept it. Solar magnetism, indeed! Shdr'edno had also maneuvered his competition into public shame (and occasional injury), thus removing them from his sight. And when the heads of the Forum awoke that one morning to find Shdr'edno now owned the controlling interest in all of their businesses ... it still gave him a shiver of delight.

Shdr'edno began a sprightly song as he went to the public room of his quarters to perform his daily exercises. He'd eventually divested himself of most of those ventures; they weren't really useful to his plans. He'd kept several of them, however; namely the ones involved in irrigation, innovation research, and medical supplies. Shdr'edno now controlled food production, the development of new technology, and the availability of health care products for nearly all of Yerbra Home.

Now, Shdr'edno was a great supporter of new ideas and better medicine for his people. New ideas created new opportunities, and healthy, well-fed people were more inclined to pay for those new ideas. And inventors of new ideas had to pay Shdr'edno to give them the opportunity to market to the people. Those funds in turn went into ensuring that appropriate laws were passed to keep the system working just the way it was.

And now, he had reached many of his goals and most of his dreams. His power spread over not only Home but several systems. He had any number of fronts taking attention away from him, freeing him to operate efficiently. He had ... an ... interesting diversion in his slave. Who would now enable him to shape another dream into reality. She would give him the Dancers.

Space & Time: page 78

Jregli had a difficult trip to the quarters where the Children of the Wind housed. It was very hard to walk in a straight line when you kept noticing so many things around you! She was seldom up at this Hour, and she'd never been out in the Station at this time, so everything was a new sight.

It was surprising how many sentients were up and about at this time. Most were what one might term "common laborers," the beings that did the simple jobs like cleaning, food preparation, carting, and the like. They ran the machines that performed the heavy labor, and some of them, from their appearance, were mechanics who cared for those machines. They were up at this unheard-of Hour, either on their way to work or already doing their tasks.

A pair of Yinnions tended one of the planters that dotted the main corridor of the Station as Jregli passed by. They clipped dead and dying growth, loosened the top layers of soil, and checked the function of the watering mechanism. Jregli had never seen one of the sinuous beings before and nearly walked into a servocart that had halted in front of her while focusing on the gardeners. Yinnions looked like just a bundle of tentacles to Jregli; it was hard to determine where their heads were.

Further along, two techs in Station uniforms had a panel opened in on of the side walls and were discussing the wiring inside while a third tech lugged a box of tools of the small dolly parked nearby. Jregli itched to take a look at the panel; engineering was, after all, one of her many hobbies. She thought, however, that the Mutuality might take it amiss is a child wandered up and started fooling around with Station equipment. So, after a few moments of discreet ogling, she continued on.

Without the Twins dragging her, she had more time to observe the Station. In a way, it really wasn't so very different than the caverns back Home. There was the main passageway, lots of spaces built into the walls, and tunnels leading off in both directions. Yes, it was a fabmake, not natural stone, but it still felt the same. Especially now that there were more beings filling the halls. Yerbra Home was crowded unless you were wealthy enough to afford a distant estate. Everyone there crammed into the areas nearest water and food sources, which were, obviously, few and far between.

The main corridor of the Station had two levels, the top one having no floor save the wide balcony that gave access to the shops and quarters built up there. More shops than quarters in this section, Jregli noted. Peddlers began setting up carts and tables in the center of the corridor, hawking all manner of wares to passers-by. A few of them even called to Jregli, who found it amusing. She'd left her apron back at the Pub and carried nothing; how did these sentients think she would pay for the wares they brandished at her? But it was still fun to look.

The eatery area of the Station had fewer shops but just as many peddlers vying for attention. Most of the restaurants were closed at this Hour, though some were open and advertising breakfast. Jregli enjoyed the variety of smells wafting around her as she passed by, but she was not tempted by them; she'd eaten every last bit of the food left over from her trip with the Twins. It was a lot more than she was accustomed to eating, but it sat well enough in her belly. She'd been eating more these past few days; perhaps her stomach was adjusting.

Watching all the sentients who streamed around her took up a lot of time, too. So many Races! So many colors, and clothes, and accessories! Yerbrans seldom wore anything, and Jregli relished the chance to examine everyone around her. Some of the items were exceedingly clever; those Races whom Nature had not equipped as compactly as Yerbrans had devised many ways to protect and support their various body parts. The constant motion of their body parts fascinated Jregli. With a start, she realized that she was staring quite rudely. Then she muffled a giggle when she realized that few of these sentients would even realize that she was!

Jregli determined that she would not gawp like an idiot and looked around for something to take her attention off the beings flowing around her. She nearly caused an accident when she caught sight of the ceiling above the corridor and stopped in her tracks. Those who'd been travelling behind her were forced to dodge, which they did with little grace and loud complaints. Jregli didn't care.

Lights, ductwork, access platforms, service panels, acoustic fab, and ... was that a rodent? The ceiling was anything but featureless despite its uniform dark-grey color. Whoever had designed it had been very clever, indeed, for she'd placed things in a subtle but definite pattern. At least, it looked like a pattern to Jregli. Maybe Jregli was imagining things, imparting an artistic flair where there was only engineering. Not that it mattered. It was still fascinating.

