Koen stood behind the counter of his kitchen, staring at his knives. "So," he said. "One last banquet."

"Yes." Laura stood very straight, chin up. "It's not impossible to do it without you, but…I want it to be the best it can be." Something opened between them.

Laura closed it. "Of course. It's important. For the Parturians."

"Oh," said Koen. "Right. The Parturians." He turned away from her and opened the refrigerator.

Laura wanted to tell him to turn back around, and that desire angered her. Why couldn't she be done with this? She recognized the weak part of herself, the lazy, whining animal, so broken now that all she had to do was look at it and it fled. Never give up. Take what you deserve.

"It will be a great opportunity for us. For both our species."

"Keep them thinking we're doing them a favor."

He sounded like Mark, and Laura didn't like it. What was Koen looking at in the refrigerator anyway? He should be at least as brave as she was and look at her, instead of presenting his backside like a baboon. But Laura was not about to let her professionalism slip.

"You'd be doing us a favor," she informed him.

Koen straightened, jaw unclenching, and face rather cold. "Of course I will, Laura. And I'd like to spend the next four days cooking, anyway."

Four days. He could go shopping…Or no. He could order what he didn't already have from the Greaves. What had he been looking for in the refrigerator? His memory was a blank. He bent back down. "I already have some good seasonal ingredients: chestnuts, mushrooms, lotus root."

Lotus root symbolized the bonds of family. What family did Laura have at this point? What would she ever have?

Koen straightened and turned. "My research says for a traditional Guangdong banquet, we have eight courses…" Goddamn! What was that look on her face? "Are you all right, Laura?"

"I'm fine."

Laura remembered Mr. Grumbles cowering away from Koen. Stupid animal. He should have been more afraid of her. Laura wasn't gentle and patient like Koen. She was cold and hard. She imagined kicking Mr. Grumbles. Slapping him. How dare you want these things you can't have? Bad! Bad human!

"Tell me the main course."

"Braised duck. I got three nice big ones from the Greaves. And Graa said he wasn't offended by the idea of eating them."

"Koen," said Laura. "Graa won't be there. The Parturians will."

"Um, right. I'll check." He looked away, rubbing his hands.

Laura sighed. "Let's go through the dishes in order."

"Right. Soup's first."

"You can't find shark fin here, can you?"

"If a sustainable shark fin substitute is available anywhere, it's here," said Koen, allowing himself to slip back into the familiar stream of event-planning. "I'll ask around." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called up his notes app. "Anyway. Soup. First course. Next is pork belly with taro and water caltrops."

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"Can we find a pig?"

"No, but I have an idea about that. A substitute for the vegetables is harder. The Greaves' basic agricultural package is South American. Maybe I can get Asian ingredients through Fling. Water caltrops and taro, I still need them, and lotus roots— "

"No lotus roots," said Laura. "They wouldn't be appropriate."

"What do you mean? Aren't lotuses traditional?"

Laura gave her head a tight shake.

"Are you all right, Laura?"

"Stop asking me that."

"Um. Okay, I was thinking lotus and crab, but how about shrimp? Drunken shrimp?"

Lucky shrimp. Lucky Koen, who could go out with a bang and then go back to Earth and never have to worry again.

"Laura?"

She shook her head again. More violently this time. "Listen! What's wrong with you?"

"You said…" Laura called for a dump of her short term memory, and her trembling brain offered the words up: "Next up is pumpkins."

Pumpkins for health. That was acceptable. "River snails, of course," she said, "for a good harvest."

"Yes," said Koen. "And I have something like bok choy that I can stir-fry."

"What about oil?"

"Yes. And…" He looked ceilingward, accessing his memory and counting off on his fingers. "Rice wine, black vinegar, bean paste, and soy sauce we already have. We also already have cassia wine and moon cakes. There are whole roast ducks available from the Greaves. Bean sprouts and chilies I can get from the Greaves, too." All this talk of soup reminded him of Proprietress the spider. What would she think of this banquet?

"Next?" asked Laura.

Koen focused back on his notes. "Finally, there's mixed nuts, pears, pomelos, pomegranates, and watermelons."

Symbolizing separation, reunion, fertility, and more fertility, thought Laura. "No."

"I actually think I can find all of them," said Koen, "except pears."

"Koen, this isn't a wedding banquet."

Koen looked up. The words "it could be a wedding" actually formed themselves in Koen's language centers. His larynx tensed. But he had been burned too hot and too recently by courage. He looked back down at his phone. "I thought they were traditional for the mid-autumn festival," he mumbled.

"This isn't a real festival." If he still didn't get it, she'd pound the message like a nail into his forehead. "Half the ingredients are weird aliens. It isn't for you and me. It is for the Parturians."

Koen didn't look up at her. He hated seeing Laura like this. The way she bore down on herself. It reminded him of Mark.

"Okay," he said. "No fruit. Just nuts?"

And what did that symbolize? Laura felt suddenly exhausted. "Drinks?" she asked.

"We have that cassia wine."

Her stomach twinged. She didn't know why. Perhaps she was worried there wouldn't be enough. "We need more. See if anyone in this city — "

The translator clicked.

"Mr. Ruis?" That was Yoshida's voice. What would the maintenance man want? Cameras? Blackmail?

Koen and Laura shared a wild look. Laura was still vulnerable!

Why couldn't Koen lose everything, instead of just most of everything? Then, at least, he might not have to be afraid anymore.

"Someone is waiting outside for you."

Koen tried to calm down. Yoshida would be on security duty now, with Severo stripped of her position. With that realization accomplished, Koen's brain went on to process the next implication. "Outside? A nonhuman?"

"Yes."

Koen's mind flooded with images of a tearful reconciliation with General Graa. But, "I can't meet him. I can't leave the Embassy."

"If you like, I can allow her to come up to you."

"Oh," said Koen. "Her."

Laura wondered if she should slip away, but didn't make the decision quickly enough.