Sonora Street Friends
Short Stories from the Prosian Universe
By Daniel R Bingamon
© 2026 Lox & Frybread Music & Publication
Welcome to Sonora Street
Sonora Street lies in the eastern coastal tropics of Prose, a world orbiting Welcome to Sonora Street
Sonora Street lies in the eastern coastal tropics of Prose, a world orbiting Procyon A. It runs through the neighboring cities of Tulekora and Tulan, in the Province of Larotey, where warm coastal weather, busy streets, harbors, restaurants, homes, and visitors from many worlds make everyday life anything but ordinary.
These stories take place around Annuli 3438 on the Prosian calendar. They follow the friends, families, neighbors, diplomats, travelers, and occasional starship crews whose lives cross on Sonora Street and in the communities surrounding it.
Some were born on Prose. Others came from worlds across the Alliance—and a few were created rather than born. They do not always share the same customs, foods, appearances, or ways of looking at things. But friendships have a way of crossing those differences.
Not every story happens on Sonora Street. Sometimes the road leads into Tulan, down to the harbor, aboard a starship, or considerably farther from home.
But sooner or later, it seems, everyone finds their way back.
Welcome to Sonora Street.
Table of Contents
1. A Double Portion of Goodwill
6. Three Lilns on Sonora Street
1. A Double Portion of Goodwill
Tulan Harbor had discovered that there were advantages to having an Altrenian living nearby.
It had not been planned.
Nobody on the Prosian Council had proposed a program to improve relations between the inhabitants of Tulan and the Alliance by placing Senari Kulan in the neighborhood. Senari simply lived there. Her duties as an Altrenian representative to the Alliance Senate brought her regularly to Prose, and somewhere along the way Tulan had ceased being merely the place where she stayed.
It had become home.
People knew her.
The woman at the bakery knew which bread Senari preferred. Harbor merchants greeted her when she walked past. Restaurant owners knew that if Senari entered alone, she might leave two hours later having spoken with people at four different tables.
None of this seemed particularly remarkable to Senari.
She was Altrenian.
Then Sarak Pevden rented a house nearby.
That was when somebody at the Council made the observation.
"Tulan has a double portion of goodwill now."
Senari thought it was funny.
Sarak thought it was ridiculous.
The people who knew both women thought it was surprisingly accurate.
Sarak Pevden was not a diplomat.
She was a scientist aboard the Ralos, and she was quite insistent about the distinction.
It didn't help.
The Ralos crew had already discovered that Sarak possessed an unusual secondary occupation that appeared nowhere in her personnel records.
People talked to her.
A lot.
They came to ask about an analysis and somehow ended up telling her about an argument with a brother. They stopped by her work area to deliver a report and remained to discuss whether they should accept a new assignment.
Once, a crewman had entered Sarak's laboratory to ask if she knew where another scientist was.
She didn't.
He stayed twenty-five minutes anyway.
Captain Elira Kastovic had noticed.
So had everyone else.
Someone had finally suggested that Sarak could double as a ship's counselor.
Sarak's response had been immediate.
"I don't counsel anyone."
"You listen to them."
"That's not the same thing."
The crewman considering this had finally shrugged.
"It seems to work."
More importantly, Sarak's scientific duties never suffered. Reports were completed. Analyses were delivered. Experiments remained on schedule.
One afternoon someone had found her listening patiently to a crew member and asked the inevitable question.
"Don't you have work to do?"
"Finished it."
"Already?"
"Yes."
Then Sarak had turned back to the other crewman.
"Now, you were saying something about your sister."
The story had traveled around the Ralos for days.
Sarak still didn't understand why everyone found it funny.
Her new house in Tulan was within easy walking distance of Senari's.
That had not been accidental.
Sarak liked Tulan. She liked being near the water, liked the mixture of people around the harbor, and particularly liked that nobody seemed terribly concerned about where someone had been born.
Prosians, humans, Altrenians and visitors from worlds she had never seen passed one another on the streets. Some were residents. Some were Alliance personnel. Some were merchants whose ships would leave in another day.
And lately, Sarkrenians had begun appearing more frequently.
Tulan was becoming the kind of place where the unusual stopped being unusual after about three days.
Senari loved it.
On Sarak's third evening in the house, Senari appeared at her door.
"You've unpacked enough."
Sarak looked behind herself.
Several containers were still sitting against the wall.
"I haven't finished."
"That's why I said enough."
"That's an interesting definition."
"You're coming to dinner."
Sarak looked at the containers again.
They would still be there later.
"Where?"
"Harbor."
That settled it.
The restaurant Senari chose occupied a broad terrace overlooking Tulan Harbor. Large openings in the stone walls allowed the evening breeze through, carrying the smells of water, flowers and cooking food.
Beyond the terrace, harbor lights were beginning to appear.
Small vessels moved slowly between the docks. Farther away, the water reflected the fading colors of the sky.
Sarak stopped before they entered.
"This is nice."
"I know."
"You've been here before."
"Many times."
Senari started toward the entrance.
Sarak remained where she was.
Senari turned.
"What?"
"Many?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
Senari considered it.
"I don't know."
"That's many."
A server near the entrance recognized Senari immediately.
"Senari!"
"See?" Sarak said.
Senari ignored her.
The server approached, exchanged a few words with Senari, and then looked at Sarak.
"This must be the other Altrenian."
Sarak raised an eyebrow.
"The other Altrenian?"
"The one who moved nearby."
Sarak slowly turned toward Senari.
"I've been here three days."
Senari smiled.
"Tulan is efficient."
"I work aboard a starship. I know efficient. This is something else."
The server laughed and led them to a table near the harbor side of the terrace.
Before they had even sat down, another diner waved to Senari from across the restaurant.
Senari waved back.
Sarak sat.
"Do you know everyone?"
"No."
A man passing their table stopped.
"Senari! I haven't seen you since the Council reception."
They spoke for several minutes.
When he left, Sarak looked at her.
Senari picked up the menu.
"Don't say it."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
"I was going to ask whether you've considered running for mayor."
"I don't think Tulan needs one."
"Then you're safe."
Sarak studied the menu.
Senari didn't.
"Starg," Senari said.
Sarak looked up.
"You're not even going to pretend to consider something else?"
"No."
Sarak had eaten starg before, but not the variety prepared around Tulan Harbor. The local preparation had quickly become one of her favorite Prosian foods.
She closed the menu.
"Starg."
The server returned.
"Starg?"
Senari nodded.
"Two?"
Sarak laughed.
"You already knew that."
"I was being polite."
"Then yes. Two."
The server left.
Sarak leaned back in her chair and looked over the harbor.
For a little while neither woman said anything.
That was another advantage of being with another Altrenian.
Silence did not need to be repaired.
Finally Senari asked, "How is the Ralos?"
"Good."
"That's the official answer."
Sarak looked at her.
"You spend too much time around diplomats."
"I am a diplomat."
"Exactly."
Senari waited.
Sarak sighed.
"The ship is fine. We're still reviewing some of the scientific data from the last mission. There are arguments about priorities. Nothing serious."
"Any more counseling?"
"I do not counsel people."
Senari smiled.
Sarak pointed at her.
"You too?"
"I've heard stories."
"From whom?"
"People."
"What people?"
"People who talk to me."
Sarak stared at her for a moment.
Then both women began laughing.
"That's unfair," Sarak said.
"Apparently we're both afflicted."
"You're supposed to do it. You're a senator."
"And you're supposed to study things."
"I do."
"I know."
Sarak shook her head.
"I don't understand it. Someone walks into my laboratory, and suddenly I'm hearing about his marriage."
"What do you do?"
"Listen."
"And?"
"Ask questions sometimes."
"And?"
"Nothing."
Senari rested her elbows on the table.
"Sarak."
"What?"
"That's why."
Sarak frowned.
"That's why what?"
"That's why they talk to you."
"I don't understand."
"You aren't waiting for your turn to solve them."
Sarak considered that.
A server arrived carrying their drinks, interrupting the thought.
Another person stopped beside the table almost immediately afterward.
This time it was a woman Senari knew from one of the harbor businesses.
Senari introduced Sarak.
The woman welcomed her to Tulan, asked where she had moved, discovered she worked aboard the Ralos, and became fascinated.
"You were part of the Armstrong mission?"
Sarak nodded.
"I was aboard the Ralos, yes."
The conversation lasted another five minutes.
When the woman finally returned to her own table, Sarak took a drink.
"That one was your fault."
"I introduced you."
"You encouraged her."
"I said your name."
"You said it enthusiastically."
Senari grinned.
Their starg arrived.
Conversation stopped.
Some things deserved concentration.
The Tulan preparation was different from versions Sarak had eaten elsewhere on Prose. Whatever combination of local seasoning and preparation the harbor cooks used gave it a distinctive flavor.
Sarak took her first bite and closed her eyes briefly.
Senari noticed.
"You like it."
"You know I like it."
"I wanted confirmation."
"You have it."
For several minutes, the two Altrenians managed the remarkable achievement of eating dinner without anyone interrupting them.
Then a man at the next table turned toward them.
"Excuse me."
Sarak looked over.
The man hesitated.
"Are you Sarak Pevden?"
Sarak put down her utensil.
"I am."
"I've heard about you."
Sarak slowly looked at Senari.
Senari raised both hands.
"I didn't do it."
The man laughed.
"I work with someone from the Ralos. He said you were moving here."
"Apparently my relocation is public information."
"No, no. He just said you were a good person to talk to."
Sarak closed her eyes.
Senari was trying very hard not to laugh.
The man continued.
"I don't mean to interrupt your dinner."
"You already have," Sarak said, but she smiled when she said it.
He apologized.
Sarak gestured toward an empty chair.
"You've got two minutes."
He sat.
It became twelve.
The problem involved his daughter, who was considering leaving Prose for an educational program on another Alliance world. He thought it was a wonderful opportunity.
He also didn't want her to go.
Sarak mostly listened.
Once she asked, "What does your daughter want?"
The question stopped him.
He thought about it.
Then he smiled.
"I suppose that's the question, isn't it?"
"Probably."
He thanked her and returned to his table.
Sarak picked up her utensil.
Senari was staring at her.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Senari."
"You gave him two minutes."
"I know."
"That was twelve."
"I know."
"Your starg is getting cold."
"I know."
Senari took another bite of her own dinner.
"Counselor."
Sarak pointed her utensil at her.
"Senator."
They called it even.
Later, after the plates had been cleared, they remained at the table with drinks while the harbor darkened.
Sarak noticed something she had not expected.
People were happy here.
Not universally, of course. No city managed that. There were arguments, worries, difficult jobs and people who had received bad news that very day.
But there was an openness to Tulan.
Perhaps it was the harbor.
Harbors had always been places where strangers arrived.
Perhaps it was Prose itself.
The planet had spent enough of its history meeting people from elsewhere that difference had become ordinary.
Or perhaps Sarak simply liked being there.
"You're staying," Senari said.
Sarak looked at her.
"What?"
"In Tulan."
"I rented a house."
"That's not what I mean."
Sarak looked back toward the water.
"I think so."
"Good."
"You wanted another Altrenian nearby."
"I wasn't complaining."
"You needed reinforcements?"
Senari laughed.
"Apparently."
A voice came from behind them.
"There they are."
Both women turned.
Two people Senari knew approached the table. Introductions followed. Then another person joined them.
Somehow, within minutes, their quiet table for two had become a gathering.
Someone ordered another round of drinks.
A chair appeared from somewhere.
Then another.
Sarak found herself discussing science with one person, Tulan neighborhoods with another, and the peculiarities of living aboard a starship with a third.
Senari moved effortlessly through the conversations.
She didn't dominate them.
That was what Sarak noticed.
Senari connected people.
She remembered that one person had mentioned an interest that matched something another person did. She brought someone quiet into the conversation without embarrassing them. When two people disagreed, she somehow made the disagreement interesting instead of hostile.
Sarak had seen Senari operate in formal diplomatic settings.
This was different.
And yet it wasn't.
Eventually one of the newcomers looked around the table.
"You know what somebody at the Council said?"
Senari groaned.
"No."
The man smiled.
"With both of you living here now, Tulan has a double portion of Altrenian goodwill."
Sarak stared at him.
Then at Senari.
"That's where that came from?"
Senari looked innocent.
"You've heard it?"
"Twice."
"I may have mentioned it."
"You said it was ridiculous."
"It is."
The man laughed.
"I think it fits."
Sarak looked around the table.
A Prosian harbor worker was talking with an Alliance technician. Senari was sitting beside her. A few tables away, the father who had spoken with Sarak earlier was laughing with his companions.
Nobody here had been negotiating anything.
Nobody had signed a treaty.
There wasn't a diplomatic agenda on the table.
They were simply eating, talking and enjoying one another's company.
Sarak looked at Senari.
"Do people do this everywhere you go?"
"Do what?"
"This."
Senari looked around.
"Talk?"
"Yes."
"Usually."
Sarak shook her head.
"You're dangerous."
"Why?"
"You make it look intentional."
Senari smiled.
"Maybe it is."
They finally left the restaurant much later than Sarak had intended.
The walk home followed the harbor for part of the way.
Warm air came from the water. Restaurants were still busy behind them. Music drifted from somewhere farther down the street.
Sarak carried a small container containing what remained of her starg.
Senari noticed.
"You didn't finish it."
"I was interrupted."
"Counseling."
"Conversation."
"Of course."
They walked another few steps.
"Sarak?"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad you moved here."
Sarak smiled.
"So am I."
"And I'm glad you're nearby."
"Because Tulan needed another Altrenian?"
"No."
Senari thought for a moment.
"Because I did."
Sarak looked at her.
That answer required no joke.
"I'm glad I'm nearby too."
They continued toward home.
At the corner where their paths separated, Senari stopped.
"Dinner again next week?"
"Starg?"
"Obviously."
Sarak nodded.
"Then yes."
Senari started toward her house.
Sarak called after her.
"Senari."
She turned.
"If anyone asks, we are not a goodwill program."
Senari's smile was visible even in the dim streetlight.
"Of course not."
"And I'm not a counselor."
"Certainly not."
Sarak narrowed her eyes.
"Good night, Senator."
"Good night, Scientist."
Sarak walked the remaining distance to her new house.
Three days earlier, it had been merely a convenient place to live when she wasn't aboard the Ralos. Tonight, for the first time, she found herself thinking of it differently.
She was going home.
Behind her, Tulan Harbor continued glowing beside the water.