Jregli tried to keep out of the main stream of traffic so she could walk more slowly and look more carefully. She'd started out with lots of extra time for the trip so she wouldn't have to rush. It was nice to not be moving a at flat run for a change. She could take her time and enjoy th--

Jregli froze again, this time in shock. Was that ...? It couldn't be! Who would--? Regaining some composure, she moved casually (she hoped) towards the center of the corridor, working her way around one of the peddler carts that forced the growing crowds to part around it. Just a little further ... it was! It really was! But now what to do about it? It wasn't like anything was getting hurt ... but you didn't carry that sort of thing around unless you meant to do some damage. Jregli let the crowd carry her along for several leaps while she puzzled the situation.

Her problem was solved when she spotted a roaming Station Security officer off to one side. Fighting the crush, she made her way to his side.

"I beg your pardon, Officer. I wondered if you could tell me the Station's policy on carrying weapons in public places?"

"What? It's prohibited, of course. What makes you ask?"

"I happened to notice a female Deernupan standing at the stall selling fabglass vases who had yetsoo, mmm, battle stars, prominently displayed on her."

"Yetsoo?" The officer said something in Rundion that Jregli hadn't heard before and filed for future reference. "Where? And are you sure?"

"Quite certain, sir; the etchings are quite distinctive. She wore them ... mmm, I believe the word is 'earrings'; she wore them hanging from her ears, and they had little fabbed gems stuck on them. I made certain I'd seen it correctly before I moved on."

The officer palmed his comm and brusquely demanded backup. "Describe her to me, ma'am, if you please."

Space & Time: page 79

She ended up running anyhow; stopping to talk to the officer had delayed her more than she'd realized it would. When he'd turned to the officers who had come to assist him, she'd made her getaway after overhearing a passerby complaining about the time. Wheezing for breath, Jregli found the right doorway and stumbled through. Pausing in the entryway, she looked around.

Her perusal stopped at the sight of an enormous Wind Brother standing at the inner doorway. These quarters were sized for taller, larger sentients, but this man took up nearly the entire space; he was HUGE! His weather eye must have topped over thirteen Units, his shoulders were as wide as Jregli's arm was long, and he had more muscle packed onto his frame than any three men she'd ever seen before. And that tail! He could probably break bones with it.

"You must be the child Jregli," he said quietly in a rich, baritone voice.

"Nnn--mmm, yes, my lord. I am," Jregli replied, unable to keep her tail from plastering itself to her leg in sudden fear.

"Take ease, child," he chuckled gently, his massive tail crinkling with good humor. "I am Ssl'pnkir, not a Fw'iooo. I don't eat little girls for breaksfast."

"I imagine I would be more a snack than a meal, my lord," Jregli half-whispered back. He laughed heartily at that.

"And no doubt! You are a bit of thing! Well, we'll help with that, child; take ease. Be welcome here among the Stars Watchers family. Matron and Patron await you inside. Go on, now." He shooed her through the door he guarded.

Jregli hadn't explored much in her time on the Station, and she'd certainly never been in living quarters before. Still, she imagined that all the quarters on a Mutuality-built and maintained space station would probably have the same basic architecture. She'd read up on space stations, naturally, when she'd prepared her plan. The area she stepped into was open to two levels, much like the corridor outside. The color scheme matched, as well, though a few decorations scattered around gave it a bit of color. Perhaps over time, if the Dancers and Brothers stayed long enough, the place would come to look more distinctively Yerbran.

Doorways closed by typical sliding doors marched around the perimeter; Jregli counted seven on the lower level (where she stood) and eleven on the upper. The courtyard, if she could be pardoned for calling it that, was square with four raised planting beds surrounding a small fountain. Green plants and fresh water aside, it looked rather boring. The upper level held four doors in each side wall and three in the facing wall. On the lower level, three doors dotted each of the side walls with the last door being double-width and set in the center of the far wall. The landing of a utilitarian staircase created a kind of portico over that doorway, with the stairs dropping to either side as a frame.

In that framed doorway stood Kkle'drqo and Rnn'fern.

Jregli steeled herself and approached them calmly. Almost calmly.

"Fair dawning to you, Jregli," Kkle'drqo greeted her warmly.

"Fair dawning, Lady Matron, Lord Patron," Jregli replied, trying to copy the bows she'd seen the Dancers make. It looked horrid, of course, but perhaps she would win favors for initiative.

"She needs balance work," Rnn'fern commented. His light tenor voice surprised Jregli. Rrn'fern's singing voice was so deep and rich that the contrast truly startled her.

"Yes, Patron, but do give the child some time to catch her breath! She's been here less than a Minute and is not ready yet for rigorous work." Rrn'fern was unmoved by Kkle'drqo's gentle chiding. "Child, you do seem to labor to breathe; did you run all the way here?"

"No, Lady Matron; I ran only the last way after pausing too long to speak with a security officer. I left in good time but did not manage it well." Jregli dipped a humble bow.

"Why did you speak with a security officer?" Rrn'fern asked, his interest suddenly sharpened.

"I noted a sentient bearing concealed weaponry, Lord Patron, which violates Mutuality law. It was my duty to report it immediately." Plus, outbreaks of violence were bad for business.

"How did you know it was a weapon?"

