"We were not recording with him," Hickory said.

"Okay, good," I said.

"I'm recording now," Hickory said.

"Oh. Well, I'm not sure you should be," I said, waving out toward my parents. "I don't want them getting in trouble."

"This is allowed under our treaty with your government," Hickory said. "We're allowed to record all you allow us to record, and to report everything that we experience. My government knew that General Rybicki had visited the moment Dickory and I sent our data query. If General Rybicki wanted his visit to remain secret, he should have met your parents elsewhere."

I chose not to dwell on the fact that significant portions of my life were subject to treaty negotiation. "I don't think he knew you were here," I said. "He seemed surprised when I sicced you on him."

"His ignorance of us or of the Obin treaty with the Colonial Union is not our problem," Hickory said.

"I guess not," I said, a little out of sorts.

"Would you like me to stop recording?" Hickory asked. I could hear the tremble on the edge of its voice. If I wasn't careful about how I showed my annoyance I could send Hickory into an emotional cascade. Then it'd have what amounted to a temporary nervous breakdown right there on the roof. That'd be no good. He could fall off and snap his snaky little neck.

"It's fine," I said, and I tried to sound more conciliatory than I really felt. "It's too late now anyway." Hickory visibly relaxed; I held in a sigh and gazed down at my shoes.

"They're coming back to the house," Hickory said, and motioned toward my parents. I followed its hand; my parents and General Rybicki were indeed heading back our way. I thought about going back into the house but then I saw Mom look directly at me, again. Yup, she'd seen me earlier. The chances were pretty good she knew we had been up there all that time.

Dad didn't look up the entire walk back. He was already lost in thought. When that happened it was like the world collapsing in around him; he didn't see anything else until he was done dealing with what he was dealing with. I suspected I wouldn't see much of him tonight.

As they cleared the sorghum field, General Rybicki stopped and shook Dad's hand; Mom kept herself out of handshaking distance. Then he headed back toward his floater. Babar, who had followed the three of them into the field, broke off toward the general to get in one last petting. He got it after the general got to the floater, then padded back to the house. The floater opened its door to let the general in.

The general stopped, looked directly at me, and waved. Before I could think what I was doing, I waved right back.

"That was smart," I said to myself. The floater, General Rybicki inside, winged off, taking him back where he came from.

What do you want with us, General? I thought, and surprised myself by thinking "us." But it only made sense. Whatever he wanted with my parents, I was part of it too.

"How do you like it here?" Jane asked me, as we were washing the dishes after dinner. "On Huckleberry, I mean."

"This is not the first time I've been asked that today," I said, taking the plate she handed me and drying it.

This got a slightly raised eyebrow from Mom. "General Rybicki asked you the question," she said.

"Yup," I said.

"And what did you tell him?" Jane asked.

"I told him I liked it just fine," I said. I put the dried plate into the cupboard and waited for the next one.

Jane was holding on to it. "But do you?" she asked.

I sighed, only slightly dramatically. "Okay, I give up," I said. "What's going on? Both you and Dad were like zombies at dinner tonight. I know you missed it, because you were wrapped up in your own heads, but I spent most of dinner trying to get either of you to talk more than a grunt. Babar was a better conversationalist than either of you."

"I'm sorry, Zoë," Jane said.

"You're forgiven," I said. "But I still want to know what's going on." I motioned to Jane's hand, to remind her I was still waiting on that plate.

She handed it over. "General Rybicki has asked your father and me to be the leaders of a new colony."

It was my turn to hold on to the plate. "A new colony."

"Yes," Jane said.

"As in, 'on another planet' new colony," I said.

"Yes," said Jane.

"Wow," I said.

"Yes," Jane said. She knew how to get mileage out of a single word.

"Why did he ask you?" I asked, and resumed drying. "No offense, Mom. But you're a constable in a tiny little village. And Dad's an ombudsman. It's kind of a leap."

"None taken," Jane said. "We had the same question. General Rybicki said that the military experience we had would cross over. John was a major and I was a lieutenant. And whatever other experience we need Rybicki believes we can pick up quickly, before we set foot on the new colony. As for why us, it's because this isn't a normal colony. The colonists aren't from Earth, they're from ten of the oldest planets in the Colonial Union. A colony of colonists. The first of its kind."

"And none of the planets contributing colonists want another planet to have a leadership role," I ventured.

Jane smiled. "That's right," she said. "We're the compromise candidates. The least objectionable solution."

"Got it," I said. "It's nice to be sort of wanted." We continued washing dishes in silence for a few minutes.

"You didn't answer my question," Jane said, eventually. "Do you like it here? Do you want to stay on Huckleberry?"

"I get a vote?" I asked.

"Of course you do," Jane said. "If we take this, it would mean leaving Huckleberry for at least a few standard years while we got the colony up and running. But realistically it would mean leaving here for good. It would mean all of us leaving here for good."

"If," I said, a little surprised. "You didn't say yes."

"It's not the sort of decision you make in the middle of a sorghum field," Jane said, and looked at me directly. "It's not something we can just say yes to. It's a complicated decision. We've been looking over the information all afternoon, seeing what the Colonial Union's plans are for the colony. And then we have to think about our lives here. Mine, John's and yours."

I grinned. "I have a life here?" I asked. This was meant as a joke.

Jane squashed it. "Be serious, Zoë," she said. The grin left my face. "We've been here for half of your life now. You have friends. You know this place. You have a future here, if you want it. You can have a life here. It's not something to be lightly tossed aside." She plunged her hands into the sink, searching under the soap suds for another dish.

I looked at Jane; there was something in her voice. This wasn't just about me. "You have a life here," I said.

"I do," Jane said. "I like it here. I like our neighbors and our friends. I like being the constable. Our life here suits me." She handed me the casserole dish she'd just cleaned. "Before we came here I spent all my life in the Special Forces. On ships. This is the first world I've actually lived on. It's important to me."

"Then why is this a question?" I said. "If you don't want to go, then we shouldn't do it."

"I didn't say I wouldn't go," Jane said. "I said I have a life here. It's not the same thing. There are good reasons to do it. And it's not just my decision to make."

I dried and put away the casserole dish. "What does Dad want?" I asked.

"He hasn't told me yet," Mom said.

"You know what that means," I said. "Dad's not subtle when there's something he doesn't want to do. If he's taking his time to think about it, he probably wants to do it."

"I know," Mom said. She was rinsing off the flatware. "He's trying to find a way to tell me what he wants. It might help him if he knew what we wanted first."