With thanks to Tim McCleerey, Allen Brookshire, and Anita Madson for their continued support and helpful inputs.

My-day-on Luna 2677.

It is interesting how the most bizarre circumstances begin to seem normal after only just a few days. Kitty and I have been camped out in the basement rec room of the Lian Embassy on Luna for just over a week. Our space is in a corner of the wall farthest from the door but not the one near where the Last Arrival burial was found. It already feels like we've never lived anyplace else.

Our Ambassadorial Offices have also moved to the basement, just inside the door. No longer ignored by the other Embassies, we have constant delegations visiting to offer support to us in our war with Uralia - no one seems to be supporting Uralia.

Everyone knows the route to the new Offices by now; it no longer requires Wan or Juan to usher any visitors from our (blaster-repaired) entryway, through the (original) Ambassadorial Offices, through the landing below the stairway leading to Clmntr's apartment, into the broom closet, crouching down to fit through the hidden door, and down the steep, narrow stairs to the giant basement we didn't even KNOW about until just over a year ago. Visitors no longer think it is odd to have to step (cautiously and respectfully) over my snarling Gilgot Guardian as they enter the doorway. When Yaeyeia visits, however, her Aide prefers to lurk in the old Ambassadorial Offices upstairs rather than to brave the teeth of a Gilgot.

Luna representatives have brought in their own furniture for a semi-permanent "liaison and briefing office" on one edge of the Ambassadorial Offices, just before you get to the ping-pong table.

Lnbršr is now living in my apartment as a guard to catch any assassin invading my quarters, but also to be closer to Clmntr and I should the need arise. During the day, he, too, is in the basement rec room monitoring Lunar space for any Uralian troop movements. He also does the FastFood runs for us.

This all now seems "normal."

Which is CRAZY!

Yaeyeia is sitting next to my desk explaining to Clmntr and I how the Oeyians want to help us in our war effort. While they cannot supply Lia with troops or materiel, the Oeyian trees have offered assistance in tactics and strategy. She points out that since plants think quite differently from animals, their tactics would be quite unexpected. It sounds right to us. I am just reaching for my com to notify our Commander Brnsnd of this offer, when my com buzzes.

No surprise; it's doing that a lot more lately.

But this is an unusual communication:

Your children should return to Lia now.

It is from Wndwls, our Corporate prophet. She has never been wrong about any of her casual statements. We take her very seriously. I begin to do the mommy-panic.

My kids are mature adults. They left the Lian system years ago, as anyone who could leave DID leave to avoid our expanding star. They are archaeologists and joined a dig on Akher, a planet whose sapient inhabitants are now post-biological. The "inhabitants" (assuming that post-biologics "inhabit" anyplace) no longer care about their history and destroyed all of their records. But other sapients want to study their interesting evolution. Since the Akherians do not deign to communicate with mere biologicals, studying their physical remains through archaeology is the only way to find out what we want to know about them. The kids have been seeking this knowledge for over a decade.

I send an emergency com message to Akher:

Jnysf, Srvrd. Go home to Lia. Now. Immediately. Not negotiable. Love, Mom.

I hate being the heavy-handed Lian parent, but our cultural tradition requires offspring to obey a parental order issued as non-negotiable. And I NEED my kids to drop everything and return to Lia. I know they won't want to leave; they will rather stay and do their research.

Uralians cannot actually cross our fingers - our claws get in the way. But I am crossing my fingers that my kids get the message. Akher is remote, but quantum entanglement will reach them even if they are far away and underground.

I wonder what is going on that puts them in danger on such an out-of-the-way place as Akher.

I share my messages with Clmntr and Yaeyeia.

Yaeyeia has a hypothesis: "The Uralians can't get to any of the SafeGuard Directors in the Lian system because the Ratihinaconaxemuwezo are patrolling it. They may be trying to find and kidnap any of the Director's children who are not in the system to try to lure you out."