"The sentient was Deernupan, who are famed for their weaponry and battle skill. As their server, should they patronize my lord Uncle's establishment, is it not my place to express interest in the things they honor? To better serve them, I educated myself with all things Deernupan, including their weaponry."

"What weapon was it? How was it concealed?" Rrn'fern stepped toward her, tail tensing, as he interrogated her. Kkle'drqo raised her hand elegantly to interrupt him.

"Patron, there will be time to learn of these things." Her beautiful voice held a subtle rebuke that Jregli despaired of ever learning to replicate. Rrn'fern uncurled his tail as he acknowledged Kkle'drqo's words.

"Well spoken, Matron. The child is of yours, after all, and not of mine. I shall bide my time." What did that mean? Jregli suddenly wondered if she were to have combat training with the Brothers. Surely not! Kkle'drqo plucked the thought out of Jregli's head.

"All Dancers find it useful to train at least a short while among the Brothers, child. From them, we learn economy of movement, increase our spacial awareness, build our familial rapport, and practice new steps for the Dance," she explained.

"Knowing how to defend oneself, at least long enough for a trained warrior to arrive, is also beneficial," Rrn'fern added.

"You are most wise, Matron and Patron," Jregli answered. They really were; it made incredible sense.

"It also gives the Sons opportunity to learn better manners; some of those boys have the social skills of a hungry urr'l," Rrn'fern noted drily. Kkle'drqo chuckled.

"Come now, Jregli; let me make known to you our home here and the Children of the Stars Watchers who live here." Kkle'drqo's welcoming gesture was grace itself. If Jregli could gain even a fraction of that ... well, the time here would be well worth it.

Mmm, no. The time here would be well worth it if she could gain that fraction and make her plan work.

Space & Time: page 80

There wasn't much to the Stars Watchers quarters, so the tour didn't take long. Upstairs were the sleeping areas; downstairs were the learning and work rooms. Most of the sleeping rooms were neatly partitioned for additional privacy. The unmated Dancers shared the rooms on the upper left, and the unmated Brothers on the right. Mated couples shared two of the rooms in the upper center, and Matron and Patron split the centermost room.

Jregli was surprised to learn that Kkle'drqo and Rrn'fern were not mated to one another. Kkle'drqo's mate was an unassuming man named Gpo'wkil, and Rrn'fern's mate was Oonh'kill, who had more energy than Jregli thought healthy. She was as bright and bubbly as Gpo'wkil was plain, as though trying to compensate for his lacking.

The sleeping quarters were spacious by Yerbran standards, though just as bland as the rest of the decor. Jregli had learned through her studies that many Races preferred having large, open places to rest and huge nests (rather, beds) to sleep on. A proper Yerbran nest was just big enough for the person or couple occupying it and was usually built into a wall. The thought of sleeping in the wide open made Jregli's scales crawl. Granted, her nest at the Pub was not "proper," but the storeroom was normally dim, and she had some shelves above her head, so it wasn't too bad.

"You may notice that there are more nests than Children," Kkle'drqo said just as Jregli was about to ask. "Those here are but a small portion of our family's number. We came ahead of them to make preparations, to acertain if this was indeed a good place to bring the rest."

"How many Children of the Stars Watchers family are here, Matron?" Shdr'edno would want to know.

"We brought thirty Dancers and five Daughters, thirty Brothers and five Sons, and three pairs of Cousins."

Jregli twitched her tail in curiosity, which Kkle'drqo warmly satisfied.

"Daughters and Sons are those of the family who are training to become Dancers or Brother, yet are still younglings. When they become adults, they may become Dancers and Brothers. To call an adult a Daughter or Son is either an endearment or a rebuke." Mmm, that would be why Kkle'drqo had referred to Gp'nifse and Jujk'anrl that way.

"Cousins are those of the Family who are neither Dancers nor Brothers. They perform many vital tasks for the family: managing our funds and businesses, procuring supplies, facilitating communication, and the like. Their work enables us to pursue the Dance.

"As you may well have guessed, I oversee the Dancers and Daughters, and Rrn'fern oversees the Brothers and Sons. We each brought two instructors to assist us. As Matron and Patron, we have administrative duties beyond the Dance itself. You will spend much of your lessons with them and your particular teachers."

Jregli broke off her admiring of Kkle'drqo's green markings at that. "My particular teachers, Matron?"

"Yes, dear child. I have assigned Gp'nifse and Jujk'anrl to you; they will be responsible for your education among us." Kkle'drqo seemed quite pleased with herself. Jregli was not as pleased.

Junjk'anrl and Gp'nifse did not approve of Jregli, that was abundantly clear. She wasn't Dancer material, and the two were not likely to appreciate having her tag along after them. Jregli would, no doubt, learn more about how humiliating it was to be stuck with a deformed child than how to Dance.

"You are a bit older than is customary for a new Daughter," Kkle'drqo commented as she led the way down the stairs and into one of the lesson rooms.

"Then I am doubly grateful for your generosity in considering me, Matron." Jregli carefully seated herself on one of the cushions, opposite Kkle'drqo.

"It is not always a generous thing to take so old a child as a Daughter. The things we teach are best learned from a very young age. It is possible for even an adult to learn our ways and the Dance, but it is by far easier to begin when five Cycles old." Kkle'drqo picked up a pitcher and cup from a tray beside her, filled the cup, and offered it to Jregli. Shocked that the Matron would serve a mere "Daughter", Jregli belatedly reached to accept the drink.

