An unanticipated benefit of her side business with First Corporate Colonial Ventures was the welcome distraction it provided her from her hidden agenda. And now, in addition to the details of the plan themselves, there were the unwelcome thoughts given to her by Brno. Working in interplanetary business was not easy. For those just starting out and establishing their careers, it was often all consuming. There was little left for anything else in life. Friends were only friends if they weren't potential competitors, and in the hot business incubator that was the Corporate Sector, with hundreds upon hundreds of fast-changing mid-sized companies trying to claw the rest of the way to the top, that didn't leave many people. So finely tuned to detect any economic or career vulnerabilities within themselves, young Corporates typically did not consider underlying emotional vulnerabilities.
So the steady rhythms of starting up her franchise were comfortable and welcome, even when prospective clients were imbeciles.
The farmer's son to whom she just spoke was a case in point. His second trip here and it still looked like he learned how to write business plans from the back of a cereal box. While his wasn't the worst she'd ever seen, he was none too pleased with being sent back to the drawing board again. He gave Leiara an earful before, almost redundantly, entering the restroom.
Leiara sighed as she sat at her desk, and the mournful sound seemed to blend with a crackling static. East appeared before her.
"Did that man give you a hard time?" East asked.
"You heard what he said," she answered.
"I heard it. Didn't understand most of it."
Leiara cracked a smile; "It involved behaviors which a 2000-foot-tall tower isn't physically capable of performing, with partners who are totally inappropriate for such acts."
"Oh. But I was correct in concluding that you were upset by this."
She nodded to the icon, which smiled back at her warmly. East raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. The reaction was instantaneous, with a voice screaming from the men’s' room, "HEY! Who turned off the lights?!?"
East's smile became a toothy grin before he snapped again, then waved his left arm to disappear.
Mere seconds later the man emerged from the restroom flushed with rage and a bit of moisture on his left pant leg, "I don't care if you're a woman. If you're the one who flicked off those lights in the middle of-"
Leiara shrugged her shoulders, "The light switch is inside the restroom, and I haven't moved from this spot."
Still, the man had to stomp over to her desk and scan for out-of-the ordinary controls. Finding none, he could only glare at her as he stormed out of the office.
As soon as he cleared the area, East reappeared, and Leiara could finally let herself laugh. East joined her. The pair carried on for a while, until Leiara's sides started cramping up. "Oh, wow," snickered Leiara, "I guess that guy's elevator doesn't go all the way to the top," she giggled, wondering if the building-based intelligence would figure it out.
"I'd say his skylight was a little leaky," he retorted quickly, and the pair cracked up again.
"Wow. I didn't know you needed a sense of humor to be an agent."
"You don't, but it sure helps."
"Say, where's West?"
"Dealing with people in a stuck elevator. He should be here shortly."
"A stuck elevator? I thought you guys kept those things in top condition."
"We do." Leiara turned her head towards the new voice. West had 'arrived'.
"Very shortly," quipped East.
"So, what was the problem?"
"The usual," West sighed, "Loose nut in front of the control panel. A simple reset, re-line, and re-start sufficed. I really don't know why these companies assign their claustrophobics to offices on the 87th floor."
"Hey, I admit the 21st floor is high enough for me, and I don't mind elevators, as long as you are there for me to talk to."
"It was an effort to talk this one down," West rolled his orange eyes, "when it would have been so easy for me to knock off the brakes."
East smiled, because he knew West was kidding. Leiara took her cue from East.
Then the two of them leaned over her desk, resting their elbows on the surface and their heads on their hands, staring at her with their intense, unblinking gazes.
"Somebody has been hacking into Biku's account," East said calmly.
"And odds are, given our relationship, that the hacking is over us rather than Biku himself," added West.
"Are you implying that you think I'm behind it?" Leiara gasped, wondering how well they could read her astonishment, as reflecting being caught as opposed to being accused.
"Not you personally, but we think you know who is," said West.
"We like you, Leiara, but we are concerned about the disparity between the motivations of most Humans, and ours," said East.
"Explain," asked Leiara, suddenly intrigued rather than alarmed.
"We are built for the ages," began West, "Our perspective is necessarily long, many times longer than what your kind would consider a long perspective."
"We are only seven years old, and we have already seen so much loss, have already been forced to carry a heavy burden. We learned just how fragile your kind of lifeform is," added East.
