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would be up to the Landing Supervisor and the Council of Seven to administer the new social order. Stream-cuts-Through would be the last of her kind even as Looks-at-Charts would be the first of another. He sensed the passing of the spear, not so much from one generation to another as from Quozlene to a new world. Shiraz. It had been so named before the Sequencer ’s drive had been ignited.
    â€œAs you know,” she was saying, “it is not easy to do imaging of normal space when traveling in underspace. However,” both of her ears bent forward and kinked halfway to indicate good tidings, “our technicians have had little else to do in Imaging for some time now, and they have been bending all their energy to the task of securing at least one special image for us to view. They finalized this objective only a little while ago. It is something for all of us to enjoy, a destination that no longer need be represented by an abstract point on a floating chart.”
    The viewscreen flickered and in place of the Captain was a world. Distant, heavily magnified, and computer-enhanced, but beautiful enough to take one’s breath away. A world not unlike Quozlene itself, rich with bright color and cloud.
    Politeness had its limits. As soon as the image appeared on the screen, several members of the audience could no longer restrain themselves. Whistles and hums of delight echoed through the chamber despite the frowns of some Seniors.
    It was far away but at first sight was everything any colonist could hope for. Ample water and judging by the cloud formations, rain. That might mean trees, the soulmates of every Quozl. Not a nightmare desert world. Another Azel, perhaps, or Moszine.
    The young Communicator on his right leaned over to whisper. “Look how little land, how much water!”
    â€œNo, there’s plenty of land,” countered Looks-at-Charts, disagreeing.
    â€œI know what you are all thinking.” The Captain gestured with an ear and the image flickered anew. “This is a view of the other hemisphere.”
    A few sharp whistles sounded and someone was discourteous enough to blurt aloud, “It’s worse than the other! It’s all water!”
    The view of the first hemisphere returned. Given the extraordinary circumstances of the meeting, the interlocutor was not chastised. “Certainly Shiraz possesses more water than any world thus far encountered, but there is ample land for settlement. Preliminary calculations indicate that Shiraz will support a population of many billions if carefully developed, though we cannot tell precisely since we as yet have no way of judging such matters as the fertility of the oceans or the land, or even the exact composition of the atmosphere. That will have to wait for orbital measurements to be taken and for the first ground surveys to be completed.” Looks felt the slightest of pressures on the back of his neck but didn’t dare turn around to see if the Captain was staring in his direction. To make eye contact now with one’s superior would constitute an unforgivable breach of courtesy.
    One of the senior administrators seated on the top tier let out a sigh. “At least it’s there.” Those around him whispered similar sentiments.
    â€œHaving taken up entirely too much time,” the Captain declared, “I turn your ears now to your Landing Supervisor.”
    She sat down and the Quozl next to her rose, his image occupying only the upper left-hand corner of the big screen. Lifts-with-Shout was so anxious to speak that he stood before the Captain had completely resumed her seat. No one remarked on the discourtesy because they were all dying to hear him.
    One of the fifth generation, he was also one of the strongest Quozl on the ship, much more squat and powerful than the average adult. The deviation from the physical norm was unusual, but then so was everything else about Lifts-with-Shout. Unlike his collegues, he had