"Our ways are much different than those of our Race," Kkle'drqo continued, serving herself. "We consider all to have equal value, and we do not demand proof of that value before we believe it. We do not look to take from others, and we do not practice defeat. We encourage ourselves to excel, to improve, to push our personal limits, but never at the expense of any other. Do you think that many of our Race would find these things simple to accept?"

"No, Matron. Most would find it ... mmm, obscene, to be honest." Jregli took a sip of her cup, enjoying the cool water.

"This is so. It is why we do not often take Daughters or Sons from those older than twelve Cycles; by that age, younglings have begun to accustom themselves to the ways of Yerbra and find it too hard to adjust their thinking. What we teach is not merely a pattern of steps upon a stage; we teach a new pattern of life. You, however, I think will be able to make this change."

Jregli shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't exactly what she had thought of when she'd started admiring the Children of the Wind. She'd known they were different, but not this different. It was one thing to read up on a group of people, and it was entirely another to hear them speak about themselves. When she'd studied other Races, Jregli had found it comparatively easy to accept the oddities of their cultures; after all, these were alien Races which were by definition unfathomable. But the Children of the Wind were Yerbran.

Weren't they?

Space & Time: page 81

"Your mind is incredibly facile, Jregli, and you tack well to the changings of the winds. This is why I believe you will have an easier time learning than another of your age." Kkle'drqo savored her water.

"Although, you will likely have some difficulty with the physical aspects of the Dance."

Jregli ducked her head. "Yes, Matron. I realize that I will never be able to perform. I hope to learn something of the Dancer's grace and movement; I do not expect too much of myself. My body is stunted--"

"Broken would be a better word, child." Kkle'drqo assessed Jregli cooly. "Let us have no secrets or pretense. No child is so badly off as you without interference of some kind. Either you fell to a horrible accident, or the horror that happened to you was no accident. I feel it is the latter."

Jregli flattened herself against the cushion. Hearts pounding, she wildly wondered what Kkle'dqro would do. Surely she wouldn't try to expose them!

"Speak plainly. Are you the slave of Shdr'edno?"

"Yes, Matron," Jregli whispered, beginning to tremble.

"Is he the reason your body and voice are broken?"

"Oh, no, Matron! He is the best Master I've had! He's never hurt me, only laid the gentlest of touches on me!"

"How did you come to this physical state?"

Now that Kkle'drqo had asserted her Status, had reinforced the she was an adult and Jregli was a slave, there was no point in dissembling. So Jregli told the Matron her life story, condensing it but not avoiding the pertinent details. Well ... she did leave out a few things about Shdr'edno. Wouldn't do to cast a dim light on her current Master. Or mention his instructions for her time among the Dancers.

She kept her voice level and her body flattened, tail curled up and under. The cup rested on the floor to the side, untouched. Slaves did not drink in the presence of adults. Slaves did not raise themselves up in the presence of adults.

"Interesting. Not many slaves would dare seek a new Master or Mistress, no matter how cruel. I have known numerous slaves, and none have shown any of the courage you have."

Kkle'drqo had known slaves? Actually known them, not merely seen them when visiting a lord's caverns?

"This former Mistress of yours ... I do not like the sound of her. She is precisely the kind of woman that we strive to never be. Come here, Jregli; let me see you." At Kkle'drqo's gesture, Jregli scurried to her side, again flattening herself to the floor.

Kkle'drqo made a careful examination of Jregli, starting on her back and tail, urging her to stand and show her legs and chest, even peering into Jregli's mouth. Disconcerting, but not humiliating, so Jregli meekly submitted. After looking, Kkle'drqo stood and demonstrated several movements for Jregli to copy. She then had Jregli recite several phrases and sing some popular songs. Jregli gamely attempted everything Kkle'drqo asked, with varying degrees of success. The singing was, naturally, an abject failure; Kkle'drqo could not conceal a wince at the sound.

"Very well, that is enough for now, Jregli. Sit, child. On the cushion, you need not abase yourself like that here. Now, tell me what hurts." Kkle'drqo settled herself on her own cushion and looked expectantly at Jregli.

"Hurts, Matron? What do you mean?" Jregli cautiously lowered herself to the cushion (after making sure that Kkle'drqo was firmly settled).

"What I said. You have been grievously injured, therefore you hurt. I need to know what hurts and how. Begin with your tail. Where does it hurt the most?"

Jregli had to think about that. For several Minutes. As she did, something surprising revealed itself to her. Something she'd never stopped to consider before, had never paid any attention to. It had never seemed important before, and there had always been more urgent matters to consider. Matters that were more profitable, that she could affect and act upon. This realization had never dawned on her because she'd always known, subconsciously, that she couldn't do anything about it.

Her whole body hurt. Every bit of it. It seemed that it had always hurt, that something was always jabbing, aching, stinging, or stabbing. As she considered this, the pain she'd become so adept at ignoring roared up with new life and tried to swallow her mind. How had she never noticed this?

"Child! Jregli! What is the matter?!" Kkle'drqo leaned in, arms outstretched, as Jregli gave a soft cry and pitched forward.

