“We offer the full might of the Romulan Republic, not only of our fleet but also of our engineers and miners. We are, after all, experts at Dilithium extraction,” Stygur announced to the vast room with a booming voice. There were only a handful of bodies in the cavernous space, but the slender Reman could have been addressing the senate itself for the grandiousness with which he dressed his words.

“Experts, you say. With what proof?” A melodic voice replied from the other end of the long silver table. Every surface in the room seemed to gleam with polished perfection, shining silver that reflected the golden skin of the Concord envoy. No doubt their intention. Each surface strategically designed to highlight who was in charge here; there was no escaping the thousand luminous eyes that watched every word. “Why are the Republic such experts at mining dilithium?”

Stygur twitched minutely as he considered his reply. Reman refugees had been a major part of the Republic’s foundling society, finally escaping the lash of their masters who had held them in the sunless caves of the Empire’s mines. It was not a proud moment in their shared history with the Romulan people but it had brought the new government a valuable expertise in mining operations, perfect for a new government hungry for raw materials.

“Surely the Concord couldn’t be that unaware?” Dasranika whispered beneath her breath to Dane.

“They’re a thousand light-years away and locked behind the shroud. It’s not only possible but likely,” Dane replied in a hushed baritone.

Dasranika considered the hairless form of the Envoy at the far end of the table. Like a child, he stared with wide luminous eyes at Stygur’s nervous form, a visage of curiosity. The best research of the Diplomatic office had indicated that the Concord had comparatively little exposure to other galactic species; perhaps it simply was a lack of awareness of the Reman peoples’ millennia-long fight for freedom.

“We have centuries of hands-on experience,” Stygur finally replied diplomatically.

“The Republic is barely able to feed its own forges,” Ohkhan scoffed from his chair as he placed a silver goblet back onto the shining surface of the table. “The Klingon Empire has been operating a galactic fleet for millennia; we know how to efficently mine enough to supply a grand empire.”

“Did you not explode your own moon due to overmining?” Dasranika smirked. She could feel the heat of Dane’s disapproval, but shrugged it off as she leaned over the table towards the emerald-skinned diplomat. It was a cheap shot, but the man’s smugness was infuriating. “That doesn’t sound like experts.”

Ohkhan’s eyes narrowed towards her with serpentine venom.

“An accident from which we learnt a painful lesson,” he hissed through pursed lips as he extended an open palm, dripping in delicate silks and finery, towards the Concord Envoy. “One we would share with our new friends so they may learn from the pain of our mistakes.”

“We are not friends,” the envoy corrected with an even tone. A simple statement but it fell onto the table like a leaden weight that caused everyone to twitch at its finality.

The Orion man turned and lowered his head minutely in performative deference.

“I apologise, we have already shared some of our expertise in the spirit of friendship. We would see that relationship flourish like the Synack tree.” Ohkhan’s oily voice slithered across the table, but elicited little more than a blank stare as it bounced off the Envoy’s golden skin.

“Yes, we noticed you were already providing your expertise. What was the vessel you were chasing?” Dane asked, his slender fingers playing with the base of the full goblet in front of him.

“Ill-informed rebels,” the Envoy replied calmly, dismissing an imaginary fly with a wave of his perfectly manicured hand. Behind him, his flightless wings shuddered. A minute reaction, not missed by Dane’s experienced eye.

“Rebels? I was under the impression that the Concord was a joining of like minds?” He mused innocently.

“A small cluster of mistaken miners has gathered on a nearby moon under a false premise.” The Envoy shrugged. “They are incorrect in their assumption and will soon be educated as to the truth. It is of little relevance to our negotiation.”

“The Empire was happy to provide our assistance in hunting down misinformed rebels,” Ohkhan added with a sycophantic grin.

“What have these miners…” Stygur paused, shifting with visible discomfort, “… misunderstood?”

“A young girl was recently killed in an unfortunate accident, and a small group of miners led by the girl’s father believe it was the fault of a Concord official. We have investigated the matter and found it was simply an unfortunate accident.” The Envoy shrugged once again, and Dasranika found her frustration at his seeming lack of interest in the whole conversation growing.

“And you plan to clarify this for them?” Dane’s eyes narrowed as his tone became razor sharp. “How?”

The Envoy motioned with pride beyond the long window behind him to the spindly arms of the space station that curved out in long metallic arcs, twisting around a half dozen dagger-shaped Concord vessels like nooses. Each bristled with needle-like disruptors, their dark, poisonous tips in stark contrast to the chrome surface of the vessels.

“The Task Force leaves imminently.”

“You expect violence?” Dane asked hesitantly.

“We have found it to be an unfortunate likelihood when dealing with the Zhelicar. It is a problem with lesser species who lack the ability for higher thought,” the Envoy replied with a forlorn sigh. “It is our responsibility to care for such dumb creatures, for their own safety, you understand.”

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the room, and even Ohkhan seemed to find the blatant speciesism unpalatable.

“May we join you?” Dane asked, his words cutting through the silence and forcing Dasranika to stifle a surprised intake of breath. “The Federation is always interested in learning from educated beings.”

The Envoy raised a hairless eyebrow, joining the cacophony of surprised looks from around the table.

“In the interest of building friendship, of course,” Dane smiled.

“The Empire would also like to learn.” Ohkhan insisted hurriedly. “Perhaps it is another opportunity to share our expertise.”

“Do you often have to deal with rebels?” The Envoy chimed in a soft, lilting tone.

“Only when they have been misguided by the whispers of lesser species.” A bright sycophantic smile stretched across the man’s face, as reflective as the table in the centre of the room. “Whispers the Federation would no doubt claim they have no part in.”

“We don’t have to whisper in your people’s ears for them to object to the yoke of the Empire,” Dasranika seethed.

Dane gave a light tap on her wrist, reeling her back with the small touch and offered a minute twitch of his head.

‘Cool it, I have a plan.’

“We were hoping to visit the mine in either case, this seems like the perfect opportunity to do so and learn a little more about each other.” Dane offered an inoffensive shrug of his shoulders. “We welcome any opportunity for the sharing of knowledge.”

“Very well,” the Envoy replied with a weary sigh of disinterest as he rose from the chair, its metallic form screeching as it slid across the shining silver floor. “We would be happy to educate you.”

As the golden-skinned man turned and wafted towards the doors, Dasranika grabbed Dane firmly by the arm.

“What are you doing?” She hissed quietly, a watchful eye on the Klingon and Romulan representatives who were already filing out of the room.

“Remember the mission on that Kybalic trade station?”

“I remember we spent three days negotiating with someone who turned out to be a janitor.”

Dane placed his hand over hers and gave it a soft squeeze.

“Exactly, I think we’re negotiating with the wrong people.”