asked Qeturah absently, tapping out a report with a practiced staccato rhythm. We were working in a place called Crue, a midsize town that straddled a few key trade routes. The population was large but constantly changing: merchants, tourists in transit to more interesting places, and of course our fellow civil servants keeping the wheels of government moving smoothly (or, to quote Gilda at her most cynical, keeping the speed bumps of government before the greased wheels of commerce). It had little to offer in terms of taSadiri culture, but we were there for a teleconference of a more agreeable kind. The midpoint of the mission schedule was approaching, and the media wanted to give us a little attention. Qeturah and Dllenahkh had been interviewed, and the rest of the team got a piece of the spotlight as well. It was also a good time to catch up on paperwork and reports in actual offices with full-size desks, courtesy of the local branch of Central Government. “Quite well,”
What do You think about The Best Of All Possible Worlds?
