President John Renault looked up from a report that he was reading on his datapad that his chief economic advisor had handed him five minutes ago, shook his head, and sighed. He had asked for a report on the issues facing the people of his nation ever since they had broken away from the Human Federation and her people.
There were dire reports in the news about shortages of just about everything from basic food ingredients to clothing to raw materials. Back before they had broken away from the Human Federation and became the ACF, they had stockpiled for months but those stockpiles were running low and there was worry that unless trade agreements were established, the economy of the newly formed Union of Free Stars would fail.
Already stocks across the small star nation were seeing downturns and there was talk that the economic recession that they were already experiencing would become an economic depression.
“You wanted the truth, Mr. President,” his advisor looked him in the face, “and there you have it and it’s not good.”
“Yes, I did Melissa.” He sighed yet again as he put the datapad down on his desk and got up from his desk to look out the window of his office and out onto the cityscape below. “Yes, I did tell you to do that.” He turned back to Melissa who was still sitting down in front of his desk. “It’s been almost a year since the war ended and as my report has indicated, the stockpiles that we had established before we broke away are nearly depleted.
“Industries are working as fast as humanly possible to get production lines up to speed but even the best projections indicate that we’re at least a year away from those production lines being able to produce in a quantity anywhere close to being able to supply our nation and her people.”
Without turning around. “And what about trade deals?”
“Many are still being hashed out and what with the economic recession that we’re in, many companies in the Human Federation space are apprehensive to establishing trade deals out of fear that we may not be able to pay our debts.” John closed his eyes. “It’s one of those ‘chicken or the egg’ problems. If we can’t import products to keep our economy alive, we’ll default on our loans. However, if we can’t agree on trade deals because companies are fearful of us defaulting on our loans, it’ll result in us defaulting on our loans because we can’t import products.”
“I know,” John sighed, “I have an economics degree.”
“And then there’s the stigma that we’re still a rogue state even though we are, in fact, a recognized sovereign state.”
John rolled his eyes. It was nearly a year after the war had ended and they were still fighting the stigma that they were nothing more than a rouge state that had broken off from the Human Federation.
“Have we talked to the Corporate Republic of Sirius?”
“We’ve reached out to them but like a shark, they can sense blood in the water and are only too willing to help us but at drastically inflated prices.”
John balled up his fist and hit the glass pane of his window. “Damn it!” he cursed. He came back down to sit down at his desk and put his head down. “Have we tried to talk to the Zaltaens? They’ve come to our aid before.”
“We have, but as the Zaltaen ambassador has already told us, even if they do buy on the commodities market on our behalf, there’s only so much that they can do for us. They have their problems what with their war and there’s only so much freighter capacity to move product. They’re moving as much product as they can but again, there’s only so much they can do.
“I’ve not had a good cup of coffee in weeks, there are people in the streets who haven’t had a good meal in months. We’re having soup lines like what was pictured in the history books that covered The Great Depression back during the early 1930s on Terra.
“And then there’s the shortage of clothing. Look at me,” she unpinned the button of her suit jacket and showed her president the inside lining of it, “most of it is threadbare. I can’t tell you how often I’ve washed this suit.” She looked down at her shoes. “And then there’s the condition of my shoes. I’ve had to superglue the heel of my shoes twice just to make them last and I’m down to my last pair of tights. Department stores are practically out of damn near everything and what little they have, even I can’t afford it with my wages.”
“I know,” he sighed, “my wife has said the same thing.” He picked his head up from his desk and looked off into a corner of the room. “And I don’t even want to talk about the state of my liquor cabinet. I can’t even get a good bottle of Scotch. If you take away a man’s booze, what else does he have?”
“I think we have more important problems than buying booze.” Melissa looked at her president with a deadpan look on her face at the idea that he would bring up the condition of his liquor cabinet at such a time.
“I know that.” He sighed. “I’m just adding to the obviousness of our situation.” He stood up from his desk. “What are we going to do? If things don’t start looking up soon, the people are going to string me up and they’d have every right to do so.” He looked up. “What about going back to the days when we used everything from trap doors in the cargo holds to straight-up pirates.”
“You know we can’t do that Mr. President, that’s what rogue states do and we’re not a rogue state anymore.”
