Aud held her infant son, feeding him and humming a song that she half-remembered from her childhood, trying to hold back her tears. Trying to be strong for him.

It had been a few months since she’d been imprisoned in the palace, a few months since it had all fallen apart. Four days ago, she’d given birth, and it was only in the last day, as she started to feel a bit better, started to really care for her baby, Pajon…it was only in the last day that she had begun to understand why Skor had left her.

It wasn’t about her. She had thought it was, but it wasn’t; it was about Riggu and Siru and Pajon. His children. He loved them, and…and he had a duty to them.

She had thought they could raise their son together on Rura Gastu. But she was wrong. Pajon deserved so much more. Deserved so much better.

She hated it. But still, she studied his face as he drank, tried to hold on to his scent, the feel of his skin against hers as she burped him, the beauty of his tiny yawn, his piercing, alert gaze…because she knew that this was all she would have. In a few days, her guilty plea would be recorded. She would go to Rura Gastu to begin her sentence. Pajon would stay with Skor. And she did not know that she would see either of them ever again. It would be easier, she thought, for her son simply to be walled off from her, for Skor to simply ignore her. She fully expected action to terminate all her parental connections to him, and if it happened…she wasn’t sure that she shouldn’t simply go along.

Because her son deserved better than to be the son of a traitor, even if Aud still believed in the cause that led her to treachery.

The door to her room, her prison, opened. Just a crack. A woman asked, gently, “May I come in?”

This startled Aud; Rajenlif had only spoken to her briefly since she’d been arrested, and then, only to direct her to do things.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to say no,” Aud said.

“I am not here as your Dronung, Aud. I’m here as your aunt,” Rajenlif said. “And you are with your son.”

Aud looked down, and said, “Yes, Aunt Raja, you may come in.”

Rajenlf walked in and closed the door. She sat down on the couch, and smiled at her grand-nephew. “No matter the circumstances…they are wonderful. It is an honor to be a parent. Congratulations, he is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Aud said. “I wish I had more time.”

“I know you do,” Rajenlif said. “That’s part of why Skor has let you have him in these early days. He and I have been talking, you know.”

“I did not,” Aud said.

“Pajon is a part of my family, even if you have been discommended; he is not in the order of succession, but that does not mean that he is not of my blood. He is my brother’s grandson. And I have expressed some concerns about his well-being to Skor.”

Aud gave a single, bitter chuckle. “It would not be the first time you’ve been involved in surgically removing someone’s parent.”

“That would be true, if that is what I intended to do,” Rajenlif said. “It is not, though. Aud, I failed you, and I am truly sorry. I thought it would be best for you if you did not grow up with the stain of being a bastard child, if you did not grow up with only one of two feet in the royal family. I also thought it would be best for my brother, for my family, and for Jotnarherath. And I was wrong on every count. Just as my mother was wrong to cut Rixie out of the family completely.

“A child needs to know where they come from, if it can be known. Sometimes, it cannot. Sometimes, due to tragedy – as happened with Prince Ryan – then only pieces of their past can be known. But if it can be known, then…then children need to know it. Even if it is hard, or unpleasant, or confusing. You needed to know who your father was, you needed to know your father. Even if it was difficult for everyone involved…it was unfair to you for me to hide it. I am truly sorry.”

Aud studied her son’s face. “Are you expecting me to forgive you? To apologize in return?” she asked.

Rajenlif chuckled. “No, Audara. Apologies are not simple gifts that are exchanged like Coronation Day presents; they must be given freely, and without a desire for repayment.”

Aud studied Pajon’s face some more. “I am…I am sorry, Aunt Raja. I…I still don’t trust hybrids. I still worry about the future of a Jotnarherath run by humans. I didn’t ask Luviisa to kill Ljied or Tursas or Rixie, but…I understood what she was going to do. And I blindsided you, and that…that was unfair to you. And I do feel bad about that. I did feel bad about that. I thought I was in a war, and I had to fight. But I guess…I didn’t think about what that really meant until it was too late.”