"Omigosh, you may be right!" I say. "Dnhns' and Frdjkn's daughter is on Lia4. And Wndwls daughter is on Lia3 with the Government. And Rjnspn's daughter and grandkids are on Lia7. They're all safe... but my kids!"

Clmntr seems puzzled, "How would Wndwls know about Uralian plans?"

I realize she has never seen Wndwls in action. "She's our Corporate prophet," I tell her. "She just knows things, even without knowing that she knows them." I add, "She's never been wrong."

Lians have a great respect for prophets - it's one of the things that distinguishes us from Urans - who generally think it is all nonsense. Clmntr is Uran, and wouldn't share our Lian beliefs. We've become so close since she came to the Embassy - I don't want to lose her friendship over this important tradition! I hold my breath waiting for her response.

Clmntr nods. I am relieved that she is willing to accept my confidence in the warning.

My friendship with Vldšng seems lost; friendship with the Xx has been damaged. I've lost many friends over the years: I'm not as lovable as I would like to think I am. But as I have gotten older, friendships are more precious to me. I don't want to lose any of them.

The kids respond:

Coming home as soon as transport can be arranged. Probably late next month.

I am panicking again.

Lnbršr comes over to me and pats my hand. "I'll take my transport and get them. I'll leave this afternoon."

Uralians can't cry, but if we could, I would be crying gratefully. Clmntr gives me a hug.

And Lnbršr leaves 4 hours later, after refueling, checking all the mechanicals, and hiring a minimal crew.

It will take twelve or so days for the transport to go from Luna to Akher. Another ten or so to get to the Lian system. Twenty-two or so days until my children are "safe" in a system at war.

But I am confident that Wndwls' prophecy wouldn't leave us without enough time to effect the rescue.

I AM confident.

I AM.

***

If my kids are not safe on Akher, I'm thinking probably Clmntr isn't safe in her apartment upstairs in the Lian Embassy. I nag her into joining me in the rec room. She thinks this is probably nonsense but is willing to do it just to ease my concerns. She moves her sleep perch to the basement. Her "room" is just past the pool table.

Lnbršr checks in with us twice a day. To be more accurate, he checks in with Clmntr twice a day. They've become quite close. He never has any news (space travel can be quite boring if you're not about to be destroyed by stray asteroids, a radiation storm, Clexion pirates, Zefrian pirates, or Raqi despoilers.) To keep from having the "Drifts," he's reading a new mystery novel by Qdsght.

We've put a board across the top of the pool table for use as a regular table for meetings and for dining. It's a little high compared to a normal table, so we pile a lot of pillows on chairs and perches. It works all right.

The FastFood has a permanent order for nuggets to be delivered daily at 7:30pm.

This is the new new "normal."

***

Lnbršr has landed on Akher! But my kids are NOT THERE!

In fact, when he arrives, NO ONE IS THERE!

There is stuff there, but no sapients or even sentients!

While he is calling us to report, an archaeologist arrives. We hear her on the com demanding that Lnbršr identify and explain himself.

I recognize the voice I hear over the com. "Lncn!" I cry. She was my next-door neighbor growing up on Lia4. We went to school together! Small universe!

"Ptsgbw?" she gasps. "I haven't heard your voice in ages!"

Lncn has been the Ambassador to three planets over the years. What is she doing on Akher? The Akherians, don't need or want an Ambassador - don't want ANY contact with biologicals. But, first things first: "Are my kids there? It's an emergency! We have to find them!"

"They're here... not sure where... they weren't in the deep pit with the rest of us... uh... they were up here... that's right... Jnysf was studying some inscriptions... Srvrd was studying some dirt..."

I'm glad they are enjoying their specialties: Jnysf is an epigrapher and Srvrd is a paleobotanist... she studies pollen...

I'm calling my son on the com. From the com speaker on Lnbršr's end, I hear buzzing. Lncn is looking around. She finds a buzzing com on one of the tables. "Ayay?" she answers.

She has Jnysf's com.

But where is he??

I'm calling my daughter. Happily, her com is not buzzing uselessly on Akher. "Ayay?" she answers.