And without any committee approving it, without a diplomatic mission being established, and without either woman quite understanding how it had happened, Tulan had indeed acquired a double portion of goodwill.
2. Altrenian Braids
Senari Kulan had been staring at herself for long enough that the mirror was unlikely to provide any new information.
She turned her head to the left.
Then to the right.
She lifted one of the braids and let it fall against her shoulder.
"Hmm."
That was still her conclusion.
The braids were attractive. She had no objection to them as braids. She had seen plenty of Altrenians wear their hair this way, particularly in warmer regions, and there was certainly a practical argument for keeping long hair under control in Tulan's climate.
But Senari had spent years wearing her own hair long and loose.
The woman in the mirror looked like Senari Kulan.
Mostly.
She simply didn't look quite enough like the Senari Kulan who was accustomed to looking back.
Senari pulled one braid forward again.
"Hmm."
"You've been doing that for several minutes."
Senari turned.
Druna Seelan stood in the doorway.
The Sarkrenian diplomat had apparently been watching her.
"How long have you been there?"
"Long enough to determine that you haven't decided."
"I've decided."
Druna entered the room.
"And?"
"I like them."
Druna waited.
Senari sighed.
"I don't like them on me."
"Ah."
Senari looked at herself again.
"They're nice."
"They are."
"They're practical."
"They appear to be."
"They look good."
"I agree."
Senari turned toward Druna.
"I want my hair down."
Druna smiled.
"Then I believe you've solved your problem."
Senari began reaching for the tie at the end of one braid.
Then she stopped.
Druna was still looking at her hair.
Not merely looking.
Studying.
Senari recognized the expression. It was the same one people wore in the Alliance Senate when someone had presented an idea they hadn't considered before.
"What?"
Druna blinked.
"Nothing."
"That's not nothing."
Druna came closer.
"Could you do that to mine?"
Senari stared at her.
"Do what?"
Druna pointed at the braid.
"That."
Senari looked at Druna's hair.
Then she looked again.
Druna's dark hair was very long. Sarkrenian hair often was. It was one of those physical and cultural characteristics that Senari had stopped consciously noticing after spending enough time around Sarkrenians.
"You want me to braid your hair?"
"I'd like to see what it looks like."
Senari smiled.
"Sit down."
A few minutes later, Druna was seated in front of the mirror.
Senari stood behind her, dividing the Sarkrenian woman's long hair into sections.
Druna watched through the reflection.
"You seem very pleased about this."
"I've just discovered a use for the hairstyle I don't want."
"On me."
"Exactly."
Druna gave her a suspicious look through the mirror.
Senari laughed.
"Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"You look like you're preparing for negotiations."
"I am allowing an Altrenian senator to experiment with my hair."
"Goodwill ambassador."
"Is that what we're calling you now?"
"Apparently."
Druna smiled.
Senari began the first braid.
The work was easy. Druna's hair was long, straight and thick enough to hold the pattern beautifully.
Senari worked for another minute before something occurred to her.
"Druna?"
"Yes?"
"How do Sarkrenians normally braid their hair?"
Druna looked at her in the mirror.
"We don't."
Senari stopped.
"What?"
"We don't braid our hair."
Senari waited for the rest of the answer.
There wasn't one.
"You mean you don't usually braid it."
"No. We don't."
"Arkani don't?"
"Sarkrenians."
Senari stared.
"All Sarkrenians?"
"As a cultural practice, yes."
Senari looked down at the half-completed braid in her hands.
Then at the enormous quantity of hair still waiting.
"In all these years, no Sarkrenian has braided their hair?"
Druna raised an eyebrow.
"Senari, Sarkrenia has a great many people. I cannot account for every head of hair on the planet."
Senari laughed.
"Fair enough."
"But no, it isn't a Sarkrenian hairstyle."
"Why not?"
Druna shrugged carefully so as not to disturb Senari's work.
"We simply don't."
"That's not an explanation."
"It is the only one I have."
Senari resumed braiding.
Every culture had things like that. People often assumed there must be a reason behind every custom, when sometimes the reason was simply that nobody had started doing something.
"Well," Senari said, "one Sarkrenian is doing it now."
"Apparently."
When Senari finished the first braid, she brought it forward over Druna's shoulder.
Druna touched it.
Her expression changed.
"Oh."
Senari immediately leaned closer.
"Oh good or oh bad?"
Druna continued examining it.
"Oh... interesting."
"That's not an answer."
"I haven't decided."
"You sounded exactly like me."
"Perhaps braids cause indecision."
Senari began the other side.
This time Druna watched more closely.
The transformation became more apparent as Senari worked.
Druna normally wore her long hair loose, giving her an elegant formality that suited a diplomatic representative. The braids changed the lines around her face and shoulders. They drew attention to her pointed ears and the characteristic markings on her face.
More surprisingly, they seemed to take years away from her appearance.
Not because Druna suddenly looked like a different woman.
She simply looked less formal.
Senari finished the second braid and secured it.
"All right."
Druna studied herself.
Senari waited.
Druna turned her head.
Then the other direction.
She lifted one braid, feeling its weight.
Senari folded her arms.
"Well?"
Druna looked at herself for another few seconds.
"I like it."
Senari grinned.
"You do?"
"Yes."
"More than I liked mine?"
"Apparently."
Druna turned again.
"It feels cooler."
"That's one reason Altrenians braid their hair."
Druna lifted the other braid away from her neck.
"I can see why."
"Tulan isn't exactly kind to that much hair."
"No."
Druna continued looking.
Then her diplomatic instincts returned.
"I wouldn't wear this to Council."
"Why not?"
Druna looked at Senari.
Senari already knew the answer.
"Because it isn't me at Council."
There was a difference between Druna Seelan, Sarkrenia's representative to the Prosian Council, and Druna living in Tulan.
Not a contradiction.
Just different parts of the same person.
Senari understood that better than most.
She was a senator herself.
"Off duty, then," Senari said.
Druna smiled at her reflection.
"Definitely off duty."
The photograph was Senari's idea.
Druna stood near one of the windows where the Tulan light was particularly good. She wore the lightweight clothing she had begun adopting for the warmer climate, with both braids falling forward.
Senari took several pictures.
"Why several?"
"Because you'll dislike the first one."
"I haven't seen it."
"You'll still dislike it."
Senari handed her the viewer.
Druna examined the first photograph.
"I don't like that one."
Senari said nothing.
Druna looked at her.
"Don't."
Senari was smiling.
The next image was better.
Druna stopped.
"That one."
"I thought so."
Druna enlarged it.
The woman in the photograph was unmistakably Sarkrenian and unmistakably Druna, but the Tulan clothing and braided hair made her look more relaxed than she normally appeared in official images.
"You look younger," Senari said.
"I noticed."
"That's a compliment."
"I know."
Druna looked at the photograph again.
Then she opened a communications window.
Senari watched.
"What are you doing?"
"Sending it home."
"To whom?"
"A few people."
Senari knew enough about communications to understand that a few people was a dangerous phrase.
"Should I be worried?"
"No."
Druna sent the image.
The first response arrived before Senari had finished undoing her own braids.
Druna read it aloud.
"'It looks good on you.'"
Senari pulled another section of her hair free.
"See?"
A second response appeared.
Druna laughed.
"What?"
"'Why didn't we ever think of this?'"
Senari stopped.
"Really?"
Druna turned the viewer toward her.
The message was there.
Another arrived.
Then another.
One person wanted to know how the braids were made.
Another wanted a picture from the back.
Someone else asked whether they were comfortable.
Druna answered that they were particularly comfortable in Tulan's warm weather.
Then someone noticed her clothes.
Where did you get that outfit?
Druna looked down at herself.
"Oh."
"What?"
"They're asking about the clothes now."
Senari smiled.
"This photograph is becoming expensive for Sarkrenia."
Druna sent back a brief explanation of Tulan's holostores.
That generated considerably more questions.
Senari finally freed the last of her own hair and shook it loose around her shoulders.
Druna looked up.
"You took yours out."
"I told you. I prefer it down."
Druna touched one of her own braids.
"I'm keeping mine."
"I noticed."
The photograph traveled farther than either woman expected.
By the next day, it had reached people on Sarkrenia who had never met Senari and knew Druna primarily through her diplomatic work.
One of them was Skresha Morshon.
Skresha studied the photograph for some time.
Sarkrenians were accustomed to long hair. The style Senari had created was not technically complicated, but that wasn't what interested Skresha.
It was the possibilities.
If the hair could be divided once, it could be divided many times.
Braids could cross.
They could be woven together.
Metal clasps could hold them.
Colored strands could be incorporated.
Jewelry could be attached.
A hairstyle that had begun with Senari wondering whether she liked two simple braids was already becoming something else in Skresha's imagination.
She found someone willing to help.
The first attempt remained relatively simple.
The second did not.
By the third, the Sarkrenian tendency to elaborate upon a good idea had firmly taken control.
Skresha added decorative clasps and small pieces of jewelry. Portions of the hair were braided separately before being joined into larger sections.
When she finally looked into the mirror, she smiled.
"Altrenian braids."
The woman helping her looked up.
"What?"
"That's what I'm calling them."
"Altrenian braids?"
"That's where they came from."
Skresha turned her head to examine the other side.
"You approve?"
Skresha's smile broadened.
"I approve."
Two days later, Druna walked into Senari's house carrying her viewer.
Senari was preparing a drink.
"You need to see this."
"Good morning to you too."
"Good morning. You need to see this."
Druna handed her the viewer.
Senari looked.
Then looked more closely.
Skresha Morshon stared confidently from the image, her Sarkrenian features framed by a hairstyle considerably more elaborate than anything Senari had done.
Senari enlarged the image.
"I didn't teach you that."
"No."
"There are at least six braids in there."
"More, I think."
"Are those metal clasps?"
"Yes."
Senari looked at Druna.
"What have you people done?"
Druna smiled.
"Improved your idea."
"My idea?"
"Altrenian braids."
Senari froze.
"What did you call them?"
"Altrenian braids."
"We don't call them Altrenian braids."
"You do now."
"No, we call them braids."
"On Sarkrenia they're Altrenian braids."
Senari stared at the picture again.
"Does Altrenia know about this?"
"Probably not yet."
Senari handed the viewer back.
"I may need to make a call."
Within weeks, the style began appearing in Sarkrenian social images.
No two were quite the same.
Some remained close to Druna's simple version. Others became elaborate constructions involving multiple braids, decorative metals, ribbons and gemstones. Regional styles began appearing almost immediately.
Sarkrenian jewelers noticed.
So did clothing designers.
The Tulan-style garments visible in Druna's original photograph had already attracted attention, and designers began experimenting with outfits intended to complement the new hairstyles.
Open trade had been discussed in terms of metallurgy, biotechnology, transportation and economics.
Nobody had included hair in the projections.
At the Prosian Council, Druna remained unchanged.
Her hair was down.
Her diplomatic clothing was formal.
She was Druna Seelan, representative of Sarkrenia, and nobody looking at her would have suspected that she had helped start a fashion trend on another world.
After the session ended, however, she found Senari waiting outside.
Senari looked at her hair.
"No braids."
"I told you. Not for Council."
"Dinner?"
"Yes."
"Your place first?"
Druna smiled.
"Why?"
Senari produced two decorative clasps.
Druna stared at them.
"Where did you get those?"
"Sarkrenian shop."
"You bought Sarkrenian accessories for an Altrenian hairstyle?"
"Apparently."
Druna laughed.
"Come on."
Later that evening, the two women walked toward Tulan Harbor.
Senari's hair was loose.
Druna's was braided.
A Sarkrenian visitor passing in the opposite direction noticed Druna and smiled.
"Altrenian braids."
Druna nodded.
"Yes."
The woman touched her own long hair.
"I've been thinking about trying them."
Senari stopped walking.
Druna didn't.
After several steps she realized Senari was no longer beside her and turned around.
"What?"
Senari pointed after the woman.
"Did that just happen?"
Druna smiled.
"You started something."
"I tried a hairstyle."
"Sometimes that's enough."
Senari caught up with her.
They continued toward the harbor.
"Druna?"
"Yes?"
"Do I get royalties?"
"No."
"Recognition?"
"They're called Altrenian braids."
"Fair."
They walked a little farther.
Senari glanced at Druna's hair.
"I still think they look better on you."
Druna lifted one braid and let it fall against her shoulder.
"So do I."
And somewhere on Sarkrenia, another woman sat down in front of a mirror, divided her long hair into sections, and tried something her people had somehow never thought to do before.
All because an Altrenian in Tulan had looked at herself one afternoon and decided that braids were nice—
just not on her.
3. The Holostore
Druna Seelan had expected people on Sarkrenia to notice the braids.
She had not expected them to notice the blouse.
The photograph had been intended to show what Senari Kulan had done with her hair. That was why Druna had stood near the window in good Tulan light, wearing her new braids and smiling in a way she rarely did for official photographs.
The response to the braids had been immediate.
It looks good on you.
Why didn't we ever think of this?
Can you send a picture from the back?
And, eventually, Skresha Morshon had given the style a name.
Altrenian Braids.
That alone had amused Druna considerably.
Then another message arrived.
Where did you get that outfit?
Druna looked down at herself.
She was wearing one of the lightweight outfits she had acquired after moving to Tulan. It was comfortable, loose enough for the warm climate, and decorated with patterns that complemented rather than concealed her Sarkrenian appearance.
She hadn't thought there was anything particularly remarkable about it.
Apparently Sarkrenia disagreed.
Another message appeared.
Is that Prosian?
Then:
Can you send a better picture of the clothing?
Druna sighed.
Her hair had started an interplanetary fashion discussion.
Apparently the rest of her was joining it.
The next morning, Druna was sitting at her table with a drink when Senari arrived.
Senari didn't knock anymore.
Technically she did, but the knock was generally followed immediately by the door opening.
"Good morning."
Druna looked up.
"People are asking about my clothes."
Senari stopped.
"Good morning, Druna."
"Good morning. People are asking about my clothes."
"Which clothes?"
Druna pointed at herself.
"These."
Senari looked.
"Those are nice."
"I know they're nice."
"Then what's the problem?"
"There isn't a problem."
"Good."
"I need to explain the holostore."
Senari smiled.
"Oh."
Druna recognized the smile.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You always say that immediately before something becomes complicated."
"Do I?"
"Yes."
Senari sat opposite her.
"How many people are asking?"