"Nnn--It is ... nothing ... Matron. I ... only ... a moment, and I will be fine."

"Do not lie to me, Jregli," Kkle'drqo rebuked her. "I realize that slaves are not given any medical treatment, but while you are here, you are not a slave. You are a Daughter of the Stars Watchers. Here, take a sip of water, wet your throat. I imagine that your injuries are far more extensive than my simple examination can uncover. Mmm, this will not be easy. Legally, you belong to your Master, yet we have a moral obligation to you. It is our way to care for all the needs of those who join us ... but you have not joined us, have you? Your place is a very odd one, and I am not certain how to proceed."

Jregli focused on reciting Innobin's fifteenth theoretical principle of aethology and how it could be applied to hyperstellar engineering. As Kkle'drqo fretted, the pain receded. Actually, it didn't so much go away as her awareness of it faded. When Kkle'drqo rose to call someone from outside, Jregli managed to sit up and hold herself steady. She would beat this. She was stronger than this.

"I will be fine, Matron; please; do not worry yourself on my behalf." Her voice came out firm and calm.

Kkle'drqo spoke over her shoulder. "It is far too late for that, my Daughter."

Space & Time: page 82

Once the little girl was settled into Yinfi'elr's deportment lecture, Kkle'drqo called a meeting with her fellow family leaders. Qsaw'lppi and Tuue'plk might have the mere titles of Advisers, but their wisdom guided Kkle'drqo and Rrn'fern through countless events, as it had for over one hundred Cycles. The situation with the little slave-yet-Daughter was one the Kkle'drqo desperately needed help with.

She did not pace in her chamber by virtue of a lifetime of training, but her mind whirled. There was so much to consider, so many facets to this problem! When Gpo'wkil entered, she gave a breathy trill of relief and reached for him. Her mate came close, grasping her outstretched hands. Placing his head gently alongside hers, he hummed a soft drone to help soothe her. After several moments, her good humor restored, Kkle'drqo released her hold and looked to the others who'd arrived.

"A strong mate is a bulwark 'gainst the winds," Tuue'plk noted, his age-cracked voice warming in approval. His once-ebony scales had dimmed to a soft charcoal over the two hundred and eight Cycles of his life, his skin sagged over flaccid muscles, and his long tail drooped with the weight of time, but his eyes were undimmed and his mind as sharp as ever.

"Particularly those of one's own making," Qsaw'lppi added dryly, moving to her friend and fellow Adviser's side. She was still a striking woman with rich, brown scales and a deep, velvety voice despite her two hundred and seven Cycles. Only the slight quiver of her legs betrayed the palsy that was her only concession to age.

"Our fault lies in the poor training of our Children," Kkle'drqo replied calmly, inviting them to sit on the cushions. "It was not a fault to make reparations for that error."

"Was it not?" Qsaw'lppi replied archly. "Who would find a wrong in combining repayment to the child with that of the lord?"

"Legally, that is appropriate," Gpo'wkil added in his soft voice.

"But hardly right!" Oonh'kill exclaimed as she bounded into the chamber. "We have moral obligations that transcend mere legalities! It's not right to ignore someone just because she's a child, especially if we erred against her. Did not Pruy'thipms teach that we need look beyond ourselves to all those--"

"Quote not the Founder to us, Child," Qsaw'lppi interrupted, flicking her tail. "I daresay I've had a bit of time to study his words and meditate 'pon them."

"Take ease, mate." Rrn'fern stepped alongside Oonh'kill and twined his tail with hers. Startled by the display of affection, Oonh'kill forgot her hot retort. As Rrn'fern intended, Kkle'drqo knew; the Patron cared deeply for his feisty mate but was not given to publicly showing it. With Oonh'kill distracted, Rrn'fern turned to the discussion.

"The matter stands thus: we wronged the child and her lord. We offered reparation to each. The lord's requirement was outrageous but not unexpected. The child's requirement was both. By our code, we must comply with both. By the law, we cannot oblige the child. Is this the sum of it?" Rrn'fern settled himself and his mate on the cushions as Kkle'drqo and Gpo'wkil murmured assent.

Tuue'plk asked the obligatory question. "And why does the law supersede our code?"

"Jregli confirmed to me that she is Shdr'edno's slave." Kkle'drqo hated to say it; it made her feel ... unclean to speak the word aloud.

"I knew it!" Oonh'kill burst out. "I knew it! This is simply perfect! This gives us precisely the--"

Rrn'fern cut her off firmly. "This is no time for another liberation debate, Oonh'kill. We cannot right all the wrongs of the Galaxy, and we have a more pressing issue to decide."

"But this could be a beginning!" Oonh'kill tried once more before Rrn'fern's authoritative tail swipe hushed her.

"That does make it difficult," Tuue'plk commented.

"It is not our place to make a social rampage," Qsaw'lppi added with a nod. "Nor to forcibly take a child of any kind from its adult."

"We don't have a contract for the child, in any case," Gpo'wkil spoke up. He swished his tail, which was as close to an outburst as the generally calm man got. "Should we act as though she were a Daughter, the laws will not hold us up. We have no purchase on this cliff face."

Oonh'kill stewed but held her peace.

"No contract? How did the master expect that we would treat the child, if he did not give her over nor pay the tutorial?" Qsaw'lppi focused sharply on Kkle'drqo, who sighed.

