Welcome to the Journal of Now and Forever. This Journal is a collection of my Star Control and Star Control 2 fiction. Note: Some of this material is, by necessity, extrapolation from the slim information provided by canon sources.

New fiction is posted first at My Livejournal before it appears here. This story is in response to Spamprovs' Challenge #6.

The records showed that, yes, Jack was right: there really weren't any spare Androsynth for new jobs at this time. Dina gave a low whistle.

At the lab computer across from hers, Grif worked, his eyes hidden by the apparatus hugging his head. The apparatus was designed to help with gene sequencing and other molecular-level work, but it meant the user was effectively blind to the outside world unless the lenses were swung out of the way.

"What's up?" Grif asked.

"Oh, just looking at some things," Dina said, scrolling through the work orders and personnel lists. Now that she knew she was permitted to view these, why not take a look? Jack had given her the appropriate passwords. The information, while dry and academic, was also eye-opening.

"Did you know we have zero unemployment on this planet?" she continued, looking up at Grif; he'd swung the lenses aside to look at her directly.

The concept appeared to surprise him. "Really? Nobody doesn't work? That is – everyone's employed? I didn't think that was feasible."

"It is, and it's real. Can you imagine that? We actually still have jobs queued up, waiting for any given Androsynth to finish what they're doing and move on." Dina shook her head even as she kept reading. "It's because we're not automated enough in some respects, and in other work, we can't automate. Like ours – it requires human involvement. That's why we've been in this department since we started."

Dina hadn't told Grif, or anyone, about her discovery – that she was now one of the true leaders of the Androsynth. She thought it best not to let on; this way she still had the luxury of appearing to be "one of the line." She wasn't sure exactly how the news would affect anyone's behavior, but asking her partners in the committee had revealed they, too, operated in secret.

No wonder nobody knows the official titles of the Powers That Be, she thought. We don't have any.

"But..." Grif thought. "At any given time, someone must be on holiday, or ill."

"That's not the same as actually unemployed. Less than a percent of the Androsynth here are physically incapable of doing any manual work, and those have been routed into pure research matters, places where they can use computers or other machinery to help them do their jobs. Of course, we all know we live for our work, which is part of it – but there are no Androsynth that can't find work. We've got so much pending work that it's been prioritized."

"I never knew." Grif tried to scratch his ear, failed because of the headset, and gingerly removed it, setting it on the counter. "I always thought that, well, it was like on Earth. There might be a pool of free-floating labor, if you will."

"Not really. And Ga – the space forces are likely to push through mandatory military training requirements soon, too. That'll push work back even farther."

Grif looked offended and a little nervous. "Mandatory – a draft? We're going to become a military state?"

"No," Dina sighed. She reached for her coffeecup, found it, and swirled the cold raspberry tea inside. "Technically I suppose we'd be a military-industrial complex, if you want to look at it that way. But we can't afford a permanent soldier base when we don't have a war to fight – yet if we do get involved in a war, we don't want to be defenseless."

Grif mulled this over. "I suppose," he said grudgingly. "It makes sense. And even if a miracle occurred and we started producing viable offspring tomorrow, it would be years before they'd be effective workers or soldiers. I hope the Powers That Be know about this and take it into account."

"I'm sure they do," Dina said, hoping her face gave nothing away. "That's why they're in charge, right?"

"I suppose." Grif did some neck rolls; the headgear was lightweight, but Dina knew from experience that it caused stiffness after prolonged use. "So... what's on top priority, then? And how'd you get that information?"

"Oh – I was just curious," Dina said. "You know how it is, after a while it's something new to look for. We really need something new for entertainment on this planet... I know we brought as much from Earth as we could, but it would be nice to have something homegrown."

Grif took the distraction-bait. "There is some," he admitted. "Mostly from people working in their spare time. Short computer films, mostly – it's hard to create a full drama with live actors when everyone's busy. Although I understand there's an exceptional rendition of – what's the name of it - The Merchant of Venice? - the one with Shylock; and rendered into an Earthling/Androsynth perspective. Not the same as having our own Shakespeare, of course, but." He shrugged. "And you might want to check out the new Earth-EV2 mod kit for historical epics. Just came out yesterday."

"I'm amazed anyone has time at all," Dina said, half-musing. "We're all so busy. I know we've been working on this for years, but... I suppose it's good we don't age, considering how much there is to get done."

"Like what?" As if to amplify his words, Grif put the apparatus back on his head and swung the lenses in front of his eyes. A moment later, he grunted in disapproval. "Come on, warm up again," he coaxed the machine. "Do the macros like you're told."

"Like..." Dina recalled Jack discussing the escape ships, how it would take away from the other projects. "The water-extraction plants for the inland communities. Automatic agricultural equipment, so we don't need to have anyone manning even the computers for the fields. Munitions manufactories that need more automation. If anything, we need more of the programmers and engineers. What we're doing is all well and good, but the programmers and engineers have to create the machines to take over the brute labor jobs. Then someone still has to put them together, debug them, test run... our progress in developing this world comes in installments as we re-route the most important people to new jobs." And if the Earthlings get to us before we're ready, they'll hit us like a hammer striking an anvil. I hope we chose the right path...