"WHERE ARE YOU????" I demand in panicked-mom mode.

"Mom?" she sounds delighted. "We're OK. We're fine. A cargo transport showed up with a delivery, and we figured it would be the quickest way off Akher. We talked the Captain into taking us to the Lian system. Eventually. He has some other deliveries. We'll get there as soon as we can."

I'm relieved. A random cargo transport going who-knows-where actually sounds pretty safe from assassins. "A Gilgot transport?" I ask. They are family run - no stray possibly-assassin Uralians in the crew. And they tend to be heavily armed. Cargo is tempting to pirates. (As opposed to despoilers who just like to destroy stuff...)

"Of course," she says.

I seem to owe quite a lot to the Gilgot. I wish I liked them better...

"I can pick them up at their next delivery," says Lnbršr. "Can you give me the vessel ID or the Captain's?"

My daughter scrambles to find the contact information.

"Are you the only Lian on Akher?" I ask Lncn.

"Yes, the rest are a variety of other species. Your kids and I are - were - the only Lians."

"What's going on is that we have information that the Uralian Leader is trying to have me assassinated. We have information he plans to use my kids to try to get at me. And, I'm thinking, he might try to use anyone I know the same way." I glance at Clmntr, who reluctantly nods agreement.

"I'm thinking it would be safer for you to leave with Lnbršr."

"Lnbršr? That's you?" Lncn asks.

Lnbršr nods.

"I'd have to get my com from the deep pit," she says thoughtfully. "It's working on an analysis I estimate will take another 2 or 3 twelfth-days..."

Lnbršr disagrees. "We need to leave NOW. As soon as possible. We'll be as close as we can get to the Gilgot, and that will minimize the time the kids will be adrift on the next delivery location."

"But, my com, my analysis," Lncn asserts.

"Leave a note," I advise her. "Have them send it to you, along with Jnysf's. You'll tell them where to send it when you get there. But you must leave as soon as possible. We have prophetic information that this is a very serious threat." Lncn is a Lian; she will respect a prophetic message.

"Let me get my bag," she says.

***

I have seen Lunar videos of a series called "Star Trek." On these videos, sapients travel the galaxy in starships. They can transport short distances using a technology they seem to call "beaming." Apparently, molecules are transformed from corporeal form to computer information and retransformed back to molecular form at the destination. I would not want to attempt this myself. I have a strong opinion that biologics are much more than their molecular composition. There is an Earth novel "Echo Round His Bones" that posits the same concern: a guy steps out of their transporter and realizes he has lost his "soul."

But, I have to admit, in spite of the risk of losing one's "soul," beaming technology would be useful. With this technology, the kids could just "beam" from the Gilgot cargo transport to Lnbršr's transport when they get close enough in space. (Not sure how close that would be...) Without it, Lnbršr must go to the next delivery point of the Gilgot cargo transport and pick up the kids from there. The Gilgot Captain tells Lnbršr his next delivery is a deep space station XC4702. This station is not near a star; it is literally in the middle of nowhere, between two arms of the Milky Way galaxy.

It is a three-day trip. Lnbršr keeps in touch with my daughter so there will be no problems.

The Gilgot transport arrives at space station XC4702. The kids offload successfully and are in constant contact with Lnbršr.

Lnbršr lands at XC4702 only a few minutes later. He is in constant contact with Srvrd up to 5 minutes before his own landing, when he must transfer control of his transport to XC4702 for docking. Srvrd and Jnysf are safely beyond docking and into the station.

When they are successfully docked, Lnbršr and Lncn go to greet the kids.

They are not there. Srvrd is not responding and her com is not registering in XC4702's system.

The Gilgot cargo transport is still unloading. They are certain the kids went through docking successfully and then onto the station.

XC4702 security cannot find them on station.

XC4702 docking cannot find that they have left on any other transport. In fact, no other transport has left since they arrived.

My kids are missing.

I suddenly find that Clmntr is picking me up off the floor saying, "Lnbršr is hunting for them. The station is a sealed environment. They'll find them."

