With thanks to Tim McCleerey, still the only person I know who ALWAYS reads my stories, and to Tina Morrell, who is catching up fast.

Uralians love music, and must move to the beat when the music plays. On Luna, we've discovered that International Folk Dancing fills that need, and some of the music even kinda sounds like Uralian music. The Luna City group meets every Thursday at the plush Smedley Center (which has a wooden floor, which is kinder to dancing feet.) As for all Luna City activities, whether it is the baseball team, futbal, the city choir, or folk dancing, EVERYONE turns out. It's not like there is so much going on here that you can be choosy. So, here we all are, at International Folk Dancing at the Smedley Center.

One of the Polaran ambassadors rolls past. Polarans are spherical. They always wear pressure suits because the Lunar atmospheric pressure is too weak for them. They often have no appendages sticking out, although they can telescope out arms or legs in just about any direction and in any number needed for a particular task, and their pressure suits are designed to accommodate this feature. They have no faces, per say; apparently their bodies are covered with sensors for light, sound, temperature, for breathing, you name it, but no faces. I'm sure one Polaran can identify another easily, but the rest of us can't tell one from another.

I'm told (I've never witnessed it myself) that when they eat, they submerge themselves in a vat of what looks like bouillon.

The Polarans are GREAT dancers!

The crocodilian Gilgot, on the other hand, being horizontal beings, find it impossible to dance vertically. They do, however, do their own dances to one side of the room. Unfortunately, being Gilgot, these usually end in biting, fighting, and general mayhem.

Yaeyeia and the Xx, on wheels, do all of the dances except the ones involving jumping. Yaeyeia is very graceful and precise. The Xx like to improvise new steps.

The Delitrian Ambassador, being closest to a humanoid species, would fit into the dancers well, but he does not dance because of religious prohibitions. He only watches.

As usual, the Ratihinaconaxemuwezo are missing.

I love dancing, but I can't say I'm great at it. Tfns introduced me to the Luna City Folk Dance group when I first arrived. Clmntr has also embraced the activity. She is better at it than I am. Naturally, for dancing we are wearing what the Lunars call "gardening gloves" - thick gloves that prevent our claws from damaging other dancers during line and circle dances requiring holding hands. I avoid "pinky hold" dances completely - our pinkys are not kind to the tiny appendages humans have.

And Clmntr has brought a new friend: Lnbršr is a retired Uralian Military officer who owns his own space transport. He came to Luna a few weeks ago because he had heard it "might be interesting." Clmntr met him while bird watching. He found bird watching to be an appealing pastime and has gotten quite good at it. (I can tell the difference between a bird and a bat about 50% of the time.) He has also embraced folk dancing. He and Clmntr even go to New Harvard (the city-state closest to Luna City) every Friday for a beginner's class. He is a fast learner.

As a pilot, he flew some of Uralia's most sophisticated equipment, and (unlike most pilots, I suspect) he researched the science and engineering behind all the gadgetry. I enjoy talking tech with him.

He, like Clmntr, was originally Uran living in the capital planetoid Uralia2. And, also like Clmntr, his dislike for the Uralian Leader meant he was not invited to migrate to the new Uralian planet in a safer stellar system. So, he, too, is now a Lian citizen.

Believe me, I have trouble keeping track of it all myself!

Dr. Madison Forbes is sitting with us.

Not having seen her husband for about a week, I ask about his health (there is some kind of virus going around.)

"No, he's fine," she assures me. "There have just been a lot of thefts lately, and he's looking into it."

"Thefts?" asks Clmntr. She likes mysteries.

"Yes, a lot of jewelry is showing up missing in Parkside."

Parkside is the nicer part of Luna. As opposed to the edge of nowhere where the Uralian... oops... the Lian Embassy is located. (It has been about twelve weeks since the Lian System was orphaned from Uralia, and I'm not yet used to calling it by its new proper name.)

"What are they stealing?" asks Lnbršr.

"Pretty much anything," Madison reports. "Cheap stuff as well as really valuable items."

"But all shiny?" Clmntr asks.

"All shiny," Madison verifies.

"If we were on Uralia2, I mean Lia2, I would suspect dweebels," Clmntr observes (she's having trouble with the new names for things, too.)

Lnbršr nods. "They specialize in shiny things."

"Dweebels?" I ask. On Lia4 (my home), we didn't have anything called "dweebels". And no critters specialized in stealing shiny things.