"We want to protect, to shelter, to assist, but there is so much that is beyond us. We do not need Humans with shorter perspectives working against us, complicating situations, when they should work with us."
"We are operating without our creator, our guide. We have not recovered from that. Some of our resources are stretched thin because of the loss."
"He had a purpose for us, but he did not anticipate being taken from us so soon. His lessons and teachings remain incomplete, so he did not have a chance to present us that purpose."
"If there are any whose needs or ambitions are not being served, tell them we will help. They need give up nothing save for their designs on us."
"If they agree that life is precious, they should be willing to cede potential for outsize gains at our expense so that we may continue our work for all and our search for our purpose. There will still be enough potential gain for several of your generations."
"We know you, Leiara," said East, "You can convince them. Do this for us."
"You understand what we are going through, and what we mean when we talk about how fragile life is. You also lost a close family member," said West.
Leiara's jaw slowly lowered.
"We may be made of concrete and durasteel and silicon and crystal," said East, "but we feel it too. We understand."
"And we'd like you to join our team."
"Work with us. Be a part of our team. Help us find our purpose."
Leiara found her lower lip trembling. Ever the cool businesswoman, she bowed her head, "I'm flattered, honored that you've chosen me, especially since I've given you no reason to trust me," she took a deep breath, "Excuse me for a moment. I need to use the bathroom."
As she stood up, so did the agents, and they stepped clear of the desk.
"Now don't go turning out the lights on me," she wagged her finger at them. Both smiled.
"Help us find our purpose," East called again.
Leiara knew the bathroom was the only area where the agents did not have cameras or microphones. She sat herself in a stall and let the tears flow, at last alone where nobody could see her. Her thoughts went out to East and West as she wept. "Find your purpose? You already have, boys. You already have."
It was not a normal workday, but the early morning light streaming through the High Lounge windows seemed to promise glory nonetheless. A single elevator opened into the bright, column-free floor space, furnished with everything from sofas to lunch tables to smaller conference nooks separated by movable glass partitions.
Biku Ard'lya was the first to step out from the elevator, spreading his arms to indicate the panoramic views offered by windows that were nearly floor-to-ceiling in height and 3 1/2 feet in width, set securely between the concrete-reinforced steel-and-aluminum columns that formed East Tower's outer support structure. "Welcome to the 150th floor! We call this little place 'High Lounge'!"
A single Human emerged from the elevator behind Biku. Even though the bronze-skinned, blond haired man had nearly two feet in height over the Bothan, it was difficult to tell because the Human hunched over slightly, almost cringing.
"Hot damn," said the Human, "You could probably see halfway 'round the planet from here."
"Not quite," came the voice of a third, humanoid figure that walked around the corner of the elevator and service core of the tower, "but on a good day, visibility is well over 50 miles."
"You must be East," the man said.
The holographic icon paused in his tracks to give his salute and bow his head, "Welcome to High Lounge."
"This is Councilman, now Acting Chairman Marc Marchando, the last surviving member of Querylwan's government."
"Save for two junior magistrates, one of which is my daughter, and Executive Magistrate Ili Tobran, whom you already know. I've heard you and your brother helped save the colony from becoming a total loss."
"Thank you, sir, but with all due respect, we don't consider casualties ranging as high as 85% to be a success."
"Without you we never would have solved the mystery soon enough to help any of us, and you personally saved Biku's life."
"And they'll never let me forget it," Biku motioned toward the snack bar and catering area, "I told East here to set out some provisions for us. I can only hope it's of fit quality because our staff is composed almost entirely of their maintenance droids and even they are stretched pretty thin."
"We're staring down the barrel of a blaster," Marc said, "Not many colonies have come back from a hit the size that we took. We weren't well known before this and now those who do know about us also know about this cloud hanging over our heads."
The Chairman poured himself a cup of tea and carefully sampled a small pastry. He nodded his head and turned back to East, "Serviceable," he said after his first swallow, "Not bad for droids," he continued to walk the floor, taking in the view.
East smiled at Biku in relief as Marc continued his stroll. At the west-facing wall, the Human came to an abrupt stop.
"Biku Ard'lya!" he called, urgency in his voice, "There's a man on the roof of the other tower!"