“I know,” he sighed once again, “I was just throwing out an idea no matter how bad it might’ve sounded.” He looked back up at Melissa. “We might’ve been under the boot of Terra but at least we were fed. Maybe breaking away wasn’t such a hot idea.”
“I know,” Melissa sighed, “I was thinking that way too, sir.” She looked down at her lap. “We just need to catch a break. I’ve often thought of using the warships to transport goods, but I doubt our soldiers and sailors would be keen to being overdressed freight haulers.”
“If that’s what we need to do, then that’s what we need to do.” John stood up from his desk. “Bring in my Secretary of the Space Navy. I’m sure she’s going to love this.”
Melissa stood up from her chair. “Yes sir, I will send her in.”
With that, Melissa walked out of his office while John once again leaned against the outside window of his office and pounded it with his fist.
—
Meanwhile, back on Terra, things weren’t looking too good for President Christina Crow. With the war with the then ACF over, she thought that things would finally get back to normal where they could rebuild the economy and the infrastructure that had been destroyed during the war, but her political opponents had other plans. Her name was being raked through the mud with advertisements showing her as a weak president on account that it was her administration’s policies that were responsible for them losing the war and that if they were in power, they would’ve won that war and pounded the then ACF into the ground.
That was pure folly, and she knew it, her generals knew it, but that didn’t stop her opponents from making her out to be a weak leader and it was affecting her ability to push forward her political agenda.
“Damn it,” she pounded her fist on her desk as her Chief of Staff, Sarah Spencer, came walking into the room. “I don’t know why you even turn that damn thing on these days.” Sarah picked up the TV remote as The Seven came back on. “You know all that it does is get you angry.”
“But it’s things like that,” Christina pointed at the now blank TV screen, “that prevents me from doing my job. I can’t even get one damn piece of legislation through Congress because of stuff like that. And it doesn’t even matter if the legislation is good for The People, Congress is stopping me at every turn.”
“I know,” Sarah sat down in front of Christina’s desk, “we need to revisit the Zaltaen Citizenship Act. We need to start developing the next generation…” Christina interrupted her. “And you know damn well that the hosts of The Seven are going to have a field day if I sign that into law. I can just hear them now… ‘Christina Crow thinks we can’t even flush a toilet without the help of the Zaltaens to tell us when to flush. The Zaltaens are coming for our jobs!’”
Sarah had to chuckle at how Christina had made a very good impression of Ted Gutenfeld, host of The Seven.
“And it isn’t even just my political opponents that are attacking me!” Christina threw her hands in the air. “My political allies are attacking me! People who I used to think of as my allies, my fellow party members, are attacking me saying that this policy is a disgrace to those people who support the Labor Party.” She tapped the datapad on which the text of the Zaltaen Citizenship Act was on. “We wrote this bill together.” She tapped the datapad again. “Together!” she exclaimed. “And now they’re choosing to attack me on something that nearly every political party agreed on?”
She stood up from her seat and began to walk about the room and once again threw her hands in the air.
“We wrote this bill specifically with guardrails in it to prevent that from happening!” she exclaimed. “Only the Zaltaen that could help us rebuild and otherwise adapt their technologies faster would be allowed citizenship.”
“Yeah,” Sarah said without getting up, “but you know what they say, right?” Christina looked back at her. “Don’t waste an opportunity to throw politics into the mix.”
“You’ve heard the news!” Christina exclaimed. “Companies are chomping at the bit to hire people but are there people to hire?” She threw her arms aside. “No!” She sat back down behind her desk. “We don’t have enough qualified people for our companies to hire! We have to rebuild if we’re going to have even a snowball’s chance in Hell of standing up against the Vonosh!”
“And as Ted Gutenfeld even says,” Sarah coughed to try her best Ted Gutenfeld impression, “it’s always the Vonosh with Christina Crow. Vonosh this, Vonosh that. What boogieman will she trot out next week?”
Christina Crow chuckled. “You made an even better impression than I did.”
“But you knew this was going to happen, this is politics as usual.”
Christina sighed heavily as she reached for the datapad, her mind spinning with the weight of the decision before her. The bill in question must have been a contentious one, evoking strong opinions on both sides. She couldn’t help but feel the burden of responsibility resting squarely on her shoulders.