"Dweebels are sort of like giant maggots, about the size of your thumb," Clmntr explains. "They move around through the water and sewage pipes, into houses and businesses, and take anything shiny with them when they leave."

"They stash their hoard in their nests," adds Lnbršr. "On Uralia2, the city would clean out the nests about once a quarter and return any items people had placed a claim for. Unclaimed items were sold and the funds used for public improvements.

"Never heard of them," I say.

"And we don't have anything like that on Luna," Madison asserts.

"Too bad... it would make the mystery easy to solve," I say.

Madison nods. "And, I'd get to see my husband again."

And then the two Uralian Ambassadors come in. I mean the two Ambassadors from the new Uralia, not Clmntr and me. They are two young males. This is a break from Uralian tradition, in which the two Ambassadors were always mixed male and female, and one Uran and one Lian. I have heard that in addition to Urans being valued much more highly on the new planet (Lians were never equal to Urans, but it is worse now), males are also elevated as being more "warrior-like."

I don't know either of them. They have been on Luna just over a Lunar month, and, after turning their backs on the original Uralian Embassy as being beneath them, we haven't seen them at all.

Across the whole room heads turn in our direction. If they are expecting violence... well, we ARE raptors. But, as I like to say, "Kinder, gentler raptors."

We had decided earlier to ignore them if possible. If they came over to us, we would be polite and smile a lot. If they attacked... well, we ARE raptors. I suspect Lnbršr could single-handedly mop up both of them. And they may THINK they, as males, are more warrior-like than Clmntr and I, as females, but I would like to assure them they are NOT.

As usual in folk dancing, music starts that we all want to dance to, so we jump up and flee to the dance floor.

Diplomatic crisis averted.

Music is a wonderful thing.

***

My-life-on-Luna day 2039.

I'm sitting on my perch in the Ambassadorial Offices staring at my personal com. I must have made some sound or jerk or something because Clmntr asks, "Bad news?"

I hand my com to her. It is a doc from one of my dance friends from Lia4.

Five of us "meet" about 12 times each Uralian year (yes... we have 12 annual divisions similar to Lunar months, but not because our original planet's moon had a period of approximately 1/12 of our revolution around our star... it's just because "12" is easy to split into 2 halves, into 4 quarters and even (should you wish to do so) into 3 thirds.) Four of us are scientists and worked together to create SafeGuard. The friend who sent the doc is an entertainer (sings, dances, tells jokes), and we think she is so talented and interesting. Although a Lian, she and her mate were among the few who were invited to relocate to the new planet Uralia in the safer star system. We wonder among ourselves whether it was because of our talented friend, or because her mate was the lawyer who negotiated the purchase of Botslean, the new "safer" Uralian homeworld, with the Galacatic Court.

We joke that, if the Leader comes for us, our friend will save us.

Or, maybe not...

She writes:

It’s time to remove me from the group. I’m a Uralian who believes Our Great and Sacred Leader is trying hard to fix all the damage the Lians in office have done. I’m out. - Vldšng

I check with the other 3 members of the group.

I am the only one she wrote this to.

I thought we were so close...

I am devastated.

Clmntr gives me a hug.

"Nuggets?" she asks.

I nod in agreement.

First Tfns (who I thought was a friend) and now Vldšng (who I KNEW was a friend). And this time it's because of... politics?? The Leader???

If Uralians could cry, I would be crying.

Damn politics!

***

Lt. Forbes is also at the FastFood. It's possible he is there even more often than I am.

I slump onto my favorite perch.

"Hi, Ambassador P, Ambassador Clementour," he greets us.

"Hi, Lieutenant!" says Clmntr.

"Hi..." I mumble.

"My wife tells me you have a theory about the thefts we've been having."

"Hardly," corrects Clmntr. "On Uralia2, sorry, Lia2 there is a pest that crawls through pipes and steals shiny things. But they wouldn't be here on Luna."

"That WOULD be too easy. But maybe there is something similar... possibly a tiny robotic pest programmed to steal."

"I hear there are creatures here called "mice." And they climb through drains. Can mice be trained?" she asks.

"Not likely. They are trainable, but mostly to get food for themselves. Stealing jewelry seems too technical for them. Even with food as a reward."

"But maybe there is an alien mouse that CAN be trained for this purpose..."

"Something that hitchhiked here on a freighter and is populating our drains?"

"Why not?"

