"You each have your own personal suites," Francis said. "Claudia will tell you who goes where."​

     Adam Forwarder's voice dropped an octave as he asked, "C-Claudia's here?"

     "Who's Claudia?" Myanna asked.

​     "Claudia's our internal intelligence system," Francis replied.

​     From over everyone's head, there came a loud, female, "Hi!"

     Francis led them to a large, round dining table with room enough around its sides for everyone to sit.

     "There will always be refreshments here," he said. 

     "Those look like freeburgers," Abby said.

     "Those aren't just freeburgers, Mom," Skip said as he picked one up to bite into. "These are deluxe freeburgers. Two patties. Two tomatoes. I love freeburgers!"

     Myanna shoveled pasta on her plate like it was her last meal. 

     "This is pasta like my family used to make!" she exclaimed. "There hasn't been a day in the last twenty years where I haven't thought about a plate of pasta like this!"

     "Any champagne?" Adam asked. "I hate to mix."

     "Here we drink broove," Francis replied. Kegs littered the vast hall they found themselves in. Azurians stood in line behind each one to refill the mugs they held. 

     "Do we have to stand in line?" Adam asked.

​     "Not this time." Francis indicated a pitcher on the huge table surrounded by enough mugs for everybody. The liquid inside the pitcher looked yellow and milky. Francis filled the bottoms of each mug with broove. 

     "Take a sip," he told whoever. "See if you like it."

     Adam sniffed the contents of the mug he held. "What makes this stuff so special?"

     Skip took a sip of broove, then emptied the mug he held.

     "More," he said. "Now, please.

     Adam took a sip.

     "Skip's right," he said. "I've never tasted anything better."

CONTINUE

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