With a resigned expression, she tapped the screen to bring up the details of the bill once more. As she read through it, her thoughts swirled with the potential consequences of her actions. Signing it into law could have far-reaching effects, both positive and negative. Conversely, vetoing it might appease some but alienate others, potentially sparking backlash and political fallout.
Taking a deep breath, Christina steeled herself for the inevitable backlash, whichever path she chose. In moments like these, the weight of leadership felt particularly heavy. But she knew that indecision was not an option. With a decisive nod, she made her choice and pressed the button to cast her vote, steeling herself for the storm that was sure to follow.
As Christina picked up the datapad, Sarah observed her closely, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and understanding. She had been by Christina’s side through thick and thin, through the darkest moments of their shared history. From the chaotic aftermath of the devastating attack on the Human Federation government to the rebuilding efforts that followed, Sarah had been a steadfast presence, supporting Christina every step of the way.
She knew Christina better than anyone else, having witnessed her resilience in the face of unimaginable challenges and her unwavering commitment to serving their people. Sarah could read Christina like an open book, recognizing every subtle nuance of her expression and every nervous twitch.
Despite the weight of the decision before them, Sarah remained by Christina’s side, ready to offer her support and guidance. She knew that whatever choice Christina made, it would be in the best interests of their people at heart. And no matter the outcome, Sarah would stand by her, just as she always had.
As President, Christina and her Chief of Staff, Sarah, shared a bond forged of collaboration and trust. Facing a pivotal decision, Christina’s shoulders felt the weight of leadership, but Sarah stood beside her, offering unwavering support.
Christina’s fingers hovered over the screen of the datapad, her resolve unwavering despite the opposition from within her own party. With a nod from Sarah, a silent acknowledgment of the challenges they knew they would face, Christina pressed the “vote” button.
Prompted for her fingerprint scan, Christina provided it without hesitation. The confirmation screen appeared, sealing her decision with her digital signature. As she reclined in her chair, a mix of relief and anticipation washed over her.
“And done,” Christina sighed, her gaze meeting Sarah’s. “Now, it’s time to brace for the storm.”
Sarah’s reassuring smile spoke volumes. “We’ll face it together, just as we always have.”
—
Back on Genesis, Triara was preparing for her date with Michael. While rummaging through her closet for an ideal outfit for what she thought was going to be a relaxed first date, she was interrupted by the sound of her door chime. Cursing softly in her native tongue at the fact that she had taken so long to decide on what to wear, she grabbed her datapad from her dresser and accessed the door app, which revealed Michael standing outside in the hallway. With the tap of a button on the screen, she unlocked the door, inviting him in.
“I’ll be out in a few moments,” she shouted, hoping he would believe it; hell, she didn’t even believe it herself. She was still in her nightie from lounging around her stateroom that afternoon. And it wasn’t from a lack of trying—she had looked at just about everything in her closet. Now, with him in her living room, time was running out. She had to choose what to wear, and fast.
She softly cursed again in her native language as she looked down at the pair of jean shorts and the sweatshirt that jokingly had the phrase ‘Property of the Space Force est. 2300’ printed across the front of it, laying on her bed. Sitting down, she felt her heart thudding in her chest. What if he doesn’t like it? she thought, her gaze darting between the sweatshirt and shorts she’d hastily chosen. It felt too casual, too plain—nothing like the polished, confident look she imagined a woman would wear on a first date. But then again, what else could she do? Her choice of clothing was rather limited.
She cursed herself once more, frustrated by the fact that she’d had plenty of opportunities to go shopping for clothes but had never actually made the time. There was always an excuse—wanting to hang out with Richard, being too busy with work, or something else that felt important in the moment. But deep down, she knew they were just that—excuses. And now, those excuses were coming back to bite her.
The idea of standing before Michael, who always seemed so at ease in his own skin, made her feel so self-conscience. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t trying, or worse, that she didn’t care. But maybe he won’t even notice, she reasoned, chewing her bottom lip. Or maybe he will, and he’ll think I’m some clueless Zaltaen who’s playing dress up. The thought made her cheeks burn, and she buried her face in her hands for a moment. Get it together, Triara. He’s here for you, not your wardrobe. Right? The question hung in the air, unanswered, as she forced herself to take a deep breath.
“I guess this will work,” she mused to herself, glancing again at the outfit. Poking her head out of her bedroom, she called out, “I won’t be long.” Sitting back down on the bed, she tried to believe her own words as she quickly pulled on the sweatshirt and shorts, wondering what kind of impression she was about to make.
