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years, Tork
applied most of his meager Corporation stipend to his debt, and he
finally satisfied his financial obligation. He even purchased
transportation off world in advance so he could leave debt free. He
would also leave income free.
    “ So what are you planning to do? ”
MO-126 asked his partner.
    The trader shrugged. “ I’ll look for jobs
while I’m in transit. There’s plenty of time. ”
    There would be. The ship would be in transit
for about two centuries before arriving at a civilized planet
nearer the core of the galactic spiral.
    “ No worries, then? ”
    “ No. I’ll find something. I’m looking
forward to it. I know you like it here, but I’d prefer to spend the
next few millennia someplace a bit less rustic. ”
    With his debt repaid, Tork did have far more
options than MO-126 would have in the same situation. Trade
androids could normally find work. They were literally built for
business, and with their training, experience, and opposable
thumbs, they could fill slots from customer relations, to sales, to
marketing, to advertising without any expensive modifications. With
a bit of luck, Tork could eventually fund an investment portfolio
and live a comfortable artificial life on dividends alone, free to
pursue whatever interested him, as most Galactic Federation
citizens did.
    The android dog’s options would be far more
limited. He did not feel envious of his partner, exactly. What the
trader said was true. MO-126 did like it here, and he felt a
certain attachment to the primitives working this project. Not to
any one human in particular. MO-126 never lingered anywhere long
enough for that, but the species as a whole impressed him. On their
own, they might be able to achieve great things, if they managed to
survive long enough. Most sentient species did not. Normally they
emerged, thought a bit about the universe, made up some stories to
believe about it, and then banged rocks together for half a million
years until the next ice age, super volcano, or big asteroid
strike, leaving nothing to mark their passage except, perhaps, for
a few scattered fossils and enigmatic paintings on deep cave walls.
MO-126 wondered if humans were extinct on their home planet. Those
working on Corporation projects might be all that remained of their
species.
    Tork allowed their pack animal a long drink
from a wide stream before turning to follow the bank. Eventually it
would lead to their last stop on this mission, a small hill village
east and south of the distant mountains. It was about two hundred
and fifty kilometers in a straight line from the entrance to Hub
Terminal Five in the northern portion of the continent. The route
they took stretched as least twice that distance and required over
two weeks of travel with a gond. They stopped at several other
villages along the way with long stretches of nature, some native
to this planet and some not, between each.
    Late that afternoon, they came upon a small
flock of sheep being kept away from a flowering redfruit orchard by
a sleepy shepherd and a diligent dog. The dog barked at their
approach. MO-126 responded with a short “Woof.” Vaguely translated,
it meant ‘We accept that this is your territory. We’re just passing
through. We do not challenge your authority.’ It wasn’t much of a
language as these things went, but it conveyed a lot for a single
“Woof.” There were visual and olfactory components involved, too,
of course, and those conveyed as much of the meaning as the
vocalization did.
    The human shepherd looked up and waved but
remained seated in the grass under a tree. The wave just meant,
‘Hello.’
    Their current assignment amounted to a
simple status check. They would visit the villages on their list,
see how they fared, check for obvious signs of potential problems,
and reassure the primitives that someone would be back in the fall
to trade for their harvest of redfruit. They did carry a few items
to trade for any wool or folk art the