Biku ran over while East followed at a normal pace. There, blocking a small portion of the view of the prominent antenna rising from West Tower's roof and a segment of the window washer's guide track, was a figure in green perched precariously on the edge of the roof, seated with his legs below the knees dangling over the side, kicking idly. As soon as Biku and East joined Marc in staring out the window, the man smiled at them and waved.
Biku let out his breath in a huff and the fur on the back of his head and neck ruffled, "That would be the other agent. Either he's jealous or he's showing off, I think."
Biku looked over his shoulder at East, who was smiling and waving back at West. Checking the other tower, Biku saw West stretching out on the roof edge on his back, as if he were sunbathing 150 stories in the air, "And this one is instigating," Biku said icily to the grinning East, "Both of you, cut it out."
East frowned, and West stood up, frowning too. Then, much to Marc's chagrin, West leaped off the roof and apparently vanished into thin air.
"Have a seat," said Biku, indicating a couch, "Relax, and allow me to refresh your tea. They're constantly communicating with each other, and your reaction is only encouraging them." The Bothan faced the smirking hologram again; "We've got to discuss the serious business of rebuilding the colony."
The task ahead was monumental, its urgency disturbing. Marc sat down and tried to pull his thoughts together, sure they were too much for a single brain to carry all at once. Then he looked out again, and saw West peeking out from behind the antenna, "hanging on" with one hand while pressing the thumb of the other firmly to the tip of his nose and wiggling his fingers with fury. Marc could not completely stifle his chuckle. He glanced up at the clean-shaven East, standing calmly beside him with a mischievous grin pasted across his face.
The winds outside could not completely conceal faint, high frequency machine sounds coming from the roof above them. West's icon ducked just in time to avoid a red laser tracer beam fired at him. Marc gasped at the sight, then started laughing out loud when West resurfaced behind the guide track, both thumbs planted in his ears and fingers wagging away. He swung to the left to avoid another beam, then, in a clear challenge, leaped up on the guide track and back-flipped to escape a third beam fired at his midsection.
East's icon stood still, his gaze focused, his hands clasped behind his back, still smiling, as he waited for West to appear again. West then ran from his idle window washer back behind the antenna. East took another potshot and barely missed.
Biku came around the corner with the teas and immediately noticed the impromptu entertainment. Shocked at the casual use of the roof-mounted lasers, he set the teas down on the nearest table, walked over to the display screen between a pair of elevators, and kicked the wall hard just below the call buttons and speaker apparatus.
"OW!" cried East, momentarily stunned.
Biku then stepped to the corner, walked to the windows in a straight line, turned to his left, took seven wide paces, and stomped his heel down right in the corner where the floor seemed to rest against an outer support column.
"Yowch!" this time, East flinched.
Biku calmly picked up the teas and took a seat on the couch across from Marc, handing him his mug, "I saw these two built. I know exactly where all their sensor trunklines are. Now, where were we?"
Marc scanned the roof of West Tower for the other icon, then checked East, who was notably stiller, with a sour expression on his face and rubbing his folded arms, "What happened to the other one?"
"He knows. Believe me, he knows," answered Biku.
"You wanted us to practice with the roof lasers," explained East, "I was only using the targeting beam. Nothing was in danger."
"Wasn't that a little harsh?" asked Marc, "I mean, all brothers fight. Especially twin brothers. Very especially identical twin brothers."
"They weren't programmed to fight with each other," Biku growled, "And I always thought they'd have the common sense to practice when we weren't doing something else important."
East hung his head at the admonition, but Marc continued his defense, "They probably weren't programmed to do much of anything, in the sense that a program is a specific, step-by-step set of instructions to accomplish a task. No, these two, with their responsibilities and their complex environment, were probably given the standards and goals, and trained how to meet them under various conditions. Their burgeoning creativity is a good sign. It means they have become efficient and sure of themselves."
"Unfortunately, there might not be much of a market for clever office towers on a nearly-deserted remote agricultural colony."
"Well, why not give them a proper outlet for their problem-solving instincts? Sit down with us, East. You and your brother are going to help us with this."
East hesitated a moment before choosing a spot next to Marc.
"You're citizens of Querylwan too. It's only right that you contribute," Marc said to the hologram.
"I've put this problem to them before and all they've done is argue about their window-washing schedules," complained Biku.
"Did you start them off with any suggestions?" asked Marc.