***

I am "asleep" on my perch. Actually I doze for a bit, then am wrenched awake by a horrible dream. Repeating for hours.

Kitty, asleep on my foot, also suddenly is awake. She is not awake because of bad dreams; she is on alert.

I've heard that cats will often growl or hiss in times of danger. Kitty seems to feel sounds are contra-indicated in this situation.

Although both our species are successful predators, her hearing is even better than ours. Cats are genetically designed to hear mice scurrying through walls. I trust that she can detect something even I cannot.

I go to Clmntr's sleeping perch and touch her foot. She wakes instantly, alert and silent.

The three of us wait, tensed for action.

Suddenly there is crashing, yelling, thumping outside the locked rec room door. Then there is a "WHRRR!" Then total silence.

I know that "whrrr" sound: only a blaster discharge sounds like that.

"Ambassador P?" it is Wan's voice outside the door.

"Is it safe?" I ask.

"Sort of." He sounds, well, different from usual.

Clmntr and I open the door cautiously. It won't open very far; there is something heavy blocking it.

It is my Guardian. She has been badly wounded; I'm not even sure if she is still alive. I bend down and touch her back. I murmur, "Thank you," in her ear. I stand back up. Her eyes are open. She is looking at me.

Then, she's not looking at anything.

Clmntr is attending to Wan. He is shaking uncontrollably. He is holding a blaster. The glove on his hand is badly burned.

Once more there is a grimy film on our Embassy walls.

Lt. Forbes clatters down our stairs. A large man, he barely fits.

I remember the first time he came here, the first time we met, he was responding to a sensor report of a blaster emission at our Embassy. It took Luna City Administrative Law Enforcement several hours to respond at that time. Now, we get instant response. The city has gotten its money's worth for that sensor.

He claps Wan on the shoulder. "What species?" he demands.

"Wan takes a deep breath. "Uralian, sir."

"Assassin?"

"Probably, sir." Wan is invariably polite.

The Lieutenant is reporting on his com.

The Luna City Emergency Medical Squad - Xeno Specialists now join our cramped landing. They check my Guardian, then shake their heads. She is gone.

I contact Ambassador Heresh, the highest-ranking Gilgot diplomat on Luna. Soon his people join us. Our landing is beginning to look like a refugee transport.

"I'm so sorry," I tell the Ambassador.

"I am proud of her. She was my daughter. She died bravely in battle."

"She was your DAUGHTER?"

"Yes. I wish I could die as bravely as she did. I doubt I can. Diplomats rarely die in battle."

She is now covered with an embroidered banner. The Gilgot carry her up the stairs with honor, Ambassador Heresh following behind.

My Guardian. We lived together for nearly three weeks. I owe her so much, and yet I knew nothing about her. I only worried that she would eat Kitty. That she would eat ME.

As an Ambassador, I am not very good.

I hug Wan closely. "Thank you!" I tell him. "You saved us. And thank you for not being dead!"

***

The shaman is smoking our Embassy.

Again.

We really DO need to get an annual contract.

Ambassador Heresh is there to honor his daughter in what he obviously believes to be an Uralian tradition. I don't bother to clarify that this is a Lunar tradition.

The wiccan has already gathered the evil, expelled it, and reestablished a "safe perimeter."

Not to doubt her abilities, but I wish we really could establish a safe perimeter...

The shaman is chanting and waving something over Wan. He isn't shaking any more, but is still "shaken." I am glad the shaman is giving him special attention. He and Juan were guarding us in their "free" time. They deserve a raise, as well as all our thanks and gratitude.

Juan was guarding the front entrance. Apparently the assassin entered though the garage in the rear. A mechanic is checking our vehicle for sabotage. A building engineer is checking our security system.

Wan was guarding the stairs. The assassin knocked him out then descended. My Guardian stopped him at the foot of the stairs until she was stabbed. Wan, recovering consciousness, blasted the assassin from the stairs.

Of course, there is nothing left of the assassin except for his DNA sprayed around the landing.

