Meeting
© 2021 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  Major Matt Mason



AAA PRIORITY AAA

MESSAGE BEGINS

FORMIN TERRA SOL TO EMB DWNTIMSTAT

TERMS DISCUSSED WITH HM. PERMISSION GRANTED OPEN TALKS WITH PCG ENVOY AS SOON AS ONE CAN BE ACCREDITED. TOPICS TO DISCUSS AS FOLLOWS:
1. PRISONER TRANSFER / REPATRIATION.
2. COMPENSATION FOR DAMAGE TO CONFED ASSETS/PROPERTY.
3. WHETHER PCG WILL REJOIN TERRIMPGOV.

MENDEZ

MESSAGE ENDS.


***


Balakrishnan felt her ears go flat against her head as she realized who was now her superior as Foreign Minister and gave a derisive snort. Mendez Amir was a cringing little puddle of shit who would never have the spine to say anything other than “Yes” to the Emperor.

She paused and thought about the title. Many Terrans had adopted the imperial title, and quite a few had actually managed to make it work. After Markus the Cruel, though, the concept of becoming a monarch or autocrat over the Terran Sphere had fallen out of fashion.

Well, not her business.

The Dhole-Akita mix stopped before the offices of the Terran station commander, took a breath to brace herself, and entered.

The cervine receptionist smiled up at the canine. “Hello, Ma’am. May I help you?”

“Yes. I need to speak with Commander Garza,” and she nearly gritted her teeth, “please.”

The doe’s smile never wavered. “Of course, Ma’am. One moment.” Her eyes lost focus as she slipped into a momentary datatrance, and after a moment she looked up with another smile. “Go right in, Ambassador.”

“Thank you,” Balakrishnan managed to say before entering the ocelot’s office.

“Ambassador,” Garza said. He wasn’t smiling.

She preferred the look over his earlier irritating smile. “Commander,” she said as she took a seat. “I have . . . a request.”

“Oh?” The ocelot looked genuinely puzzled.

“The Kashlani have demanded that Terra open negotiations with the Colonies,” the canine said, “and I am asking if you have any contacts that can pass on the request to the Provisional Government.”

Garza’s ears went up in surprise. “Well, um . . . that could take a day or two, Ambassador, although there are probably any number of Colonials here on the station.” His whiskers bobbed up and down. “I’ll ask around, and see if anything can be arranged.”

“Thank you,” and the canine stood and left the office.

A few seconds after the door had closed Garza chuckled. His Colonial birth was on his service records, which Balakrishnan had access to; what she didn’t know was that the ocelot was in regular communication with the Colonial government through his Kashlanin counterpart. Of course, he’d have to ask for a proper diplomat to be sent.

But it might be funny to see the look on her face if he was the fur she had to talk to.

He touched a number of areas on his desktop, and sat back as the face of the Kashlanin subadmiral who commanded the other half of the station appeared. “Yes, Commander?”

“Subadmiral, I wish to inform you that the Ambassador is requesting a Colonial envoy.”

The kam’s tongue clucked against the roof of his mouth. “That is interesting. I thought it would take longer, or not at all.” He favored the ocelot with the equivalent of a wry smile. “You wagered ten.”

“Yes. At three to one odds.”

“I’ll arrange payment to your account.” The subadmiral closed the channel and Garza spent a few moments chuckling quietly before contacting Downtime Station’s communications office.

“Yes, sir?”

“Message to the Satan: The word is Olympus.”

“Yes, sir,” and the connection closed.