“So like I was saying,” Alex said, like he had been saying, “we’re looking for someone who knows what they’re doing. If Theraxie Holdings is interested, we’d love to see a bid.”

“The only question I have is supply chain,” Aoipr Theracy said, chewing on a stylus as she looked at her pad. “Yes, I know that a lot of the raw ingredients are printed, still, I don’t like relying on printers I’m not familiar with. You said it when we first started, when running a chain, consistency is key. If someone walks into a Rixie’s on Azatlia it needs to be similar to a Rixie’s on Archavia, or Avalon – but for scale, of course.”

“That’s why I’m telling you now, while I’ve got you face-to-face,” Alex said, pacing on the table. “Look, Azatlia was always gonna be tricky even before Earth took half the systems around it, but your group has experience. If you could make Diaca work, you can definitely make one work in Josania.”

“Josania and Bhuguplay mo Sperik, and then an option to take everything outside of Vorsha in that province. That’s really tempting, but I’m not sure why you aren’t running with it. It borders on Avalon, and the Rixie’s on Earth is corporate.”

“I’m not getting any younger, Ryan’s got a new starship, Starry is too young, and the corporate sites in the Core are enough to keep us busy.”

“Well,” Aoipr said, nodding, “the nice thing about Azatlia is that the humans living there got a head start on freedom. We’ll have no shortage of qualified people of all sizes. We would have to improve our menu for Dunnermacs, though…all right, Alex – Senator Carey, I should say – you’ve got my interest. Deadline for bids?”

“End of the first month, 2128, so coming soon,” he said.

“Good. Oh…sorry,” Aoipr said, as she realized that there were half a dozen people around them, waiting for them to finish. “I didn’t mean to get sidetracked on business.”

“You never do, but that’s why you’re successful, Ao! I think I told you once, Senator Carey, she’s smarter than me, and she’ll be richer when it’s all done.”

“I don’t know about either, you’re plenty smart and plenty rich, Senator Theracy,” Alex said, raising his glass. “But she’s awfully good at what she does. Her franchises are showing the best same-location growth of anything outside of corporate. Even beat DZR Cooperative, I assume because my daughter-in-law is slacking.”

Thyllia laughed at that. She’d been a spectator for most of the conversation, staying out of Alex’s way as he negotiated. Technically, Aoipr could be a rival, but Darkstar-Zakrov Restaurant Cooperative had already passed on Azatlia, as their leadership had already decided that they were extended enough.

She liked watching Alex. She’d learned almost as much from him as Pryvani. He was very direct. He didn’t try to snow you. No, he wouldn’t state his position immediately, but neither would he pretend to be indifferent if he wanted something. He’d built his company on trust to a large degree; he’d had to. For most of the time it existed, knowledge of his level of involvement could have destroyed it. So he and Renna had sought out partners who could be trusted with the biggest secret the company had, and those partners they worked with had been highly rewarded for living up to that faith.

“You know me,” Thyllia said. “Constantly slacking. Though in Daz’s defense as much as mine, we’ve replaced the head of operations of that division, so I would watch out next quarter – though no doubt, you guys did great last year.”

“Well, to some extent, I got lucky,” Aoipr said. “I got in on the ground floor of a good opportunity.”

“Nonsense, Aoipr,” Alex said. “There are franchisees who we’ve terminated who were better-positioned than you. You run our restaurants the right way, and since it’s my wife’s name on them, I really appreciate that.”

“Well, Alex…I appreciate our continued relationship,” she said, offering a finger. “And I look forward to many more years.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Senator Theracy said, “I promised my daughter we wouldn’t stay too late, we have to visit my grandson while we’re both on Archavia at the same time.”

“Far more important business,” Alex said. “Good to see you again, Senator.”

“Good to see you, and good to have you in the Senate,” Theracy said, rising, before he paused. “And…thank you, Lady Carey, and you, Lady Tarsuss.”

“You are quite welcome,” Pryvani said, as she walked up to the group, her usual inscrutable smile on her face.

“Of course, though I must ask…for what?” Thyllia said.

That Pryvani appeared to know did not surprise Thyllia. That Theracy might….

“My dad backed your mother, back during the coup attempt against Lady Tarsuss. And your mother…well, I understand how you feel about her, and I can only sympathize. I don’t know why my dad took Syon Fand’s side, but…you both have been very kind to my family in the past few years, you’ve steered a lot of business my way. As has your father-in-law, Lady Carey. I appreciate you not holding my father’s foolishness against me anymore.”

That was not what she’d expected him to say. Or perhaps, not what she feared he would.

“Lord Theracy,” Thyllia said, “I…well, let me say this. Getting fooled by my mother is not a sin, and your father….”

