We approached the new spiral galaxy. I sat in my observation dome and looked into the black distance. Our destination was not yet visible. Somewhere between the new star and our current position, there was a small craft speeding our way. LUC was there. I wondered how much he would have changed. The only picture in my mind was of LUC before his departure. Father had been in his tree for almost a full revolution. I yearned to see him again. Our elders had kept our fleet-wide and trim but the trial was still pending. Our armada's legal entity seemed infuriatingly slow. Life went on.

The transition of women into the general population had stalled several times but was once more on track. The investigation had long since concluded and the pilots had returned to normal duties while I tended to find myself more often than not in my observation dome. Work on the Seed Ship proceeded with the quiet familiarity of well-worn habit. The third fourth encampment bustled with new Kee and I witnessed an invigoration among my older inhabitants. The up-cycle was in full swing. Breeding and processing kept everyone busy – everyone but me. I spent way too much of my time in the dome.

I tried to imagine what LUC would look like but all I could manage was the familiar image. The small scales at his temples sparkled when he smiled. They turned ever so slightly and caught the light. They were vestigial; I hardly noticed them until he did smile. That wasn't often. LUC was a serious soul. Aside from the iridescent scales near his eyes, I recalled his other reptilian features. His nostrils were narrow at the end of an understated nose. They could close altogether. His black eyes had traces of red and gold. The filaments were like fine threads. He added black hair in one of his progressions and it suited him. Because of the larger scales that extended up from his brow bones, the hair formed a V shape. Each brow bone sported a scale that lay upon his head and, in his anger, they could lift up and seem horn-like.

My dome node flashed. A single chime alerted me to an incoming message. It was Bollate. He would have the news I had requested. I activated the view of our docking port and saw him standing by the node awaiting my reply. He wore the colors of his guild in garments meant for ease and comfort. The person standing with him, pulling a bag from the shuttle, could not be mistaken. The long white braided hair gave her away. She wore a penitent's gown of white synthetic. My node flashed again and the chime sounded a second time. I touched the keypad.

“Yes,” I said.

“Sir,” came the answer. “I have your information and a visitor.”

“I am grateful, Bollate.” I tried to keep my surprise hidden. “Please come to my quarters,” I instructed.

I hurried to my quarters. I could not explain my sudden excitement. I was a child with outstretched hand awaiting a gift. I had thought of my sister often since our encounter. Now, she was here. I changed quickly from my work clothing. I began to fuss about my room. Then I heard Bollate at my door. I stepped to it and opened it manually only to find Bollate alone. I gestured to the lounge area.

“Let us sit,” said I. Once seated, I asked, “So, where is my visitor?”

“Sorry, sir,” Bollate answered, sitting straight on the edge of a padded chair. “She is a strange one. Wanted to sit up top.”

I said, “No need to apologize, Bollate,” and I prompted, “Well, then, what have you to report?”

Bollate considered his first words before speaking them. “I have visited every ship with a Kee population and personally inspected the living quarters?”

“What did you determine,” I asked?

“It is a mix, sir.” He thought again and added, “Those that are good are really good. Those that are bad are really bad.”

“How bad,” I asked.

“Well, sir,” he began and paused as if he was not sure how to proceed. “It troubles me to tell you but some of the places I have seen are set up between hull supports. They are cold, crowded, poorly lighted. They have a refuse issue. Food and water are stored in old chemical storage containers.” He handed me a synth sheet and added, “Here's the list.”

I took the handwritten list and saw the names of twelve ships. I looked back up and saw a nervous man. Bollate was concerned with protocol. He made the extra effort to be sure he got things right. Rigil was correct to choose him for the assignment. I liked the man. I had come to depend on him for much. He never failed.

“Three things,” I said. “Get me an appointment with the legals and reach out to the manufacturers guild; see if there are any ships currently under construction.”

Bollate said, “There is one, sir. It is nearly complete.”

“Good,” I said. “I will want to talk to them about it.”

“And the third thing,” Bollate prompted?