"It's an older and infrequently-used part of the code, Qsaw'lppi. We researched carefully before going to make our offer. In instances of insult requiring redress, no contract is required." Kkle'drqo wilted slightly with despair, prompting Gpo'wkil to lay tail alongside hers in comfort.

"Then is that the end of things? No right to the child to make her a Daughter, no contract to give us leeway? No way to follow the code without breaking the law and bringing its wrath upon the Children?" Qsaw'lppi thumped her tail angrily on the floor.

"Surely the master would not object to our giving care to the child!" Oonh'kill cried, unable to hold her indignation. "Have you seen her? Her condition is reprehensible!"

"No one contests that," Rrn'fern managed before Oonh'kill plowed on.

"But no one will treat her with dignity or respect, either!"

"Such a revolutionary sentiment will bring much grief to the Children," Tuue'plk retorted mildly. "Were we to raise our voices to the winds for this child as you propose, all our Brothers and Sisters would pay the price. None would then be able to do any good, and your dreams would shatter beneath the cliffs."

"Then what do you propose that we should do?" Oonh'kill snapped.

"Mmm. I do have an idea. Yet it will not be easy."

Space & Time: page 83

The lecture on deportment was just fascinating. There were so many subtleties to consider! For instance, in general conversation, the simplest way to indicate interest in the other's words was to lean slightly forward with hands gently clasped. When you wished to capture another's attention, lowering your volume actually worked better than raising it, as it required the listener to increase her attention to hear you. The position of one's tail relative to the other person could either open or close a conversation before it began.

Jregli drank in Yinfi'elr's instructions greedily. Such simple things, yet so powerful! Who knew that controlling one's nervous twitches not only concealed one's own thoughts but could also put another at ease? That, when meeting someone for the first time, the best impression could still be had from the worst presentation, if one but learned to read and respond to the other's unconscious cues? The soft-spoken instructor gave a dozen different things to look and listen for in conversation that would help overcome communication difficulties.

It amazed Jregli to realize that she'd already been doing some of the things Yinfi'elr talked about. Granted, she hadn't been doing them particularly well, but she'd had the idea, known that the precept existed in some form or fashion. Now, with true tutelage, she could perfect her conduct! She would be the most gracious slave in the Galaxy! Even Shdr'edno would find it nearly impossible to fault her!

Yinfi'elr was appropriately astonished by the speed at which Jregli absorbed her teachings. Before the lesson was done, she was calling on Jregli to show the Daughters the particulars of what she'd just gone over. The Daughters, surprisingly, didn't show any resentment to Jregli, despite their advanced Cycles. It was odd, Jregli thought, that girls who had been training for so much longer and who were so much older would not mind a newcomer tripping in and showing them up in half a lesson. Then she hit on it: these girls had been training longer, so they knew how to hide their anger.

The girls, however, hid any anger they felt so well that Jregli wondered if she'd guessed correctly. They seemed ... well, so un-upset that they might actually not be upset. But of course they would be; they had to be. No one liked being shown up, especially not by someone younger and of less Status. Junjk'anrl and Gp'nifse certainly seemed upset. Although, that was likely due to their being the only adults tutored alongside the younglings.

Matron Kkle'drqo had announced, just before leaving Jregli with Yinfi'elr, that the two Dancers clearly needed more instruction on proper behavior. So the pair had meekly shuffled in and settled themselves next to the Daughters. Jregli had tensed nervously when they sat down on either side of her, but they hadn't done anything other than pay attention to the lecture and participate in the exercises. After a quarter-Hour, Jregli had relaxed, though she saved some of her attention for them, just in case.

When Yinfi'elr dismissed the group, Jregli did not have long to wonder what to do next. Gp'nifse turned to her with sparkling cheerfulness.

"Fair dawning, sister Jregli. Matron instructed us to give you many of the basic lessons, to help you catch up to the others. As clever as you are, it shouldn't take you long!" Her voice held none of the sneer from last Week.

"Indeed, and we have been given the private use of this room, so that you need not fear to make mistakes in front of others," Junjk'anrl added genially.

Jregli knew what that meant. She tensed again and bowed carefully.

"Now look, Sister! We've frightened her!" Gp'nifse scolded the other Dancer before turning back to Jregli. "Please, Jregli, don't be afraid. We're not like the people you're used to, though I certainly understand why you would think that of us."

"Our behavior was inexcusable, and we will show ourselves better to you. We were so excited ... well ... we forgot everything we've ever learned." Junk'anrl's remorse was well played; you could almost believe she meant it!

"So we will study and learn again, like the Daughters we are, until we have it right." Gp'nifse added with real-seeming conviction. "And we shall teach it to you, in hopes that our teaching will become learning. We enjoin you to question us on any point, however trivial, until you feel certain of your own understanding. Should we have answers insufficient to your needs, then we shall not rest until we fetch it to you!"

It was tempting. Clouds above, it was tempting. The Children of the Wind were offering to place themselves under her power. She, Jregli, could command them to a whim. She could ask the most obscure questions, demand endless Hours of their attention, and they were obligated by their own word to attend her. Were she a free woman, she would grasp the chance with all claws and wring every last drop out of it. But she was a slave, and acting like a free woman was the last thing she could afford to do.