She smiled. “The elder Lord Theracy made mistakes. But they are nothing compared to my mother’s sins. I am very glad that we have been able to work together. I look forward to many more years of partnership.”

“And even if she didn’t feel that way, Aoipr is too good a franchisee, she goes nowhere,” Alex said.

“Even so…thank you,” Theracy said.

“Ciseusi,” Pryvani said, “if I may say…I regret that I thought you might share your father’s position. And I regret that I did not investigate the matter earlier, for I would have brought this matter to a close much sooner. Please know that I hold you and house in great esteem.”

“As do I, and as does Thyllia,” Ryan said.

“Thank you, very much,” Theracy said. “Believe me…it is my hope that my house will never be crossways with yours ever again.”

As Theracy rose, Thyllia looked over at her husband. He was staring back at her, pointedly. She sighed.

“Lord Theracy, how long will you be on Archavia?” Thyllia forced herself to ask.

“Oh, at least a few days. Why do you ask?”

“I would like to invite you to lunch,” Ryan said. “If you can find the time.”

“Of course I can, Lord Carey! Is this to be a major affair? Shall I send out for my good robes?”

“No, no,” Thyllia said. “Just a visit. We felt it would be nice to meet…well….”

“Your daughter has worked well with my father,” Ryan said. “I’m not sure that there is great overlap between Darkstar and your shipping interests, but we would like to discuss it anyhow, and it is never easy to do so in the midst of the chaos.”

“Lord Carey, well said. One looks for allies in the families not based on business, after all. Even if no business can be concluded, I should hope that our families will be friends for a long time to come.”

“I think that is likely, Lord Theracy,” Ryan said, with a nod.

As Theracy and his youngest daughter left, Thyllia looked back at Ryan. “So you’re gonna make me do it, then?”

“Yes, I am,” Ryan said. “It’s for your own good.”

Thyllia sighed, and looked over at her sister, who had been keeping her own counsel throughout the conversation. Pryvani smiled.

“He’s right,” she said. “You don’t know how right he is.”

“Yeah,” Thyllia said. “He is. And I do.”

* * *

“I know, it’s not pretty,” Mukta Chandrasekhar said. “But it isn’t supposed to be. It’s meant to go together quickly. Moreover, the modular design will allow us to adjust on the fly. These pylons here and this forward tower will allow us to fit an additional flight pod, for example, allowing us to fly three wings off the carrier at that point. So not elegant, but efficient, flexible, and fast into service.”

“I do not disagree about needing a carrier,” Undersecretary Xylander said. “As for pretty, if you think it will perform as you’ve laid out, Admiral, it will be beautiful. But….”

“We have some concerns,” the Secretary-General said, “about the construction plan.”

“Yes,” Mukta said. “We thought you might.”

“We understand your concerns, Madam Secretary-General,” said Xú Mùlán. “We share them. We did not come to this conclusion lightly. In normal circumstances, we would not be presenting this recommendation. But these are not normal circumstances.”

“No, they are not,” Ridgemont said. “Still…I’m not overly excited about the idea of the Empire fabricating our flagship carrier.”

“Madam Secretary-General, I would hope that we would not let bigotry stand in the way of fighting the Insectoids.”

“Claire, knock it off,” said Elsa Stefánsdottir, the Undersecretary of Peacekeeping. “It isn’t bigotry that concerns the Secretary-General and you know it. This is not a place for politics.”

Claire Lécuyer was momentarily taken aback, but only momentarily. “Undersecretary Elsa,” she said, “you’re not the leader of the AFP.”

“You aren’t the Secretary-General, Madam Deputy Chancellor. My daughter’s going to be flying off of these things someday, as will other people’s daughters and sons. I want to make sure we do it right as much as anyone, but it is not bigotry to be concerned that we are relying too much on our allies.”

Lécuyer blinked. “I…I am sorry,” she said. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean personal bigotry, and I’m sorry if it came out that way. Perhaps a word from French – chauvinism – that is what I mean. That we not become so concerned about humans being the leader that we forget that our partners have been traveling in space for six thousand years or so.”

“I understand what you meant, Deputy Chancellor Lécuyer,” Ridgemont said, tenting her fingers. “This is a careful balancing act we’re doing. I recognize that we must fight. I also recognize that when the fight is over, we must not be so dependent on the Empire’s assistance that we are pets in name only. We need to be able to do for ourselves.”

“Madam Secretary-General, if I may?” Xú said.

“Admiral Xú, very few people on Earth can interrupt me whenever they wish; you are one of them.”