Rajenlif nodded. “I accept your apology, Aud,” she said, evenly. “That does not mean that I forgive you; your actions are unforgivable. But I appreciate that you recognize that. And though I can’t forgive you…that does not mean that I do not love you. I do. As does your father. And Skor, for that matter; leaving you was a great sacrifice. If not for your son, I think he would have followed you to Gastu.”

Tears began to leak from Aud’s eyes. “I know why he can’t.”

“I think you do. But Aud,” Rajenlif said, “I meant what I said: Pajon does need to know his mother. Despite everything. And because of that, I have told Skor that I will help him to make regular visits to Rura Gastu, with Pajon, to visit you. That when you have reached a point where you are released to a secure settlement, that Skor will bring Pajon to stay with you, even sometimes leave him with you for a week or two at a time, so long as you are allowed to have visitors from outside.”

Aud’s heart was pumping so hard that she thought it might burst from her chest. “Why?” she asked. “After everything I did…why?”

“Because I’m not doing it for you,” Rajenlif said. “I’m doing it for Pajon. I’m doing it for your son. Because even if he knows you did something terrible, even if he knows you are to be on Gastu until his children are teenagers…he will still know you. He will not wonder. He will not guess. He will know. If you are a bad mother, he will dislike you, but if you are a good mother, despite everything…then he will be grateful to have had what time he could have, grateful to you and his father for doing what you could to make it work.”

Aud nodded, and said, “I understand, and…for him…thank you.”

Rajenlif nodded. “You are welcome.”

Aud stroked Pajon’s head. “And when you talk to Skor…tell him I’m sorry. I thought…I thought I could win over Luviisa and win a fight…that I thought I needed to fight. And I lost him because of it.”

“I will,” Rajenlif said. “Luviisa…has her biases. As do you. And she holds to them tightly.”

“She has always been strong-willed,” Aud said.

“As have you,” Rajenlif said. “You will need that in the coming years, Aud. Don’t give up on that.”

Aud nodded. Rajenlif stood, and turned to go. “Aunt Raja?”

“Yes?”

Aud sighed. “Tell Skor that it is okay for him to call me. That…that I understand why. And that…I know Pajon will be happier on the outside.”

“I will,” Rajenlif said.

“And Aunt Raja…I really do mean it,” Aud said. “I’m sorry.”

Rajenlif gave her niece a sad smile in return. “I know,” she said. “I know.”

* * *

Judicator Lyđđi Bankuresen listened patiently as the defense attorney finished her statement. Bankuresen knew the attorney well; they’d gone to law school together, and he’d argued before her many times – he was a charity defense attorney, and while he hadn’t gotten rich, he’d built a respectable career in public service. And most of the time, she would have agreed with him that every defendant, even the very guilty, deserved to have an attorney watching out for their interests.

Still, as Dury Doivadt started to wind himself up and into yet another argument, Bankuresen couldn’t help wishing that they’d handed this case to a young, bored attorney from a rich firm, who was just clocking a few public service days.

“Mr. Doivadt, let me stop you there,” Bankuresen said. “I am not going to summarily rule that the real guilty party is a computer, no matter how many ways you try to structure the motion. Jotnar case law is clear that a neural stabilizer cannot be seen as separate from the person who uses it, and there is strong evidence that your client initiated the software and hardware modifications that you are attempting to blame for her choices. Motion denied. Additionally, motion to transfer to Imperial Court prior to adjudication here is denied. This was an attack on the Crown Princess of Jotnarherath. It is for us to try, before we let the Imperial government have its chance.”

Doivadt shook his head; he knew Lyđđi Bankuresen well enough that had known this argument wouldn’t fly. It would give him something to appeal, and maybe a bargaining chip to give his client a chance at freedom when she was very old.

Time to pivot.

“Thank you, Arbiter. I have another motion to place before the court; my client has been left profoundly disabled. She is not competent to stand trial.”

“Objection!” the crown prosecutor said. “Arbiter, she is behind the murder of more than a dozen people!”

“That is the allegation, but that is for a trial to decide, Ms. Juzat. Mr. Doivadt, you are correct that your client is disabled, and that she will require additional therapy before you and she can mount a vigorous defense. The prosecution has stipulated as much. But all indications from medical professionals show that she will become competent in time. I am willing to support a delay for treatment, but not an infinite one.”

