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it to have state-of-the-art in equipment. Highly qualified physicians and researchers and equally qualified men and women lined up to take any position available. On his long list of to-do’s, Sean added similar clinics for the southern continent and perhaps another facility on the western coast of the main continent.
    She heard her door being carefully opened and knew Sean was there to “tuck” her in.
    She turned over in the bed and heard his chuckle.
    “You were supposed to be asleep,” he teased.
    “Not until you came to tuck me in. So who was it and what’s the new problem?” she asked, having taken a look at his face. She knew him so well now that his expression indicated he needed to talk about whatever that message had been. She pulled her legs to one side so he could sit on the bed, and then she curled her body around his.
    “Marmie is coming,” he said, as if that explained everything. Perhaps it did. Marmion de Revers Algemeine was one of their most devoted and shrewdest new friends, having been part of a team sent initially to examine the “sentient” claim Sean and Yana had made for their planet. “And she’s bringing a top-class lawyer and legal team.”
    “Why on earth do we need a top-class lawyer and a legal team . . . apart from those already resident on Petaybee?” Most disputes among the residents were solved by the intervention of shanachies or people like Clodagh who were respected as leaders and wise mentors. The Collective Interplanetary Societies–or CIS–under the guidance of Phon Ton Anaciliact, had helped prove that Petaybee, the planet, was a sentient entity, and Sean and Yana had scrupulously held to the tenets provided by the CIS. So far the planet had been more sinned against than sinning.
    “Well, complaints have been lodged by individuals of discrimination by the employer . . .” Sean began, after clearing his throat.
    “Oh, those who got rejected,” Yana said.
    “Exactly.” His grin was dour.
    “They were interviewed by the main employer and found unsuitable for the tasks available,” Yana said, which was basically what the people were told as they were transported to the departures lounge.
    “They said the interview was biased and they had not taken any written tests to prove their skills nor asked to produce documents or recommendations to prove their competence. Ergo, they were denied their right to seek employment here.”
    “Oh, Lordy,” Yana said, pushing her hair back from her forehead. “Half of them didn’t have working skills but had heard that life on Petaybee was dead easy.”
    “Most of them also had diseases we do not wish to see circulating here,” Sean added. “I asked Petaybee when she started wholesale rejections. Some of the diseases were social, which could be communicated to the entire population. A lot of them were mentally unstable, some criminally insane. Oh, and the discrimination on religious grounds is cited all too often.”
    “But Petaybee is not religious,” Yana said. “I thought we’d cleared that up when we had to limit the number of pilgrims. Mind you, Iggierock and Shale and the others have proved more than useful, but certainly not in any religious circumstances.”
    “And Marmie says we have to clear that up in legal terms, which must then be presented to would-be immigrants before they take passage here. That won’t be hard to do since we control the only transport that is technically admissible in Petaybean space. But we have to set it up, or be continually set upon by lawsuits.”
    “Who’s behind that notion? I thought we’d got rid of Luzon and company.”
    “Marmie says we’re not out of the woods so easily . . . especially since our population is mainly composed of other i.p.’s—inconvenient people. As an Earth-type planet, we are still supposed to accommodate i.p.’s.” He grimaced.
    “First they have to prove they are not going to remain inconvenient, and so far none of those rejected