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depths of the observer's own mind.
    Ssoriszs saw spaceships in his disk.
    He saw them frequently, more than any other vision. At times' his dead lifemate's face would flash across his mind's eye, and sometimes the faces of his children that had gone to join Beyond. Only rarely did Ssoriszs see the faces of the living.
    Today, it was the ships again. A fleet of them, sleek and shining, braving the unknown stretches of the interstellar void. Ssoriszs knew who they were...
    Mizari who, millennia ago, had fled the homeworld of Shassiszss because they were not cherished, not wanted. Exiles, all of them, nearly four thousand years ago, now.
    Including a full dozen of Ssoriszs' ancestors. The Esteemed Liaison was proud that he could trace his forebears back for over five hundred centuries.
    But there was one branch in his family tree that had been lopped off when barely more than a twig. Those ancestors had departed with what was now known as the Mizari Lost Colony.
    Heritage, ancestors, and tradition were an important part of Mizari spiritual life. Those missing ancestors rankled Ssoriszs, making him feel incomplete, unfinished, in some small but vital way. What had become of them?
    It was one of the elderly Mizari's fondest dreams to imagine that somewhere, in another part of this vast galaxy, he had relatives who were living and breathing offshoots from his family tree. Surely the Lost Colony was only misplaced--not truly lost!
    He thought often of those so-distant cousins, imagining them alive and thriving, cradled perhaps in another of the galaxy's sheltering arms.
    Centuries ago, the Mizari had begun the CLS when they had encountered first the Apis world, and then the Drnians. Now the ranks of the CLS had swelled to Fifteen Known Worlds. Trade flourished between the member planets, and despite inevitable conflicts, peace reigned. Ssoriszs frequently wondered about what his people had done when they had reached their unknown destination. What if the Lost Colony had somewhere established its own version of the Cooperative League of Systems? What if there was a rich flowering of culture and wisdom out there, somewhere?
    In the eyes of his mind, Ssoriszs imagined the day when representatives of the two groups could finally meet, and talk.
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    There would be such a lot to catch up on--so much knowledge to be shared!
    The elderly Mizari mentally pictured a youngster the same age as his only grandson--but as different from Zarshezz in mind and spirit as the night was from the day. This lad bore a strong resemblance to himself, with a pale green body and bold emerald and amber diamonds on his back. The image formed before Ssoriszs in the meditation disk, staring back at him with golden eyes that mirrored his own. Within the cells of both of their bodies would be a genetic signature traceable back to a common ancestor, long ago.
    Greetings, he thought, mentally bowing to his imaginary cousin. I am Ssoriszs, and I thank the Star-Spirits that they have allowed me to live to see this day! May I be honored with your name?
    And then they would converse, as Ssoriszs and Zarshezz had seldom been able to talk, openly and frankly. They would share knowledge and grow together in wisdom ...
    Ssoriszs did not smile--his mouth was not constructed for it-- but his tendrils waved languidly and he hissed softly with pleasure as he imagined how it would be. Then, slowly, deliberately, he began bringing his consciousness back to normal functioning levels.
    "Lights," he murmured finally, and the room, hearing even such a soft sibilant whisper, obeyed.
    The Liaison's living quarters were furnished with padded rods and brackets protruding from the walls; Mizari enjoyed draping themselves over such extrusions. There were also several padded cubicles that served as resting places--his people's equivalent of chairs. In the bathroom, a refreshing hot mud bath waited in the large circular depression in the floor.
    In addition to Mizari furnishings, Ssoriszs