Druna turned her viewer around.
Senari looked at the messages.
"Oh."
"Exactly."
There were questions about the fabric, the cut, the decorative pattern and whether the clothing had been custom made.
One person wanted to know the designer.
Another wanted to know whether the style was specifically from Tulan.
Someone had even asked whether the outfit represented a particular Prosian social status.
Senari read that one twice.
"That's actually a reasonable question."
"It is."
"Clothing can mean a great deal."
"I know."
"So what did you tell them?"
"That I bought it at a holostore."
Senari waited.
"And?"
"They asked what a holostore was."
Senari laughed.
Druna folded her arms.
"You knew this would happen."
"No."
"You look very pleased."
"I'm imagining you trying to explain one."
"It's a store."
"That's not enough."
"It uses holograms."
"Still not enough."
Druna stared at her.
Senari smiled.
"Take them shopping."
Druna frowned.
"They're on Sarkrenia."
"Take them shopping anyway."
An hour later, Druna stood outside the Tulan holostore where she had purchased several of her warm-weather outfits.
She had a live communications connection to Sarkrenia.
There were six people watching.
There had originally been two.
Druna wasn't entirely certain where the other four had come from.
Senari stood beside her.
"You realize you're enjoying this," Druna said.
"Very much."
"This is not an official diplomatic activity."
"Of course not."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
Druna looked into the communication pickup.
"Can everyone see?"
Several voices answered at once.
"Yes."
"Move slightly."
"Who is that with you?"
"Is that Senari Kulan?"
Senari leaned toward the pickup.
"Hello."
That generated another round of conversation.
Druna waited.
Eventually everyone stopped talking.
"This," Druna said, indicating the storefront, "is a holostore."
One of the Sarkrenians asked, "Where are the clothes?"
"Some are inside."
"Some?"
"You'll see."
They entered.
The front portion looked much like an ordinary clothing shop.
There were examples of fabrics and finished garments, accessories, footwear and several physical displays. Customers could touch materials, examine construction and see actual examples of the merchandise.
Farther inside were the projection rooms.
Druna entered one.
Senari remained outside with the communication link.
"Stand there," Senari said.
"I know how this works."
"I'm helping."
"You are supervising."
"Goodwill."
"Interference."
The Sarkrenians watching from home laughed.
Druna stood in the marked area.
The holostore scanned her.
A moment later, her image appeared before her.
One of the Sarkrenians spoke.
"That's you."
"Yes."
"Right now?"
"Yes."
The display reproduced Druna's body, proportions, coloration and current clothing.
Druna selected a menu.
"Now I choose something."
She touched one of the available outfits.
Her projected clothing changed instantly.
There was silence from Sarkrenia.
Druna selected another.
The projection changed again.
Then another.
"Wait," someone said. "You haven't changed clothes."
"No."
"But it shows what it would look like on you?"
"Yes."
"Turn."
Druna turned.
The projection followed.
"Turn farther."
She did.
"Can you walk?"
Druna walked several steps.
The projected garment moved with her.
Another voice said, "Druna, go back to the second one."
Druna did.
"No, the other second one."
"There have been several."
"The blue one."
Druna found it.
"This?"
"Yes."
Someone else objected.
"The green looked better."
"She is green."
"That doesn't mean she can't wear green."
"It was too much green."
Druna looked at Senari.
Senari was leaning against the wall, thoroughly entertained.
"This was your idea."
"It was."
"You're responsible."
"I accept."
Druna opened the customization controls.
"This is the part I think you'll find more interesting."
She selected the blue garment.
"Suppose I like this design but not the length."
She adjusted it.
The projected garment shortened.
Three people on Sarkrenia began talking simultaneously.
Druna waited again.
Then she changed the sleeves.
She altered the neckline.
She selected another fabric.
She changed the decorative trim.
She replaced a Prosian-inspired pattern with something simpler.
"Can it use our patterns?" someone asked.
"If they're entered into the system."
There was a pause.
"Our patterns?"
"Yes."
"Sarkrenian patterns?"
"Yes."
"Can it use Sarkrenian fabric?"
"If the fabric information is available and the manufacturer can work with it."
Another pause.
Druna knew that pause.
It was the sound of an idea becoming a business proposal.
Senari knew it too.
She straightened.
One of the Sarkrenians said, "Druna, this isn't a clothing store."
Druna looked around.
"It sells clothing."
"No. I mean that's not what this is."
"What is it?"
"A design system."
Senari smiled.
Druna nodded slowly.
"Yes. It can be."
The conversation changed immediately.
Nobody cared about Druna's blouse anymore.
They wanted to know how the system obtained body measurements.
Could it accommodate Sarkrenian proportions?
Could it work with regional clothing?
Could Sarkrenian designers upload their own catalogs?
Did the customer have to be physically present?
Could the system project accessories?
Could it show hairstyles?
At that question, Druna looked at Senari.
Senari looked back.
"No," Druna said.
The holostore attendant standing nearby politely corrected her.
"Actually, yes."
Druna turned.
"It can?"
"For compatible catalogs."
Senari started laughing.
Druna pointed at her.
"Don't."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You're thinking."
"That's generally encouraged in Altrenia."
The Sarkrenian communication channel came alive again.
"Druna, show the braids."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because we're discussing clothing."
"We're discussing the holostore."
Senari stepped closer.
"They have a point."
Druna stared at her.
"Whose side are you on?"
"Trade."
"You aren't even Sarkrenian."
"Goodwill ambassador."
"That is not an answer."
The attendant loaded a hairstyle catalog.
Druna's projection changed.
Her long hair became shorter.
"No," Druna said immediately.
Another style appeared.
"No."
Another.
"Absolutely not."
Senari covered her mouth.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're laughing."
"I am."
Then Senari found a braided style.
Druna's projected hair reorganized itself into a complicated arrangement.
The Sarkrenians watching from home became very quiet.
Druna examined it.
Senari stepped beside her.
"That's not bad."
"No."
"It needs something."
"Don't."
Senari added decorative clasps.
Druna looked at her projected image.
One of the Sarkrenians said, "Save that."
Druna sighed.
"Of course."
By the time they left the holostore, the original six Sarkrenian viewers had become eleven.
Someone had invited a clothing designer.
The clothing designer had invited a manufacturer.
The manufacturer had invited someone involved in commercial technology.
Druna stood outside the store and looked at the communication display.
"This was supposed to answer where I bought a blouse."
A Sarkrenian designer answered, "It did."
"No, it didn't."
"It answered considerably more."
Senari nodded.
"That's usually better."
Druna ignored her.
The designer continued.
"We need to speak with the company operating this system."
"For clothing?"
"For licensing."
Druna blinked.
"Licensing?"
"We could establish holostores on Sarkrenia."
Someone else interrupted.
"Or develop compatible systems."
"Or both."
Another voice added, "We need to know whether the projection technology is available under current trade agreements."
Druna closed her eyes briefly.
She had become a diplomat again.
"I'll find out."
Senari leaned toward her.
"Official diplomatic activity?"
Druna opened one eye.
"Apparently."
Within days, the inquiry reached the appropriate trade offices.
The technology itself was not revolutionary by Alliance standards. Holographic fitting systems existed in many places.
What was new was Sarkrenian access to them.
For generations, Sarkrenia's economic relationships beyond its own sphere had been limited. Opening trade with Prose and the wider Alliance did not merely mean that Sarkrenians could buy foreign products.
It meant that they could encounter ideas they had never had reason to develop themselves.
And then improve them.
The first Sarkrenian designers to experiment with holostore-compatible catalogs did not simply reproduce Tulan clothing.
They began with Sarkrenian clothing.
Traditional cuts were digitized.
Regional patterns were cataloged.
Materials were scanned.
Then designers began experimenting.
A customer could take a traditional garment and shorten it for a warmer region.
Another could combine an Arkani pattern with a fabric imported from Prose.
A third could select decorative metalwork produced using Sarkrenian metallurgy.
Someone inevitably created an entire collection intended to complement Altrenian Braids.
Senari received the catalog before Druna did.
She immediately sent it to her.
Druna called within minutes.
"Why do you have a Sarkrenian clothing catalog?"
"I have friends."
"On Sarkrenia?"
"Apparently."
Druna opened the catalog.
The first page showed a green-skinned Sarkrenian woman wearing an elaborate braided hairstyle and a lightweight outfit that bore a distant resemblance to the clothes Druna had worn in the original photograph.
Druna stared.
"They changed everything."
Senari nodded.
"Almost."
"The fabric is Sarkrenian."
"Yes."
"The pattern is Sarkrenian."
"Yes."
"Those clasps are definitely Sarkrenian."
"Yes."
Druna enlarged the image.
"The cut is different."
"Yes."
Druna looked at Senari.
"Then what did they keep?"
"The idea."
Druna considered that.
Then she smiled.
"Good."
The first commercial holostore on Sarkrenia attracted a crowd.
Not everyone trusted it.
Some customers walked into the projection area, saw themselves appear, and immediately stepped back out.
Others spent hours experimenting.
One elderly Sarkrenian woman reportedly tried forty-three combinations and purchased the first garment she had selected.
A young man discovered that he could combine traditional formal clothing with an imported Alliance fabric and started a minor trend of his own.
Designers loved the system.
Merchants loved it even more.
Customers could experiment with garments that did not yet physically exist. Small manufacturers could test demand before committing resources to production.
Sarkrenian metalworkers began producing virtual catalogs of jewelry and accessories.
Footwear followed.
Then hair.
The phrase Altrenian Braids appeared as an actual category.
When Senari heard about that, she sat silently for several seconds.
Sarak Pevden happened to be with her.
"What?"
Senari turned her viewer around.
Sarak read the display.
ALTRENIAN BRAIDS — STYLE COLLECTION
Sarak looked at Senari.
"You've become a menu."
"I tried braids once."
"History is cruel."
"I didn't even keep them."
Sarak handed the viewer back.
"Maybe you should demand compensation."
"I asked Druna about royalties."
"What did she say?"
"No."
"Reasonable."
Several weeks later, Druna returned to the original Tulan holostore.
This time she was alone.
She entered the projection room and allowed the system to scan her.
Her image appeared.
Druna browsed the catalogs.
Prosian.
Tulan regional.
Alliance contemporary.
Then she found a new category.
Sarkrenian Imports.
Druna stopped.
She opened it.
There they were.
Garments designed on Sarkrenia, available for purchase on Prose.
She selected one.
The projection changed.
The clothing was unmistakably Sarkrenian, but lighter than traditional formal wear. The fabric incorporated technology and materials that had entered Sarkrenia through new trade relationships. Decorative metalwork had been produced at home.
Druna turned slowly.
It looked good.
She selected another.
Then another.
A voice behind her said, "The second one."
Druna turned.
Senari stood in the doorway.
"How long have you been there?"
"Long enough."
"You always do that."
"I know."
Druna restored the second outfit.
Senari studied it.
"That one."
"I think so too."
Druna looked at the projection.
Several months earlier, she had come to Tulan as Sarkrenia's diplomatic representative during a period of rapidly expanding relations.
Trade discussions had concerned ores, metals, biotechnology, transportation, medical science and industrial agreements.
Those things mattered.
They mattered enormously.
But nobody had told her that opening Sarkrenia to the Alliance would also mean discovering a new way to wear her hair.
Or a different kind of blouse.
Or a machine that allowed someone to stand in a room and ask, What would I look like if...?
Druna touched the purchase control.
The order was placed.
Senari smiled.
"Another Tulan outfit?"
Druna shook her head.
"No."
She pointed to the catalog designation.
"Sarkrenian."
Senari looked at it.
"So it is."
"Designed on Sarkrenia. Sold in Tulan."
"Open trade."
Druna smiled.
"Open trade."
They started toward the exit.
Senari glanced back at the projection room.
"You know, all of this started because somebody noticed your clothes in a photograph."
"No."
Senari looked at her.
"No?"
Druna touched her hair.
"All of this started because you decided you didn't like braids."
Senari considered that.
"That's worse."
Druna laughed.
Outside, the streets of Tulan were warm and busy. Somewhere beyond the buildings, ships were arriving at the harbor carrying goods from places that, not long ago, had been little more than names to one another.
Now Sarkrenian designs were being sold on Prose.
Prosian technology was being installed on Sarkrenia.
Altrenian hairstyles had acquired Sarkrenian jewelry.
And tomorrow someone would undoubtedly combine all three in a way nobody had anticipated.
That, Druna was beginning to understand, was the real difficulty with open trade.
Once people started exchanging things, they also started exchanging ideas.
And ideas were almost impossible to keep in their original containers.
4. Room for a Navigator
Elyra Fenek had spent enough of her life aboard starships to know that rumors traveled faster than light.
Technically, they didn't.
Elyra was a navigator. She knew exactly how fast light traveled.
Rumors were faster.
She had been aboard the AS Alliance when she heard that Sarak Pevden had rented a house in Tulan.
The information had arrived during lunch.
Nobody had been discussing housing.
Nobody had been discussing Tulan.
In fact, nobody had been discussing Sarak.
A conversation about upcoming personnel rotations had somehow wandered through three unrelated subjects before someone mentioned that the Altrenian scientist from the Ralos had finally rented a place near Tulan Harbor.
Elyra looked up from her meal.
"Sarak Pevden?"
"Yes."
"In Tulan?"
"That's what I heard."
Elyra returned to her meal.
She said nothing more about it.
But the information remained with her.
At fifty-five, Elyra had accumulated possessions in several places without quite accumulating a home.
There were things aboard the Alliance.
There were things stored on Zanirek.
There were things she had forgotten she owned until someone reminded her.
Her quarters aboard ship were comfortable. She had personalized them over the years, although perhaps not as much as some of the crew had personalized theirs.
But quarters were still quarters.
When she was on duty, she was Senior Navigator Elyra Fenek.
When she was off duty aboard ship, she was very often Senior Navigator Elyra Fenek who happened not to be working at that particular moment.
There was a difference.
She had simply never thought much about it.
Recently, though, Tulan had become attractive.
The city was convenient to Alliance transportation. It was cosmopolitan without being overwhelming. There were restaurants, markets, water, music and people from enough different worlds that Elyra could walk down a street without anyone particularly caring that she was from Zanirek.
More importantly, she liked it.
She had visited several times.
Once she had spent an afternoon near the harbor with no purpose whatsoever.
That had been surprisingly enjoyable.
