Piglet was so excited at the idea of being Useful that he forgot to be frightened any more, and when Rabbit went on to say that Kangas were only Fierce during the winter months, being at other times of an Affectionate Disposition, he could hardly sit still, he was so eager to begin being useful at once.

- A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

"{Has anyone accepted it yet?}"

"{Bgrarh, you just saw me post the position [twelve minutes] ago! Give it time!}"

There was a clicking whine. "{Awww, but how long do we have to wait? It's been so long already!}"

There was an exasperated sigh. "{The patient claw finds its mark. We're almost there, just a couple more [months] at most.}"

"{A couple of [months]? Really?}"

"{You know how in demand they are. And our position is a little strange compared to most, a lot of them might not want to apply.}"

"{But I made the hat and everything! Quick, check it again, maybe one of them accepted it while we were talking!}"

"{Bgrarh, I am not having this conversation. Just relax, will you?}"

"{But Ngralh-}"

"{I said relax. Please, can we just sit and watch the game? It's the Iron Jaws versus the Claws Of Destiny, should be a good one.}"

A long moment followed of tinny roaring through speakers.

"{Check it again.}"

"{Shush! Sit! Relax! Watch game!}"

Another moment of tinny roaring, shorter than the first.

"{How about now?}"

"{BGRARH-OF-ARHRAZ, BY THE FIRST PACK I SWEAR THEY WILL NEVER FIND THE BODY...!}"

It was a flawless blue-sky day when Oscar Williams had his well-structured life go completely and utterly sideways. He was stretched out on a white sand beach and in the middle of giving The Eye to one particular tanned and lithe beach bunny. Happily, she was giving his muscular body just as interested of a scan in return. He assumed a half-smile as he scratched his stomach, right next to a bullet scar that stood out as a lighter brown against his darker skin. Something else nagged at him though, some little bit of business he had to do every day...

Memory returned, and Oscar sighed as he plucked a datapad from a canvas bag lying on the sand next to him. He then opened up a local news-blog, paged over to the horoscopes, and did a quick and automatic scan. That scan became a lot less automatic as he read again the day's entry for Virgo.

An old friend will be coming back into your life soon! Don't hesitate to take advantage of whatever he might have to offer. Remember, nobody likes a grouch!

He bit back a curse and fished a phone out of the bag, then dialed a number he'd never, ever expected to dial again. The voice on the other end was as smooth and warm as ever.

"Oscar! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Hey, Martin," he replied with a much more forced happiness. "What's the rumpus?"

"Oh, just the usual wading through decades of files from before the Unification. How many young women have you bedded today?"

"It's eleven in the morning, dude. I don't work that fast. You should take a break, come down here with Henry, get yourselves a little cabana, go at it like rabbits. I'll be your tour guide."

Martin sighed. "No can do. But hey, if you get the chance you should swing by Langley and see what we've done with the old place."

Oscar kept any sense of irritation out of his voice. These days, one never knew who or what might be listening in. "Yeah, I should do that," he said aloud.

After a few more minutes of chatting and a promise to visit, he hung up and stared up into the sky. It was just as blue as before, but now he could sense the black and looming danger behind that pleasant-looking expanse. It was a danger he'd tried to ignore for many years by focusing on the pleasures of the flesh. But he knew that Martin's unspoken request must have something to do with the xenos.

"...and through here we've dug out another couple of rooms. This'll be long-term storage once we get everything transferred over to holographic media."

Oscar ducked his head as he followed the smaller man into the next room. Martin's blond hair was at present covered with a hard hat, and Oscar wore similar headgear. Freshly-cured cement lined the walls, and the furniture consisted of a steel table and a couple of chairs. Another door led out of the room, one that looked more like what one would find in a bank vault.

Oscar pushed the entry door closed, then turned to Martin and raised an eyebrow. The other man was already stripping out of his clothes. With a shrug, Oscar followed suit.

"How's Henry?" he asked in the middle of disrobing.

"Doing fine, he's got a Brahms recital in Philly next week."

