He takes me to the front end of the station, right below the Bridge, and has me register my ID to the room. It’s identical to Michael’s except for a plaque hanging on the nearer wall. A silver strip arcs through its center. Four words are inscribed on it, but they are written in a language I can’t read.

“Sic facio futurum sit,” Orcher says, folding his arms in reverence. He tips his head toward me. “‘I work so you may have a future.’ It was your father’s motto.”

“What language is that?” I ask.

“Latin, an ancient language on Earth.”

“Earth had different languages?”

“Thousands,” he says, glancing at his watch.

“Do you know any languages?”

“Questions, questions, questions.” He chuckles. “I do, though I’m not well-practiced. Fortan chakliin amar. It’s Narvidian for: ‘I want to drink from the fountain,’ but translates better as, ‘I need a drink.’ That’s not the end of the story, however. Years ago, even before Victoria was recruited, your father and I were attending a conference on Narviid. I was thirsty, so—to test myself—I said, ‘wetan chakliin amar.’ The whole room burst out laughing. I found out later that I had said, ‘I want to drink from the toilet.’” He shakes his head. “Not my finest moment.”

Silence drops between us. I repeat the words in my head so I don’t forget them. It’d be cool to learn a new language. I already know what Glacia will say: ‘If you want to be all romantic-y, speak to her in a different language.’

“Is there any way I can learn it?” I ask.

“You can ask around and see if any Officials know the language, but I doubt many will. Interplanetary negotiation is done in Standard, and aside from our last trip to Belvun, we don’t stay on planets long enough to learn the native language—if the people even have one.” He scratches his chin in thought. “Narviid, Artaans, and Melles are the last three planets that haven’t lost their languages.”

Orcher stares at the plaque, his eyes tracing the inscription. A thin gold plate sits below the silver ribbon. It reads: Ambassador Lance, Cornell.

“This was his room, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

Orcher must see the grimace that flashes across my face, because he gestures at the opposite wall and takes longer to say his next words.

“He had a picture of your family. All five of you.”