Deciding she had no more time to waste, Triara went to her dresser and pulled out a pair of black tights and white ankle socks. Sitting down, she carefully slipped the tights over her feet, smoothing them up her legs. She stood, placing one foot on the bed at a time to meticulously adjust them for a perfect fit and polished appearance—just as Rachel had taught her years ago. Satisfied, she pulled the waistband snugly over her stomach and sat back down to slip on her socks and shoes.
Glancing to her left, she picked up a pair of jean shorts and smoothly slid into them, fastening them securely at her waist. Then she pulled on her sweatshirt. Almost ready, she crossed to her dresser once more to grab a scrunchy. Reaching behind her head, she deftly tied her hair back into a neat ponytail—a style she’d learned was simple yet appealing among humans.
Rising, she walked to her full-length mirror, twirling to inspect her outfit from every angle. “I hope he likes it,” she murmured to herself while her heart pounded in her chest. Satisfied with her appearance, she made her way out of her bedroom to find Michael sitting on her couch with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He jumped up as she entered the living room.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” she said, a hint of apology in her tone. “I was trying to decide what I was going to wear on our date all afternoon.”
As he looked her over, Triara could feel his appreciative gaze. She didn’t need telepathy to know what his expressions conveyed, but the faint thoughts she caught from him only confirmed it; he liked how she was dressed. It was enough to bring a soft smile to her lips, quieting the nervous doubts she’d battled while getting ready.
“Wow,” he exclaimed, stepping closer to her. “I must admit that I like it. You look,” he trailed off, his eyes roaming over her once more, “amazing.” He continued to admire her outfit, clearly impressed. “Casual but a tad bit playful,” he concluded, his words sending a sense of satisfaction through her, echoing her own thoughts.
“Thank you,” she replied, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m glad you think so.” His description of her outfit as ‘casual but a tad bit playful’ resonated with her, and she couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief and confidence at his positive reaction. After all, she knew exactly what he meant by ‘playful’; he meant ‘playfully sexy,’ and the thought brought a smile to her lips. With his approval, she felt ready to go out on their date together.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, holding out the bouquet of flowers to her. Triara’s eyes widened in surprise as she accepted them, her fingers brushing against the delicate stems as she took in the vibrant arrangement.
Her gaze softened as she realized the thought behind his gift. The bouquet featured a beautiful blend of flowers, combining blooms native to Terra with those from her home world of Zalta. The sight of the Zaltaen blossoms, which she hadn’t seen in years, stirred something deep within her. It was clear he’d done his research, and the care he’d put into the gesture touched her profoundly.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion as she brought the flowers closer to her face and inhaled their delicate fragrance. “I really appreciate this. I haven’t…” She paused, taking another breath of the familiar scent, “seen these in such a long time.” Looking back up at him, she smiled. “I love them,” she added softly, her smile tinged with the warmth of fond memories his thoughtful gift had brought back to her.
“I was hoping you’d like them,” he replied, a warm smile gracing his lips. He reached for the bouquet, carefully pushing aside a flower. “As you can see,” he continued, “these come from your world of Zalta and these,” he pointed to other flowers, “come from Terra. I thought a combination would make a nice touch. You know, a little bit of my world and a little bit of yours.”
As he spoke, she felt a quiet sense of connection as she looked down at the delicate blooms, a reminder of her home world she hadn’t realized she missed so much. His thoughtfulness didn’t go unnoticed, and a subtle warmth spread through her, strengthening the feelings she was beginning to have for him, even though their date had yet to begin.
Yet, a flicker of worry crept in. Would he accept that she was a telepath? She knew it was something she had to tell him—before things went any further between them. He deserved, even had a right to know, no matter how the conversation would unfold.
“Aren’t you going to put your flowers in some water?” he asked, breaking her out of her reverie.
She shook her head, realizing she had forgotten about the bouquet in her moment of worry. “Yeah, that’s right,” she replied, walking away to attend to the flowers.
As she walked to the other side of the suite, Michael’s gaze lingered on her, drawn once again to her shapely backside and the graceful length of her legs, accentuated by the effortless way she moved. Despite her being an alien woman, there was no denying her striking beauty and allure. It was then that the thought crossed his mind that taking her to bed might feel like something straight out of Captain Kirk’s legendary escapades.