They piled their clothing onto the table, with the hard hats placed on top. The now-naked Martin waved a hand silently at the vault-like door. The equally-naked Oscar pulled it open and stepped through. Beyond was a larger and even more spartan room, with earthen walls and wooden support beams. In the center of the room was a small table with a single bare manila folder on it. Martin pulled the door shut behind them and spun its central wheel.

"You reckon this is secure enough?" asked Oscar as he looked over the cave-like room. It was harshly lit with work lights that cast impressionistic shadows on surrounding dirt.

"We've got five meters of steel and copper around us, plus a hundred feet of bedrock overhead. We don't think the xenos have snuck nano-monitors into every bit of clothing made on Earth, but it's better to be sure. If we're not private in here, then I might as well join you on that beach of yours." Martin walked forward and placed a palm on the table. "I gotta say, you're looking damn good for a retired guy."

Oscar shrugged. "Five miles of swimming, every morning. And I'm also keeping active with a local Muay Thai gym. You're not going through all of this just to make a pass, are ya?"

Martin gave a chuckle. "As if! Besides, Henry would kill me." He looked up at Oscar with only a faint trace of apology on his face. "You're back on the clock."

Oscar stared back in disbelief. He'd expected this to be some sort of minor in-and-out consulting gig. He let forth his very best I'ma Eat Your Liver glare, the one that had once made even the toughest suspect wilt into a puddle of terrified goo. "You lousy little bastard sonofabitch MOTHERFU-"

Martin held up a finger. "Before we get into calling my parentage into question or accusations of incest, read that." The finger now pointed at the folder on the table.

Oscar took in a very deep breath and then let it out again. "I'm not reading shit. I'm out, been out for damn near three decades. I'm running a fucking bar now, I'm beyond rusty."

"Don't care. You're the only one I can trust with this." Martin spread his hands and assumed his best 'heartfelt' gaze, which was very similar to a puppy giving its owner a silent plea for one more treat. "Please, Oscar. I wouldn't have pulled you in if it wasn't important. As you doubtless have guessed, this involves the xenos."

The big man snorted. "Fine. Dunno how Henry puts up with your manipulative ass..." He regarded the plain folder, then snatched it up and opened it. There were only two sheets of paper within, the top in English and underneath a printout covered with the hieroglyphic text of xeno language. Oscar automatically scanned the top of each sheet and was surprised to see no hint of the expected markings on either.

Oscar slapped the folder closed. There were no notes on its exterior either. He smirked at Martin. "What, did you guys forget how to mark classified material while I was gone?"

Martin stared back as if he was in a conference room and not standing stark naked in an unfinished basement. "There isn't a word for how secret this is. After you read that, you will be the tenth person on Earth to know its contents. And two of those ten are currently held in seclusion."

"What is it?"

"Read it first. It's fragmentary, but...informative."

Oscar shook his head. "Probably getting your panties in a wad over nothing..." He flipped the folder open again and read. Martin watched silently. After a bit, Oscar's forehead wrinkled in confusion. He flipped to the second, original sheet as if the alien script would tell him anything more. "This is it?"

"That's all we got. It was a rare fuck-up on the xenos' end, probably some sort of memory buffer issue. That message got squirted to the wrong location and then got pulled back almost immediately. But not before a junior tech was able to make a printout of some of it. He's one of those we're holding in seclusion."

Oscar read through the message again, but it was just as confusing as before. "We're sure of the translation?"

"As sure as we can be. We didn't use the normal xeno-supplied software, for obvious reasons. But we did find an expert who's learned enough of the Dorarizin language on her own to hazard a guess."

"I'm assuming she's the other one you're holding in seclusion."

Martin nodded. "We're supplying her with everything she could want with regards to reference materials and other comforts. She's a bit of a recluse anyway, so it's no great hardship on her part."

Oscar scratched at an itch on his head. His dark hair was now a little more shaggy than the high-and-tight he'd once sported during his military career. "So if your expert is right, the gist of this is one of the Dorarizin was privately messaging another and calling in some major favors to get a human on her crew. From the context, it seems there's a huge demand for us in general. But why?"

"We do not know. You were my best investigator, so I need you to go and investigate."

The big man snorted and tossed the folder back on the table. "Sure, I'll just waltz up to the nearest xeno and start asking 'em questions. Where the fuck do I even start? Aliens are kinda thin on the ground."

