"One question", said my brother-in-law, getting up from my desk to greet me. "Which Mr Zorg did she just announce, you or me?"

"Quite obviously, you. This is my office, in case you haven't realized that yet." But I grinned as I said it. Nobody could be angry at Marcus for long, and after all, I found it useful when he took on some of my work, even when he did it without asking first.

"Don't complain", Marcus laughed, brushing a long, curly strand of blond hair out of his eyes. "Especially since I'm going to answer your mail for you."

"Great idea, Marc. You do that."

"Don't let him exploit you", my sister put in. "You offer him something like that once, you'll have to do it always."

Marcus shrugged. "I've done it before, you know. At least he doesn't boss me around – like you." But he smiled at her warmly as he said it. Although I kept tossing the prejudice at my brother-in-law that marriage was nothing but a milder form of slavery, he insisted on being happily married to my sister, and he claimed to have absolutely no complaints about her – which I, in turn, found somewhat surprising, yet maybe this could be explained by Marcus's almost unnatural good-naturedness. I for my part was never going to marry. Of course, there was the question of heirs to take over the company one day, but my sister and Marcus had produced three of them already, so there was nothing to worry about for me. I could go on as I had always used to, taking all the women I wanted without committing myself.

"No", said my sister, "Manuel isn't the type to boss you around. He'll play your best buddy and sneak up to you, and then he'll start being persuasive."

I grinned. That could sum it up nicely – at least as far as Marcus was concerned. "I can be very persuasive sometimes."

My sister gave me a frown. "You've slept with my secretary again, haven't you?"

This caught me by surprise. How could she possibly know? "Why?" I managed.

"Yes, I really wonder why", my sister snapped, not at the least willing to tell me how she had found out. "She doesn't seem that suitable for you to me."

I shrugged, while Marcus grinned broadly, as he did so often. To him, such dialogues seemed very amusing, especially when between my sister and me. "She's well built, and she's bright", I answered resignedly, since my sister knew anyway. "And she's eager to please."

Marcus whistled and rolled his eyes, but was quickly silenced by a glare from my sister. "But I'm not pleased", she growled at me. "Sleep with your own secretary, for a change!" And she silenced the snort of laughter from Marcus as well.

"Why would you care?" I tried, slightly annoyed at her sudden change of mood, and over so small and unimportant a thing, though my mischievousness was a lot stronger than my anger. "You're not her lover, are you? So there's no need to be jealous."

This time Marcus's snicker could not be stopped by glaring.

"Enough of that silliness", my sister commanded, sitting down at my desk and shoving my papers out of her way. Marcus and I exchanged a glance, and she clicked her tongue at us irritably. "Marcus, Manuel says he is done with the ZF-1 work."

"Really?" Marcus exclaimed.

I felt a huge grin pulling the corners of my mouth apart. "You bet." I was so proud at that moment, proud beyond imagination, yet that my sister had just given up on holding me a longer lecture certainly added to my spirits' soaring high. "A whole pound lighter than the original concept, breaks up easily into four parts, with the net launcher added, and undetectable by radar."

This announcement had exactly the desired impact. "You must be kidding", my sister exclaimed, while Marcus just gasped. "Undetectable? That's downright impossible! Not with a thing that size."

"Are you sure about this?" Marcus asked. Despite what he sometimes pretended, he knew much about weapons.

"Look, I may have been more or less brain-dead at three this morning, but our radar systems certainly weren't. They can't detect anything if you just remove that heat grid and the charge counter."

"You can't remove the heat grid", Marcus objected, at the same as my sister said: "But you need the charge counter!"

"You can put them back in when you need them", I explained. "They're just additional equipment. You simply chuck them into the spare parts compartment of your ship, where nobody will pay any attention to them even if they search your ship thoroughly, and put them on the gun when you feel like it. It works just as well without, by the way."

"Maybe, but you burn your fingers without the heat grid", my sister said pragmatically.

"I don't", I remarked, giving her a meaningful look.

"But he's got a point, Lisa", Marcus put in before she got a chance to snap my head off. "This is a brilliant idea. It'll sell like nothing before, especially to races like… like the Mangalores, for instance."

"Like the what?"

My sister raised her eyebrows at me. "Don't you ever read the newspapers? Or watch the news, at least?"

"No", I said flatly, while gazing at her pointedly. "People expect me to work."

This earned me one of my sister's most irritable "tsks". "Don't you go referring to that discussion. You were reading the paper while supposedly listening to me, then, and it was most impolite of you."

"Well, it was breaking news this morning", Marcus interjected hastily. "The Federal Army chased them out of their hiding places. They're dispersed all over the galaxy now."

"So what did they do?" I asked, partly out of interest, partly to avoid another discussion about my manners.

Marcus shrugged. "They call themselves warriors, you know. You can probably imagine. Raids on neighbouring planets and so on, and constant fighting among themselves, as well, among their clans or something like that. An extremely unpleasant kind, and with a most interesting concept of honour."

"A wholly distorted concept of honour", Lisa added. "They consider it a question of honour to blow up things, it seems. Ships and so on."

"Pretty weird", Marcus agreed.

"They raid, slay and ravage without regard to anything – a disgrace to the civilized world. It was about time the Federation got fed up with them."

"And scattered them to the winds", Marcus said with satisfaction. "However, they have one ability which makes them highly interesting."

"Which is that?" I asked, right on clue.

"They're shape-shifters", my sister explained.

"They're what?"

"Shape-shifters", my sister repeated patiently. "They can change their appearance at will."

There was only one thing I had to say to this: "Bloody hell!"

"Yes, that's what I said when I heard it this morning", Marcus remarked.

"You sure you're not kidding me?"

"Perfectly", Marcus insisted. "It was on the news. They can change their appearance in a heartbeat. It's really amazing. They could be anyone."

