“Hurry up,” said Sinnin as she pressed an ornate tray into Vianh’s arms and promptly ushered him out of the busy kitchen. Vianh’s wrists dipped under the pressure. The tray was laden with spine-pearls, kelp-spirals, and a carafe that probably cost more than his yearly stipend.

“And don’t drop it!” Sinnin called after him, eliciting a chuckle from the other servants.

“Of course not,” Vianh called back. He tried very hard to sound exasperated, as if such a thing would never happen to him, but he knew better. They all did. And, besides, he was too occupied to balance the tray and remember how walking worked to put enough energy in his attempt at exasperation.

The trek through the harshly lit service corridors was the easy bit, but now came the real challenge – knocking at the door in front of him to be let in.

Vianh grit his teeth and twisted his upper body. His elbow made contact with the crystal, though that resulted in a gentle caress of the door, not a knock anyone inside would hear.

Change of tactic. He centered his right hand beneath the tray, adjusting it until it reached a state of approximate stability, then withdrew his right hand.​

Then, he knocked. And very quickly gripped the tray again with both hands.

The door opened. Behind it lay the sprawling, ostentatious office Grand Auralik Kevenianh used whenever he sought to impress – a high, arched ceiling, and a large window showing a mountain vista with a golden lake and slender harvin-trees.

“Oh. It’s you.” Tivanh said, regarding him like a sketh-larvae, or a parasite that resisted every solvent. Vianh gave a polite blink. Back in his room, he had stood in front of the mirror, practising what to say. He’d even written down several witty comments and learned to perform them to perfection. Unfortunately, he didn’t remember any of them and kept his mouth shut.

He rationalised that by telling himself that Tivanh’s open dislike towards him wasn’t so different from how he regarded everyone else.

And in a weird way, that meant he fit in.

… Right?

And even though the attention he drew upon him wasn’t positive, at least he acknowledged Vianh’s presence. Which was more than anyone else did, unless they gave him orders.

“Are you going to serve the beverage, or are you just going to stand there?” Tivanh hissed. That snapped Vianh out of his ruminations and returned his attention to the fact that this tray was heavy.

He gave another slow blink, trying to keep the markings on his neck from revealing his embarrassment as he made his way to the desk and set down the tray. He cast a careful glance at the Grand Auralik, though the man didn’t look back. Neither did Strathal Lehakinh, who was seated opposite him.

Which meant Vianh could fully concentrate on not spilling the beverage as he refilled their cups.

“The attacks have been minor, but persistent. Alaris and Klira have reported an increased frequency of Ry’kol raids.”, the Strathal said. He sounded casual. As if discussing the glowcycle.

“What of our defences?” the Grand Auralik asked and lazily reached towards the tray to grab a pearl.

Vianh, who hadn’t expected this, flinched. The carafe tilted. And the brown liquid deluged over the desk.

​And this time, Kevenianh acknowledged him with a silver flash of his irises.

Now, Vianh felt his throat closing up.

“S… sorry… “ muttered Vianh contritely, turning frantically as he looked for anything suitable to stem the tide before it reached the stack of datasheets on the centre of the desk, or worse, the Grand Auralik himself.

​“What about our defences?” he asked again. This time, more impatiently.

“They hold – for now,” replied the Strathal, who was watching disaster unfold right in front of him, but didn’t make any attempt to move out of the flood’s way. “But the Rykol have proven themselves quite industrious, especially with stolen technology. And if they get their hands on the defence measures”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

​“You are concerned they will weaponise it against us.”​

“Yes.”

Vianh felt someone touch his arm. “Here,” hissed Tivanh, holding a mesh cloth to his face. The way he regarded him wasn’t so much intimidating as it was demoralising, but Vianh took it gratefully and began making up for his earlier mishap while the conversation continued.

​“I do agree with your earlier point,” said Kevenianh. “A single, hard hit. Cripple their infrastructure, stymie their growth, perhaps even set them back decades. That would also make them more… likely… to agree when next to suggest building exchange cycles.”

The Strathal inclined his head. “Indeed.”

​Finally, the crisis was averted, and Vianh’s fingers unclenched. He offered Tivanh a careful smile, received a glare in return, and was headed back towards the door when…

“What about the newcomers? Those… aliens.”

Vianh’s foot hesitated mid-step.

The aliens!

​Vianh had heard of strange newcomers arriving on Roscessa and had admitted to no one that he harboured a secret hope to see them. Some said they were blue. Others said they brown. Others again insisted that most of them carried a perpetual frown on their features.​

Speculations about their purpose on Roscessa ranged from the plausible to the wildly fantastical.​

“What about them?”

“I am wondering if they would be able to help,” the Strathal considered.

What did they call themselves? Federation? Starfleet?”

“Both,” the Strathal said. “Intelligence is still unsure which of the two they actually are.”

There was a small pause, and the sound of papers being shuffled about filled the silence. Vianh didn’t even dare to breathe, lest he draw attention to himself.

​The Grand Auralik spoke up again. “One of their vessels is in orbit of Roscessa. A warship.”

​“That would be… beyond useful. Their technology is advanced; I can only imagine the firepower of that vessel. If they are willing to-…”

“They are not.” Kevenianh cut him off. “Some… code, they said. They will not interfere with local affairs.”

The Strathal sighed. “That is a shame…”

“I tried to convince them when I met with their… delegation. A resounding failure. I told them that our settlements get attacked and our people perish, but it didn’t seem to change their minds. ”

“Perhaps we can offer them something for their… services,” the Strathal pondered. “Or cut them in on the yield margin we anticipate.”

“Even Roscada has nothing to offer them. They claim to be explorers. Scientists.”

“Yet they arrived with a warship.”​

“A science warship”, the Auralik chucked mirthlessly.

“If I may.” Tivanh quipped, and the sound of footsteps indicated that he stepped closer to the table. “Our defences may be what makes them reluctant to assist. If they do not witness the raids being a threat, they have no reason to intervene. If we want their help for offensive action, they might even see us as the aggressor.”

“Hm.” Grand Auralik Kevenianh said. “What do you suggest?”

“Let them see that we do suffer under those attacks. Show them our gloaming settlements, our… less fortunate way of life. Ask for help as people, not political figures.”

His voice sounded hopeful, but if he was expecting accolades, the praise he received – if you could even call it that – quickly disabused him of that notion.

​“I don’t dislike that idea,” the Strathal said slowly, which was as effusive as his acknowledgement would get.

There was a moment of silence.

“You there,” The Auralik’s voice pealed forth, and Vianh flinched. Then, when nothing happened, he realised that he – the Grand Auralik! – meant him.

Slowly, he turned around.

“I… “ he stuttered, but hadn’t even thought of a way to excuse his presence here.

“I should have you confined for listening in on our conversations. Or fired at the very least,” Kevenianh growled.

“No… no.. please don’t. I won’t… I…” Vianh objected, but fell silent as the Auralik raised a hand

“Perhaps there is a way you can redeem yourself.”

​Vianh’s posture collapsed inward. Redeem himself? How?

Kevenianh turned his attention back to the Strathal. “He is scrawny. Guileless. It would be perfect.”

Slowly, the Strathal lowered his shoulders in assent. “Show them we are not the aggressors… locals asking for help.”

Both looked at him, as if appraising a hatchling. Tivanh glowered with so much raw reproach that Viahn felt himself shrink just a little bit.

Then, Grand Auralik Kevenianh opened his arms with a magnanimous smile. “It seems the Star-Currents have granted you an opportunity to be useful…”