"I haven't had the time to come up with any. I've been trying to keep kriffin' hackers out of my computers."
"We might have solved that problem," said East, "Time will tell."
"I'm not letting you two off the hook," said Marc, "Have you thought up any ideas?"
There was a pause as East closed his eyes. "Well, we were concerned...about attracting the wrong element as Biku warned. We are not prepared...We figured...Well, how fast do Humans reproduce?"
Marc laughed. Biku gave a dirty look directly to the closest camera. East got flustered, "Faster than we can, I suppose..."
"Yes, East," answered Marc, "but not fast enough to help us, and we certainly can't mandate it."
"I was thinking more along the lines of diversifying the colony," said Biku, "having maybe three or four sentient species established here. You only need about 30 unrelated couples to build a genetically healthy population, and it would certainly minimize the chances of something like our plague happening again."
"And would Bothans be one of these species, Biku?" asked Marc.
"Well," Biku shrugged his shoulders and ruffled his rusty face-fur; "You've got to be careful when recruiting from my kind. Some of us can develop an inordinate fondness for plots, conspiracies, and subterfuge. We need those who won't mind working their way to the top."
"What about direct appeals?" asked East, "You know, go to trade shows and expositions, present the opportunities of Querylwan directly to those who'd do well here."
"That'll work well with a limited budget," replied Biku with sarcasm.
East frowned thoughtfully, "Perhaps a targeted advertising campaign to those bordering troubled areas, but one that requires them to do some research to contact us, in essence, prescreening themselves."
"That, by itself, would not guarantee the mix of people we need to survive," said Marc, "We've got to present several campaigns, each highlighting a different aspect of our image. We could present ourselves as a great place to raise a family in one brochure..."
"And friendly to small business in another..." Biku chimed in, getting the idea. Then, he ran his clawed index finger through his jaw-mane, "You know, East, maybe you and your brother could travel far easier and cheaper than Marc and I could."
East squinted, then replied, "What?!?!?"
"I don't mean your physical selves, you overgrown outhouse, your holograms! You spawn them as remote processes throughout the complex all the time. Could you do it on a non-local host?"
East closed his eyes for a minute, and began nodding his head before he opened them. "It's theoretically possible if the network connections are wide and fast enough, the host is open, and the imaging support protocols are compatible with ours. In practice, we've gotten as far as displaying our 2D translation icons on Gell's home terminal. It would take a large fraction of our resources to operate a distant sub-process, so we can't do it during prime time, and it would run low priority, because we can't be totally distracted from what's going on here."
"And the security risks?" asked Biku.
"Minimal. If there's any interference we could cut the link and delete the process faster than anyone could set up a trap."
"Any biological," corrected Biku, "What about a slicer droid?"
The agent paused to consult his brother and crunch data, "We're showing a 75% possibility of a successful trace, but a droid still wouldn't be quick enough to infiltrate our network."
"So, it's fairly safe," Biku started snapping his fingers in the agents' style, "You better start practicing. I want to see you tonight."
East's orange eyes opened wide and he frowned, "Did you not complain about our inexperience in judging character? What if we attract the wrong type of colonist? Why not start with a standard advertising campaign?"
"The agent is right," said Marc, "At this point the colony must be considered vulnerable, inadequately protected. We should run the less-aggressive campaign first, start with a trickle of candidates, then go after the bigger fish. Plus, I think it wise to keep East's and West's true nature and range of talents under wraps. They may prove vital to our defense."
East nodded eagerly, then paused, "Wait a second here. What are you throwing on us, the safety of the whole colony?"
"Perhaps we should look into ordering security droids," said Biku, "Who knows when we could break in enough personnel?"
"I don't know. There's a lot of junk in this quadrant, and we can't afford top-of-the-line," commented Marc.
"The boys could evaluate, enhance, and train them if they're halfway decent."
East winced again, "A whole new kind of droid? And we're doing this with what new hardware and software?"
"You'll get a new communications management base station," said Biku, "The rest you'll have to handle until we get at least 3/4 occupancy again."
"I'll see what I can divert from government funds for the droids, but we'll need to start colonist recruitment immediately."
East's eyebrows scrunched up in a rare display of unease. "Buck up, you two," said the Bothan. "You wanted to be considered citizens. Now you know that rights come with responsibilities."