It made her angry; it really did. These women surely knew that she was a slave; no free children were ever so badly scarred as Jregli was. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out, even for the shallowest, most brainless Yerbran in the Galaxy. How dare they offer her power over them; they had to know she couldn't take it! Was this some form of revenge, some way for them to pretend to repay their debt without actually giving anything up? That's what Shdr'edno would do; what any sensible Yerbran would do.

Yet. These were Children of the Wind, Wind Dancers, not average Yerbrans. They climbed by a different set of rules, scaled an entirely different cliff than the rest of their Race. It was certainly possible that they were all sincere. And that frightened Jregli more than anything else.

Space & Time: page 84

They began with simple stretches to loosen up their limbs and prepare both body and mind for Dancing. Junk'anrl demonstrated the movements carefully, explaining the particulars, while Gp'nifse helped Jregli position herself.

It was, predictably, a humiliating start. It was also very painful. Jregli shouldered aside the discomfort and determined that she would defeat this as she had everything else she'd come across.

Jregli's center of balance was nearly non-existent, which made many of the upright stretches difficult in the extreme. She could not make her body fully extend as Junk'anrl could. She could not hold any position for even a second without severe trembling. The strain caused her to breathe harshly (when she wasn't holding her breath from the effort).

After perhaps fifteen Mins of trying, Gp'nifse called a halt. "I think we had best try something different. Sister Jregli, you've not had the opportunity to perform these stretches before, and it is unreasonable of us to press you so. Junk'anrl, what do you say to leading sister Jregli in some meditations while I prepare a massage?"

"I think, sister, that a peaceful meditation would benefit our new sister well; for the massage, perhaps you should consult with Llnnoo'drrp before making any preparations," Junk'anrl replied thoughtfully. Jregli wondered who Llnnoo'drrp was and why his advice was worth anything. Her twitching muscles made her very uncharitable, she noticed.

Gp'nifse agreed and left. Junk'anrl directed Jregli to sit on the floor while she fetched some water. Jregli took the proffered cup and drank, still out of sorts enough to not be bothered (much) that an adult served her. When Jregli's breathing returned to normal, Junk'anrl had her close her eyes and focus on slow, deep breaths.

As Jregli ordered her breaths, which were so loud and rasping compared to the Dancer's, Junk'anrl began a soft, wordless song. The melody was simple, with only three parts, the tempo slow yet steady. When the sound began, Jregli tensed again, waiting for anything to happen. After some Mins, nothing did happen. Slowly, Jregli let the tension go and began listening to the song.

Junk'anrl's voice was light and fluttery, like a scrap of cloth on the Verdant Winds. She wove the tune expertly, with all the grace and dignity one would expect of a Dancer. The piece was uncomplicated, little more than background noise, and despite herself, Jregli relaxed.

Not that she enjoyed it. Oh, no. It was merely another reminder of all that she could never have. With such mutilated chambers, Jregli would never be able to sing even the simplest songs. She would never be able to match the pleasant singing Junk'anrl made so effortlessly. Were she made of less stern stuff, she might give in to a heartsbroken keen.

Gp'nisfe's return shattered the mood. Which was appropriate, after all. "It was wise of you to suggest speaking with Llnnoo'drrp, Junk'anrl. He had many ideas to help Jregli which I think will be quite effective. Come, sister Jregli; let me introduce you."

Jregli climbed to her feet, dismayed at how stiff she'd become in such a short time. Mmm, it was a short time, wasn't it? She'd lost track, listening to Junk'anrl sing.

They walked to an upstairs room on the Brother's side of the quarters and entered without pressing the announcer. Inside, an older man, perhaps one hundred seventy-five Cycles, continued arranging a blanket on the floor. Several bottles of plastofab sat to one side along with several rubbing cloths. To his other side were three bowls filled with dried leaves and a hotplate holding a steaming carafe.

"New one, mmm?" he stated, flicking the blanket into its final position. Standing and stepping over it, he approached.

"Brother Llnnoo'drrp, this is Jregli, who has come to study with us and learn the code of the Wind. She has never practiced such movements as we make, and so it is hard on her. Jregli, this is Llnnoo'drrp, one of the senior Brothers and our fisiker. He has much practice with muscles both untrained and injured, and he will help you bring yours to better health."

Llnnoo'drrp and Jregli regarded one another in silence. He was somewhat short, with muscles beginning to show the effects of age. A few scars traced pale lines across his chest and forearms, making Jregli wonder just what sort of life he'd lived. Scars were not common among their people; some of his were parallel and reminded Jregli of claw marks.

"Right," Llnnoo'drrp broke the stalemate. "You look a smart child, so I won't give you pretty, empty words. Plain as my eye that you're in bad shape, so we've a lot of work to do. We'll start now with some adjustments and massage therapy, and I will tell you now that you're going to hate every Second of it. It's going to be very painful, even though we'll take it slowly. It'll be hard work, and you're going to have to work the hardest. You do stick with it, and I promise you'll be in the best possible shape. You'll feel a sight better than you ever have, too."

The best possible shape still wouldn't be much, given what they had to work with. Still, if it helped her have better balance and poise and made her less offensive to look at ...