Meanwhile, she chuckled softly to herself, easily sensing the direction of Michael’s thoughts. The comparison to Captain Kirk brought a smile to her lips, stirring a fond memory of Richard making the very same reference years ago. It was a humorous reminder of the peculiarities of human culture—quirks that never failed to amuse her.
“All right,” she said, returning to where Michael stood, her expression calm but her heart beating just a little faster. “I’m ready.”
“Great,” he replied with an easy smile, placing a hand lightly on the small of her back. She had nearly flinched at the gesture, but she reminded herself that it was something human males often did.
“Let’s go have dinner together.”
With a soft smile, she nodded, allowing herself to lean into the moment. It felt strange but also oddly comforting, his touch guiding her as they stepped out of the suite and into the lively corridors of the station, ready to share their first real date.
—
As they walked through the station, Triara found herself momentarily swept up in their small talk, the warmth of Michael’s laughter and the way he glanced at her with genuine interest helping her push her worries aside. However, as they neared the glowing sign of Murray’s Steakhouse, that worry crept back into the front of her mind.
She stole a glance at him, his relaxed expression a stark contrast to the knot forming in her stomach. What if her revelation shattered the beginnings of this connection between them? Would he recoil, telling her he wanted nothing to do with her? The idea made her chest tighten, but she reminded herself of the trust she wanted to build with him. No matter how much it scared her, he deserved the truth of what she was and what she could do.
It was clear the place was alive with activity, the lively hum of conversation blending with the clinking of cutlery and occasional bursts of laughter spilling from inside. Triara’s gaze darted over the crowd gathered at the entrance, and a flicker of doubt crossed her mind—would they even manage to get a table in such a bustling atmosphere? She glanced at Michael, who appeared entirely unfazed. With an air of easy confidence, he strode toward the hostess station, his calm demeanor like a steady anchor amidst the chaos. “Party of two for Michael,” he said smoothly, drawing the hostess’s attention with a polite but assured tone.
The hostess glanced down at her datapad and confirmed his reservation. “Right this way,” she said, leading them through the throng of people seated at tables in the restaurant.
As they walked through the crowd of other diners, she couldn’t help but notice the curious stares from some of the other patrons. Not only that but she could sense their thoughts of them wondering why Michael was out with her, an alien, thus she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about the situation. Determined not to let their judgment affect her, she focused on building up mental walls in her mind, shutting out the intrusive thoughts of the crowded restaurant.
“And here’s your table, sir,” the hostess announced, her tone polite and professional as she gestured to a corner booth, offering them a moment of privacy amidst the lively buzz of the restaurant. She glanced at Triara for a split second, her gaze lingering just slightly before adding, “Ma’am,” with a soft nod before stepping away. Triara, momentarily caught off guard by the hostess’s quiet acknowledgment, quickly turned her attention back to Michael as they slid into the booth.
“Thank you,” Michael nodded appreciatively as the hostess departed, his tone casual but polite. He turned his attention back to Triara, his eyes glimmering with a touch of curiosity. He gestured toward the bustling restaurant, the clinking of dishes and chatter filling the air. “So, what do you think?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, as if eager for her opinion.
She glanced around, noticing the curious gazes of the other diners—some discreet, others more open, as they observed the alien woman sitting across from the man who clearly wasn’t fazed by her presence. Triara shifted in her seat, a slight tension creeping into her posture. “Well,” she began, her voice quieter now, “people are looking at us.”
“So?” he shrugged. “I saw them looking too, but do you see me worrying?” He met her gaze with a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her tension. She shook her head, a small smile forming in response. “Exactly,” he continued, his voice softening. “I don’t care if they look. I’m out on a date with a lovely woman, and that’s all that matters.” He reached for her hands, his touch gentle and comforting.
Triara’s gaze softened as she took in his words, the reassurance in his voice settling the nervous flutter in her chest. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and for a moment, the weight of the eyes on them faded into the background.
But calm didn’t stay with her for long. The worry of telling him she was a telepath crept back into her thoughts, its persistent weight sinking into her chest. She couldn’t quite understand why it kept resurfacing, making her feel so nervous. After all, she knew it was something he deserved to know.
“Aren’t you going to look at the menu?” his question snapped her out of her reverie.