The problem was that renting a house in Tulan seemed extravagant when she might spend weeks at a time aboard the Alliance.
A small apartment would be more sensible.
Shipboard quarters were even more sensible.
Elyra was very good at sensible.
Then Sarak rented a house.
A house, Elyra thought, probably had more than one bedroom.
That was when the idea appeared.
She tried to dismiss it.
The idea remained.
By the time the Alliance reached its next scheduled stop, Elyra had made a decision.
She contacted Sarak.
Sarak answered from her new house.
Elyra could tell immediately that the house was new to her because there were still containers stacked behind her.
"Sarak."
"Elyra! Hello."
"Are you busy?"
Sarak looked behind herself.
"Technically."
"Unpacking?"
"Attempting to."
"Am I interrupting?"
"Please."
Elyra smiled.
"I heard you rented a house in Tulan."
Sarak narrowed her eyes slightly.
"How?"
"Someone aboard the Alliance mentioned it."
"I have lived here for four days."
"News travels."
"Apparently."
Elyra hesitated.
She had rehearsed the next sentence.
Now it sounded oddly formal.
"Would you have any interest in sharing the residence?"
Sarak stared at her.
Elyra immediately regretted phrasing it that way.
"You mean a roommate?"
"Yes."
"You?"
"Unless you've met another Elyra Fenek."
Sarak's expression changed from surprise to amusement.
"No."
"Then yes. Me."
Sarak leaned back.
"I have a spare room."
"I assumed you might."
"I actually have two."
"That's even better."
"Do you need two rooms?"
"No."
"Good. I was beginning to wonder how much you own."
"Less than it appears."
Sarak glanced behind herself at the containers.
"I understand that problem."
Elyra smiled.
There was a short silence.
Then Sarak asked, "Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Elyra hadn't rehearsed that answer.
"Because I like Tulan."
Sarak waited.
"And because I don't want to rent an entire residence that will be empty whenever I'm aboard the Alliance."
"Practical."
"Very."
"You're a navigator."
"I prefer predictable arrangements."
Sarak smiled.
"And I suppose when I'm aboard the Ralos, you can make sure the house doesn't sit empty."
"Exactly."
"And when you're aboard the Alliance, I can do the same."
"Exactly."
Sarak nodded.
"That sounds dangerously close to an agreement."
Elyra relaxed.
"I have furniture."
Sarak looked around the room.
"Now it definitely sounds like an agreement."
Senari Kulan heard about it the next day.
Sarak still did not know how.
"You told her," Sarak accused.
Elyra looked genuinely surprised.
"I did not."
The three women were sitting outside a small café near Tulan Harbor.
Senari took a drink.
"I heard."
"From whom?" Sarak asked.
"Someone."
"Who?"
"I don't remember."
Sarak looked at Elyra.
"This happens constantly."
Elyra nodded.
"I've noticed."
Senari looked between them.
"So you're moving in together."
Elyra answered first.
"We're sharing the house."
"That's what moving in together means."
"It sounds different when you say it."
Senari smiled.
"How?"
"I don't know."
Sarak rescued her.
"Elyra will use one of the spare rooms. We both spend enough time aboard ship that it makes sense."
Senari nodded.
"It does."
Elyra relaxed again.
Then Senari added, "And it'll be nice having another neighbor."
Elyra looked at Sarak.
"How close does she live?"
Sarak pointed.
"That direction."
"How far?"
"Walking distance."
Senari smiled.
"Very easy walking distance."
Elyra considered this new information.
"I see."
Sarak laughed.
"You didn't know?"
"No."
"You asked to move into an Altrenian neighborhood without knowing it."
"There are two of you."
"That's apparently enough for a neighborhood now."
Senari raised her drink.
"Double portion."
Sarak groaned.
"Don't start."
Elyra looked between them.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing," Sarak said.
Senari answered at the same time.
"Goodwill."
Elyra decided not to ask.
Moving day was considerably less dramatic than Elyra expected.
She arrived with several containers, some personal items and more furniture than Sarak had anticipated.
"You said you had furniture," Sarak said.
"I do."
"You didn't say you had a household."
"This is not a household."
Two people carrying a cabinet passed behind Elyra.
Sarak watched them.
"Of course not."
"My possessions have accumulated."
"How long have you been accumulating them?"
Elyra considered.
"A while."
"That's a navigator's answer."
"No, a navigator would give you the exact number of years."
"Do you know the exact number?"
"Yes."
Sarak stared at her.
Elyra smiled.
"I'm not telling you."
That was the first time Sarak realized Elyra Fenek was considerably funnier than she appeared aboard the Alliance.
The discovery interested her.
They spent most of the afternoon deciding where things belonged.
Sarak had already furnished the main living area minimally. Elyra's belongings filled some of the empty spaces.
A chair found a place near a window.
A table replaced the temporary one Sarak had been using.
Several pieces from Zanirek added colors and textures that hadn't been present before.
By late afternoon, the house no longer looked like Sarak's recently rented residence.
It looked inhabited.
Elyra stood in the middle of the room.
"This works."
Sarak looked around.
"It does."
"My things don't bother you?"
"If they did, I would tell you."
"I know."
"Do you?"
Elyra looked at her.
Sarak smiled.
"You're very careful."
"About what?"
"Taking up space."
Elyra frowned slightly.
"I just moved furniture into half your house."
"Our house."
The words stopped her.
Sarak didn't seem to notice.
She was adjusting something on the table.
Elyra looked around again.
Our house.
It was a simple phrase.
Still, something about it felt unexpectedly good.
That evening Senari arrived carrying food.
This time Elyra saw her knock.
She also saw her open the door immediately afterward.
"Does she always do that?" Elyra asked.
"Yes."
"I knocked," Senari said.
"You didn't wait."
"I knew you were here."
"That's not the purpose of knocking."
Senari placed the food on the table.
"It announced me."
Sarak looked at Elyra.
"You'll adapt."
Elyra wasn't certain whether that was reassurance or warning.
They ate together.
Conversation moved from the Ralos to the Alliance, then to Tulan, then to people Elyra didn't know.
Senari seemed to know everyone.
Sarak seemed to know slightly fewer people but considerably more about them.
Elyra mostly listened.
That was comfortable.
Listening had always been comfortable.
As a navigator, she spent much of her professional life processing information, anticipating problems and speaking when she had something useful to say.
Senari eventually noticed.
"Elyra."
"Yes?"
"What do you do when you're not working?"
Elyra thought.
"Many things."
"Name one."
"Read."
"Good. What else?"
"Music sometimes."
"What kind?"
Elyra answered.
That produced another question.
Then another.
Before she realized what was happening, Elyra had been talking for ten minutes.
Sarak noticed.
She said nothing.
Senari probably noticed too.
She also said nothing.
The first week of sharing the house went smoothly.
Their schedules rarely matched perfectly.
Sometimes Sarak was home and Elyra was aboard the Alliance.
Sometimes Elyra returned to an empty house because the Ralos was away.
When they were both home, they discovered that neither required constant company.
That helped.
Sarak could sit reading while Elyra worked on something nearby.
Elyra could prepare a drink without feeling obligated to offer conversation.
Silence between them was comfortable.
But when one wanted to talk, the other listened.
Elyra began to understand the stories about Sarak.
It happened one evening after a difficult day.
Nothing catastrophic had occurred aboard the Alliance. There had been no emergency, no dangerous navigation problem, no failure.
It had simply been one of those days when every small problem arrived immediately behind another.
Elyra came home tired.
Sarak was in the kitchen.
"Bad day?"
"No."
Sarak looked at her.
Elyra put down her things.
"Annoying day."
"That's different."
"Very."
Sarak continued preparing food.
She didn't ask anything else.
Elyra sat.
After perhaps a minute, she began talking.
"The first navigation update was wrong."
Sarak nodded.
"Then we discovered that one of the reference sources had old orbital data..."
Ten minutes later, Elyra was still talking.
Sarak occasionally asked a question.
Mostly she listened.
Eventually Elyra stopped.
Sarak placed a plate in front of her.
"Better?"
Elyra thought about it.
"Yes."
Sarak sat opposite her.
Elyra stared.
"What?"
"I understand."
"Understand what?"
"Why people aboard the Ralos use you as a counselor."
Sarak groaned.
"I am not a counselor."
"You listened to me for fifteen minutes."
"Roommate."
"That's different?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Sarak thought.
"I don't know."
Elyra smiled.
"Scientist."
"Navigator."
A few days later, Sarak came home frustrated.
Elyra was sitting near the window.
She looked up.
"Bad day?"
"No."
Sarak stopped.
Then she laughed.
"Annoying day."
Elyra put down what she was reading.
"Sit."
Sarak did.
It turned out that scientists could also talk for fifteen minutes.
Living in Tulan introduced another problem.
Elyra's clothes.
She had not considered them a problem.
Sarak did.
Senari definitely did.
Elyra's wardrobe had developed around a life spent aboard ships. Dark colors. Practical cuts. Clothing that worked well in controlled environments.
Tulan was warm.
Not dangerously warm.
Not unpleasantly warm.
Just warm enough to make Elyra increasingly aware that her clothing had been selected for somewhere else.
One afternoon she returned from the harbor and immediately changed.
Sarak noticed.
"Hot?"
"Yes."
"You need Tulan clothes."
"I have clothes."
"You have ship clothes."
"I have civilian clothes."
"You have civilian ship clothes."
Elyra stared at her.
"That is not a category."
"It is now."
Senari arrived later.
Sarak told her.
Elyra objected.
Senari looked at Elyra's clothing.
Then at Sarak.
"She needs help."
"I do not need help."
Sarak nodded.
"She needs help."
"I am sitting here."
"We know."
Elyra folded her arms.
"What exactly are you proposing?"
Senari smiled.
"Shopping."
"No."
Sarak smiled too.
"Holostore."
Elyra hesitated.
That was a mistake.
Both Altrenians noticed.
"What is a holostore?" Elyra asked.
Senari's smile widened.
"Oh."
Elyra immediately regretted the question.
The following morning, Elyra discovered that Sarak and Senari had recruited another person.
Shara Rin.
Elyra knew who Shara was.
That did not make the situation better.
Shara looked at Elyra for perhaps three seconds.
Then her attention went immediately to Elyra's hair.
"Oh."
Elyra glanced at Sarak.
"What does that mean?"
Sarak was already laughing.
Shara stepped closer.
"Your hair is beautiful."
"Thank you."
"How long is it?"
Elyra instinctively touched it.
"Long."
"I can see that."
Shara looked at Senari.
Senari looked at Sarak.
Elyra looked at all three.
"I thought we were discussing clothing."
"We are," Shara said.
"Then why are you looking at my hair?"
"Because I have eyes."
Elyra closed hers briefly.
This was going to be a long day.
That evening, after the arrangements had been made for their trip to the holostore, Elyra stood alone in her room.
Her room.
That was another phrase she was getting used to.
She looked around.
Some of the objects had once been on Zanirek.
Others had traveled with her for years.
One small item had been in three different ships.
For the first time, they were together.
Through the window she could see lights from nearby houses.
Somewhere beyond them was Tulan Harbor.
She could hear faint music.
A door opened elsewhere in the house.
Sarak called, "Elyra?"
"Yes?"
"I'm making something to drink. Want one?"
"Yes."
"What?"
Elyra told her.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Dark clothes.
Long dark hair.
Headband.
Senior Navigator Elyra Fenek.
Except she wasn't aboard the Alliance.
She was home.
Elyra smiled at the word.
Then she left the room.
Sarak handed her the drink.
"Ready for tomorrow?"
"No."
"Good."
"Why is that good?"
"Because Shara has plans."
"That is exactly why I'm not ready."
Sarak laughed.
Elyra sat beside her.
For a while they said nothing.
Eventually Elyra asked, "Why did you rent a house this large?"
Sarak considered.
"I liked it."
"That's all?"
"Mostly."
"You didn't need the extra rooms."
"No."
"Then why?"
Sarak looked around.
"I suppose I thought someone might eventually use them."
Elyra nodded.
"I'm glad you did."
Sarak smiled.
"So am I."
Outside, Tulan continued its evening around them.
Senari was somewhere only a short walk away.
Tomorrow Shara would undoubtedly attempt to replace half of Elyra's wardrobe.
The Alliance would eventually call her back to duty.
The Ralos would eventually take Sarak away again.
Their schedules would remain complicated.
Their professions would carry them between worlds.
None of that had changed.
But when Elyra Fenek left the AS Alliance now, she was no longer simply going somewhere until she was needed aboard again.
There was a house in Tulan.
There was a room filled with things she had carried through much of her life.
There was an Altrenian scientist who somehow listened to people without admitting she was doing anything unusual.
There was another Altrenian living nearby who apparently considered knocking optional.
And, as of tomorrow, there was Shara Rin with plans for Elyra's hair and clothing.
Elyra took another drink.
Her quiet life had become considerably less quiet.
She discovered that she didn't mind.
Not at all.
5. Elyra, Off Duty
Elyra Fenek had navigated starships through regions of space where a small computational error could put a vessel millions of kilometers from its intended position.
She had plotted approaches to unfamiliar worlds, calculated orbital transfers, and spent enough years at navigation stations that she could often recognize a bad course before the computer finished telling her why it was bad.
Very little made the Senior Navigator of the AS Alliance nervous.
Standing in the middle of a Tulan holostore while Shara Rin examined her from three different angles came surprisingly close.
"Turn around."
Elyra turned.
Shara studied her.
"Again."
"I've already turned around."
"I know. Do it again."
Elyra looked toward Sarak Pevden.
The Altrenian scientist was sitting nearby with an expression of complete innocence.
"You brought her."
Sarak shook her head.
"Senari brought her."
Senari Kulan immediately objected.
"You agreed."
"I agreed Elyra needed Tulan clothes."
"You said she needed help."
"I didn't know what kind of help you intended."
Shara stepped around Elyra.
"Would everyone stop talking about her as if she isn't standing here?"
"Thank you," Elyra said.
Shara touched a control.
The holographic clothing on Elyra's projected image changed again.
Elyra looked at it.
"No."
Shara changed it.
"No."
Another.
"No."
Shara sighed.
"Do navigators reject every course this quickly?"
"Only the bad ones."
Sarak laughed.
"This may take a while."
The problem had begun with something Elyra had not considered a problem.
She owned clothes.
Quite a few clothes, actually.
Some were uniforms. Some were civilian clothing. Some had accompanied her for years.