“Arbiter,” the prosecutor said, “we are of course willing to give the defendant time for treatment. But as she recovers…she is accused of mass murder, Arbiter. We have been leery about her remaining in an unsecured treatment facility, even with guards. We ask that she be jailed, and receive the remainder of her treatment there.”

“Arbiter, she can’t get adequate treatment in a jail!” Doivadt said. “She requires significant monitoring.”

“This is true,” Doivadt said. “Ms. Juzat, she has a right to medical treatment.”

“Agreed, Arbiter,” Juzat said. “We ask that the defendant be remanded to Rura Gastu, Station Six. They have medical facilities there designed to deal with this type of injury; indeed, they probably have more experience with it than anyone outside of the restricted zone.”

“Arbiter,” Doivadt said, “this will make it difficult for me to coordinate her defense.”

“True. Which is why you will be given unlimited communication time with your client while she is on Rura Gastu. Any indication otherwise, and I’ll pull her back and release her on bond, understood, Ms. Juzat?”

The prosecutor smirked. “Arbiter, we would never interfere with a defendant and their attorney.”

“Correct, because if you did, you’d end up with an accused mass murderer loose due to prosecutorial misconduct, and that’s not something you want to explain to the Dronung. Now, Ms. Lusan, or Ms. Krasis…whatever you understand your name to be…I know this may be difficult to understand,” she said. “You are going to be sent to a prison hospital, where you will continue to receive therapy while under detention. You have not been sentenced yet. Your case is still in process. If you are found to be not guilty, you will be freed. Do you understand?”

“I…am Fanira Krasis,” the prisoner said, slowly. “That…that is name. My name. And….”

She looked down, frustrated. She knew what they were saying, and knew what she wanted to say. She didn’t want to fight this, the metal brain, she had made it into what it was, it was her fault, she didn’t want to fight this, she would go to jail, she would, it was okay, it was.

But they wanted her to be able to talk right. They wanted her to be able to say things good, to move better. Because they wanted to be fair. Fair to her. Better than her.

“I und..under…understand,” she forced out. “It…is fine.”

“Arbiter….”

“Mr. Doivadt, this is why she is getting therapy. But Ms. Krasis – and let the record show that the defendant calls herself by her birth name, and that this is the name she will be referred to in all proceedings going forward – Ms. Krasis has stated that she understands. And Ms. Krasis, I watched you…you wanted to say more, didn’t you?”

Fanira looked at the Judicator, and nodded.

“The doctors have said that Ms. Krasis is having more difficulty communicating than she is having with comprehension, and if I am wrong…then Station Six will be obligated to demonstrate that in a fair and evenhanded manner. If they cannot, she may truly be unable to stand trial, in which case we will have much to discuss. But for now, this hearing is continued for four months, and the defendant is remanded to Rura Gastu, Station Six for treatment. We are adjourned.”

The peacekeepers shackled Fanira, and took her from the court; Doivadt waited as the crowd thinned, and said, “Hey, Lyđđi – you cut off a really good speech.” He said it with a grin, though.

“My daughter is in a school play tonight, Dur,” the judicator said. “I know you want her to stay in hospital, but given the charges, this was the best I could do for your client. I will make sure that she receives adequate care; whether guilty or not, she has a right to it.”

“Don’t worry, I get it. And it’s a fair ruling. But the prosecution is probably thrilled. Hearing for Tisenius just wrapped up. He’s still facing a few months of rehab before he can stand trial. Guess where Judicator Samrenru remanded him to?”

The judicator sighed. “Hey, Hraef! Get over here!” she called to the prosecutor, who had been about to exit.

“Yes, Arbiter?”

“Am I going to have to pull us back into session, or are you going to explain why you didn’t mention that you wanted the defendant’s alleged co-conspirator on Gastu as well?”

“It’s not a conspiracy!” Hraefa Juzat said, quick-walking to the front. “It’s the obvious facility.”

“I’m not going to be inclined to admit evidence from treatment or conversations there,” Judicator Bankuresen said.