"I have never turned from hard work, lord Llnnoo'drrp. I wish to do honor to the honor done me by this family." Jregli practiced some of Yinfi'elr's lesson by matching Llnnoo'drrp's posture and straightforward tone. She also made certain to keep her posture open and to counter his tail position. It seemed to please Llnnoo'drrp, who grunted and turned to the blanket.

"Right. Lay down here, and stretch your legs out to the back. Dancers, you two fetch the cloths in the warmer over there. Child, we'll start with damp heat on all the major joints and muscle groups. These herbs we'll steep so you can breathe the steam; it'll clear some of your sinuses. I want you to relax, now; if you tense up, we'll get nowhere. Here are the hot cloths; you'll get used to them in a Minute. Close your eyes so I can drape this one over your head and the bowl. Breathe easy and long ..."

It wasn't so bad, really. Until Llnnoo'drrp began squeezing her scrawny muscles with his large, very strong hands. Before it was over, Jregli's screams had dissolved into whimpers.

Space & Time: page 85

Jregli regained consciousness to the sound of soft humming and gentle pressure on her back. Her head lay turned awkwardly to one side, allowing someone to rub oil between her shoulder blades. Groaning, she opened her eyes.

"Good morning, Daughter," Kkle'drqo greeted her quietly. "Yes, it is still morning; you've been asleep less than an Hour. Llnnoo'drrp is finished for Today, and we won't have you do anything strenuous for the rest of the time you're here."

“Nnnn,” was Jregli’s intelligent response.

“That was not a pleasant experience, I am certain, but you did very well. No, don’t get up just yet; you need time to get your bearings. You’ll be rather sore, I’m afraid, for a while. I’ve been massaging fnneri oil into you, and that will help prevent stiffness. When you feel up to it, there’s a cup of water for you there. It has iibupfrn in it to ease the pain.”

“You … why are you doing this? You’re the Matron, not a s—slave,” Jregli rasped.

“I’m also the fisiker’s second for our family. I spent many of my Hours as a Daughter assisting with medicinals and injuries. Llnnoo’drrp needed to teach his lesson on defensive tactics, Gp'nifse and Jujk'anrl went to their meditations, the Dancers rehearse, the Brothers train or stand guard, Rrn’fern meets with Station Security, and the Cousins have particular duties. I am the only one available to tend you.” Kkle’drqo tucked the blanket under Jregli’s tail.

“You could have let me be; I – I can see to myself,” Jregli began.

“Nonsense,” the Matron shushed her. “You’ve undergone the first of a series of intensive medical treatments. No one expects you to care for yourself in this condition.”

“Medical treatments? But ... it was only a massage!”

“Mmm, but a massage of a medically therapeutic sort. In order for you to be able to learn to Dance, you need a great deal of physical therapy to recondition your body.”

“But … medical treatments have to be done by a Mutuality physician, not just a fisiker! You have to get approval, a license, to practice outside the Med Center.”
 
“Calmly, Daughter,” Kkle’drqo pressed Jregli back down, “or you may do yourself an injury. Yes, we are aware of these rules. Don’t worry about it; it’s taken care of. Now, do you feel that you can have a drink?”

“Yes, Matron.” Giving up, Jregli accepted the cup. After drinking, she lay back in the blankets.

A sudden realization jerked her halfway upright, causing Kkle’drqo to scold.

“My voice! It’s … it’s not as bad as it usually is! And I can breathe better, too!”

Jregli’s voice was still harsh and painful to listen to, but it was noticeably less so than usual. Taking a deep breath, Jregli felt shocked at how easily the air passed through her secondary chamber. For so many Cycles, air had always “caught” when moving from her sinuses to the tertiaries, creating a buzz that was now absent.

Well, not entirely absent, but she doubted anyone else could hear it now.

“Ah, that would be the result of the ffc’ial herbs that Llnoo’drrp steamed for you; they’re quite cleansing. We use them often to remove phlegm and hydrate the membranes. It won’t reverse damage, and it doesn’t heal infections, but it is excellent for daily use.”

“I don’t sound so bad,” Jregli marveled.

“It is an improvement, and you will see much more in the Days to come. Given that your situation is far different than most apprentices we take, I think now is the time to tell you what you may expect. Most younglings who come to us for training are under contracts that clearly define their duties and ours. You have no such contract and therefore no such definition. This, then is what your Days among us will be like:

“You must arrive by the fifth Hour of each Day except Sixth Day, which shall be your time for personal reflection upon what you have learned. Your first exercise will be with Llnnoo’drrp, who will continue your therapies. After this, you shall rest and regain your strength. Junk’anrl and Gp’nifse will sit with you during this time and teach you deportment and social graces. At the eighth Hour, we have a brief pause for refreshment (although you are expected to drink as much water as you wish during all lessons). Following this, you will go to Cousin Dsno’ee for song lessons. Then, you will go to Qsaw'lppi for lore at the tenth Hour. Following this, Junk’anrl and Gpnifse will teach you Dancing. Lastly, you will take Midday repast with us, and then return to your Master no later than the thirteenth Hour.”

That meant, in Star-Standard time, that Jregli would have to be at the Dancers’ quarters by 0600 and back to the Pub by 1400. To complete all her morning chores before leaving, she would have to rise no later than 0400. To complete all her evening chores after Cl