“Right,” said I, “a favor, actually.”

“Sir.” His response seemed almost automatic.

“Stop calling me sir,” I said. I tried to keep my voice level, however, my request sounded like an order to my ears and I saw that it had caught him off guard.

Bollate gaped. “But . . .” he stammered and stopped. If it was possible for him to sit up even straighter, that is exactly what he seemed to do. Then He said, “You're the heir.”

I was surprised. I asked him, “Who said I was the heir?”

Bollate looked guilty. “Well, it was an Olipharean.”

Perhaps, it was one of the techs that had tended father. I said to Bollate, “Unfounded rumor. I would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself.”

His posture sagged. He caught himself scratching nervously behind his ear and returned his hand to his lap. He answered, “Actually, sir, it's all over the fleet.”

An awkward pause ensued. Then, I got back on topic. “Bollate,” I said, “You are a good man. I would hope that you and I could be friends. Tell me,” I asked, taking a new tangent, “Why did you choose to be a pilot?”

His answer was simple. “Like to move around,” he said.

I asked, “Do you know why I chose to work on the Seed Ship?”

He answered as if I had asked a trick question and feared the answer. “No . . .”

I said, “When your hands are in the dirt and you are on your knees, everyone is your equal.”

Bollate leaned toward me and asked almost timidly, “Do you think . . . do you think I could visit the Seed Ship? I mean, just to walk around?”

I stood, smiling. Bollate followed me to his feet. I put my hands on his shoulders and answered him as heartfelt as his question had been asked. “My friend,” I said, “you may walk here any time you wish.”

Bollate hurried off to his new tasks. I followed him up and found Imabelai seated beyond the first fount. She faced the first fourth. Her synthetic bag, a pleasant pale brown, sat loosely behind her. I took a seated position to her right and looked into her calm face; her eyes remained shut. I admired her physical beauty. I felt foolish for staring so, I cleared my throat and spoke.

“Sister,” I said.

With eyes closed, her lips parted in response. “I cannot imagine the heat from your lamps although it must be warm.”

“It is warm and pleasant,” I said.

After a moment, she spoke again. “The trees are lovely. They remind me of my homeworld. I lived in a valley by a river. The trees were tall.”

I said, “It is good to see you again but I am curious why you are here and not with our military.”

Imabelai opened her eyes and turned her face to me. “I am not allowed.”

I answered naively, “I would have thought you'd go where your talents best fit.”

She smiled and turned to the trees. She said, “My integration is a joke. It is no more than a different way to be imprisoned.”

“I am sorry,” I responded.

Imabelai continued, “They send me to a new location after seven rotations. I am tasked with menial labors.”

“Here, you may rest,” I offered.

She turned to study my face. I have to admit, I felt a thrill I was unaccustomed to. Her eyes, her rich voice, her smile, everything about my sister pleased me. I think, in my childish thoughts, I sought her approval. I was caught in an infatuation I had little power to control. Her presence overwhelmed me and I suppose I must be grateful that I did not embarrass myself.

She said, “I would be more at ease with a purpose.”

“Come,” I said, standing. “Let me take you to your quarters. Then, if you like, I will show you around the Seed Ship. You may choose a purpose freely.”

I took Imabelai to Nathlan's quarters. While she made herself at home, I found some of Nathlan's old work clothes and pulled them from storage. Nathlan was tall and slender. I felt his clothing would be a good fit. I was right. It was just a pair of brown trousers and a sleeveless top but she made them look good. I changed back into work clothes and we set off into the first fourth.

We walked slowly and Imabelai stopped often to touch a tree or inspect a flower. Kee in the fields paused to watch us walk by. Some of them lowered their faces and spread their arms. Imabelai puzzled over the gesture until I felt compelled to explain. As I spun my tale of twelve frighten Kee children backed into a corner, of my protective gesture, of our rescue, Imabelai marveled at the many birds. When we came to the small pond, we stopped and walked around it. She found it fascinating. She followed the movements of fish, frogs, and turtles with great delight. The flight of dragonflies held her spellbound. She seemed a very different person from the one I had met on her ship.