"You're telling me. At least I've always been here, once the lab was built. Those first years... just trying to keep fed and not ruin my hands when I was in construction. If I never eat groundmonkey again it'll be too soon." Grif hummed to himself a bit.

Dina turned her eyes away from the computer screen, looked up at the phosphoric lighting tubes overhead, then decided to look out the window instead. The reproductive research lab had been given highest priority in construction after basic shelter. Now that she knew the truth of the labor problem, it was hard not to view everything else in that light.

Successful reproduction would remove most of the females from the work force around the time of childbirth, and afterwards for some time. They'd need other caregivers, too; Dina had read enough to decide that no female should have to go through child-rearing alone, especially during the first year. So at least double the number, then, of Androsynth out of the workforce. Their jobs would have to be taken up by someone. Plus the children would require education, and wouldn't be eligible for work until at least their preteen years, maybe later, depending on the work involved. Earthling societies sometimes put children to work while still in single digits, but Dina wasn't sure even Androsynth children would be up to that. Androsynth themselves had required two to four years to get up to speed after removal from the quick-growth tank.

So then: how to keep the society going when members had to drop out of the workforce to raise the next generation? Correction. They won't be dropping out of the workforce – just changing careers for the rest of their lifetime. Or at least until the children come of age to be independent.

Now she knew what Gary had meant about nobody wanting the responsibility of leadership. It made one think an awful lot about an awful lot, and wonder what could be done about it.

Dina's watch timer beeped. She needed to get Nikita out for some air and exercise. In some respects, she thought, the belyaev was a stepping-stone to caring for actual offspring: no real substitute for it, but certainly the feeling of responsibility and cleaning-up was there.

"Nikita calls," she said to Grif. "I'll be back soon." He grunted again in response, about the only acknowledgement he could make while deep in the mysteries of DNA.

Down on the building's ground floor was the belyaev kennel. The tame foxes were so popular now that major buildings – like this one – had installed small holding areas so the pets' owners could come down periodically to care for them. Ideally, someone would be assigned to watch over them, but once again, manpower dictated otherwise. If you were lucky, you got access to the closed-circuit system and could at least look in now and then.

Dina wasn't the only one visiting the animals today. She recognized the other Androsynth, a familiar stranger; she'd seen him every day here for years, but had no real idea who he was or what he did. But she hadn't been aware he'd owned a belyaev.

"Zdrastyhe, Nikita," Dina called, knowing full well her mispronunciation of the Russian greeting would make a native speaker laugh. "Are you ready to exercise?"

Nikita jumped up and down in his kennel upon seeing her, yipping and barely able to contain his excitement. He did hold still long enough to be carried outside, then leaped down and dashed around the park once they were outside. Wherever possible, buildings had parkland constructed around them, partly for aesthetics, but mostly because it was easier than clearing the land down to the topsoil. The documented effect of nature on production and well-being had a hand in the parks' existence too.

"Excitable, aren't they?" said a voice: the other Androsynth from the kennel, leading his own pet on a leash. He unclipped the lead and this fox, too, ran around like a puppy at the prospect of being outside.

"Yes," Dina agreed, watching the two animals briefly touch noses, then start chasing each other around. "I hope he'll calm down when he gets older."

"Have him neutered. I think that's got something to do with it," the other said. "I'm José."

"Dina." They shook hands. "Is yours neutered?"

"Neutrino? Not yet. Yeah, that's his name – chose it because he's such a wired little cuss – small but active." The belyaev in question was mostly white, as opposed to Nikita, with black marks on his tail and on his face that looked like thick eyeliner and mascara. "He looks like he's wearing makeup, but since he's a male, I didn't want some cutesy name for him. You know how it is."

"Yes – I called mine Nikita because their parent researcher was Russian, or so I'm told."

In silence, the two Androsynth watched their animals chasing each other around the rocks and bushes for several minutes.

"Neutrino! Newt! Knock it off!" José called as his pet chose that moment to relieve itself against the building. "If you gotta piss, do it over there! The bush! I sure hope they learn faster than this," he sighed as Neutrino ignored him.

"The belyaevs? They're just animals, and young ones at that. It's not like they know better," Dina said, watching Nikita to make sure he didn't follow Nikita's lead.

"I know... Newt, c'mere." José jingled the clip at the end of the leash to get his pet's attention. "It just makes me wonder what I've gotten into. Taking care of him's a lot of work – all the attention and feeding and cleaning – if I'd known, I might not've taken him. You know what I mean?"

Dina made a noncommittal noise in response as José leashed Neutrino and led him back inside. She should get back to work herself. Now, as she watched Nikita nose about the grass, his excess energy spent, she had something new to think about. Besides physical and mental health and clone lineage, it appeared she – or someone – had better screen for the right mindset, too, before allowing reproductive privileges.

Comments? Email me: laridian at aol dot com