Memorymakers by Brian Herbert, Marie Landis Page B

can see you every day.”
    “I’d like that,” Thomas said with enthusiasm. “We could always go home for visits.”
    Emily was without words, and she pressed snugly against her grandmother’s bosom.
    When they returned to the Harvey home just before dark, Victoria and their father were still on their trip.
    “Don’t forget Mrs. Belfer is here,” Emily said.
    “The one who sleeps,” Nonna said with an edge to her voice. “I don’t think I’ve exchanged ten words with her.”
    “We’ll be fine,” Thomas said.
    They kissed each other goodbye, and the children entered the house.
    Moments later, the doorbell rang, and Emily peered through the window by the door.
    “It’s a man,” she whispered to Thomas. “The salesman who was here yesterday.”

Chapter 5

    Our race is winding down, melting into the soil. I see it in diminishing population and Nebulon counts, and I feel it in my bones . . . racial shittah!
    —“The Frozen Journal of Jabu”

    Malcolm Squick saw the brown-haired girl at the window by the front door, peering around the curtains. He smiled at her, knew from the amoeba-cams he’d left that she and her brother were alone, except for the alcoholic housekeeper, asleep in her room off the back porch.
    The drunken sot would not interfere.
    A screen from Squick’s training flashed in his mind, with frost around the lettering, just as he had seen it in the great ice auditorium of Homaal:

    Amoeba-cams: living radio-optic organisms stealth-encapsulated so they occupy a wavelength of light invisible to Gweens. They buzz, but only within a sound range beyond the auditory perception of the target race. When released in a structure by a fieldman, the amoeba-cam divides into the number of rooms and hallways, providing visual and auditory sensors in each.

    Squick had released an amoeba-cam here the day before.
    “Flies on the wall,” Director Jabu called them.
    With these remarkable devices from Jabu’s Inventing Corps, fieldmen knew when adults were home so that calls could be made upon unattended children. If adults appeared suddenly, there were deadly contingency plans.
    “Remember me? I was here yesterday,” Squick said loudly enough so that the girl could hear him through the glass. “I forgot to ask a couple of things.” He lifted his briefcase.
    “Our parents aren’t here,” Emily shouted back.
    “You’re Emily, aren’t you?”
    No response. She gripped her lower lip in her teeth as if afraid, then released it.
    A boy appeared beside the girl, obviously younger than she but taller, with curly dark hair and similar features. Even through the glass Squick could see that the irises of both children lacked the pale red glow of Nebulons that characterized the eyes of the Ch’Var race, confirmation to him that these were Gweenchildren, target children. Only Ch’Vars could see the luminosity in Ch’Var eyes.
    “Ah, this must be the birthday boy!” Squick exclaimed loudly. He popped open his briefcase without putting it down, removed several colorful party hats. “Which would you prefer? What about cookies? And games? Which games do you want to play?” He held up a red and black party favor for them to see.
    The girl scowled, but the boy disappeared from the window and opened the door. “I’m Thomas Harvey. I like the blue hat, the one with the yellow clowns.”
    “May I step inside for a moment? I have several selections to show you . . . even sample cake and ice cream flavors!” Squick bubbled with feigned excitement. He saw Emily Harvey behind the boy, near the doorway to the living room, her small, pretty face pinched in disapproval. A more difficult child to convince than her brother.
    Thomas looked at his sister. “Is it okay?”
    “I don’t have much time,” Squick said with urgent cheer. “So many orders to fill!”
    “All right,” answered a hesitant Emily. “We’re not supposed to let in strangers, but if it’s for the party . . . well, I guess . . .”
    Squick