“I would never wish to without permission, ma’am. Believe me,” Xú said, “I understand what it is like to be seen as subordinate by the Titans, more than anyone in this room save Mukta. If I believed that we were setting ourselves up to be dependent on them, I would not be advocating this.

“We can’t be dependent on the Titans, but that does not mean that we cannot trade with them. That we cannot cooperate. Their Thor class vessel is going to use the FCF drive to power its weapons. That is a human invention, ma’am. Our pilots fly off the decks of their ships – indeed, though I have not had time to share this, Undersecretary Elsa, you should know that Lt. Saga is going to be flying off the ISS Aertimus H. Bass. The orders are going out today.”

Elsa took a deep breath. “I wish that was the wonderful news my daughter will believe it to be,” she said.

“If it makes you feel better, I trust Captain Gwenn with my life, Madam Undersecretary.”

“That’s Captain Gwenn’s new ship?” Ridgemont said. “I like it. The name fits. And Elsa, Capt. Gwenn was a rock during the battle at Tau Ceti. I’ve trusted her with my life. She delivered.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Elsa said, “but only because my little girl is going to war. And I am sorry, my daughter is just one gunner among many. Please, Admiral Xú, continue.”

“She’s a fine one, or she wouldn’t be on an Acolyte, ma’am. She’ll be a great asset to the Bass. Gen. Martínez said that Capt. Gwenn is thrilled to be getting a wing, finally. And that’s my point. We’re not relying on them, or at least, not any more than they’re relying on us. We’re fighting together. We’re partners. They can fabricate the hull segments for our new carrier much faster than we can, and do it better…for now. But the guts of the ship…that’s ours, from the engines to the guns to the controls. Letting them fabricate the hull doesn’t make it theirs, any more than putting FCF drives in the Thor class makes it ours. We’re just collaborating, the same as we are with the wings on the Bass, or the wing with Gama Fleet, or the wings we’re planning for their human-manned carriers. And if we had to build the hull for these carriers, we could. But it would take us ten years to get the ships launched, not two. And we don’t have ten years right now.”

Ridgemont nodded. “Marshall Akimoto, you’ve been fairly quiet. You concur?”

“Madam Secretary-General,” said Akimoto, “I learned in Singapore that one should listen to Xú, as she is usually right. I agree with her. I hope you will as well.”

Ridgemont looked over to Lécuyer. “Will AFP be willing to support this?”

“We are in favor of anything that helps us fight the bugs, Madam Secretary-General,” Lécuyer said. “This will be very expensive, but letting them attack us would be far worse.”

Ridgemont nodded. There would be some yipping from the Socialists and the Nationalists, maybe even the Conservatives, but Lécuyer was right, you can’t worry about running a deficit when the alternative is not having a planet. “Very well. You have preliminary approval, pending the outcome of the spending bill in the House of Humanity.”

“Thank you, Madam Secretary-General,” said Xú, Mukta, and Akimoto in unison.

“Went better than I had feared it would,” Xú said, as the meeting began to break up.

“You’re a persuasive group,” Ridgemont said as she walked by. The Secretary-General paused, then turned. “Tell me, have you selected a name for the new carrier yet?”

“Not yet,” Akimoto said. “We had considered the Freeman class, but the Empire beat us to it.”

“To be fair, he lived there longer than here,” Xú said.

“May I make a suggestion?”

“You’re the Secretary-General,” Mukta said. “I should think so.”

“It’s December. We’ll probably pass the bill in the next week or two, but there won’t be any major announcements for a bit. Christians are celebrating Christmas, and it’s coming up on the New Year on the international calendar. So we’ll probably make our announcement in early January, timed to coincide with the anniversary of First Contact.”

“I’m not sure I follow, ma’am,” Akimoto said.

“Well,” Ridgemont said, “it seems to me any ship we launch needs to embody the spirit of our finest officers, finest crews, and finest ships. I suggest this ship be named for a predecessor that served all humanity with distinction. You don’t have to say yes – you may want this name retired. But I cannot think of a better flagship for our species than the TSS Stanisław Lem.”

It would be twenty years. Twenty years, come January. It seemed impossible that it had been so long ago, yet impossible that it had not been centuries.

Xú smiled. “Madam Secretary-General…I must confess, I have always believed that name should be used again, when the right ship came along. A ship that is built with Titan assistance, that will help us to win a war we fight together? That, Madam Secretary-General is truly the spirit of the Lem.”

* * *

“Ambassador Bass, I am glad you were able to make it for the ceremony.”

Eyrn turned and bowed. “Your Imperial Majesty. I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“You know, Ambassador, the first time we met, you refused to bow to me,” said Tiernan, with a slight twinkle in his eye.