All of them worked perfectly well.
Unfortunately, most of them worked perfectly well aboard a starship.
Tulan was not a starship.
Tulan was warm.
The city enjoyed abundant sunshine, pleasant breezes from the harbor and the irritating habit of making Elyra aware of every unnecessary layer she was wearing.
Her wardrobe tended toward dark colors and practical cuts. She liked navy blue. She liked garments that stayed where they belonged and required no further thought after she put them on.
Sarak had described these as civilian ship clothes.
Elyra had informed her that no such category existed.
Senari had immediately agreed with Sarak.
Then Shara became involved.
That was how Elyra found herself watching a holographic version of herself experience what appeared to be a wardrobe identity crisis.
Shara changed the projection again.
Elyra frowned.
"Why did you reject that one?"
"Too formal."
"I liked it."
"Of course you did."
"What does that mean?"
"It looks like something a Senior Navigator would wear while trying to convince everyone she's off duty."
Sarak covered her mouth.
Elyra looked at her.
"Something funny?"
"No."
"You're laughing."
"Quietly."
Senari leaned closer to the projection.
"Shara's right."
Elyra folded her arms.
"You're all enjoying this far too much."
"Probably," Sarak admitted.
Shara selected another outfit.
This one was lighter.
A white lightweight blouse appeared on Elyra's projected body. Blue embroidery followed part of the fabric, giving it color without making it overly ornate. The blouse was loose and comfortable, and Shara adjusted it so it tied casually at the waist.
Below it appeared pale blue, wide-legged trousers.
Elyra stopped objecting.
Shara noticed immediately.
"Ah."
"What?"
"You didn't say no."
"I was looking."
Senari stood.
"Save that."
"We aren't finished," Shara said.
"I didn't say buy it. Save it."
Shara saved the combination.
Elyra continued looking.
She had expected to feel ridiculous.
She didn't.
The woman in the projection looked comfortable.
Relaxed.
Still unmistakably Elyra Fenek.
Just not Senior Navigator Fenek.
That distinction bothered her less than she expected.
"Try another color," Elyra said.
All three women looked at her.
"What?"
Sarak smiled.
"Nothing."
"Why does everyone keep saying nothing?"
"Because you're participating," Senari said.
"I've been participating."
"You've been resisting."
"There is a difference."
"Exactly."
Shara changed the blouse.
Elyra shook her head.
Another.
"No."
Another.
"Go back."
Shara did.
"That one."
Shara smiled.
"See? Now we're finding your clothes."
That answer caught Elyra's attention.
She had assumed Shara intended to dress her according to Shara's taste.
Instead, Shara was experimenting until Elyra reacted.
"Try the white one again."
The projection changed.
"With the pale blue trousers."
Shara restored them.
Elyra turned slowly.
"That's comfortable."
"You aren't actually wearing it," Sarak pointed out.
"I know what comfortable looks like."
"Navigator logic?"
"Experience."
Shara saved it.
Then Shara remembered Elyra's hair.
That ended the peaceful portion of the afternoon.
"Take off the headband."
Elyra instinctively touched it.
"Why?"
"I want to see your hair."
"You've seen my hair."
"Not properly."
Elyra looked at Sarak.
"No."
Sarak raised both hands.
"I didn't say anything."
Senari was already smiling.
Elyra removed the headband.
Her long dark hair fell freely around her shoulders.
Shara became completely silent.
That was somehow worse.
"What?"
Shara stepped closer.
"Elyra."
"What?"
"Your hair is beautiful."
"Thank you."
"How long have you worn it the same way?"
Elyra frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Mostly straight. Headband. Nothing else."
"A long time."
Shara looked genuinely distressed.
"Why?"
Elyra laughed despite herself.
"Because it's my hair."
"Exactly."
Shara gently lifted a section.
Elyra's hair was exceptionally long and thick, and even Elyra had to admit that she had rarely done much with it beyond keeping it controlled.
Shara looked at Senari.
"Do you have any idea what I could do with this hair?"
Senari laughed.
Elyra took her hair back.
"Leave it attached to my head?"
Shara stared at her.
"That wasn't what I meant."
Sarak started laughing.
Senari joined her.
Finally Shara did too.
Elyra tried not to.
She failed.
Shara showed her several possibilities, but Elyra rejected anything elaborate.
Eventually Shara stopped.
"You don't have to change it."
Elyra looked at her.
"After all that?"
"Of course not."
"I thought you wanted to do something with it."
"I do."
"Then why aren't you?"
"Because it's yours."
That surprised Elyra.
Shara wasn't trying to transform her into someone else.
She was helping Elyra find a version of herself that she had never bothered looking for.
Elyra turned toward the mirror.
She tried a simple arrangement that pulled only the front portion of her hair back while allowing the rest to remain loose.
No headband.
She looked at herself.
Shara nodded.
"That works."
Elyra turned her head slightly.
"I think so."
Senari smiled.
"Careful."
"Why?"
"That's how the braids started."
Elyra looked at her.
"I've heard that story."
"Everyone has."
"Apparently half of Sarkrenia has."
Senari sighed.
"Also true."
Elyra left the holostore wearing the white blouse and pale blue trousers.
That had been her decision.
The warm Tulan breeze touched her arms and moved through her loose hair.
She stopped outside.
Sarak looked at her.
"What?"
Elyra stretched one arm slightly.
"Nothing."
"That's our word."
Elyra smiled.
"I understand."
"Understand what?"
"Tulan clothes."
Shara grinned.
They started toward the harbor.
For the first several minutes Elyra felt strangely underdressed.
Not improperly dressed.
Just lighter.
There was no uniform.
Nothing about what she wore identified her rank, position or ship.
She was simply a woman walking through Tulan with friends.
She liked it.
They stopped at a café near the harbor.
As usual, Senari knew someone.
Then Sarak knew someone.
Shara knew two people.
Elyra began to suspect she was the only person in Tulan who had not been introduced to most of the city.
Then a man passing the table stopped.
"Elyra?"
She recognized him from an Alliance administrative office.
"Hello."
He smiled.
"I almost didn't recognize you."
Elyra looked down at herself.
"Apparently I'm off duty."
He laughed.
"I can see that."
Normally their conversations were brief and professional.
This one wasn't.
He asked whether she had moved to Tulan. Elyra told him she was sharing a house with Sarak. They talked about the harbor. He recommended a restaurant.
Elyra mentioned another she liked.
Several minutes passed before he finally continued on his way.
Elyra watched him leave.
Then she became aware of three women staring at her.
"What?"
Sarak took a drink.
"Nothing."
"Not again."
Senari smiled.
"He was talkative."
"He's always polite."
"I didn't say polite."
Elyra narrowed her eyes.
Shara looked completely innocent.
"Absolutely not."
"Nobody said anything," Shara replied.
"You were all thinking it."
Senari laughed.
It happened again later.
Another man Elyra knew only slightly struck up a conversation near the harbor.
Then a woman complimented her blouse.
An older couple asked if she knew somewhere nearby to eat.
Elyra recommended a restaurant.
After they left, Sarak looked at her.
"You're giving restaurant recommendations now."
"I've eaten."
"You're becoming local."
"I am not."
Shara pointed toward the departing couple.
"They think you are."
Elyra looked around.
She had spoken with more strangers that afternoon than she usually did during an entire off-duty day aboard the Alliance.
More surprisingly, she wasn't tired of it.
She had enjoyed herself.
On the walk home, Elyra and Sarak fell slightly behind the others.
Elyra carried a small bag containing the rest of her purchases.
For several minutes they walked quietly.
Then Elyra said, "People talked to me today."
Sarak looked at her.
"People generally do."
"More than usual."
"Maybe."
"Men especially."
Sarak smiled.
Elyra saw it.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You're becoming as bad as Senari."
"Altrenian influence."
"That is not an excuse."
They walked a little farther.
Elyra glanced down at the new blouse.
"Do you think it was the clothes?"
"The clothes helped."
"So it was the clothes."
"No."
"That's contradictory."
Sarak shook her head.
"They made you comfortable."
"I was comfortable before."
"Physically?"
Elyra considered.
"More comfortable."
"You smiled more."
"I smile."
"I know."
"Frequently."
"Of course."
Elyra recognized diplomacy when she heard it.
"Sarak."
"You looked approachable."
That stopped her.
Not younger.
Not prettier.
Approachable.
Elyra thought about the man from the Alliance office.
He had always been friendly.
Perhaps she had always been the one ending the conversation.
Not deliberately.
She simply tended to communicate efficiently.
She was a navigator.
Efficiency mattered.
But conversations weren't navigation calculations.
Not everything required the shortest path between two points.
"You talk to everyone," Elyra said.
"No, I don't."
"Almost everyone."
"That's Senari."
"You're not far behind."
Sarak laughed.
Elyra continued.
"People talk to you because you let them."
"I suppose."
"Maybe I haven't."
Sarak thought for a moment.
"Maybe."
Elyra appreciated the answer.
Over the next several weeks, living with Sarak began changing Elyra in ways that had nothing to do with clothing.
The changes were small.
That was probably why Elyra didn't notice them immediately.
Sarak talked to people.
More accurately, people talked to Sarak.
A neighbor would stop them outside the house and mention something that had happened that morning. Sarak listened.
Someone at the harbor would ask a simple question and somehow remain for ten minutes.
Sarak listened.
A server at a restaurant mentioned that her son had started a new job.
The next time they visited, Sarak remembered to ask how he was doing.
Elyra began doing the same.
At first she was simply standing beside Sarak while these conversations occurred.
Then she started participating.
Then, occasionally, she started them.
One afternoon she and Sarak returned home carrying food from the harbor.
Their neighbor was outside working on something near his house.
Elyra called across the street.
"Did your daughter hear about the position?"
The man looked up.
"She got it!"
Elyra smiled.
"Good."
They talked for several minutes.
Inside the house, Sarak put the food down.
Elyra noticed her expression.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Sarak."
"You remembered."
"Of course I remembered."
Sarak smiled.
Elyra understood.
"Oh."
"Altrenian influence," Sarak said.
Elyra shook her head.
"You're insufferable."
"Scientist."
"Counselor."
"I am not a counselor."
"Of course not."
Eventually duty called Elyra back aboard the AS Alliance.
Her first watch was completely normal.
Uniform.
Headband.
Navigation station.
Senior Navigator Fenek.
She reviewed course information, corrected a discrepancy in a reference solution, approved a route adjustment and completed her work exactly as she always had.
Nothing about Tulan had changed her professionalism.
She didn't want it to.
When her watch ended, she returned to her quarters.
Normally she would have changed into one of her dark civilian outfits.
Instead, she opened the bag from Tulan.
The white blouse was there.
So were the pale blue trousers.
Elyra hesitated.
Then she smiled.
"Why not?"
Twenty minutes later, she entered one of the Alliance's common areas.
Conversation did not stop.
That would have been ridiculous.
But people noticed.
One crewmate looked twice.
"Elyra?"
"Yes?"
"New clothes?"
"Tulan."
"They look comfortable."
"They are."
Another crewmember joined them.
Then another.
Elyra sat.
That alone was unusual.
Normally she stopped in the common area, spoke to whoever she needed to speak with, and continued elsewhere.
Tonight she stayed.
Someone asked about Tulan.
Elyra answered.
Someone asked about Sarak.
She explained the house.
Someone had heard about the Altrenian Braids.
Elyra laughed.
Then someone told a story.
Elyra listened.
Another followed.
Eventually she told one of her own.
Nearly an hour passed.
A navigation officer entered the room and stopped.
"Senior Navigator."
Elyra looked at him.
"I'm off duty."
He smiled.
"So I see."
He looked at her clothing.
"You know, Fenek, I don't think I've ever seen you dressed like that aboard ship."
Elyra leaned back.
"I'm off duty."
"You've been off duty before."
The words were lighthearted.
But they stayed with her.
Elyra looked around the room.
People she had worked beside for years were sitting with her.
Not Senior Navigator Fenek.
Elyra.
She considered the man's observation.
Then smiled.
"Apparently I wasn't very good at it."
The room laughed.
So did Elyra.
The clothing became a habit.
Not the same outfit.
Elyra had acquired several.
She also rediscovered clothes she already owned but had rarely worn aboard ship.
Her long hair came down more often.
She spent more time in common areas.
She lingered after meals.
People began stopping at her table.
The change became noticeable enough that one of the younger crew members finally said something.
"I didn't know you were funny."
Elyra looked at him.
"You thought I wasn't?"
"I didn't say that."
"You looked frightened when you said it."
The people around the table laughed.
The young man tried to recover.
"I mean, I've never heard you tell stories before."
"You've never asked."
He considered that.
"That's fair."
Elyra considered it too.
Perhaps he had never asked.
Perhaps she had never given him an opportunity.
One evening Elyra found herself in the common area talking with several members of the crew.
The conversation had nothing to do with navigation.
Nothing to do with duty.
Nothing to do with the Alliance at all.
Someone mentioned a restaurant on another world.
Elyra countered with one at Tulan Harbor.
A man sitting across from her smiled.
"You really like Tulan."
"I do."
"Is that home now?"
The question caught her by surprise.
A few months earlier she would have needed to think about it.
Now she didn't.
"Yes."
The answer came easily.
"Tulan is home."
Later that evening, Elyra contacted Sarak.
Sarak answered from their house.
"How's the Alliance?"
"Good."
"Official answer?"
"Very good."
Sarak noticed Elyra's clothes.
"You're wearing the blue-green blouse."
"Yes."
"On the ship?"
"I'm off duty."
Sarak smiled.
Elyra pointed toward the display.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself."
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to."
"How did it go?"
Elyra sat back.
"Apparently people aboard the Alliance know how to talk."
Sarak laughed.
"I suspected they might."
"I've been spending more time with them."
"Good."
"They're interesting."
"That's usually why I talk to people."
Elyra smiled.
"Sarak?"
"Yes?"
"I think you were right."
"About what?"
"The clothes weren't really the important part."
"No."
"But they helped."
"They did."
Elyra touched the fabric of the blouse.
"They remind me I'm not working."
Sarak nodded.
Elyra continued.
"But I think something else happened."
"What?"
Elyra thought about it.
"I've spent so much of my life being Senior Navigator Fenek that I didn't notice how often I was still being her when I wasn't on duty."
Sarak listened.
"Then I moved in with someone who talks to everyone."
"I don't talk to everyone."
"Close enough."
Sarak smiled.