"Alright, you've got me, folks", I said, and Lisa and Marcus both gave me surprised looks. "I'm just masquerading as me; in truth I'm a bloody great big… thingy. What did you call them?"

"Mangalores", Marcus helped me out, laughing.

"I might even believe you", my sister giggled. "You must have been one all your life. That explains so much."

"Thanks, dearest sister, you're so charming today. What do they look like normally?"

"Ugly", Marcus replied immediately.

"Humanoid, but taller than a man", my sister described them. "Grey and somewhat wrinkled skin, bald, large black eyes, no real noses, yellow fangs in a wide mouth – or gaping maw, that somehow fits better – and funny ears."

"Pointy ears", Marcus added, "but they point downwards."

I tried to form a picture in my mind and found that Marcus's first attempt to describe them had been quite suitable. "Sounds like some kind of modern orcs to me."

Marcus exchanged a glance with my sister, who nodded. "Might be a good association. Space orcs."

"Well, you must know", said Lisa, again giving me that mischievous look. "I've been suspecting for years that my parents brought up an orc together with me."

"I love you too, Lisa."

Marcus snickered. "You two are simply hilarious today. Has he done anything to you this morning, like, let's say, disagreed with you?"

Giggling, my sister leapt up from her chair (which was, in fact, mine) and wrapped her arms around my neck. "He's done nothing wrong. He's my favourite orc."

"And you're my favourite mountain troll", I answered, cuddling back. Whatever Lisa said to me, she was still my beloved little sister, even if she pretended to be the elder sister, told me off for being rude and not wiping my boots and tried to send me to bed. And I was her admired elder brother, even if I spat cherry stones across the table and chose to consider lounging in an armchair with one leg over its side a proper position for official meetings.

"Ah, right", said Marcus, amused, "so nothing to worry about, eh? As I was saying, Manuel, before I was interrupted by your manifesting ignorance, we might make a grand deal with types like the Mangalores if you really managed to make it undetectable."

"I hope they won't be the only ones", I answered sceptically, "or else we might get into a bit of trouble with the Federal Government."

Lisa snorted. "Forget it. They're so busy with themselves, and they're in no position to even negotiate as long as you're their creditor."

"Good point", I admitted. "Still, I'd like to get a proper contract with the Federal Army or something. Business with them is not as good by far as it might be."

"On the other hand", Marcus interjected, "we've earned quite a fortune by offering them credit, so don't complain."

"Yeah, and payment's due by next Tuesday", I said. "I've had a word with that old fool Lindbergh, quite clearly stating that I don't want to hear any more excuses."

"Oh dear", my sister remarked, letting go of me with a frown. "I hope you didn't say the same as last time."

Marcus had taken to riffling through the papers on my desk once more. Now he raised his head as well as his eyebrows. "What did he say?"

My sister rolled her eyes at me before she planted her feet on the ground firmly and about two spans apart, hooked her thumbs into her belt and threw her head back to the left in what appeared quite an arrogant way to shake the hair out of her face. "I don't give a damn about bloody legal restrictions", she said in the dark, gruff voice she always used to imitate a man. "Where's my goddamn money?"

Marcus and I couldn't but laugh at that. "Alright, thanks", Marcus snorted. "I can almost see him now."

"Hey, I didn't quite strike that pose", I objected. Somehow my sister could always make me look like an arrogant git when she imitated me.

"You did! I was standing right behind you."

"I did not!"

"You did, too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Bloody did NOT!"

"Of course you did! Stop bickering!"

"You're bickering! And I still didn't!"

"Sure you did!"

"Never!"

"If you two would permit me", Marcus put in, grinning, "I think your secretary wants a word with you, Manuel."

Only now I noticed that my sister and I were standing opposite each other with our fists clenched, glaring and looking as if we were going to jump at each other's throat any minute now. Hastily I assumed a more neutral position and turned to face my secretary, who was standing in the doorframe and giving me a weird look. "What?" I barked at her, sharper than intended.

"Your sales figures, sir."

"Give them here." Striding across the room, I snatched them from her. "Next time you knock. And if you think I'm a crazy bloody freak, just tell me."

"Yes, sir", my secretary acknowledged shakily.

"Don't you go yessirring me all the time! I can't stand it!"

"Yes, s… I mean, sorry, sir."

I sighed, exasperated. That woman just didn't possess the slightest sense of humour. Taking life that seriously made you end up in… well, probably in her position. And maybe in a lunatic asylum a few years later. And she would certainly blame me if she did.

"Sales figures?" Marcus asked as soon as my secretary had left the room. "Why don't you just hand them over?"

I spread the four sheets of paper out on the desk, and the three of us bent over them to have a look. Altogether, business was going magnificently, especially in the company's main enterprises. The sub-firms were all positive, at least, but some obviously did not earn us too much. Two of the smaller taxi firms run by one of the sub-firms were teetering right on the edge. Maybe I should sell them, I thought. They just weren't as profitable as me and my advisors had hoped they would be. Selling them might at least fetch a bit of money.

"Just wait 'til the ZF-1 enters the statistics", Marcus beamed, rubbing his hands. "The figures are going to explode, I bet you." He was the economist among the three of us, yet it didn't really need an economist to predict that.

Without Marcus realizing it, the mention of the ZF-1 together with the word "explode" at once caused an association. "By the way, folks", I said casually, "did I yet tell you about the little red button?"

At once I had their full attention, and the sales figures were forgotten. "What little red button?" my brother-in-law asked, just as my sister demanded: "What are you talking about?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, I just wanted to counsel you never to try it indoors."

Lisa and Marcus exchanged a glance. "Explain", my sister said.

Grinning, I set about to do so. Today, life was good.