“We won’t bother to introduce it,” Juzat said. “Honestly, Dur, you know we aren’t doing this to game the trial. We have enough evidence already.”

“I would never, ever admit that,” the defense attorney said. “And innocent or guilty, she deserves a vigorous defense.”

The judicator chuckled. “Yeah, I remember law school too. Go prep your client. Ms. Juzat, I’m holding you to your word. As for me…I have a play to get to.”

* * *

Pryvani smiled at the young officer seated across from her; Lauryna Gwenn had said that she was someone to watch, and Pryvani could see why. She was a lot like Lauryna – and quite a bit like her mother. And while Pryvani despised that woman…she knew better than most that one could be just like one’s mother and yet completely different.

The young officer in question was not nearly as secure in her feelings as Lady Tarsuss; indeed, Glyta was still rather surprised that she was talking to Lady Tarsuss, or that they were scheduled to have dinner later tonight with Pryvani’s other guests – Lady Aljansen and her fiancé.

When she’d reached out to Lord Carey asking how to best get in touch with Lady Tarsuss, Glyta had not really expected an answer; she had hoped for one, based on the reason she asked, but she knew Prince Ryan was busy enough commanding the Antero. She had been stunned when he wrote back with a letter of support, followed two days later by an invitation to Avalon from Lady Tarsuss, scheduled for this week – which Glyta had been planning to politely decline due to service.

Of course, a few hours later, they received news the Bass was going to be back in Tantalus just in time for her to make it.

Pryvani Tarsuss clearly had known something that even Captain Alyias hadn’t known, which meant she was as good as her reputation said she was.

All things considered, Glyta was glad that Pryvani was smiling.

“So…Hercule and I do appreciate your support,” Glyta said. “I just…wasn’t expecting you to be offering this level of support. I mean…I may have mentioned to my mother that I thought you would be offended, but….”

“Oh, I most certainly am offended by what your mother is attempting to do,” Pryvani said. “First, there’s the precedent – she’s completely wrong; there are precedents allowing foreign intermarriage into noble families that go back to pre-Imperial times. But of course, you and I both know that her objection is to Commandant Desrochers’ species, not his citizenship, and that is a personal insult against me, and my husband, and my sister and brother-in-law, and some of my very best friends. Joceusa is fortunate that we no longer allow dueling in the Empire.”

Glyta wrung her hands. “I hate that this…I mean…I just…my mom didn’t want me to go into the Space Exploration Corps. But she didn’t do anything to stop me, except tell me I shouldn’t. I wish…I wish she’d tried to disown me over that. I wouldn’t have to be miserable about being in love.”

Pryvani shook her head. “I have good friends who are alive thanks to the Imperial Military; if my daughter or sons volunteered to fight, I would worry for them to be sure – but I would not let on that I felt anything other than my immense pride that they wanted to serve. That Joceusa cannot see that your choice is far more honorable than any inherited title, well…she has always been enamored of her family name and heritage. And the House of Idisoko is an old and noble house. But she is not adding honor to its legacy.”

“If you end up destroying it, I don’t mind,” Glyta said. “But I don’t want to simply withdraw from the order of succession. If I do that, it sets the precedent. I don’t mind getting discommended if that’s what happens, but if it does…I’d rather not be head of a house in that future.”

“Nor would I,” Pryvani agreed. “But you need not worry, as it will not happen. There are eighty-two members of the Council of 79, and I have already confirmed that forty-eight will not vote to discommend you. I am not satisfied with that number, mind you – I want to get it into the sixties.”

Glyta blinked at that news. “You…you’ve already been lobbying?”

“From the moment Ryan contacted me,” Pryvani said. “I have called in a number of favors. Don’t look surprised; as I said, this is an attack on my family, on the right of my children to exist. If your mother was insulting me, that would be forgivable; I do not forgive insults to the people I love.”

Glyta nodded, but said, “I…greatly appreciate it. And I am in your debt. But with respect, Lady Tarsuss…why bother to invite me here to tell me this?”

“A few reasons,” Pryvani said. “First, to tell you that you should call me Pryvani. Second, to make sure that you know that whatever your mother may throw at you in the coming years, you will have an ally in me, and in my family, and within those families who are allied with mine. And finally…to see what you know about your mother’s involvement with the Noble Resistance.”