"This is a long-term assignment. I want you to apply for the xeno placement program."

"Okaaaay...so what's my cover ID?"

"None. You apply as yourself."

Oscar crossed his arms. "You gotta be fuckin' kidding."

"We estimate a 70% chance that the xenos hacked a big chunk of our military database during that whole mess with Atlanta and Sao Luis. We have to assume that they have your service record, fingerprints, DNA, the works."

"Just because I'm willing to get naked in front of you doesn't mean I'm gonna drop trou in front of some damn alien and tell 'em who I really am."

Martin smiled and shrugged as if Oscar was acting silly. "But you have plausible deniability. Like you said, for decades you've just been tending bar. You never got involved with any of the anti-xeno groups, and this visit just looks like a harmless bit of catching up with old friends. If they ask about what you used to do, be honest. If they ask about anything classified, just say 'no comment'."

"And what do I say when they ask me why I've sold my bar to head into space?"

"Because you're not selling your bar, you're burning it down."

Upon the man's silent and unamused stare, Martin continued unruffled. "You'll make it look like an accident, of course. But you can spin it as a cruel twist of fate making you feel that you need to change your life for the better, yadda yadda. You're a good bullshitter, you'll make it work."

Oscar rubbed his forehead. "And if I say no?"

Martin's smile faded. "How's your half-brother doing? His parole going well?"

The bigger man set his jaw. "You wouldn't dare."

"If you think so, then by all means refuse."

"Martin, you're asking me to upend my entire fuckin' life off of a single message fragment that we can't fully translate."

"True, and maybe it's nothing. Or maybe the xenos are up to something really nefarious. But even if they're not, we still need to find out what the hell's going on out there. You have no idea how much behind the eight ball we all are."

Oscar held up a hand with its palm facing up. "You think I don't know that? Shit, you and I were active duty when Atlanta happened. We had a fuckin' front-row seat for that curb-stomping. I know humanity's outclassed, in every goddamn way. But the xenos are friendly, or at least they act like it. There's not much else we can do at this point other than hunker down and try not to piss 'em off too much."

"It's not that simple." Martin waved his hands around as if trying to gather the words. "Even with the few bits of their technology they've given us, we're rapidly becoming a post-scarcity economy. But we have no idea what we're doing. The politicians are putting on big fake smiles and acting like it's all business as usual. But every single human institution ever, political or social, was formed to deal with an environment of scarcity. Things aren't going to stay the same, they can't. And when enough people figure that out, things are going to get truly weird and ugly. We're having enough worries about depopulation as it is."

"And me finding out about this will help with all of that? You need a team of eggheads to advise you, not some broken down ex-thug."

Martin laughed. "My pert ass you're broken down. Look, we need more leverage with the xenos. Right now we're the cool new thing, so there's a demand for our culture. Thanks to that message fragment, we now know there's a demand for us too...Christ alone knows why. But that demand will only last so long before the xenos move onto the next cool new thing and then we're left as some primitive backwater that nobody visits. We need as much of their tech as we can get our hands on, and more importantly we need their expertise. They've been pretty hands-off since Atlanta-"

"By treaty," interrupted Oscar.

"Yes, yes. But if humans do have an advantage in some area over the xenos, we might be able to renegotiate the Icelandic Treaties and chisel more concessions out of 'em."

Oscar closed his eyes and sighed. "Fine. But I'm not teaming with any damn turkeys."

Martin laughed. "You really have been out of the loop, haven't you? We're still not letting any humans station with the Karnakians."

That news made Oscar open his eyes and raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Of course 'oh'. There's a lot of bad blood on our side, no matter how much the raptors apologize and try to make nice. I'm guessing that particular policy won't change for at least a couple of generations."

Oscar's arson went off without a hitch. Nobody got hurt, and nobody suspected shenanigans. He donated the resulting insurance money to a local charity, as it helped assuage his conscience and also fit in with his 'turn over a new leaf' cover story.

The next month was an endless stream of interviews, plus a lot of physical and mental tests. Oscar did very well at the latter and aced the former. Thanks to modern xeno-influenced medicine his body was closer to thirty in biological age in spite of him being a little over sixty years old.