Elyra continued.
"And Senari talks to the rest."
"That's probably true."
"And Shara attacked my wardrobe."
"Also true."
Elyra laughed.
"I suppose I discovered there was another Elyra Fenek."
Sarak shook her head.
"No."
Elyra looked at her.
"No?"
"Same Elyra."
Sarak smiled.
"She just finally went off duty."
Elyra sat quietly for a moment.
Then she smiled.
"I like that better."
The next time Elyra returned to Tulan, Sarak was waiting at the house.
Elyra entered carrying her travel bag.
Sarak looked her over.
"You wore that on the trip?"
Elyra looked down at her lightweight blouse and trousers.
"Yes."
"From the Alliance?"
"Yes."
Sarak smiled.
Elyra touched her loose hair.
"If Shara sees me, she'll think she won."
"Elyra."
"What?"
"She won."
Elyra tried to look offended.
She couldn't maintain it.
"Fine."
Sarak laughed.
"Are you hungry?"
"Very."
"Starg?"
"Tulan Harbor?"
"Obviously."
Elyra put her travel bag inside.
Sarak looked surprised.
"You're not changing?"
Elyra stopped.
She looked down at herself.
For years, arriving somewhere had meant changing from one appropriate form of clothing into another.
Uniform.
Travel clothing.
Civilian clothing.
Formal clothing.
Every situation seemed to have an Elyra Fenek appropriate to it.
She looked toward the warm Tulan evening outside.
"No."
She smiled.
"I'm already dressed."
They left together.
At the harbor, Senari joined them.
Then Shara appeared.
Shara saw Elyra from across the terrace and stopped.
Elyra knew immediately what was coming.
Shara walked over.
She looked at the blouse.
The trousers.
The sandals.
Then the long loose hair.
Shara folded her arms.
Elyra pointed at her.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"That's an Altrenian trick. You're not Altrenian."
Senari laughed.
Shara sat beside her.
"I was only going to say you look good."
"Thank you."
"And your hair—"
"Shara."
"All right."
They ordered dinner.
Conversation moved easily around the table.
Someone Senari knew stopped by.
Then someone Sarak knew.
A man Elyra had met during her first weeks in Tulan saw her and came over to say hello.
This time Elyra invited him to sit.
Another chair appeared.
Then another.
Elyra looked around the growing table.
A few months earlier she might have found the whole thing exhausting.
Now she found herself enjoying it.
Senari caught her eye.
"What?"
Elyra smiled.
"Nothing."
Senari laughed.
"Now you're doing it."
"Altrenian influence."
Sarak raised her drink.
"I accept responsibility."
Much later, Elyra walked home beside Sarak.
The harbor lights reflected from the water behind them.
Her hair moved in the warm breeze.
She didn't reach for a headband.
She didn't need one.
For most of her adult life, Elyra Fenek had been exceptionally good at knowing where she was going.
It was, after all, her profession.
She had spent decades plotting courses from one destination to another.
Tulan had taught her something navigation never had.
Sometimes a person could arrive somewhere without realizing that the journey wasn't finished.
Sometimes a new house became a home.
A roommate became a friend.
New clothes became permission to relax.
And people who had known Senior Navigator Fenek for years could suddenly discover Elyra.
Not another Elyra Fenek.
Not a younger Elyra.
Not a new Elyra.
Just the same woman who had always been there—
finally off duty.
6. Three Lilns on Sonora Street
Three Lilns on Sonora Street
Joronna stopped in the doorway.
Terev had been sitting near an open window, one leg folded beneath her, holding something Joronna had never seen before. It was long and slender, with tone holes beneath Terev's fingers. A moment earlier it had been producing a warm, clear melody that seemed somehow appropriate for the breeze coming through the window.
Now it was silent.
Terev looked up.
"Something wrong?"
"What is that?"
Terev glanced at the instrument in her hands.
"A Liln."
Joronna waited.
Terev waited too.
Finally Joronna said, "What's a Liln?"
"You've never heard one?"
"No."
"Never?"
Joronna folded her arms. "I've only been alive so long, Terev. There are still a few things I haven't gotten around to."
Terev laughed.
"Fair enough."
She raised the Liln again.
"Listen."
Joronna did.
This time she paid closer attention. Terev's fingers moved over the holes while she blew across the instrument. The melody climbed, dropped, lingered on one note and then resolved into another.
Joronna tilted her head.
"Do that again."
Terev did.
"The interval between those two notes—"
"No."
Joronna looked at her.
"No?"
"If you start analyzing it before you've even heard your first complete Liln tune, I'm putting it away."
"I was listening."
"You were measuring."
"I can do both."
"I know."
Terev started again.
This time Joronna resisted the temptation to ask questions.
That was difficult.
She could hear relationships among the notes. Some were close together, others farther apart. Certain combinations seemed to want to settle into one another. Her mind immediately began constructing explanations for what her ears were telling her.
But beneath all of that was a much simpler realization.
She liked it.
When Terev finished, Joronna smiled.
"Again."
Terev lowered the Liln.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if you like one Liln, you need to hear more than one."
"There are more?"
Terev stared at her.
Joronna smiled. "That was a joke."
"I'm never quite sure with you."
Terev stood.
"Come on."
"Where are we going?"
"Down the street."
"Why?"
"There's someone you should meet."
Joronna had not yet learned all the relationships of Sonora Street.
She knew Brennen's house because she was living there with Brennen and Terev. She knew a few of the neighboring houses and had learned enough names to greet people when she encountered them.
But she was still new.
Sonora Street seemed to contain an unusually high number of people who already knew one another, were related to one another, had worked with one another, had traveled together, or had somehow saved one another's lives.
Occasionally all four.
Terev led her to another house and walked toward the side yard.
A woman was sitting outside with another Liln.
Joronna recognized the instrument now.
That pleased her.
She had known what a Liln was for almost ten minutes.
The woman playing it was another matter.
She had long hair, and she was dressed in purple—very purple. Joronna had already noticed that Prosian clothing could be considerably more colorful than the practical outfit Brennen had originally made for her, but this woman appeared to have made a personal commitment to the color.
She stopped playing when she saw Terev.
"Hi."
"Shara, this is Joronna."
The woman's attention shifted immediately.
"Joronna Gillings?"
"Yes."
"Terev's told me about you."
Joronna glanced at Terev.
"Good things?"
"Mostly."
"Terev."
"I said mostly good things."
Shara laughed and set the Liln across her lap.
Joronna looked at her.
There was something about Shara that caught her attention beyond the hair, the purple clothing and the musical instrument.
She knew what Shara was.
Or at least she thought she did.
Shara noticed the examination.
"You're staring at me."
"A little."
"The hair?"
"No."
Shara's eyebrows rose.
"That's unusual."
Joronna hesitated only briefly.
"You're pseudorganic."
"Yes."
Shara studied her in return.
"And you're Arzneet."
Joronna blinked.
"How did you know?"
"Terev told me."
"Oh."
Shara grinned.
"Much less impressive that way."
Joronna laughed.
She had met artificial intelligences. She knew Joron, who was Arzneet like herself, and Arzana was Arzneet as well. She understood something of her own nature.
Shara was different.
Pseudorganic.
Joronna wanted to ask at least twenty questions.
Possibly fifty.
Then she noticed the Liln again.
"What were you playing?"
Shara looked pleased.
"Now that's a good question."
She picked it up.
Before she could play, however, she turned toward the house.
"Kassy! Come out here!"
Joronna looked toward the doorway.
"Kassy?"
A woman appeared a few moments later.
"Kasenna," she said. "Kasenna Drex."
Shara added, "Doctor Kassy."
Kasenna gave her a look.
"You don't have to call me that every time."
"I know, Doctor Kassy."
"That's why she does it."
Joronna looked from one to the other.
"Kassy is short for Kasenna?"
"According to Shara."
"I'm trying it out," Shara said.
Kasenna shook her head. "She's trying to make it catch on."
"It's working."
"With you."
Terev held up her Liln.
"Joronna had never heard one of these before."
Kassy looked at Joronna.
"Never?"
Joronna sighed.
"Why does everyone react that way?"
Shara was already getting to her feet.
"Wait here."
She disappeared into the house and returned carrying another Liln.
She handed it to Kassy.
Joronna looked at the three women.
"You all play?"
"Yes," Terev said.
Shara settled back into her chair.
"Now you get to hear what three of them sound like."
"What are you going to play?"
Shara named a familiar Prosian tune.
It wasn't familiar to Joronna.
That was becoming another familiar experience.
Terev nodded. Kassy found her starting note. Shara counted them in.
Three Lilns began to play.
Joronna forgot her questions.
Shara carried the melody at first. Terev moved beneath it, sometimes following, sometimes separating into harmony. Kassy entered around them, and the three instruments became something quite different from the Liln Joronna had heard alone.
She could hear thirds.
Fifths.
She could hear the places where the tuning made the voices of the instruments settle together with almost startling cleanliness.
But she also heard something that couldn't be reduced to frequency relationships.
Three people were making one piece of music.
When they reached the end, Joronna remained quiet.
Shara smiled.
"Well?"
"Again."
Kassy laughed.
"I think she likes it."
"I want to know how it works."
Shara groaned.
Terev pointed at Joronna.
"I warned you."
"What?"
"She tried to turn my first tune into a physics problem."
"It isn't a physics problem."
Joronna looked at Shara's Liln.
"It's an acoustics problem."
Kassy laughed.
Shara held the instrument out.
"Here."
Joronna stared at it.
"What?"
"Take it."
Joronna accepted the Liln carefully.
It was lighter than she expected.
She examined the tone holes.
"How are these spaced?"
"Joronna."
She looked at Terev.
"Yes?"
"Play it first."
"I don't know how."
Shara smiled.
"That's generally why people learn."
She showed Joronna how to hold it and positioned her fingers.
"Now blow."
Joronna did.
The sound that came out of the Liln bore little resemblance to anything Terev, Shara or Kassy had produced.
Shara pulled her head back.
Joronna stopped.
"Was that a note?"
"Technically," Terev said.
Kassy shook her head. "Don't encourage her."
Shara took the Liln.
"Less air. You're playing it, not trying to clear the plumbing."
She demonstrated.
Joronna tried again.
The second sound was recognizably musical.
"Better," Shara said.
Again.
Better still.
Joronna adjusted her fingers.
"What happens if I—"
A squeak interrupted her question.
Kassy laughed.
"That."
"I noticed."
Within several minutes Joronna could produce a reasonably stable tone.
Then Shara showed her another.
And another.
Joronna's first scale was slow and uneven.
Her second was better.
By the fourth, Terev was watching her closely.
"You're learning that rather quickly."
Joronna lowered the Liln.
"Is that bad?"
"No."
"Then why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because you've known what a Liln is for less than an hour."
Joronna considered this.
"I've known what fingers are considerably longer."
Shara laughed so hard she had to put her own Liln down.
The afternoon grew warmer.
Joronna was concentrating on a short melodic phrase when Shara stopped her.
"You're hot."
Joronna looked up.
"A little."
"A little? You're cooking in that."
Joronna looked down at herself.
She was still wearing the clothing Brennen had made for her. The artificial material was durable, easy to clean and practical.
It was also becoming increasingly uncomfortable in the warm Tulan afternoon.
"Brennen made it for me."
"Brennen makes laboratories."
"And people."
Shara stopped.
"All right. He does that too."
Terev smiled.
"But," Shara continued, "he doesn't dress people for Tulan."
"Brennen dresses himself."
"That's not helping his case."
Terev wisely said nothing.
Shara stood.
"Come inside."
"Why?"
"Because you're going to change."
Joronna looked at Terev.
Terev merely shrugged.
"You're on your own."
Inside, Shara opened a wardrobe.
Joronna stared.
Purple.
There was dark purple, pale purple, reddish purple, blue-purple, purple with patterns and purple with embroidery.
Joronna looked farther into the wardrobe.
There was more purple.
"Do you have anything that isn't purple?"
Shara looked into her own wardrobe as though she had never considered the question.
"Probably."
She moved several garments aside.
More purple.
"Somewhere."
"Do you like purple?"
"Yes."
"I figured that out."
Shara finally selected a lightweight Sarkrenian outfit.
It was purple.
Joronna touched the fabric.
"This is Sarkrenian?"
"Yes."
"I've never worn Sarkrenian clothes."
"You'd never heard a Liln either."
Joronna looked at her.
"Is everything today going to be something I've never done?"
Shara smiled.
"If we're lucky."
When they returned outside, Kassy looked up.
Then she looked at Joronna.
Then at Shara.
"Purple?"
"It was what was available," Joronna said.
"That's what looked good," Shara corrected.
Kassy looked at Shara.
"Was anything else available?"
Shara paused.
"That's not important."
The Sarkrenian clothing was dramatically cooler. Joronna sat down again and picked up the Liln.
Shara settled beside her.
For a while the two of them worked through the simple melody.
Joronna missed a note.
Shara corrected her.
Joronna played it again.
Correctly.
From where she was sitting, Kassy studied the two women.
Both were wearing Sarkrenian clothes.
Both were predominantly purple.
Both were holding Lilns.
Then Shara looked at Kassy.
"No."
Shara blinked.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
"You don't know what I was going to say."
Kassy pointed first at Shara and then at Joronna.
"No."
Joronna lowered her Liln.
"What is happening?"
Shara smiled.
"Doctor Kassy doesn't want to join the band."
"I'm already in the band."
"Not properly dressed."
"There is no properly dressed. We're sitting outside your house."
"Exactly."
Kassy turned toward Terev.
"Help me."
Terev raised both hands.
"I'm staying out of this."
Shara's eyes moved to Terev.
Terev immediately realized her mistake.
"No."
Shara smiled.
"You've already worn Sarkrenian clothes."
"Don't involve me."
"Purple looks good on you."
Terev stared at her.
"I know. I've already been purple."
Joronna stopped.
"You've been purple?"
There was silence.
Terev sighed.
"That's a longer story."
Joronna looked at Shara.
Shara was trying very hard not to laugh.
"I want to hear that story."
"Later," Terev said.
Shara pointed toward her house.
"I still have—"
"No."
"But—"
"No."
Terev stood.
"Fine."
Shara brightened.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"I have plenty you can borrow."
"I know."
Terev started toward Sonora Street.
"That's why I'm going home."
By the time Terev returned, Joronna had learned most of the simple tune.
Terev was wearing Sarkrenian clothing.
It was blue.