Glyta took a deep breath. “The last time we talked…mother was deeply offended when I asked her if she knew anything about what Luviisa Aljansen had done. She said she fights hybrids openly, not in secret.”

“That may be,” Pryvani said.

Glyta looked down. “Or it might not. I wouldn’t be shocked, honestly. She hates hybrids for reasons I just don’t understand.”

“Bigotry is not something that is rational. It is not logical. You shouldn’t understand her reasons; they aren’t really reasons.”

“I suppose. Like I said, she could be involved, but…if my mother was involved in the Noble Resistance, the last person she’d tell is me. Especially now.”

“Your mother is very smart, and very capable,” Pryvani said. “And very, very careful, something that I could not say for Luviisa. If your mother is making a big show of attacking you, it may just be that she’s trying to enforce her bigotry upon her house. But it also may simply be a distraction. Something to draw my attention away from something she wants to hide.”

Glyta leaned back. “I don’t want to think my mom is capable of…of doing what Luviisa Aljansen did.”

“And yet you do think it,” Pryvani said.

Glyta swallowed hard. “She wants to disown me for wanting to marry a man who saved my life. If she doesn’t care enough about me to be grateful to Hercule…then I don’t know what she might be capable of.”

Pryvani smiled gently at the young officer. “I know how that feels. And even though I knew it to be true…I still didn’t want to think that my mother was a traitor. But unfortunately, she was.”

Glyta nodded. “If I had any evidence, I’d give it to you. I don’t.”

“She’s smart enough not to give you any,” Pryvani said. “No, I’m looking for ways to approach her. Friends, confidants, that sort of thing. If she’s involved in a particular charity organization or social club, anything that she isn’t going out of her way to publicize.”

Glyta gave Pryvani half a smile. “Now that is something that I would be happy to provide,” she said. “And I hope that this will go some way to balance accounts.” The smile slid off her face. “I…can’t believe I just said that…I sound just like her.”

“There are times when I sound like Syon Fand,” Pryvani said. “I have learned not to worry about it. I suggest you do the same.”

“All right,” Glyta said. “Let’s start with her friends….”

* * *

465 Terran light years away, Vallero Throden ColVanos, Princess of Turga, Heir to the Imperial Throne, stood behind the bar of the Col I Retiring Room, and poured herself a glass of kapskrasi on ice.

It had been a long day, and while it was a necessary part of the process of preparing her for the day she succeeded, it still was work.

No, it wasn’t the work that was bothering her, she didn’t mind work. It was the reminder of the responsibility that would fall on her shoulders, and far too soon. (And even if it fell on her shoulders in three decades…the day it did, she would have lost a parent. She didn’t want to have it happen ever.)

The door to the room opened, and a tall woman walked in, but paused in the door. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“No, come on in,” Vallero said. “What can I get you?”

“I should say med, but…I’m gonna have a glowberry schnapps,” Rixie said. “And I can get it myself.”

“Nah,” Vallero said. “My dad always says that it’s a poor sovereign that can’t hit a glass with liquid.”

She slid the glass to Rixie, and lifted her own in a silent toast. After taking a sip, she asked, “How’s your husband?”

“It’s moving about how they said it would, which isn’t fast enough for either of us,” Rixie said. “There are these plateaus…even when you know it’s coming, it’s still frightening. More for me than him, I think…Alex is tougher than I am, he’s more annoyed by it. But I’m…I just…he did it for me. And every time, I worry that this is where he is, and because of me. And I know he wouldn’t have it any other way…I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No, no,” Vallero said. “I think I’d feel the same way. Still, the doctors are happy, it sounds like?”

“Yeah. He’s actually getting checked out at Tuaut Central while I’m here – not that Dahntnee Memorial isn’t great, but Nick thought it would be good for someone else to check their work.”

“Nick?”

“Nick Archer,” Rixie said. “He’s the doctor supervising Alex’s recovery.”

“Oh, right. I heard about him, he’s the human who put together the Avalonian hospital system. Everyone I’ve worked with holds him in high esteem. Boundless Fountain coordinated with him in providing aid to Freeman.”

