The group’s other female stepped forward and spoke with quiet contempt. “You’re not the first offworlders we’ve met. Or the second. Or the third.”

Naya glared at the younger woman, who backed away half a step. Looking back at Quinn and McLellan, Naya said, “On behalf of my daughter, Ilka, I apologize. However, her frustration with offworlders is one shared by many of our people.”

McLellan folded her arms. “May I ask why?”

“Previous visitors to Golmira left when they learned we had no resources worth exploiting,” Naya said. “Our carbon fuels and fissionable elements are long since depleted. Some aliens came in search of special crystals but found we had none. Others were looking for worlds to colonize, but with so much of our planet covered in ice, and the rest barely arable, we must not be worth the effort it would take to make us habitable.”

Quinn smiled. “Sounds like they just didn’t know a good deal when they saw one. I mean, sure, your planet’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but to folks who know what they’re doin’, it’s a garden spot waitin’ to happen.”

Naya frowned. “I don’t understand.”

McLellan tried to cut her partner off. “Quinn, maybe we—”

“If you folks are willin’ to trade with offworlders, I’ll tell you who to do business with: the Federation.”

Wrinkles creased Naya’s high forehead. “The what?”

“The United Federation of Planets,” Quinn said. “Hundreds of worlds, dozens of species, all workin’ together in peace. They’re pretty far from here, but they got ships and people comin’ out this way all the time now. I’ve been dealin’ with ’em for years. They’re the most honest business partners I’ve ever had.” Shooting an abashed glance at McLellan, he added, “Present company excepted, of course.”

With a glare and a smile, McLellan replied, “Of course.”

The Denn behind Naya murmured among themselves. She looked over her shoulder at them, then turned back. “I have no reason to doubt your word,” she said to Quinn. “But I have to ask, why would a civilization so advanced that it could repair a world in such dire condition as ours want to do so? What do we have that would make such an effort worthwhile?”

It was to McLellan’s dismay that Naya’s question made Quinn flash a broad grin and reply, “That’s an excellent question. Let’s all go discuss it over dinner.”

It was the strangest farming village that Quinn had ever seen.

The walk from the Rocinanteto the center of the hamlet was short. Along the way they passed patches of grain that sprouted from the gutted foundations of crumbled buildings. Broken chunks of what looked like steel-reinforced concrete had been used to build everything from low property walls to sturdy small homes.

Half of a lone skyscraper jutted up in the middle of the fallen city. Its upper portion had apparently fallen away, but there was no sign of its debris. Quinn surmised that any usable materials had long since been scavenged. All that remained now was its metal skeleton, denuded of façade and windows, emptied of contents, and festooned with fruit-bearing vines.

Cresting the horizon were the planet’s two moons—one full, the other a waxing crescent. They bathed the pastoral but decidedly post-apocalyptic landscape in a pale blue glow.

Naya, her daughter, and their entourage led Quinn and Bridy inside a squat but solid-looking house of stone and wood. Its main room was appointed with simple wooden furniture, and a small fire crackled in a nook along the far wall. Thick candles flickered brightly from numerous wall sconces, and oil lamps hung from the ceiling, suffusing the room with golden light. The smooth cement floor was the only clue the house had been built atop the foundation of something now gone.

As Bridy and Quinn entered, a handful of other Denn looked in their direction. Ushering the two humans forward, Naya announced to the room, “Please welcome our guests, Bridget and Cervantes, and set the table for them.” To her daughter she added, “Please go ask the landgraves to join us.” Ilka slipped out the door while Naya led Quinn and Bridy into the dining room.

“Please, sit down,” Naya said, motioning the humans toward the closest chairs at the dining table. “My brothers and nephews will bring us food and drinks momentarily.”

“Thank you,” Bridy said, taking a seat.

Quinn settled into the chair next to hers and nodded at Naya. “Much obliged, ma’am.”

Moments later, a procession of young men carrying plates of food and pitchers of beverages entered through a swinging door. From the kitchen behind them wafted the aroma of cooked meat, pungent spices, and something sweet. A bite of woodsmoke also lingered in the air.

In less than a minute, the long table was covered with food, plates, cutlery, and linens. Quinn was impressed. They might be funny-lookin’,he mused with a wry half smile, but they lay out a hell of a spread.

He expected the half-dozen men to sit down and join them, but instead Naya’s male kin all retreated back into the kitchen. So that’s how it is here,Quinn realized. Good to know.

After quickly perusing the offerings arrayed before him, Quinn reached toward a bowl of what looked like meat stew.

Under the table, Bridy kicked her heel into his shin. He jerked his hand back to his side and whispered to her, “What?”

Her voice was hushed but sharp. “Do you see herreaching for the food?”

At the head of the table, Naya sat with her hands folded in her lap. No drinks had been poured, and no food had been served.

“Sorry,” Quinn said, feeling more than a little ashamed of himself. His mother had taught him proper manners when he was a boy, but it had been a long time since he’d actually needed to put them to use.

He heard the front door open. A steady patter of footsteps followed. Ilka had returned with five other women, all of them adults like Naya. Their hair colors ranged from pale copper to silver, but otherwise they looked much the same as their hostess.

Naya stood as the women fanned out on either side of the table, so Bridy and Quinn did the same.

“Bridget, Cervantes—allow me to introduce the landgraves of Leuck Shire: Yan Cova, Adeva Oros, Enora Yova, Decin Rokon, and Urova Pren.”

“Hello,” Bridy said.

“A pleasure,” Quinn added, though he was sure he wouldn’t remember any of these ladies’ names in about ten seconds.

Gesturing for everyone to sit, Naya said, “Let us eat.”

Quinn let all the women serve themselves before he covered his own plate with slices of white meat in a brown gravy, hearty bread, and assorted raw and boiled vegetables. Then he picked up a copper pitcher and filled his ceramic mug with an amber fluid that, when he tasted it, reminded him of sweetened tea.

For most of the meal, the landgraves spoke only to Bridy Mac. They asked her banal questions: How many worlds had she been to? What was the life expectancy of a human female? Did men on Earth know their place as they did on Golmira? For the sake of satisfying his hunger and staying out of trouble, Quinn let Bridy do the talking for the first hour or so.

He was in the middle of enjoying his dessert, which bore an uncanny similarity to his grandmother’s pear cobbler, when the topic of conversation finally turned to the Denn and the recent history of their world.

“The collapse was centuries ago,” Naya said. “Journals from that time spoke often of instabilities and upheavals, but no one thought the end could happen so quickly.”

The landgraves nodded, and Yan said, “Survivors of the collapse spoke of a tipping point. Pollution had been warming the air and the seas for centuries before then, but no one did anything about it.”

Decin continued the story. “Our polar caps and permafrost melted, and the seas began to rise, destroying many of our coastal cities. Then the change in the ocean’s salinity disrupted the deep currents that moved warm water from the equator out to the polar latitudes, and the deep freeze began.”