He had to thread a particularly obnoxious bureaucratic needle; if he appeared too capable, then he might get himself declared too valuable a resource and be kept grounded. But if he erred too far in the other direction he'd have to do a lot of tedious remedial training in order to be declared as 'useful' to the xenos.

During the whole process, he also had to be completely honest about his background and service record. Asking about anything classified was met with a polite 'no comment' or the ever-popular 'I can neither confirm nor deny that, ma'am and/or sir'.

The final interview was the one he truly dreaded. That was the one where he'd have to meet a xeno for the first time. What's worse, the xeno was a Karnakian. He'd done what reading he could on interacting with the raptors and had gotten not much out of it other than 'Don't talk about religion'.

For that interview he first had to fly to Quito. Thanks to its location near the equator, the once-sleepy Ecuadorian city was the ground terminal for one of the space elevators the xenos had installed as partial payback for Atlanta and Sao Luis.

The elevator itself was a few klicks from the city center, which still the same white-and-red-roofed architecture from back when humans fancied themselves alone in the universe. The gigantic steel-gray needle of the elevator stretched to the zenith as Oscar's car approached.

As impressive as the elevator was, actually using it was surprisingly tedious. It took several hours for his car to reach Zephyr Stations's geostationary orbit, and even then he wasn't admitted into the station proper. Instead, he and his luggage were directed to a smaller vestibule that hung off the side of the station like a grape. If he flunked this interview, he'd be sent right back down the elevator with a pat on the ass and a hearty 'thanks for playing'.

Oscar was eventually directed to a cheerful older woman who fitted him with the necessary comm bead and tested that the semi-permanent earpiece was working. After listening to various prerecorded alien statements that boiled down to 'Can you understand me? How about now?', she pronounced him good to go.

"Are you nervous, dear?" she asked at the end of the testing.

He shrugged and decided not to lie. "I sure as hell am."

She patted his shoulder. "Oh, you'll be fine."

Oscar put on his game face and walked off to have a nice little chat with a quarter-ton's worth of sapient carnivore.

Tk'Natz was having a simply splendid day. This was partly because she was a Karnakian and therefore naturally cheerful, and partly because she had the enviable job of interviewing [Humans] on a daily basis. She tapped her claws on the [desk] in front of her; it was not an item of furniture that her kind bothered with, but it helped keep the [Humans] calm to see a familiar environment. At least, it helped keep them calm until it was time for them to be not calm.

Her [ten o'clock] appointment came through the door, and she trilled a greeting as the crest of feathers on top of her head rose in interest. This interviewee was a larger [Human] than usual, with a coloration midway between their extremes of pink and dark brown.

"|Hello! Please have a seat, 'take a load off', as you say!|"

The man nodded and did so while her implant called up his information into her front two eyes' field of view. Red keywords of interest flashed among the text.

"[Hello, sir]," said the human. "[I'm Oscar Williams, pleased to meet you.]"

"|I am Tk'Natz, and I am pleased as well. But the proper [Human] honorific for me is ma'am.|"

The man gave a look of unease, and Tk'Natz had to tamp down the impulse to leap over the desk and hug him in reassurance. There would be a time for that soon enough. "|Don't worry about it!|" she continued, "|You'll pick up on the physical differences between our sexes in no time.|"

"[Ah. So does that imply that I've [made the cut]?]" asked Oscar.

She smiled in happiness, and her very toothy grin made Oscar press back a little into his seat. "|Almost! There is one final test. I am now required by law to inform you that your body's responses are monitored for any abnormal fear or anger response.|"

What happened next was Tk'Natz's favorite part of every interview.

In one fluid motion she stood and bounded over the desk to stand next to Oscar. The [Human] leaped to his feet in alarm at her sudden movement, and as her wing-arms reached out for him he threw a fist at her snout. He was actually quite fast for a human; most interviewees never even had time to get to their feet before she hugged them.

She ducked her head smoothly to the side as his punch went sailing right on by; in the same moment her wing-arms completed their motion and gathered him into her keel-like chest.

Tk'Natz's feathers fluffed out and she gave a contented warble as the [Human] squirmed in her embrace. "|It's all right, little one, this is only a test.|"

The [Human] relaxed upon hearing her words. "[You should have warned me.]"

