The door of the Wishing Well is pock-marked with laser burns, but it still holds up and the automatic door still opens for any sentients who want to enter, as long as they aren't carrying any weapons. The war of Melech 5 has taken its toll on the station, but the uneasy peace has brought with it a rise in business. More and more, Becky.2.2 is seeing foreigners making stops in the bar, resting from tense trade negotiations or killing time before the next leg of their journeys. She recognizes them by their strange gaits, unused to the stable gravity, or by the characteristic phenotypal markers- three legs on the Phoenicians, a set of gills on the Tyrians. She recognizes them by the haunted stare, lost and homesick out amongst the stars. She wonders what made them leave the safety of their home stations.
The door of the Wishing Well swings open and a young Canaanite walks in. She reads that affiliation in his ropy, lanky limbs, his dark green hair and matching skin, and in something about the way he looks at her. She can feel a connection as soon as she sees him. Canaan Station was founded by dissidents from Ur-23 and there's long been a lively commerce between the two outposts. And her clone-parent had an even more personal relationship with the station. Becky.2.2 has the whole story nearly memorized, of the bald man who entered the Wishing Well thirty parsecs ago with his clumsy helperbots sagging from apparent power drain.
This young man has a full head of hair, though, and sharp, probing, intelligent eyes. She reads into his face a millennium of possibilities. Becky.2.2 decides to schedule a sexual encounter with him as soon as she can.
He pulls a hologram out of his pocket and seems to compare its likeness to hers. Satisfied, he nods and looks straight into her eyes. "You are a clone-child of Becky.1, correct? You resemble her."
She smiles, recalling her clone parent. "Yes, I am Becky.2.2, second clone-child of Becky.1. How do you know my clone-parent?"
"I've never met her, but she donated genetic material to me. I am the offspring of Abraham.2.2. You and I share chromosome 44."
She laughs. "Then this is indeed a joyous reunion. I would pour you a drink, but the keg is empty and my lifter droid is on loan to Stationmaster Laban until the evening."
"Ah, well, worry not. I'll replace the keg for you, and then I'll sit here and listen to you tell me your troubles." The higher gravity seems to flummox him for a moment, but despite his slender appearance he is strong enough to lift the new keg up in a single smooth motion. As he does it, she admires the cut of his shoulders, and remembers again her promise to have sexual intercourse with him.
She laughs again, deeper and louder than the first time. "I'm the bartender. I'm supposed to listen to your troubles."
He shakes his head, his green hair flopping back and forth on his head, and a spot of sorrow bursts past emotional barriers he's kept hidden from her until it seems to take up his whole face. "If I did that, we'd be here all night."
"I wouldn't mind that at all," Becky.2.2 says, smiling shyly.