Shara stared at her.
"Blue?"
"Yes."
"We're mostly wearing purple."
"I noticed."
Terev sat down and reached for her Liln.
"You wanted Sarkrenian. You got Sarkrenian."
Shara considered this.
"It does look good on you."
"Thank you."
"I still have a purple—"
"Shara."
"Playing now."
Joronna looked at Terev's blue clothing and then down at her borrowed purple outfit.
"Maybe I can get a green outfit."
Shara turned toward her.
"Green?"
"I think I like green."
"Why?"
Joronna looked beyond the yard. Trees moved gently in the warm breeze, their leaves bright in the afternoon light. Grass covered the spaces between the houses.
"It goes well with the grass and trees."
Kassy smiled.
"That's actually a pretty good reason."
Shara nodded.
"Later on I'll show you the holostore."
Joronna turned back.
"What's a holostore?"
Kassy answered before anyone else could.
"Shara's favorite place."
Terev laughed.
Kassy joined her.
Even Shara started laughing.
Joronna looked from one woman to another.
"I feel like there's something I'm missing."
"There is," Terev said.
Shara picked up her Liln.
"Don't worry. We'll fix that."
Kassy pointed toward Shara.
"Doctor's warning: never tell Shara you need clothes."
"Doctor Kassy," Shara corrected.
"Don't start."
Joronna smiled.
"I think I'm learning several things today."
"You haven't seen anything yet," Terev said.
Kassy resisted for another half hour.
Shara didn't actually ask again.
She didn't need to.
Occasionally she merely looked at Kassy.
Eventually Kassy put down her Liln.
"Fine."
Shara smiled.
"I didn't say anything."
"That's worse."
Kassy went inside.
When she returned wearing another of Shara's Sarkrenian outfits, Shara stopped playing.
Kassy pointed at her.
"Not one word."
Shara's smile grew.
"Doctor Kassy—"
"Not. One. Word."
Joronna looked at Kassy's clothes, then her own, then Shara's.
"Does this improve the music?"
"No," Terev said.
"It improves the band," Shara said.
"That's not how acoustics work."
"You'll learn."
By then they had attracted an audience.
It had happened without anyone deciding there should be one.
A neighbor had stopped while walking past.
Someone else came out onto a porch.
A couple of chairs appeared.
Then more chairs.
Someone brought drinks.
A child sat in the grass.
Joronna wasn't sure exactly when four women practicing music had turned into a neighborhood gathering.
Perhaps nobody else knew either.
Then Brennen appeared.
He was still holding a small tool in one hand.
He looked at the people.
Then at Shara.
Then at Kassy.
Then at Terev in blue Sarkrenian clothing.
Finally he looked at Joronna, dressed in purple and holding a Liln.
"Is that Joronna?"
Terev nodded.
"Yes."
Brennen stared.
"She didn't play a Liln this morning."
"She does now."
Brennen looked at Joronna.
"How long have you been doing this?"
Joronna checked the time.
"About two hours."
Brennen nodded slowly.
"Of course."
He found an empty chair.
Joronna was not ready to play everything the others knew.
She didn't need to be.
Shara gave her the melody.
Kassy took a second part. Terev found a harmony beneath them.
Then Shara added another voice around Joronna's simple line.
"Ready?" Shara asked.
"No."
Shara smiled.
"Good enough."
They began.
Joronna missed the third note.
She recovered.
Several measures later she came in early.
Kassy adjusted around her.
The next phrase was right.
Then another.
Joronna stopped thinking about where every finger belonged.
For several seconds, she simply played.
Four Lilns sounded across Sonora Street.
The instruments separated and joined, sometimes carrying different lines, sometimes meeting on the same harmony.
Joronna heard the mathematical relationships.
Of course she did.
She heard the frequencies and intervals, the clean fifths and the way the notes interacted.
But now she understood what Terev had meant earlier.
There was a difference between measuring music and playing it.
When the tune ended, the little collection of neighbors applauded.
Joronna looked startled.
Shara leaned toward her.
"They're applauding you."
"Why?"
"Because you played."
"I made several mistakes."
"So?"
Joronna thought about that.
"So we play another?"
Shara grinned.
"Now you're getting it."
The sun was lower by the time people began carrying chairs back home.
Kassy had stopped objecting to the Sarkrenian outfit.
Terev remained defiantly blue.
Shara was still purple.
Joronna was still wearing borrowed purple but had already decided that when Shara showed her this mysterious holostore, she was going to look for green.
Definitely green.
She handed the Liln back to Shara.
Shara didn't take it.
"Keep it."
Joronna looked down at the instrument.
"Keep it?"
"Borrow it."
"For how long?"
"Until you get one."
Joronna smiled.
"All right."
Terev and Joronna started back toward Brennen's house together.
After several steps, Shara called after them.
"Joronna!"
She turned.
"Tomorrow?"
Joronna held up the Liln.
"Tomorrow."
They continued up the street.
Terev glanced at the instrument in Joronna's hand.
"You'd never heard a Liln before this afternoon."
"I know."
"Now you're taking one home."
"I'm borrowing it."
"Until you get one."
"Yes."
Terev smiled.
"You've had a busy afternoon."
Joronna looked back.
Shara and Kassy were still outside together. Shara said something that made Kassy laugh. Brennen was talking to one of the neighbors. A few chairs still remained scattered through the yard.
The street was settling down again.
Joronna looked at the Liln in her hand, then at the trees lining Sonora Street.
Green really was a good color.
"I think I like Sonora Street."
Terev smiled.
"I thought you might."
7. Dinner at Tulan Harbor
Senari Kulan had learned that there were certain disadvantages to being well known in Tulan.
One of them was that nobody believed her when she said she was having a quiet dinner.
“Two today,” she told the host.
The host looked past her.
Senari looked over her shoulder too.
There was nobody there except Sarak Pevden.
“Yes,” Senari said. “Two.”
“For now?”
Sarak laughed.
Senari gave the host a patient look. “For the entire meal.”
“Of course.”
He led them toward a table overlooking Tulan Harbor.
As they passed the restaurant’s large round table, Senari noticed that it had not been seated.
“You believe me,” she said.
“Of course.”
“You haven’t seated anyone at the round table.”
“We haven’t needed it yet.”
Senari stopped.
The host stopped too.
“You don’t believe me.”
“We’ve met you.”
Sarak laughed again.
“I’m beginning to understand why you like this place.”
“I like this place because the starg is good.”
“Of course.”
They were seated near the open side of the restaurant, where a pleasant breeze came in from the harbor. Beyond the railing, boats moved between the docks. Farther out, a larger vessel was slowly making its way toward the port.
A server brought two glasses of terget and a basket of warm proshae.
“Starg?” he asked.
Senari looked at Sarak.
Sarak nodded.
“Two starg.”
“Your usual preparation?”
“Yes.”
The server wrote nothing down.
Sarak watched him leave.
“You really do come here too often.”
“I prefer to think of it as supporting the local economy.”
They had barely torn the first piece of proshae when Senari looked toward the entrance.
“Oh.”
Sarak followed her gaze.
Elyra Fenek had entered the restaurant alone.
Senari raised a hand.
“Elyra!”
Elyra saw them.
There was the slightest hesitation—the sort of hesitation that belonged to the Senior Navigator of the AS Alliance, a woman accustomed to knowing exactly where she intended to go.
Then she smiled and came over.
“I thought you two were having dinner.”
“We are,” Senari said.
“I can see that.”
Sarak pulled out the empty chair.
“Join us.”
Elyra looked at Senari.
“Did you invite me?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She sat.
Senari frowned. “Why is that good?”
“Because if you had invited me, this would have been planned.”
The server returned carrying a third glass of terget.
Senari looked at him.
“You were waiting for this.”
“No.”
“You brought three glasses.”
He placed the third in front of Elyra.
“I saw her sit down.”
“That’s what you’re claiming.”
Elyra took the glass.
“I believe him.”
“You would.”
“I’m a navigator. I respect people who pay attention.”
The server smiled. “Starg?”
Elyra considered it.
“Yes.”
“Three starg,” Senari said.
“For now,” said the server.
Senari pointed at him as he walked away.
“He did that deliberately.”
Sarak tore another piece of proshae. “You make it too easy.”
They had reached the point where Senari was explaining that a quiet dinner involving three people was still reasonably quiet when Sarak looked toward the harbor walkway.
“Druna.”
Druna Seelan was walking past the restaurant.
Senari waved.
Druna stopped, saw them, and smiled.
A moment later she was standing beside the table.
“I was going home.”
“So was Elyra,” Senari said.
“I never said that,” Elyra replied.
“You were alone.”
“That does not mean I was going home.”
Druna laughed.
Senari pointed to the remaining chair.
“Sit.”
Druna looked at the table.
“There are only four chairs.”
“There are four of us.”
“There will not be four of us for long.”
Senari stared at her.
“Why does everyone think that?”
Druna sat.
Before anyone could summon him, the server appeared.
“Selek?”
Druna smiled. “Yes.”
Joronna would later learn that this was apparently all Druna needed to say.
“And,” Druna added, “bring us a large Shaluk with Freenek sauce.”
“For you?”
Druna looked around the table.
“For everyone.”
Senari nodded approvingly.
“A large one.”
Druna reconsidered.
“A very large one.”
The server glanced at Senari.
Senari sighed.
“Don't say it.”
He left.
Elyra watched a vessel moving through the harbor.
“I’m beginning to understand why Sarak likes living here.”
“The restaurants?” Sarak asked.
“No. Nobody seems capable of remaining a stranger for very long.”
Senari smiled. “You say that as though it’s a problem.”
“I didn’t.”
That was when Shara Rin arrived.
She was walking along the harbor with Kassy and Joronna.
Joronna was dressed in green.
Shara had kept her promise about taking Joronna to the holostore, and Joronna had discovered that choosing a color was considerably more complicated when presented with several hundred variations of it. She had eventually selected a comfortable Tulan outfit in a leafy green that she liked very much.
Shara had suggested purple.
Joronna had declined.
Shara had recovered.
“Kassy!” Senari called.
Kasenna Drex turned.
Shara grinned.
Kassy looked at her.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was just going to tell you that Senari called you Kassy.”
Kassy looked back at Senari.
Senari smiled innocently.
The nickname was escaping.
Shara seemed extremely pleased about this.
Joronna looked toward the table.
“There aren’t enough chairs.”
The server, who had apparently been watching all of this, stepped between them.
“No.”
Senari looked at him. “No?”
“You’re moving.”
“Where?”
He pointed.
The large round table was waiting.
Sarak began laughing.
“You were saving it.”
“We were prepared.”
Senari stood.
“I told you there would only be two of us.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t believe me.”
“I believed that you believed it.”
Even Elyra laughed at that.
Within minutes, drinks, proshae, utensils and half-finished conversations had migrated to the round table.
Senari and Sarak’s quiet dinner for two now contained seven people.
Joronna looked around.
“Does this happen often?”
“Yes,” Sarak said.
“No,” Senari said at exactly the same time.
Joronna looked from one Altrenian to the other.
Sarak took a drink.
“Yes.”
The first plates of starg arrived, followed by Druna’s Selek.
Joronna stared at it.
“It’s alive.”
Druna looked down at her meal.
“Yes.”
“It’s moving.”
“Yes.”
Joronna waited.
Druna finally looked up.
“That is usually how we know it’s fresh.”
Shara leaned across the table.
“Oh! It moved!”
Kassy caught the back of Shara’s sleeve.
“Stay on your side of the table.”
“I just want to see it.”
“You want to eat it.”
Shara considered the accusation.
“Eventually.”
The server looked at her.
“Would you like one?”
Kassy stared at him.
“You’re encouraging her.”
“She’s one of our best customers.”
Shara pointed at him. “See?”
“That does not help your case.”
Elyra watched the Selek make another small movement.
“Druna, your dinner appears to be leaving.”
Druna calmly adjusted the dish.
“It won’t get far.”
Shara laughed.
The server turned to her.
“What are we trying today?”
“Surprise me.”
“Anything you don’t want?”
“Something I’ve already had.”
He nodded as though this were a perfectly ordinary request.
Joronna watched him leave.
“He knows what she means?”
Kassy said, “Unfortunately.”
“I like this restaurant,” Shara said.
“You like any restaurant willing to experiment on you.”
Shara looked offended.
“They are not experimenting on me.”
Kassy raised an eyebrow.
Shara thought about it.
“All right. Sometimes.”
Druna’s Shaluk arrived next.
It came on a large serving platter placed in the center of the round table, accompanied by a generous bowl of Freenek sauce.
Joronna leaned forward.
“What is Shaluk?”
Druna picked up the serving utensil.
“Try it.”
Joronna looked around the table.
“Nobody will tell me what anything is before I eat it today.”
Shara nodded approvingly.
“You’re learning.”
Druna served her a portion.
Joronna tried it.
Her expression changed immediately.
“Oh.”
Druna smiled.
Joronna tried the Freenek sauce.
“Oh.”
Shara reached for the sauce.
“Exactly.”
Even Elyra, who had already had Shaluk several times, took another portion.
Joronna noticed.
“Everyone has done everything except me.”
Elyra laughed.
“Give yourself time. I’m fifty-five. I’ve had a substantial head start.”
The server returned carrying Shara’s surprise.
He set the plate in front of her.
Shara examined it with obvious interest.
“Ezum tenzua?”
“Kali akna k’ali.”
Shara smiled.
“Frog legs, sweet and sour.”
Joronna repeated, “Kali akna k’ali.”
“Sweet and sour together,” Shara said.
Joronna tried one after Shara offered it across the table.
She chewed thoughtfully.
“I like that too.”
Kassy shook her head.
“At this rate, she’s going to try the Selek.”
Joronna glanced at Druna’s still-moving dinner.
“Not at this rate.”
Elyra nodded.
“I’m not ready for Selek yet.”
Shara froze.
Then she slowly turned toward her.
“Oh!”
Elyra immediately knew she had made a mistake.
“You said yet.”
“I know what I said.”
“That means you might eventually try it.”
“It means I’m not ready for it now.”
“Which leaves later.”
“Technically.”
Shara smiled.
“Don’t make plans,” Elyra warned.
Sarak looked at Shara.
“You’re making plans.”
“I’m considering possibilities.”
Druna gestured toward her dish.
“When you’re ready, I’ll show you how to eat it.”
Elyra looked at the Selek, then at the faces around the table.