"|That would spoil the test results!|" She released him and gave his chest a few instinctual nuzzles, then trotted back around behind the [desk] as the test results appeared in her implant. "|Now, let's see how you performed...adrenaline spike, elevated heart rate, yes, yes, excellent. It appears you have a very standard [Human] fight or flight response. Although you definitely chose fight.]"

She grinned at him again, but this time he didn't flinch as he seated himself once more. "[Sorry about that, ma'am.]"

Tk'Natz ducked her head in a brief bow. "|It is not a worry! Only to be expected given your military background.|"

Oscar chuckled. "[To be fair, my later career involved investigating not fighting.]"

"|Oh? You were in the [police]? My files only list you as a former member of your country's military.|"

"[Yeah, that's right. Ya see, I was in the [US Army CID], and we had a specific jurisdiction. Does that last word translate?]" Upon her nod he continued. "[If a crime involved the [US Army] we handled it, or helped handle it.]"

"|I understand! That is good to know. That information will be used to suggest positions for you that fit more closely with your skills. Although there is also some additional safety training required for everyone.|"

"[That's understandable. Going into space isn't like heading for the beach.]" He cleared his throat. "[So, ah, did I pass?]"

Tk'Natz tilted her head and regarded him with one eye. "|You did. But do you mind if I ask a question?|"

"[Go right ahead.]"

"|You were a member of the military when my people...arrived in [Atlanta]. It would be quite understandable if you held some resentment towards my species. In the unlikely event you ever had to deal with a Karnakian, would you be able to do so without prejudice?|"

In response the human leaned forward in his [chair] and began to unlace the covering over one of his feet. Tk'Natz peered over the edge of the [desk] with a curious little warble and saw him pull off the covering as well as a tube-like garment.

They both leaned back as Oscar raised his leg and plopped his bare foot on the [desk]. "[You see that?]" he asked.

Tk'Natz wanted to reach forward and tickle the adorable little appendage with a couple of her claws, but instead she simply replied with a questioning, "|Yes?|"

"[That's not the foot I was born with. The original got removed by an [IED] in a little sandy [shithole] on the other side of my planet. Took my leg off below the knee. That was about [seven years] before you guys showed up.]"

"|Oh, no! How ever did you manage?|" Her concern was genuine, but she was also secretly pleased. She'd wanted to see if he would offer up this fact on his own.

Oscar laughed. "[Well, I had a prosthetic that worked okay. And I was in the [CID] at the time, so it wasn't like had to go jump out of [airplanes] or anything.]"

He took his foot off of her [desk] and shrugged. "[But about [twenty years] ago the rejuvenation tech you gave us became capable enough to regrow my foot, and it works just as good as the original. So yeah, I'm still [salty] about you invading us, even if it was an accident on your part. But I figure that since then you guys have done what you could to make amends. Anyway, the answer to your question is yes.]"

Oscar hadn't exactly lied during the interview, but he was still hoping that his placement would be somewhere far away from any raptors. That moment when Tk'Natz had damn near teleported across the room and reached for him...the memory still made him shudder a bit, even though her 'attack' had ended in a fluffy-feathered hug rather than a disemboweling.

He stepped out of the elevator car into Zephyr station proper with his duffel in one hand and his guitar case in the other. The guitar and spare strings ate heavily into his weight budget for personal items, but he was damned if he was going to head into the Great Unknown without either. The room was smaller than he expected, and the only person present was a thoroughly bored young man with stringy hair who sat slouched behind a glass desk.

As he approached, the young man stirred and looked up before speaking in a fluid monotone. "WelcometoZephyrStationyerfirstgreatstepintoalargeruniverseidentifyplease."

"Sorry?"

The greeter rolled his eyes. "Identify, please." He gestured towards the glass-topped desk.

Oscar placed his hand on the desk, and a green outline appeared around it. An equally green glowing ball appeared in front of his eyes.

"Followtheindicatorpleasehaveagooddayandabrightfuture." The greeter leaned back and stared off into space again.

The ball went puttering off down a nearby hallway, and Oscar followed with a final bemused glance back at the half-asleep greeter.