Vallero shook her glass, letting the ice rattle around. “I’m kind of disappointed that I’m not going to be there at the end. I know, it’s selfish – it’s not about me, the whole point is to help rebuild Freeman, help rebuild the Federation. If someone else does it, that’s fine, but….”

“I have a lot of friends on Freeman. Sorcha and Lessy both say that your help has been invaluable,” Rixie said. “And not just Boundless Fountain’s help; they both appreciate how you’ve deferred to humans on the ground there, listened to them, helped them. That’s been key to their success.”

“I have to face my sister,” Vallero said, with a slight smirk. “Rhionne would be furious with me if I did anything else. And while Pierce would talk her down, I don’t want to put him in that position.”

Rixie finished her own drink off, and looked down at it. “You know, you’ve been really decent about me stealing the Carba Throne from you, even if it’s temporary.”

“It wasn’t your idea,” Vallero said.

“Still, even though I’m saying that I’ll abdicate quickly…you don’t have to trust that.”

“Oh, I don’t. Don’t get be wrong,” Vallero said, “I think you mean it. But I’m not counting on you to do so. You and I have different jobs, different responsibilities. Once I’m Empress, I will have my responsibilities, and no matter what I’ve said before…I won’t really know what I have to do until I’m sitting on the throne in the Palace of the Rising Sun. You won’t know what you have to do until you’re on the Carba Throne. I hope that you’ll abdicate, not so that I can be Dronung, but so that we can unite the crowns. But if you can’t for some reason…well, my mom and dad both trust you, and everything I know about you…you’re a patriot. You love the Empire, you love Jotnarherath, you love Avalon. You’ll do what you believe is right, and if I disagree…well, it won’t be the first time the Dronung and Empress have disagreed. Hells, mom and dad disagree all the time.”

Rixie smiled. “The only reason I’d change my mind is if, for some reason, it was better for me to remain on the throne. And while I doubt that will happen…if it should, I will not make that decision without consulting you. Not just because you’re an heir, but because you’ll be Empress, and I will owe you that.”

“That’s fair,” Vallero said.

“And like I said…I doubt that will happen,” Rixie added. “But I didn’t think I’d ever be here, so…I figure I should never say never. But in the meantime, Alex has some ideas about Jotnar governmental changes. I want to try to have the changes ready to go when the time comes. But I want to discuss them with you; you’ll be succeeding me, and I don’t want you taking the reins of Jotnarherath and feeling like you’ve been sabotaged.”

“What are you thinking?” Vallero asked.

“The main thing is the Governor-Regent position,” Rixie said. “We’re going to make it permanent, and semi-elected. Basically nominated by the Jotnardiggi, confirmed by the Dronung. We’re working out exactly how, but…Rajenlif has said that she feels like she’s neglected Jotnarherath because of her duties to the Empire. I disagree, but…when the crowns are united, you’ll have a duty to the Empire first, because Jotnarherath is part of the Empire, and it will not stand if the Empire falls. You can’t spend all your time ruling Jotnarherath; it is important that the person who does is focused first and always on our people.”

Vallero nodded, and smiled. “I like the way you’re thinking. But if it’s okay…we’ve spent today being told all the ways that we have to react when either my mom or dad die, and all the immediate changes that will be made, and who takes us where and who greets us with codes and keys and so forth, and…I don’t know if I can think about government much more today.”

Rixie grinned. “I’m with you. Would you like me to pour another drink?”

Vallero smiled, and handed her the glass. “Please.”

* * *

“You know, you don’t act like you’re noble. Least, not what I figured a noble would be like.”

Siru smiled at the weather-beaten man, sitting in his ragged armchair, gesturing with the hook that served for his left hand. “And what did you think I’d be like?” she asked.

“Kinda figured you’d act like this was some sort of hole in the ground. Kinda is, really,” Thenu Odusi said, with a grin. “It’s pretty good considering where Sypy and me started, but it sure ain’t Tayas Mons. Suppose you’re at Tayas Mons, really, so I guess you figure you ain’t really here.”