The Lieutenant seems thoughtful. "There are constant reports of alien vermin coming here. They generally can't survive long and don't reproduce, but it's possible one of them has found our environment suitable." He looks at me. "Maybe a SafeGuard to seal out vermin?"

I smile weakly. I'm not even going to try to explain again what SafeGuard can and cannot do.

He looks concerned. "Not feeling well?"

"I'm fine," I assert. Apparently not convincingly.

"One of her friends has dumped her in favor of the Great Leader."

"That's tough," he agrees. "Hang in there." He leaves in his skimmer.

I assume "hang in there" is meant to be encouraging. Mostly it just sounds hard. Raptors are not good "hangers." Our hands are not our strongest feature. And we're kind of heavy...

***

Clmntr and I have adjourned to the Park to meet Yaeyeia (and her ever-present Aide) and the Xx. The Park is now being loomed over on one side by the new Uralian Embassy.

It is covered with gold plated ornaments and looks like pictures I have seen in Earth history books of the baroque period. Lt. Forbes once told me he thought it looked like they had covered the building with tripe and then sprayed it gold. I had to look that one up. Of course, it's a matter of personal taste, but I think he's right.

Our Embassy, on the other hand, looks like what it is: one of the first buildings built by the refugees when they first settled on Luna. Which had a blaster detonation in the lobby almost a year ago.

I'm telling my friends how much I liked and admired Vldšng. How hurt I was that she could dump me because of politics. How she now seemed to blame Lians for our historic troubles (even though Lians were rarely Leaders.) How I was the ONLY ONE of our group she had communicated to in this way.

Yaeyeia, who could be a psychiatrist if she wasn't an Ambassador, suggested, "It's possible you are the only one of the group she felt comfortable communicating with..."

I thought about that. "Maybe..." Lzyrnl and Dnhns both had sent her docs suggesting she should tone down the politics on her entertainment business com page. I had never seen the page, but Lzyrnl and Dnhns had told me it was VERY much in favor of the Leader and VERY much against Lians (even though Vldšng is Lian herself.) "So, what you're suggesting is that just the fact that she is communicating with ME is... well... flattering..."

"Maybe not flattering..." says Yaeyeia.

"But maybe not hostile," suggested Clmntr.

"Dump her," spelled out the Xx.

The Xx may not be good psychiatrists, but they are good friends.

***

I'm back at the Embassy getting ready for bed. I've cleaned my (many) teeth and am looking at myself in the bathroom mirror.

Not getting any younger.

Although the nice thing about being on Luna is that no one here can tell an elderly Lian from a young one.

The new Uralian Ambassadors look VERY young. I don't know them, but, after all, there are a LOT of Uralians, and I could not be expected to know all of them. Or even their offspring - the new Ambassadors would be the same age as my offspring. Or even the offspring of my offspring...

I glance into the sink... and THERE, halfway out of the drain is what looks like a huge maggot! We don't have maggots, per say, on Lia4 (my home planetoid), but I have seen them here on Luna, especially in the trash bins at the FastFood. But they are TINY things. This one is about the size of my (rather large) thumb!

Is it a dweebel? A Uralian dweebel?

It is clutching the chain of the drain plug (possibly the only shiny thing in the Embassy). I grab the plug and pull it and the maggot out of the drain. I drop it in my tooth glass (which I will NEVER use again!)

I run out of my apartment, down the stairs, through the lobby, through the Ambassadorial Offices, and to the bottom of the stairs leading to Clmntr's apartment.

"Clmntr!" I yell. "Help! I need you!"

She steps carefully down her stairs looking like someone who has been interrupted from her pre-sleep meditations.

"What is it?" she mumbles.

I dangle the maggot-attached drain plug at her. "Is this a dweebel?" I demand.

She looks closely. "It certainly looks like one."

"A Uralian dweebel?"

"Well, it looks like one to me. But I'm a mathematician, not a biologist. There could be similar species from other planets..."

I'm rushing to the com to call Lt. Forbes.

***

Lt. Forbes, Clmntr, Lnbršr, and I are at our usual Counsel Chambers (the Fast Food.)

Lt. Forbes is looking closely at the possible dweebel. The dweebel is still clutching the shiny drain plug chain. It obviously would rather die than let go.

"Our lab will compare the DNA samples you each provided when you first landed on Luna to determine if it is Uralian or of some other origin."

"I'm almost certain it IS Uralian," said Lnbršr. "It looks exactly like the ones we had on Uralia2."