We came, at last, to the first fourth encampment. The small children ran to us seeking attention. It was new to Imabelai. I knelt and hugged them while my sister offered a tentative touch to select children. I introduced the elders that came. All of them were pleased to meet her. We sat with them on rough benches and spoke of the daily lives of the Kee. Imabelai asked questions. As it was time for their second meal, a teen brought me food and water. My sister, a full atomic, could only watch as I joined them in eating. Jisse regaled us with tales of birthing, Samsa with tales of falling from the fruit trees. Imabelai warmed to it and once even laughed.

Thusa was in his bed asleep when I took Imabelai to pay our respects. I knelt and held his hand while she stood behind me. My poor friend was gaunt. I was informed of his declining health and although it troubled me greatly, I could only respect his choice to die on his own terms. I wondered if I would get to speak with him one last time. Thusa had been a dear friend for longer than most Kee got to live. His long life was remarkable in its own right. Thusa was loved and respected among the Kee as their unofficial leader, a father to all. In truth, Thusa had held his people together throughout a long and difficult time among the atomic races. As we excused ourselves and walked around the longhouse to cut through the fields on our way to the ranch, we were surprised to see the back of the building covered with flower offerings. Many of the Kee knelt there in silent and earnest hopes for Thusa's recovery.

We walked through a wheat field; half had been harvested, half stood tall, golden in the bright light. Imabelai walked ahead of me running a hand idly through the ripened wheat. My eyes wandered to her ample flanks. Beneath the thin fabric of Nathlan's worn trousers, they were quite well defined. Something stirred in me, warming and elusive. I was happy when my sister spoke because it lifted me from an almost painful distraction. She turned her head slightly so that I could see the high plain of her cheek.

“You care for them greatly, the Kee.” It was a statement she presented as a question. It prompted response.

“They are my friends,” I answered.

“You seem especially attached to the old one,” she said.

I responded, “Thusa is one of my dearest friends. He was very young when he came to me as a ranch worker. That was before my previous up-cycle. It is as if, by will alone, he lived long enough to see me again.”

She asked, “He is important?”

I answered, “He is the closest thing to a leader their kind have.”

Imabelai continued her questions with something that caught me off-guard. “Who will replace him,” she asked.

I stopped. Imabelai stopped and turned to me. The thought of who might replace Thusa had not yet occurred to me. Likely, it would be one of his older sons, Lamet or Samsa. Both were well-loved among the Kee. Lamet was revered as the son who got things done. How the Kee might arrive at a new elder, I did not know. I had been looking into the eyes of my sister while questions stumbled over one another in my thoughts.

I raised my palms and answered, “I'm not sure.”

A moment later, Ava ran out of the wheat and all but collided with Imabelai. She clutched a wreath of fresh flowers to her worktop as she stopped to assess the stranger. Imabelai turned and gazed down at Ava with a smile that was not returned. Ava stepped back; her nostrils flared. Her eyes flashed between me and my sister, registering shock first, then anger and hurt. Imabelai was taken aback by the diminutive Kee and looked to me for an explanation.

I said, “Ava, please greet my sister, Imabelai.” Ava snorted obvious resentment. I continued, “Imabelai, this is Ava, one of my hardest working friends. She runs the ranch for me.”

Just then, a din of mournful cries reached our ears from the encampment. Many Kee voices wailed loudly enough to be heard in the field. Ava looked up at me with wide eyes and gasped. Suddenly, she turned and raced away from us. The swell of voices increased as I watched Ava run toward the encampment. The bright lights seemed to dim. The golden field lost color. The ship around me felt close and tight as I sank to my knees, weighted. Thusa was dead. He had died, and I was not there for him. Instead, I left him to walk through a field. Stinging tears of guilt ran down into my beard as Imabelai knelt beside me, confused. My sister placed a hand on my shoulder to comfort me but was repulsed when I lifted my face and wailed.