Page 300 of Commander’s Mate
Civilians.
Humans.
Uatu.
Mavrin.
People whose worlds I could not pronounce.
“Us,” he said.
Not Farseek as it had been.
Not Earth.
Not Halor.
Us.
The word was messy.
So was the diagram.
I could live with both.
The council reconvened the next morning because apparently building freedom required meetings.
I hated that.
So did everyone else.
Good sign.
This time we tested the protocol against actual cases.
A child with no confirmed parent.
A married couple who wanted separate destinations.
A former soldier who wanted nothing in his record identifying military experience.
A woman who wanted her old name deleted because it had been given by an owner.
That one stopped us.
“What name do you want?” I asked.
She gave one.
Tivid entered it.
“Prior identity retained in sealed legal archive?”
She looked at me.
“Why?”
“Evidence if the traffickers are prosecuted.”
