‘Did you ever consider leaving?’ Speaker asked. ‘Do you need yet another planet so desperately?’

‘It’s their home,’ Captain Tem said.

‘No,’ Speaker said. ‘Sohep Frie is your home.’

‘Sohep Frie nearly wiped us out. You know this, right? You seem to know a lot.’

Speaker bristled, but let it go. ‘You had a population crash of some sort in your pre-spaceflight era. But I don’t know the details, no.’

‘The details boil down to a lot of fucking volcanoes, all of which popped off at once and killed almost everybody. It’s the greatest luck in the universe that we’re not extinct. That’s why we built our first ships and went in search of other planets, so we wouldn’t be tied to the fate of just one.’

‘Stars, that is lucky,’ Speaker said flatly. ‘That would be a terrible way to end up.’

The sound of Captain Tem’s talkbox came out distorted around the edges, a sign that its operator was punching thoughts through it. ‘We’re not like the Harmagians were,’ she said. ‘We were never like the Harmagians. The Rosk border – nobody was on those planets, when people settled them. There was nothing sapient there. We’ve never taken a world from someone, not once.’ She stared as though Speaker had lost her mind. ‘You know we stopped the Harmagians, right? Back in the day? You know the whole reason you’re free of them is because of us, right?’

That was it. The last load-bearing support in Speaker snapped, and there was no chance of hoisting it back up. ‘How dare you,’ she said.

‘Speaker—’ Roveg interjected.

‘No,’ Speaker said. Her voice shook, and she could not find a way to make it stop. ‘No. How fucking dare you. You think I’m talking about history. You think I’m talking about something that’s over. You think that because you have your accords and your treaties and your fucking licences, you can keep doing the same shit as always with a clear conscience. Oh, yes, it’s all so civilised.’ She heard the words leaving her mouth, and she was afraid – afraid of what this angry alien might do, afraid of getting into trouble, afraid of all the unpleasant situations she’d spent her whole life teaching herself to avoid. But stars, it felt good to just say what she wanted to say, and she had no intention of putting the lid back on this box, not now. ‘Just because there’s no one living on a planet does not mean it’s yours for the taking. Do you not see how dangerous that mindset is? Do you not think that treating the galaxy as if it is something to be endlessly used will always, always end in tragedy? You think you’ve broken the cycle. You haven’t. You’re in a less violent period of the exact same cycle, and you don’t see it. And the line of what you find to be justifiable cause is going to keep slipping and slipping until you end up right back where you started. You haven’t fixed anything. You put a stamp and a permit and a shiny coat of paint on an idea that has been fundamentally damaged from day one. You engaged in bloody theft and you called it progress, and no matter how much better you think you’ve made things, no matter how good your intentions are, that will always be the root of the GC. You cannot divorce any of what you do from that. Ever.’

‘So, what?’ Captain Tem said. ‘We’re all supposed to pack up and go back to our homeworlds? Now isn’t that a fucked idea. No more mixing, no more learning from each other. Each species to themselves.’

‘That’s not what I’m saying.’

‘Then what are you saying?’

‘I’m saying stop expanding, stop going places where you’re not invited, and stop treating the galaxy like a free-for-all. You’ve gone far enough. You’re no longer in a bottleneck. There’s no reason for you to keep doing this. It can only end badly.’

The Aeluon flicked her eyelids sideways. ‘You’re talking about things you do not understand.’

‘If I am, then so are you. And the fact that you don’t see that about yourself is why I’ve decided I don’t like you, Captain Tem.’ Speaker took a breath, squared her shoulders, and unclenched her fists. She looked at Roveg, who she hoped was still a friend. ‘I’m sorry we spoiled your afternoon,’ she said to him. She pushed controls and turned her suit around, intending to leave.

Instead, she found herself facing Ouloo and Tupo, each holding a tray of cakes.

ROVEG

Roveg had never been happier to see a pair of Laru offering dessert.

He was too drunk for this. Whatever it was Ouloo had given Pei, it had melted his brain, and he had neither head nor heart for a conversation of this sort. He did not want the galaxy to be a mess, but he didn’t want to talk about it, either. He had problems enough without arguing over ones that he could not solve. The only solution he wanted was one for his own mess, and if he couldn’t have that, he wanted to forget about it for a while. And since that was apparently out of the question as well, then if nothing else, he wanted some of that cake.

He didn’t know how long Ouloo and Tupo had been on the periphery of the conversation, but he leapt at the opportunity to end it. ‘And what about you, Ouloo?’ he said loudly, jokingly. ‘What’s your take on the socio-political woes of the Galactic Commons?’

Ouloo stood on the pathway, holding a tray of her elaborate puddings as though she didn’t know what else to do. ‘I want everybody to get along, and I want to make them dessert,’ she said quietly.