"I have no one?"

Kendi cursed himself. There were a hundred other things he could have said, but he had to choose the one that would throw Harenn's broken family into her face.

"It's not just that," he hastened to add. "It's also because Bedj-ka is still a little kid. He isn't even ten years old yet. My brother would be over thirty now, and my sister's in her mid-twenties. They're adults. They don't… they don't need their family like Bedj-ka does. So I decided we should find him first."

Harenn looked at him. "That sounds like something Mother Ara would have said."

Kendi stiffened and stared straight ahead at the green road unwinding before him. Trees, fields, and scattered houses rushed quietly past the groundcar. Harenn's remark had pierced him like an arrow, and he didn't know how to feel. Pride mixed with sorrow mixed with… relief? To Kendi's horror, his eyes teared up. He firmed his jaw. Not in front of Harenn, not while he was in charge of the expedition and she was under his command, however casual that command might be.

Harenn lightly touched his hand. "Whatever the reason, I am glad you made this choice." Then she turned to stare out her own window, leaving Kendi free to rub his eyes without being observed.

They traveled for some time in companionable silence until the computer said, "Your destination is one hundred meters ahead of you on the right." Harenn sat up straight. Kendi turned down a short gravel driveway that ended in front of a tall, barred gate. From this vantage point, Kendi could see that the trees and brush lining the road actually concealed a high concrete wall that presumably ran around the perimeter of the farm. A sign on the gate read,

Sunnytree Farm

A Division of the L.L. Venus Corporation

Douglas J. Markovi, Manager

"L.L. Venus," Harenn said. "The chocolate company?"

"We carried a whole bunch of their stuff when we posed as merchants back on Rust," Kendi said, re-reading the sign. "All life-they use slaves?"

"So it would seem." Harenn's voice was tight, and her hands were clasped in her lap.

"But they're a candy company," Kendi said almost plaintively. "They buy children to work their farms?"

"It does not matter what a corporation produces," Harenn said. "It will always seek the cheapest method of production."

Kendi tried to estimate out how many pounds of L.L. Venus chocolate he had eaten over the years. The best answer he could come up with was "a lot." He felt slightly sick.

The dashboard screen chimed. He tapped it, and a smartly-dressed woman appeared.

"Welcome to Sunnytree Farm," she said. Her voice was impossibly low and smooth, and Kendi figured she was computer-generated. "How may I help you?"

"My name is Kendi Weaver. We need to talk to your manager, please," Kendi said, politely, just in case the woman was real.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"I'm afraid we don't, but it's very important. It's a personal matter about one of his-the farm's-slaves. Is Mr. Markovi available?" Always go straight to the top, Ara had taught.

The woman paused blankly, probably to let her program access a database. "Please drive through the gates to our main office. Please do not leave your vehicle. Please keep your vehicle on the road at all times. Thank you for visiting Sunnytree Farm."

The screen went blank and the gate swung open. Kendi guided the car through the opening and into what felt like another world-a dark and gloomy one. Slowly Kendi's eyes adjusted to the dim light. The gloom came from the oppressive shade of a forest of strange trees, each about twice as tall as a human. The trunks were thin, less than half a meter in diameter, and covered with star-shaped flowers that ranged from white to pink to yellow to red. Amid the flowers were clumps of lumpy seed pods that reminded Kendi of rugby balls. They were almost as varied in color as the flowers, appearing in green, orange, and brown. Large, flat leaves at the tops of the trees rustled in a faint breeze. Moss hung from everything, and the ground between the trees was covered in some kind of mulch. Water dripped from leaves and branches. Kendi cracked a window and sniffed. The air was thick and smelled heavily organic.

The screen beeped again. Harenn tapped it and the computer-generated woman re-appeared.

"Welcome to Sunnytree Farms," she said in an overly-friendly voice. "If you would like guided information about our family-owned operation, just touch the green button on your screen. Otherwise please proceed with caution to the main office building. Thank you!"

Harenn reached down to tap the screen's off button, but Kendi grabbed her wrist.

"Wait," he said. " 'The greater your knowledge, the lesser your risk,' remember?"

"Irfan Qasad," Harenn muttered. "Very well." She touched the green button. Kendi continued to drive. Among the trees, he could now make out people. They wore simple clothing, with silver bands around their left wrists and ankles. Slave bands. Memories welled again, and Kendi resisted the impulse to rub his own wrist in sympathy.

"The L.L. Venus Corporation was founded on Earth over a eleven hundred years ago, when Lawrence Venus opened a single candy kitchen in the city of Milwaukee," burbled the computer lady. "He eventually expanded this small family business into a global operation. When the chance came, his heirs took the Venus Corporation to the stars. The company has spanned two millennia and operates on twenty-eight different planets, creating delicious chocolates and candies for billions of consumers-the delight of children everywhere."

The workers-slaves-were engaged in a variety of tasks, and they scarcely glanced at the passing groundcar. Some of the adults used hooked knives on poles to cut down the brownest pods, which the children gathered and piled on floating gravity sleds. Other slaves spread mulch, trimmed branches, and performed other tasks Kendi didn't recognize. Harenn watched the children with sharp eyes, and Kendi knew she was wondering which of them was her son.

"The cacao trees you see here at Sunnytree Farm are only the very first step in producing the rich, sumptuous chocolate treats you buy at the store," continued the computer. "The trees are difficult to raise-they require very a specific climate, soil type, and daily weather pattern. Attempts to genegineer cacao trees to make them sturdier and easier to grow have invariably degraded the quality of the beans, so we raise them the old-fashioned way, by hand-exactly as was done on Earth for thousands of years."

The groundcar abruptly emerged into bright sunlight. Kendi blinked until the windshield darkened itself to compensate. Harenn continued to sit rigid. A line of slaves stood at an outdoor conveyer belt loaded with lumpy brown cacao pods.

"If you look to your left," said the computer cheerfully, "you will see the L.L. Venus hands processing the ripe seed pods. First the pods are split in two with a machete." As if on cue, several of the slaves chopped the pods neatly down the middle as they passed by on the belt. "Next, our hands scoop out the mucilage and cocoa beans inside and put it into wooden boxes, which are then covered with leaves." The car passed stacks of leaf-covered crates. "Once the beans have fermented, they are removed and spread in the sun to dry. Each pod will produce between forty and fifty cocoa beans, but it takes more than seven hundred beans to make a single kilogram of-"

Kendi tapped the screen's red button. When Harenn raised her eyebrows at him, he said, "I can't stand that syrupy tone anymore."