“Believe me, this seems more real to me than Lady Tarsuss allowing me to stay with her. That seems ridiculous. This,” Siru said, gesturing to the small, five-room shack that was the Odusi family homestead, “is tremendous. Aleks told me you built this, the two of you.”

“Well, had some help from some friends. But yeah, we put it up ourselves. Back when you could do that, of course – they frown on it now. But it passes inspection, so.”

“Even so,” Sypy Odusi said, bringing in a beer for her and her husband, “it probably seems like crud compared to places you’ve been.”

Siru looked around, and over at her fiancé, who was sitting next to her and cringing. She shook her head slightly. “My grandmother would think so. But you know what my grandmother did. No real honor in me having her money. But…my family traces its ancestry back to Throdr, a Dronung of Jotnarherath. She only served a few days, then quit and went back to the farm her parents had built, because she helped to build it with her own hands. It was real. She married another farmer and part-time peacekeeper, and their son, Ilmarjen, was the founder of the House of Aljansen. I’ve seen houses like the one Throdr built; this is a palace compared to them. That’s real. So’s this.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Thenu said. “Sypy and me, we wanted more for our kids than just this. Yeah, building it was satisfying, especially since it didn’t fall down…but I’m glad that they’re all doing something with their lives, and glad they’re all living better than this. And all of them still willing to come back and visit – at least, I’m taking Dia at her word.”

“I’ll visit when I’m at college, and so will all of us but Hesjot,” said Dia, the youngest member of the family. “Nik is here, and he’s fighting the insects!”

“I’m only here because the Bass is going through check-out at Tantalus,” Nik said, from a corner of the room. “If my Aleks had shown up an Imperial week earlier I wouldn’t be here. And Hes would if he could – not his fault the Marauders are playing at the Pixies tonight.”

“Still can’t believe Hes is starting for the Marauders,” Aleks said.

“Still can’t believe the Marauders are good,” Nik added. “They beat Neverland tonight they clinch the points championship.”

“Wait – they’re gonna get promoted?” Aleks asked. “I knew they were better, but…that’s literally never happened. Is Hes going to be with them?”

“They already locked him in,” Thenu said. “If they hadn’t, Tranasru was ready to make an offer.”

“I am very confused,” Siru said. “I know Hesjot plays…it’s called ‘football,’ right?”

“Yes,” Dia, Aleks’ youngest sister, said with a slight groan. “And don’t ask too many questions, or they’ll start telling you about the whole history of the Menvis Marauders and how big a deal it is and how cool Hesjot is.”

“Dia’s never liked sports,” Aleks said. “And if that’s all happening…you probably can’t escape it.”

“I like Hes,” Dia said, shrugging. “I’m glad for him, really, just….”

“We didn’t get all excited when you used to talk chemistry, Dia,” Nik said. “Or when my little brother talked about politics. And I know none of you care about orbital mechanics.”

“And you definitely don’t care about winching a boat that’s run up on an embankment,” Thenu said. “And that’s fine. Because in this house, we don’t care what you do for work….”

“Just work!” the three kids said in unison.

“Well, Mr. Odusi,” Siru added, “I’ve seen your son in action. If the rest of your children work as hard as Aleks, it’s no wonder they’re all successful.”

Thenu smiled at Siru, and said, “Even though you’re a hologram, you can still taste the beer, right?”

“Yeah,” Aleks said. “It’s complicated, but….”

“Good. Someone get that girl a beer. And then we’ll flip on the Marauders game and we can all explain football to you until you get bored of it, which may be the ten-minute mark.”

Siru smiled broadly. “I’ll get one here, don’t worry about it. And…thank you, all of you, for not holding my grandmother against me.”

Sypy walked over to Siru and patted her on the shoulder. “My dad was a drunk who dropped me off at an orphanage. Thenu’s parents tried, but they had eleven kids and Thenu was number eleven. If you won’t hold them against Aleks, I won’t hold your relatives against you.”

“You have a great deal to be proud of, Ms. Odusi. And so does your son. And I’m honored that you’re willing to welcome me into your home.”

“At least as a hologram. You wouldn’t fit otherwise,” Thenu added, with a chuckle.