Moll nodded. “I want to hear more about their grievances, and I’ll need my tricorder to tap the Federation database for precedent–”

“Hello? Excuse me,” Bobbie Ray interrupted, finally swinging his legs over the edge and sitting up. “But aren’t you forgetting something? What about the Prime Directive? We aren’t supposed to interfere in an internal matter.”

Jayme met his eyes. “If I was on a mission, I would do whatever my superiors ordered. It wouldn’t be my place to do anything else. But we’re not on a mission. I’m here as Jayme Miranda, on my own personal time, and I won’t sit by and let an injustice be done.”

Moll couldn’t have been more impressed. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

They both looked at Bobbie Ray.

“What are you looking at me for?” he asked.

“You want out of here, don’t you?” Jayme asked.

Bobbie Ray got up. “Sure. Show me the way.”

Jayme put her hand on his shoulder, ushering him toward the entryway where she had appeared. “They’ve had injuries. Some of the Rahm fought back when the Tourism Board hall was stormed.”

“You’ve had one semester of premed,” Bobbie Ray protested. “You think you’re going to act like a doctor?”

“No, you are. I’m going to be busy as a negotiator.”

Bobbie Ray stopped dead. “You can’t be serious.”

“They need another pair of hands,” Jayme retorted. “I volunteered you. It’s the least you can do, Jefferson.”

He smoothed his whiskers irritably. “Are you sure the Academy won’t get upset?”

“Positive,” Jayme assured him. “They’ll be mad if you don’thelp.”

Bobbie Ray grumbled, but he actually had a good time assisting in the hospital. The Izad were so grateful for any crumb they were tossed, since they were accustomed to having to do all the work.

Besides, there was an elaborate gymnasium attached to the hospital for physical therapy–an integral part of the recuperation for agile Rahm‑Izad physiology. So Bobbie Ray spent several hours a day in the gym, swinging and clambering among the unusual arrangements of bars and swings. In the early evening he would grab a nap on the roof, waking up feeling refreshed for the spectacular meals that the Izad continued to prepare.

It took a few days before he realized there were three Izad cleaning his room every morning, trapped in the habit of catering to hoards of tourists. For the first time in memory, the Rahm‑Izad ruins were closed, but the Izad continued to work as hard as if there were thousands of people to pamper.

The Enterpriseherself was in orbit, leading the negotiations. Cadet Enor and Cadet Miranda had managed to place themselves in a very enviable position, but Bobbie Ray still shuddered at the risk they were taking. If the Izad got irrational and decided to get rid of a few tourists to prove their point, Jayme and Moll would end up on the losing side. But they had maintained the balance, and were getting full credit for representing the Izad in these negotiations.

He followed their progress on the Federation news service, piped in live to his deluxe suite, appropriated from the now empty quarters around the hospital. The other tourists were still quarantined in huge groups in various key ruins. Even the Rahm wouldn’t risk destroying the ruins by turning off the forcefields supporting them. They had never considered the fact that the forcefields could also prevent anyone from transporting out people who were trapped inside.

Bobbie Ray had to admire the Izad’s tactical advantage. Who would have thought they were capable of such a neat coup? He chuckled to himself, stretching under the sunset. This was his favorite part of the Rahm‑Izad day, sunny but not scorching.

“Better enjoy yourself while you can,” Jayme said behind him.

He lazily rolled over to watch Jayme and Enor come up the stairs to the roof, arm in arm. Something had happened in the past week. They seemed to have come to an understanding. Far be it from him to pry, but when two humanoids started spending every second together, their faces so close they were practically rubbing noses, you had to figure things were getting intimate.

“What’s the rush?” Bobbie Ray asked. “Are you planning another revolution?”

“No, but this one is over,” Jayme told him, relaxed and satisfied as he had rarely seen her. “The Izad are releasing the hostages.”

“So it’s over?” he asked, feeling oddly let down. He had liked the empty sidewalks and squares, like the ruins should be, as if they were suspended out of time. “I thought revolutions took a long time.”

“Not well‑organized ones,” Moll told him.

“We still have some serious points to negotiate,” Jayme admitted. “But the bulk of the work is completed. The Izad will gain their rightful voice in ruling their own world. The ruins were Izad, you know, long before the Rahm came here. But they can live together if they cooperate.”

“So it will be a few more days?” Bobbie Ray asked.

“At least,” Moll Enor agreed.

“Good.” Bobbie Ray settled back, the towel over his eyes. But he did peek once or twice, watching Moll and Jayme standing by the balustrade, leaning against each other, as the sun went down.

“Congratulations,” Moll murmured to Jayme. “It’s because of you the Izad had a chance.”

“Not true,” Jayme denied. “They were ready for this move. We both helped, is all.”

Bobbie Ray groaned loud enough for them both to turn with irritated expressions. Then he grinned, wrinkling his nose. “It’s about time,” he told them enigmatically. Then he rolled over, covering his eyes again.

The next day, Bobbie Ray did go with Jayme to the Capitol building to witness the new combined government take over the reigns of power. Now that the agreements had been made, Jayme and Moll were pulling out of the spotlight. Moll wasn’t even going to be present–she had been called up to the Enterpriseto complete some of the last details. Bobbie Ray could tell Jayme was dying of envy and would have preferred that job to this merely ceremonious one.

“I’ve never been on the Enterprise,” Jayme said for what must have been the eighth time. All of their negotiations had taken place in the Capitol building, at the Izad’s request.

The inarticulate ceremony droned on below, witnessed by dozens of sulky Rahm surrounded by hundreds of the Izad clerks who did the real work. But Bobbie Ray and Jayme were far enough away from the hurried exchange of keys–to the forcefields or the computer files, Bobbie Ray wasn’t exactly sure–that he could ask, “What happened with you two?”

“Oh, so you noticed?” Jayme smiled to herself as she smoothed her bright pink shirt.

“Everyone has noticed,” he assured her.

Jayme waved him off, knowing he was exaggerating. Instead, she nudged him to look out the nearest window. They were up high enough to see down into the street where a sudden flow of cranky tourists were running through the streets or hanging on to airbuses, intent on getting their belongings and getting out before the Izad changed their minds.

Bobbie Ray thought their panic was comical, but then he had been dealing with the mild‑mannered Izad for over a week. “Have I told you how much I enjoyed vacationing in a revolution?”

Jayme snorted, trying not to laugh at a stout colonist from the terraformed planet of Browder IV. He was running after an airbus, trying to get a foothold on the running board. “At least he can’t complain that the Izad haven’t fed us well,” she whispered. “Did you hear about the buffet they set up in the coliseum last night?”

Bobbie Ray was too curious to let the matter of Moll Enor slide. He had been there when Jayme began to get misty‑eyed every time Enor spoke, and he had seen Jayme unfailingly nurture their relationship no matter how many obstacles Enor put in their path.

“So, what didhappen with you two? Don’t tell me it’s just a wartime romance . . . the spur of danger, and all that?”