It had been late evening when he'd left Quito, but the Zephyr stations operated on UTC and so here it was 'midnight', or at least what passed for it in space. The halls were appropriately empty, with only a few random humans here and there. The halls were also larger than he expected. The reason for that was discovered soon enough, when Oscar rounded one corner and found himself facing a wall of muscle and fur coming the other way. He all but bounced off of the xeno, and the only reason he didn't fall on his ass was that a huge paw clamped onto his shoulder with blinding speed.

The furry thing looming over Oscar emitted what could only be described as a 'clicking-growl', then a string of snarls, growls, and clicks which resolved into discernible speech in his earpiece. "[Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you all right?]" The Dorarizin looked down at Oscar and smiled in what was probably supposed to be a calming fashion. From the lack of a mane, this was probably a female; the Dorarizin had more obvious sexual differences than the Karnakians.

Oscar was a well-trained badass and tougher than six roofing nails held together, and that was the only reason he didn't immediately turn tail and run screaming. "No problem there...ma'am, I'm Oscar."

"[I'm Rgrezneh-of-Hrzgaren! You must be new here, I don't recognize your scent.]"

"Yeah, I just caught the car up from Quito..." He trailed off as she poked her huge nose into his scalp and gave a deep inhale. Oscar froze, but that was just because he wanted her to get a good long sniff. It wasn't because of the paw that still held tight to his shoulder, or because of her three rows of fangs. Nope, it sure wasn't because of any of that.

"[Yep, you're a new one. Welcome to [Zephyr], and good luck finding your assignment!]" The werewolf-like xeno gave his shoulder a friendly pat and loped around him and off down the hallway.

Oscar slumped in a chair with his face pressed into the heel of his hand. With his free hand he kept paging (and paging, and paging) through the long list of xeno requests for human personnel. In spite of its length this was only his personal list, calibrated to better match his own expertise.

The training thus far consisted of various demonstrations of how easy it was to die in space. The very first class had lots of gory pictures of the three other races after they'd been exposed to vacuum or crushed by deceptively slow but massive items moving in zero-g. It drove home the fact that while the xenos might be bigger and stronger than humans, they were most certainly just as mortal.

He was sitting in the cafeteria after his most recent training session, which involved learning the various warning symbols used by the aliens to denote things like 'death pressure less than four bulkheads away' and 'live steam' and 'do not cut into this pipe you fool, it contains liquid sodium'.

From the looks of it, there hadn't been a human death in space since the accidental First Contact with the Karnakians. And from the looks of it, if the other races had anything to say about it there never would be any such human death to trouble them.

"Why are so many of them asking for us?" he murmured through his half-smushed mouth to the universe in general.

The universe chose to respond in the person of one of Zephyr Station's permanent human staff, a chipper redhead named Jessica who sat at a nearby table. "We're different, that's all. These guys put a lot more value in the new than we do. Remember, they're post-scarcity as far as most resources are concerned. But right now there's only so many humans to go around."

Oscar made a noncommittal grunt and kept looking. Her response was one he'd heard before, and he wasn't sure how much he believed it. This endless list indicated an equally endless thirst, and in a galaxy full of wondrous things humans couldn't be that much in demand, right?

The job titles flowed past his eyes. Navigator, greeter, another navigator, engineer, cultural liaison, a flowery title that more-or-less meant 'gofer', heating engineer...

He stopped at a title that grabbed his attention. "Detective?"

Jessica looked up from her own datapad. "Really?"

Oscar chuckled. "That's what they call it. It's gotta be a mistranslation..." He trailed off as he opened up the full job listing and read it with increasing puzzlement. "What kinda name is 'We Who Hunt Between The Spaces?'"

"Sounds like Dorarizin," replied Jessica as she scooted her chair over and peered around his substantial shoulder. "They're always going on about hunting and 'By The First Pack' and whatnot. Hmm...yep, they're Dorarizin. Looks like a small ship with just a single pack, which is unusual."

After reading the listing thoroughly, Oscar was still fuzzy on what this ship actually did. But the position would involve lots of traveling to different locations, and this was the closest thing to his old job that he'd seen in days.

He hesitated only a moment before he tapped on the 'Accept' button.