We'll have to get that cleaned off.

The Gilgot have assigned me a new Guardian, and she is there, too. As another of Heresh's daughters, she is my previous Guardian's sister. She tells me she enjoys singing and doing jigsaw puzzles. I am determined to be more friendly with her. I am also buying her a blaster. And gloves, although they will have to be special-made for Gilgot hands.

We later attend the Honoring ceremony at the Gilgot Embassy. We are unnerved to discover that part of the ceremony involves eating the deceased to absorb her courage and honor.

I couldn't be nice to her, but now I am eating her. And her sister is, too. And her father.

Being an Ambassador requires flexibility sometimes.

***

My kids have been found!

Yes, they were still on XC4702.

No they had not been kidnapped.

No the sensors weren't defective.

But my kids had seen a "suspicious" Uralian on the station just beyond docking. My son (who reads many spy novels) found, opened, and successfully hid his sister and himself in the utility corridor of the station, which is not part of the normal sensor and tracking system. When the XC4702 technicians couldn't find them by personnel searches or sensor sweeps in the usually-monitored spaces, one of the engineers noticed an access hatch to the utility corridor had been disturbed, put two and two together, turned on the sensor and tracking system for the utility corridor and TAH-DAH - two Uralians detected.

Two very HUNGRY Uralians - they had been there nearly two days.

Lnbršr, Lncn, and my kids make it safely to Lia4. But Lnbršr doesn't stay there; he prefers the danger of Luna (and its proximity to Clmntr.)

***

The Gilgot have assigned guards for our front and garage doors.

A Luna City Administrative Law Enforcement skimmer prowls past every 15 minutes.

Having us here is a nuisance. Actually it's me. Just me. I'm the (dangerous) nuisance.

We all sit around the pool table, Clmntr, Wan and Juan, Lnbršr, Lt. Forbes, Dr. Madison, my Guardian, and Kitty. We are eating chicken nuggets. OK, Kitty is NOT eating chicken nuggets; she doesn't like sapients' food. And the Lieutenant is having a mega-burger full meal.

Kitty LIKES the Guardian - she is closer to the ground and a better playmate for a cat than we are. And the Guardian is very gentle with her. Maybe the Gilgot have pets they don't eat?

Before they came downstairs, Clmntr met the Lieutenant and Dr. Madison and tried to explain to them that the Gilgot do not HAVE names, at least they do not share them with us, unless they are, like Ambassador Heresh, a local leader. The Lieutenant shook his head. In a culture in which even sentients (like Kitty) have names, it is impossible for him to understand, but Dr. Madison seems to "get it."

The Gilgot actually use designations describing their function. Hence: Guardian, Front Door Guard, Garage Door Guard.

Lnbršr says the same tradition is used on space transports; he is not called "Lnbršr," but rather "Captain" or "Pilot" or "Navigator" or some other descriptor of his function on the transport. He says your name is the seat you are sitting in.

Not ever having been part of a transport crew, I didn't even know that!

Lt. Forbes reports on the assassin. He entered Luna City "under the radar" on a passenger transport declaring his species to be "Uran." The alert, unfortunately, was for "Uralians." That loophole has been plugged, and "Lians" has also been added. A Lian on new Uralia might try to please the Leader by assassinating one of his enemies.

Dr. Madison reminds us it is almost time for Thanksgiving, that disappointing holiday celebrated by the turkey-less descendants of American settlers. This is definitely a Thanksgiving for us: we are still here (minus my first, insufficiently-appreciated Guardian) and safe, thanks to the Gilgot and our Aides, my kids are safe thanks to Lnbršr and the Gilgot cargo transport, Lia is protected thanks to the Ratihinaconaxemuwezo.

We are thankful to some of the scariest beings in the Galaxy (I'm not including Wan, Juan, and Lnbršr as being "scary.")

But, I am sure there are still plenty of Uralians eager to assassinate an enemy of their Great and Sacred Leader.

We are protected, but not really safe. At least, I'm not.

But, is ANYBODY really safe?