"Navigator to map the route and tell them where to go, scientists to study any planets they find, engineer to ensure that they continue to have a working ship..."

She nods. "How many distinct polities of your species are there?"

"I don't have an exact count, but it's approximately on the same order as the number of inhabited systems, which is about two hundred - there are a couple of interplanetary empires and a handful of subgoverned planets, but one polity to a planet is the customary arrangement, and the usual number of habitable planets in a system is one or fewer. What about yours?"

"Fewer than that, although not by very much - though most of the small countries have long-term alliances or protectorate relations with larger ones or each other so they aren't steamrolled for territory as soon as they annoy someone, so we can be approximated as a few dozen."

"Interplanetary conquest is happily not so much of a concern; the only people who seriously try it anymore are the Cetagandans, and I expect they will eventually learn from their mounting pile of expensive failures."

"It'll be much less of a concern with a program to direct that kind of expansionism up and out instead of across borders."

"Yes. Although I can imagine some human polities getting a little nervous if they hear that you're coming out into the galaxy under such urgent population pressure, given that strictly speaking there aren't any uninhabited planets for you to claim at the moment. You could probably soothe those worries by being very friendly and very interested in joining Betan Astronomical Survey and similar ventures - and maybe by sending some people to immigrate to some of the less populated or more recently colonized planets, as a concrete demonstration that peaceful coexistence is possible."

"A mixed strategy like that sounds like a great idea. We're currently under an immigration protocol that requires swapping people between countries and a place for people to just straightforwardly go will help alleviate the pressure all on its own."

"Yes, I imagine it would. Well, it's a great big galaxy out there, and there's plenty of room."

President Icalena grins at him. "You can't imagine how pleased we are to hear that."

"I'm beginning to get an idea!"

They arrive at the Presidential Residence. It's very nice, and it does have a fair amount of garden around it, but it's vertically oriented and there are other buildings that could reasonably be called neighbors beyond the house and its outlying structures. They built it with a view towards conservatism with their land area. The cars pull up a path that looks like being driven on is not its primary purpose and discharge their passengers and drive away. They are greeted at the door by uniformed purples with water glasses on trays; they surreptitiously count the aliens.

There are one two three four five six seven eight nine aliens! All of them except for Miles are unusually tall; maybe humans have a higher average height.

The aliens, Miles included, are happy to accept glasses of water, although the person with the scanner scans one in case of unwholesome trace minerals or something. The trace minerals turn out to be sufficiently wholesome.

There are exactly the right number of place settings when they are shown into the dining room. Miles gets to sit next to President Icalena. They are joined by some greens who are REALLY EXCITED TO BE THERE.

Ooh, excited greens! Miles is so pleased to meet these excited greens!

The greens are SO EXCITED. Wormholes and languages and alien biology and foreign cultures and WORMHOLES and pilot brain surgery and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

Miles and his entourage will happily discuss these subjects with excited greens. The translator folks are delighted to talk languages, the person with the med scanner is up on alien biology, and Miles knows a little bit about everything and may in fact end up holding three simultaneous conversations with three different excited greens on assorted subjects.

The excited greens are SO excited. Planets! Planets planets! They will get ahold of some cutting-edge neurology oranges after dinner, they tell the humans, and start talking about finding would-be pilot greys who want to try it first.

Cutting-edge neurology oranges may be disappointed by the available literature on jump pilot implant science in this mercenary fleet, but he'll happily talk to them anyway, and it'll be handy to have them already introduced to the concepts involved when he goes and retrieves better literature.

(Also, humans, having no universal caste system, will be happy to accept pilot applicants from any background, but Amentans may of course organize themselves however they like.)

It's interesting they don't have one at all! Of course aliens were not expected to have an identical system but not having one seems oddly primitive. They don't mean that in a bad way.

"I admit the whole concept kind of goes against my Betan instincts—Beta Colony is famous for taking egalitarianism to an extreme, everyone should have the same rights and opportunities and acceptably pleasant minimum standard of living—but evidently it works for you."

"A lot of political scientists expect things to smooth out once there's more space," says a green. "Blues want as many kids as anyone, they'll multiply a bit, run out of blue things to do."

"Sounds like it's going to be a sociologically fascinating transition."

"It will!"

"So, it's clear from the existence of that book I read that as a people you've put more thought into contact with aliens before today than I have; do you have thoughts on what you'd like to see happen?" he says, addressing the Amentans present in general rather than any specific person.