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hospital. And finally, the single and somewhat lonely clergyman operating the ecumenical chapel at the edge of Aubreytown, which ZaraCorp had placed next to the waste incinerator. There were no spouses who did not themselves have jobs. There were no children at all.
    The astute observer will have noticed that among the enumerated staff there were none engaging in pure science. This was by design. ZaraCorp’s charter was for exploration and exploitation; of the two of these, the company preferred to focus on the second whenever possible. Exploration was farmed out to the mostly hapless contract surveyors, on whom the company turned a profit regardless of whether they discovered anything useful or not. Trained scientists were not needed for this sort of exploration, merely people willing to set acoustical charges, take samples, and then feed the data into specialized machinery, which did all the hard work of science. Exploitation required engineers and other workers with expertise of a technical nature, not lab guys.
    Nevertheless ZaraCorp staffed three scientists at Zara XXIII, primarily to satisfy CEPA E & E charter requirements. They numbered one geologist, one biologist, and one despairing xenolinguist, who was supposed to be assigned to Uraill but through bureaucratic snafus had been sent to Zara XXIII instead. He was obliged to remain until the paperwork could be cleared up, a process that had now consumed two standard years and showed no sign of resolution. The xenolinguist, paid but useless, spent his time reading detective novels and drinking.
    Jack Holloway had met the xenolinguist once at a ZaraCorp function he’d been forced to attend. He learned from the somewhat lubricated man everything he’d ever possibly need to know about the phonological complexities of the various branches of the Urai language tree and how the Urai’s three ancillary tongues had an impact on each. He told his date for the function that after an hour of that, she had damn well better make it up to him. She had. She was the biologist.
    And the person whom Holloway was looking at now.
    Isabel Wangai didn’t see Holloway. She was staring down at her infopad as she stepped out of her office block, and he was across the street anyway, standing there with Carl on his leash. Carl had seen Isabel, and immediately his tail started thumping like mad. Holloway checked both ways down the street; there was nothing but foot traffic. He unhooked Carl from his leash, and the dog went bounding across the street to Isabel.
    Isabel looked momentarily confused as a dog leapt at her, but when she recognized the animal she let out a cry of delight and knelt to receive her daily recommended allowance of canine face licking. She was playfully tugging on Carl’s ears as Holloway walked up.
    “He’s happy to see you,” Holloway said.
    “I’m happy to see him,” Isabel said, and kissed the dog on the nose.
    “Are you happy to see me?” Holloway asked.
    Isabel looked up at Holloway and smiled that smile of hers. “Of course I am,” she said. “How else would I get to see Carl?”
    “Cute,” Holloway said. “I’ll just be taking my dog now, then.”
    Isabel laughed, stood up, and gave Holloway a friendly peck on the cheek. “There,” she said. “All better.”
    “Thanks,” Holloway said.
    “You’re welcome,” Isabel said. She turned to the dog, clapped, and held her hands out. Carl jumped up and put his paws in her hands for a double-handshake. “Are you in town for a reason, or did you just travel six hundred klicks so I could see Carl?”
    “I have business with Chad Bourne,” Holloway said.
    “That should be fun,” Isabel said, glancing over at Holloway. “You two still antagonizing each other?”
    “We get along great now,” Holloway said.
    “Uh-huh,” Isabel said. “I’ve heard you lie enough to know you’re doing it now, Jack.”
    “Let me put it another way, then,” Holloway said, and drew out the sunstone he’d brought