Intergalactic

„Say that again.“, president Vance responded to her secretary, who had just stormed into the room. It was still morning,

„Twenty minutes ago, we received a message from a Felindar diplomatic ship requesting landing permissions for tomorrow afternoon. And a meeting with you, immediately following that.“, he repeated what he had said before, matter of factly.

Amara Vance turned sideways, looking out over the city from her corner office, a constant reminder about the people she was representing. Erulas was the only true democracy inside the Junkstorm. It was also one of the few democratic planets where the political system had not devolved into technocratic bureaucracy. It was one of the reasons she loved her home, even though the constant negotiations, political alliances and public appearances exhausted her sometimes.

„Felindar“, she said, thinking aloud. Then she turned around, still pondering the implications.

„An official visit or cloak-and-dagger?“, she asked with a sliver of suspicion in her voice.

„Official by all appearances.“, the secretary confirmed, „They made an unencrypted broadcast. Plenty of ground stations and ships had an opportunity to pick it up.“

„Good.“, Amara said, standing up from her chair, „Contact the offices of Gordon, Krisi and Sibastyan. The ministers should be the official reception, with full entourage.“

The secretary made quick notes on his hand-held tablet. Then he looked up and suggested: „What about Alhan? The ministry of trade and cultural affairs would be fitting given the Felindar are most known as traders.“

„Good point.“, Amara nodded, „Their visit might be unrelated and even if not we should keep up appearances. Change of plans. Gordon, Krisi and Alhan at the reception. Sibastyan at the ready, we keep the ministry of defense in the background for now.“

The secretary left, taking more notes. As the doors closed behind him, Amara Vance started pacing along the window, like a caged panther. The avian aliens unexpected visit reeked of not being a coincidence. The Junkstorm was an uncomfortable place for higher-dimension species, which is why humans could thrive in it. Even four-dimensional aliens like the Qyrl and Felindar, who suffered not as badly as the high-dims, avoided the region unless they had a good reason. Diplomacy and trade was generally conducted a safe distance from the dimensional mess.

„They didn’t want to wait.“, she said to herself, stopping in her tracks. „If they had sent a request, even an urgent one, it would take at least a week for a human delegation to reach the nearest such place.“, she trailed off, realizing she'd been muttering to herself.

She went back to her desk and pulled open a drawer at its side, rummaging around until she found a small tablet hidden underneath some folders of paperwork. Tapping a button on the side of the desk darkened the windows as they turned into one-way mirrors.

She put the tablet on the desk, standing it up against a pile of papers. It took a few minutes to set up the connection and until her conversation partner answered the call.

„Amara“, the Dangorod general greeted her with a gruff voice, „An unofficial call. Is it that serious?“

„Montague“, Amara Vance, president of Erulas, returned the greeting, „Going off record sometimes makes things easier.“, with a carefully placed and stressed „sometimes“ that left it ambiguous if it belonged to the first or second part of her sentence.

„It does.“, he answered, overlooking or ignoring her subtlety, „What is the occasion?“

„I need to know how close your people are to the stolen hyper core. You can keep details to yourself as you see fit, but I have aliens not just knocking on the door but actually paying us a visit. Your spy masters probably know it if not already then any minute now.“

A hint of an amused smile crossed the general’s face: „You overestimate how highly our intelligence has infiltrated your government, Amara. They’re just fumbling about, same as all of us. They just feign secrecy where we admit ignorance.“

„Not because of that.“, Amara Vance retorted, „The aliens sent out an open broadcast. If your people have even one spy monitoring general communications, he picked it up.“

For a moment, much longer than he liked, the surprise was visible on Montague’s face. Then he caught himself, and nodded. „That’s why the urgency.“, he verbally stumbled, collecting his thoughts as he was trying to match this new information with everything else he knew.

„They’re touching down tomorrow afternoon. Come on, give me something to work with. I can’t make an official request. You know that if I do that, I’ll get a carefully vetted response with little content and dubious truthfulness.“

General Montague nodded again. „That’s why we have this channel. Alright Amara, here’s what I know, and I’m sorry but it’s not as much as you probably hope for. We have an agent on the other pirate outpost,“ - „of course you do“, Amara Vance muttered under her breath, „and through him know who is fencing the hyper core. Not one-hundred percent, but all the details match and the timing is very much within our anticipated frame.“

He made a short pause before continuing, and Amara let him do so. She knew when not to interrupt someone. „The fence already has a buyer but we’ve offered to beat it. We don’t know who it is and she’s not telling. We also don’t know where the darn thing is.“

Amara nodded. „If you find out, you know I have marines on the station. Tell me, we’ll grab it, and then figure out who gets it. You have my word on that.“

Montague’s eyes darted between hers before he spoke: „Good to know. If we find out something more tangible, I’ll let you know. Officially or otherwise.“