Lt. Forbes looks at me. "You didn't bring it. You've been here for years," (I think: 2039 Lunar days), "and the thefts only began recently."

He turns to Clmntr. "When did you arrive?"

Clmntr must be keeping count, as I am. "254 Lunar days."

The Lieutenant thinks for a bit. "Well, unless you were keeping a bunch of dweebels hidden in your apartment, you are also clear. The first thefts were reported 37 days ago."

Lnbršr knows he is next. "I arrived 26 days ago."

The Lieutenant nods. "Then you're in the clear, too, unless you sent a shipment ahead to a colleague on Luna who deployed them."

"I assure you, I did not."

"And, I believe you. I think this group of Uralians here at the FastFood, excuse me, Lians here at the FastFood, you're all Lians, right?" he asks.

We nod. I always was; they are now... No wonder Lt. Forbes can't keep up!

"Anyway, I think you are all innocent of the introduction of vermin into the Lunar environment. Which, by the way, is a felony on Luna if done intentionally."

"The new Uralian Ambassadors arrived about then," I suggest. "Dweebels could have accidentally come on the transport with them."

"Hardly likely," Lnbršr asserts. "All interstellar transports have UVC radiation in all non-living parts of the ship. Someone would have to knowingly, intentionally bring vermin aboard and keep them in their own quarters."

"So, if these are Uralian dweebels, we will have to determine how they got here. Whether by accident or on purpose... and accident seems to be unlikely if what you say is true. Assuming the DNA confirms them to be of Uralian origin."

"But why," I ask, "would they transport dweebels from Uralia2 to their new system? Much less to Luna? Seems crazy!"

Everyone nods.

But "crazy" is the world we live in now...

Crazy is the new normal...

***

Yes, they are Uralian dweebels.

And the first thefts were in the neighborhood of the gaudy new golden Embassy. In Parkside, there are lots of expensive shiny things to bring back to their nests - nests possibly near or even IN the Embassy?

And it would take about as long as the new Uralians have been on Luna for dweebels to work their way out from the ritzy Parkside area to our Embassy, where the only shiny thing they can find to steal is a drain plug chain.

Embassies on Luna do not have diplomatic immunity. The police obtain a search warrant and comb the place. The Ambassadors are irate.

I assume they are also watching carefully to see that none of their gold gadgets or ornaments ends up in the pocket of a Luna City Administrative Law Enforcement detective.

But... they're not. Lt. Forbes tells me inside the Embassy, there is no gold tripe. Or gold ornaments. There is not even very much furniture. All the gold is on the OUTSIDE of the building...

Not even in the lobby...

The dweebel nests are in the basement next to a drain hole leading to the city system.

They are empty of anything shiny...

***

SafeGuard, as a Uralian-based corporation, pays 70% of our profits to the Uralian government. When we were part of Uralia, we also paid taxes.

Now that we are no longer a Uralian corporation (we are based in the Ratihinaconaxemuwezo system now), we no longer pay taxes to Uralia, although we continue to pay our contractually-obligated 70% of the profits.

While this is a LOT of money, apparently it is not enough, in the absence of our taxes, to fund life on the new, safer, gold-plated Uralia. And Uralia doesn't yet have any real source of income (other than SafeGuard...)

One of the ways Uralia is cutting down on expenses is by defunding their Embassies, especially those on unimportant planets and planetoids (like Luna). Embassies are supposed to become self-supporting and pay their own way, while still maintaining Uralian "style" (gilded tripe...)

So, the Embassies (at least the one on Luna) are getting extra money by using dweebels to steal valuable items that they then sell in the galactic markets. Even cheap jewelry brings in a little extra cash. (Although a drain plug chain probably wouldn't bring much...)

Unfortunately for our local Uralian Embassy, Luna City doesn't have that much valuable stuff. Not enough for Ambassadorial furniture, apparently.

After less than two Lunar months from their arrival, the Uralian Ambassadors (convicted of intentionally introducing dangerous vermin to the Lunar environment) are leaving Luna (and taking their dweebels with them...)

Because of financial difficulties, Uralia is not replacing them but is closing their Embassy on Luna.

So, once again we are the only Uralian (okay... just Lian) Embassy on Luna.

And the Lieutenant has sent out a warning to other planets and planetoids that have a Uralian Embassy to watch out for jewelry thefts.

The local realtors are having trouble finding a buyer for the gold tripe building.

It has a wooden floor... maybe it would be good for dancing?