“I’d tell you what I had to eat for survival training, but it might ruin our meal.”
Silence.
Even Shara stopped eating.
Joronna leaned forward.
“Was it alive?”
Elyra took another bite of Shaluk.
“I’ll tell you all about it an hour after the meal is over.”
Shara stared.
“An hour?”
“Yes.”
“Why an hour?”
Elyra calmly dipped another piece of Shaluk into the Freenek sauce.
“You’ll appreciate the delay.”
Terev’s laugh came from behind them.
Everyone turned.
Terev was standing beside the table.
Senari brightened.
“Terev!”
The server was already carrying another chair.
Terev looked at him.
“I haven’t said I’m staying.”
“You will.”
“I might not.”
Then Terev saw the platter in the middle of the table.
“Is that Shaluk?”
“With Freenek sauce,” Druna said. “I bought it for everyone.”
Terev sat.
“Now I’m staying.”
The server placed the chair beneath her almost as she sat down.
Joronna pointed at Terev.
“Have you had this too?”
Druna answered for her.
“She is one of the reasons you can have it here.”
Joronna looked surprised.
Terev shrugged.
“I just thought Prose needed Freenek sauce.”
Shara passed the bowl toward her.
“You were right.”
Eight people now surrounded the table.
Senari looked at Sarak.
“Two.”
Sarak nodded.
“Very quiet.”
More proshae arrived without anyone ordering it.
The conversation divided into smaller conversations, crossed over one another, disappeared and reappeared.
At one point Joronna asked Druna about Sarkrenian food. That led Terev to mention something she had recently heard from the Prosian Council.
“They’re getting close on the cantaloupe injection.”
Druna looked interested.
“How close?”
“About three months, if nothing delays the approval.”
Senari looked up from her starg.
“Then Sarkrenian cantaloupe could finally be served here?”
“Legally, yes.”
Shara immediately became interested.
“Here?”
Terev nodded.
“Restaurants too.”
Kassy looked at Shara.
“That expression worries me.”
“I like cantaloupe.”
“This is not ordinary cantaloupe.”
“I know.”
Druna smiled. “You’ll like it.”
Terev added, “There are varieties that won’t even give you the slight green cast.”
Shara stopped.
She looked at Terev.
Then at Druna.
Then at Joronna, who was already dressed almost entirely in green.
“What’s wrong with green?”
“Nothing,” Joronna said. “I like green.”
“I remember.”
“That’s not why I’m looking at you.”
Shara's skin was changing.
It wasn't dramatic. At first Joronna thought it was a trick of the harbor light.
Then the faint green cast became unmistakable.
Joronna stared.
“How did you do that?”
Shara smiled.
“I’m pseudorganic.”
“I know what you are. That’s not the same thing.”
Sarak laughed.
“She’s got you there.”
Joronna leaned closer, fascinated.
“Can you control the color everywhere? Can you make patterns? Is it pigment redistribution or—”
Terev interrupted gently.
“Joronna.”
“Yes?”
“Shara is a person, not a laboratory project.”
Joronna immediately sat back.
“Sorry.”
Shara waved it away.
“It’s all right. I like this one.”
Joronna looked at her again.
“Can you make patterns?”
“Some.”
“Different colors simultaneously?”
“Joronna.”
“I’m only asking.”
Shara laughed.
Elyra studied her for a moment.
“Can you do that while you’re playing the Liln?”
Kassy looked at her.
“Don’t encourage her.”
Elyra took a drink of terget.
“I’m a navigator. I like knowing the capabilities of everything traveling with me.”
Shara pointed at Elyra.
“See? She understands.”
“I didn’t say it was a good idea.”
Druna, naturally green, looked from Shara to Joronna.
“I wasn’t aware green required defending.”
“Neither was I,” Joronna said.
Shara raised her glass.
“See? We’re all agreed.”
Kassy looked at Joronna's green clothing, Druna's skin and Shara's increasingly green complexion.
“There is an unusual amount of green at this end of the table.”
Druna looked at Joronna.
“She has good taste.”
Joronna smiled.
“Thank you.”
Shara held out her hand.
“What about me?”
Druna examined it critically.
“Temporary.”
“Still green.”
“I’ll allow it.”
Eventually Shara decided she had demonstrated her point.
“All right. I’m changing back.”
Joronna watched.
Nothing happened.
She continued watching.
Shara took another bite of frog leg.
Joronna waited.
“Well?”
“Give me a while.”
“You can’t just change back?”
“I am changing back. It takes time.”
Kassy shook her head.
“So you made yourself green to win an argument you weren’t actually having.”
“Yes.”
Druna nodded.
“There are worse things.”
Joronna continued looking at Shara.
“You really can't make it happen faster?”
“Eat your Shaluk.”
The meal might have continued indefinitely if Kassy had not eventually set down her glass and tapped one finger against it.
“I have some news.”
That drew the conversations back together.
Shara looked at her.
“Good news?”
“I think so.” Kassy smiled. “I have a job offer with Doctor Drex.”
Joronna frowned.
“Aren’t you Doctor Drex?”
Shara laughed.
Kassy nodded. “Yes. This Doctor Drex is my uncle. Doctor James Drex.”
“So Doctor Drex wants Doctor Drex to work for him.”
“Yes.”
Joronna thought about that.
“That seems unnecessarily confusing.”
Shara sat up straighter.
“That's why I call her Doctor Kassy.”
Kassy pointed at her.
“That is not why you started calling me Doctor Kassy.”
“But it's a good reason to continue.”
Senari lifted her glass.
“To Doctor Kassy.”
“Senari.”
“To Doctor Kassy and her new job.”
The others raised their glasses.
Shara looked unbearably pleased.
Kassy surrendered and raised hers too.
“To the new job.”
“What will you be doing?” Sarak asked.
Kassy's expression became more serious.
“It's part of a new medical service through SSTS. Uncle James is heading it. Small medical ships making regular stops where medical services are limited.”
“Trakiret?” Terev asked.
“Yes. Trakiret stations, some Alliance Protected planets, and other places that don't have enough permanent medical support.”
“That sounds important,” Druna said.
“It does.”
Joronna asked, “You'll be the doctor aboard the ship?”
“Yes.”
“How many other doctors?”
“Just me.”
Joronna blinked.
Kassy continued.
“It's a small operation. I'll have nurses. The nurses also qualify as pilots.”
Elyra had become particularly attentive.
“Who commands the vessel?”
Kassy smiled.
“I do.”
That produced a brief silence.
Shara's eyes widened.
“No.”
Kassy knew exactly what was coming.
“Don't.”
“Captain Kassy.”
“No.”
“You're going to be a captain?”
“After I pass the exam.”
“Captain Doctor Kassy.”
“Shara.”
“Doctor Captain Kassy?”
Terev laughed.
Kassy put her face in one hand.
Elyra rescued her.
“What class of vessel?”
Kassy told her.
Elyra nodded.
“You'll need the captaincy qualification for that class.”
“That's what I'm studying for now.”
“Navigation?”
“Among other things.”
Elyra gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Then you're going to be busy.”
“I already am.”
“And away from Tulan,” Sarak said.
Kassy nodded.
“At times. We'll make a circuit. Stop, provide whatever medical services are needed, then move on. I'll be back between assignments.”
Shara's teasing softened.
“That could be a long way out.”
“Sometimes.”
“Protected planets?”
“Some of them.”
Shara nodded.
Then she smiled again.
“Captain Kassy.”
Kassy sighed.
“I knew that wasn't going away.”
“No.”
The server happened to pass at that moment.
Senari raised her glass toward him.
“We're celebrating Doctor Kassy's new job.”
The server smiled at Kassy.
“Congratulations, Doctor Kassy.”
Kassy slowly turned her head toward Shara.
Shara said nothing.
She didn't need to.
The evening stretched on.
Other people stopped at the table for a few minutes. Someone who knew Senari came over to say hello. Someone else spoke briefly with Druna. A crewman from one of the harbor vessels recognized Elyra.
At one point a woman passing the table stopped abruptly when she saw Shara.
“Shara? Sarkrenian cantaloupe?”
Shara shook her head.
“No. Educational demonstration.”
Joronna protested.
“I didn't ask you to turn green!”
The woman looked at Joronna, then Druna, then Shara.
“I see.”
She clearly did not.
By dessert, Joronna was examining Shara again.
“You're less green.”
“I know.”
“How rapidly are the—”
“Joronna.”
“Yes?”
“Eat your dessert.”
Joronna did.
Sarak watched Elyra talking with Terev and Druna. Elyra was relaxed, laughing occasionally, no longer the woman who would have eaten alone simply because nobody had formally invited her anywhere.
When the conversation paused, Sarak leaned toward her.
“You're getting better at this.”
Elyra looked puzzled.
“At what?”
Sarak gestured around the crowded round table.
“Being off duty.”
Elyra smiled.
“I've been practicing.”
Eventually there was no food left to pass around.
Even the Shaluk platter had been reduced to little more than traces of Freenek sauce.
Senari sat back.
“I invited one person to dinner.”
Sarak nodded.
“You did.”
“There are eight people here.”
“There were more for a while.”
“They didn't all eat.”
“Some had drinks.”
Senari looked toward the host.
He was trying very hard not to look back.
“Next time I'm making a reservation for two.”
Elyra laughed.
“You didn't make a reservation this time.”
“That isn't the point.”
The server collected another empty plate.
Senari looked at him.
“Next time, two.”
“Of course.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“You'll save the round table anyway.”
“Of course.”
Nobody was ready to go home.
The meal had been too large, the evening too pleasant, and Tulan Harbor too inviting.
So they walked.
The air had cooled since sunset. A gentle breeze came in from the water and moved through the trees lining portions of the waterfront. Restaurant lights glowed behind them, and the sounds of conversation followed them for a while before fading into the broader sounds of the harbor.
Joronna walked beside Shara.
The green clothing she had chosen at the holostore moved lightly in the breeze.
“This is much better than what Brennen made me.”
Terev heard her.
“Don't tell him that.”
“Why?”
“You'll hurt his feelings.”
Joronna considered the problem.
“I'll tell him it was excellent clothing for a different thermal environment.”
Kassy laughed.
“That sounds much better.”
“It's also more accurate.”
They eventually reached a section of the port railing with an unobstructed view across the water.
Without anyone suggesting it, they stopped.
A ship was moving slowly through the harbor, its lights reflected in broken streaks across the water. Beyond it, another vessel approached the port. Smaller craft moved between the larger ships, some heading toward the docks and others toward open water.
The breeze was stronger at the railing.
For a few moments nobody said much.
Elyra rested her arms on the railing and watched one of the ships pass.
Sarak stood beside her.
“You're not navigating it.”
Elyra smiled.
“I'm off duty.”
Sarak laughed softly.
“You really are getting better at it.”
“I've been practicing.”
Farther along the railing, Kassy was talking quietly with Terev about the captaincy examination. Joronna stood beside Druna, watching the harbor traffic with fascination.
Shara held one hand up in the harbor light.
Joronna noticed.
“You're almost your normal color.”
“Getting there.”
Druna looked at Shara.
“I still don't understand why you're in such a hurry.”
“I'm not.”
Joronna looked down at her own clothing.
“I still like green.”
Shara smiled.
“I remember.”
Another ship passed.
Senari leaned against the railing beside Sarak.
“This was supposed to be a quiet dinner.”
“It was.”
Senari looked at her.
“At what point?”
“The first few minutes.”
“I don't remember those.”
“I do.”
For a while they simply stood there.
Eight people from very different lives, watching ships come and go through Tulan Harbor.
Then Shara suddenly straightened.
“Elyra.”
Elyra continued looking out across the water.
“Yes?”
“It's been an hour.”
Elyra was silent.
Sarak started laughing.
“You remembered,” Elyra said.
“Of course I remembered.”
Joronna turned from the water.
“I remembered too.”
“So did I,” Druna said.
Terev smiled.
“You brought this on yourself.”
Kassy joined them.
“Are we finally going to find out?”
Elyra looked from one face to another.
“I was hoping the harbor would distract you.”
Shara shook her head.
“You don't know us very well.”
Sarak nudged Elyra gently.
“I think she does now.”
Another ship moved through the channel beyond them.
Elyra watched it for a moment.
Then she turned around and rested her back against the railing.
“All right.”
Everyone moved a little closer.
“Survival training,” Elyra began. “I was twenty-three…”
She paused.
“Are you absolutely certain you want to hear this?”
“Yes,” Shara said.
“Yes,” Joronna said immediately.
Druna nodded.
Kassy hesitated.
“I think so.”
Elyra smiled.
“All right, then.”
The breeze came across Tulan Harbor as another ship passed through the lights.
And eight friends remained at the railing, listening.
Glossary of Prosian and other words
Prosian Words Used in These Stories
|
Prosian |
Meaning |
|
Afot |
Meat |
|
Anika |
Fish |
|
Anok |
Vegetables |
|
Baran |
A bamboo-like Prosian plant |
|
Ezum tenzua |
Frog legs |
|
Kali |
Sweet; sweet food |
|
K’ali |
Sour; sour food |
|
Kali akna k’ali |
Sweet and sour together |
|
Kisin |
A naturally sweet plant similar to stevia |
|
Kof |
Cow; beef |
|
Korak |
A Prosian fruit/vegetable similar to a tomato |
|
Kukali |
Bitter |
|
Larika |
Fruit |
|
Laroko |
Fruit of the Laro tree |
|
Liln |
A traditional Prosian wind instrument |
|
Nisint |
Salt |
|
Pakun |
Fruit of the Pakun tree |
|
Palma |
A Prosian potato-like vegetable |
|
Parkun |
A beet-like Prosian plant |
|
Presa |
A leafy vegetable similar to lettuce |
|
Proshae |
Bread |
|
Sekef |
A plant similar to a sunflower |
|
Starg |
A large Prosian fish; several varieties exist |
|
Terget |
A drink made from Laro fruit |
|
Vonen |
Food |
Other Words
|
Word |
Origin |
Meaning |
|
Selek |
Sarkrenian |
A traditional Sarkrenian snail dish, served alive as an indication of freshness |
|
Shaluk |
Sarkrenian |
A Sarkrenian dish served communally in Dinner at Tulan Harbor |
|
Freenek sauce |
Sarkrenian |
A Sarkrenian sauce traditionally served with Shaluk |
|
Leshar |
Sarkrenian |
Distinctive facial markings associated with a Sarkrenian physiological response |