“You will never stop reminding me of that, will you, Your Imperial Majesty?”

“No, I will not. Though I will say…given what you had seen of this Empire, I quite deserved it. I hear your daughter is going to attend the Academy?”

Eyrn looked in the direction Tiernan was pointing. Poly Bass was talking with a blue-haired young woman wearing a cadet’s dress uniform. It took Eyrn but a moment to recognize Princess Tylum. They were far enough away that she couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but it seemed likely they were discussing the Academy, and what Poly would need to do to get ready.

“She told me today. I told her she should, because Aerti would have been…he would have been thrilled to have her in the fleet. And so proud. And I….”

“You are worried that you may lose a daughter, too,” Tiernan said.

“Yes,” Eyrn said. “I am.”

“And I am worried I may lose a granddaughter,” Tiernan said. “Poly will be my second grandchild in the military. I keep hoping that fate will agree that my son is enough, and your husband is enough. But that is not how war works.”

“No, it isn’t,” Eyrn said. “But I’m gonna hope it anyhow. For all of us.”

“So say we all. Ambassador, I am told that you are working with the Floor Leader as an adviser?”

“Informal. Loona has told me I have an open offer in the Ministry of State if I want a formal position, but…I’m not ready to go back to work full-time.”

“You must have good savings built up.”

“Between royalties and survivor’s benefits, I’m fine.”

“Still,” Tiernan said, “someone with your experience should be compensated for her expertise.”

“Maybe, but I’m not ready to work full time. Not yet.”

“No, likely not. But having a formal job can help…it can help one get through grief, I have found. Having a routine and a purpose…it gives one something to focus on other than loss.”

“You think I should take the job at State?” Eyrn asked.

“Goodness, no. I intend to hire you as Senior Advisor to the Sovereign for Earth Affairs, I can’t possibly allow you to take a position at State.”

Eyrn sighed. “It’s a fine offer, Your Imperial Highness, and I am honored, but….”

“It is a part-time position, to start,” Tiernan said. “One, perhaps two days a week, half-days. And occasional calls when I have something urgent to deal with. But full-time compensation, at a Gama-9 level, same as you were earning as Ambassador. Of course, over time, I hope that you will work full time…but I recognize that you will need to work up to that, as I have had to.”

Eyrn glanced across the room. “I…I would feel bad about passing on the job Loona offered….”

“Oh, as part of this position I would want you to continue to advise the Floor Leader. Indeed, I insist on it. And if she is disappointed that she could not hire you at State, her Sovereign will just have to direct her to get over it.”

Eyrn looked back to her daughter. Poly had been drifting, for years, until Aerti’s death crystalized for her the need to be responsible, the need to be productive, the need to have a purpose.

“I would not be able to start for a week or so.”

“That is fine, Ambassador. You may start when you are ready. I hope it will not be too long, though.”

“No, Your Imperial Highness,” Eyrn said. “Still a long way to go, and an awful lot to do, isn’t there?”

“There always is, I’m afraid,” Tiernan said. “There always is.”

* * *

“I know, it may sound silly,” Naskia said. “I just…I want to. But I can’t.”

“It doesn’t sound silly,” Rixie said. “Not at all.”

“It’s…it feels empty without him. We met at Tannhauser Gate, and for our whole lives, that was where we were. Niall and me and the University, and then Niall and me and Sorcha, and then Niall and me again…but always the two of us, and the school. It doesn’t feel right. I walk through the campus and all I can feel is how much he isn’t there.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to write a memoir of my time with Niall. Well…Nonah is going to write it, she called me and offered. But I’m going to work with her on it. After that, well…Joseph and Sorcha aren’t going to wait to get married, not forever, and once they do…we’re not sure if two hybrids can have children, but the research is surprisingly promising. And if they can’t, they’ll probably adopt, and I don’t think I could stand to be on a different planet from my grandchild, not for long.”

“And they can hardly keep you off of Freeman,” Rixie said with a smirk.

“No, I don’t think they can,” Naskia said.

“Well, good luck,” Rixie said. “And if you ever want a job, call Pryvani, she’d love to have you on staff full-time.”

“I will,” Naskia said. “And Rixie…thanks.”

“For what?”

“For not telling me that I’m being foolish. For not telling me that I should just stay in Tannhauser and muddle through.”

“If you were being foolish, you’d have every right to be. But you aren’t. Your home isn’t Tannhauser Gate, or your job. It’s Niall and Sorcha. As long as Niall was there, Tannhauser was as good a place as any. But he isn’t. So being where your daughter is…that’s the important thing.”

“It is,” Naskia said. “It’s the only important thing.”