“Right,” she nodded nervously, reaching for the menu and pretending to peruse its contents.
Moments later, a waitress arrived to take their order, and Triara quickly rattled off her choice, her mind preoccupied with the weight of her secret.
“Michael?” she asked. “There’s something I have to tell you, something that you deserve to know about me before we go deeper into,” she breathed in a haggard breath, “a… possible relationship.”
He could see the fear on her face so he smiled, hoping that it would calm her fears of whatever she wanted to tell him. “Of course, honey,” he replied, his voice calm and steady. The fact that he had called her ‘honey’ made it that much more difficult for her to tell him the truth. “You can tell me anything, I’ll understand.”
How could he say that when he didn’t even know what she was going to tell him? The thought lingered, but his tone carried such unwavering conviction that it almost made her believe it herself. And then there was the way he had called her ‘honey’—a term of endearment that humans often used. Hearing him use it now should have comforted her, but instead, it made everything much harder.
“I…” she stuttered, struggling to find the right words. “I’m not like everyone else,” she began, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “I have… abilities that might seem strange to you.”
Michael furrowed his brow, curiosity piqued by her cryptic words. “Abilities?” he repeated gently, his tone filled with concern but also confusion. “What do you mean?”
She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin, searching for the right words. “I… I can sense things,” she whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “Thoughts and emotions—I can feel them as if they’re my own. And I can connect with someone, at a… deep level.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with vulnerability. Michael sat quietly for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, absorbing the weight of what she had just shared. The thought of her hearing his thoughts, feeling his emotions—should have been overwhelming, but strangely, it didn’t feel that way. Instead, there was something profoundly comforting about it, as though she was letting him see a part of herself few ever did.
He finally spoke, his voice gentle. “Like the telepaths in Babylon 5?”
“Babylon 5?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “I’m… I’m afraid I don’t know what that is. There’s a lot about human culture that I still don’t understand. Even when Richard talked about Star Trek, I had no idea what he was talking about.”
Michael chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up. “We’re definitely going to have to fix that.” He humorously chuckled. “Anyways, Babylon 5 is a human show produced a long time ago, mid-1990s to be exact. It’s about show that takes place on a space station not unlike this,” he looked about, “place and all the political drama that goes on between different alien species. It had telepaths, people who could sense and connect with others on a deep level, kind of like what you’re describing. There was even an organization that oversaw them. The Psi Corps,” he added, then paused when he saw her quizzical look. “It was a fictional portrayal, but it gave the idea of what a telepath could be.”
Triara’s brow furrowed, and then her expression brightened with understanding. “That’s intriguing. I never thought such things were explored in fiction on Terra.”
Michael chuckled, his voice softening as he leaned back, his tone light and reassuring. “Yes, it was ahead of its time in many ways. But what’s interesting is that your abilities—your ability to sense thoughts, emotions, and connect with someone on a deeper level—are very similar to what those telepaths had.”
Triara glanced down at her hands, her heart racing. She had braced herself for rejection, certain that sharing this part of herself would be too much for him to accept. But as she lifted her gaze, she found him reaching for her hand, his touch warm and steady.
“Triara,” Michael said quietly, his voice filled with warmth, “I want you to know, hearing this about you doesn’t change anything. Not a thing.” His eyes locked with hers, his expression sincere. “I still want to get to know you. I still want to date you. Nothing’s changed about that.”
A tear slipped from her eye before she could stop it, tracing a path down her cheek. She hadn’t expected this. His acceptance, his steady, unshaken belief in her, caught her by surprise. She had feared he would walk away, and yet here he was, holding her hand like he had before, as though this was just another part of who she was.
“Thank you, Michael. Thank you so much for understanding.” Her voice trembled with emotion, and she quickly looked down, embarrassed by the vulnerability she had just shown. “I thought… I thought you’d tell me that you couldn’t be with someone like me. That you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
When she finally looked back up, his eyes met hers, and the affection there warmed her more than any words ever could.
“Of course not, honey,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “I would never say that. I know this wasn’t easy for you to share, and I appreciate your honesty. I still want to get to know you better. I want to continue dating you, Triara.” He smiled gently, brushing his thumb across the back of her hand. “So, cheer up. We’re on a date, remember? We’re supposed to enjoy ourselves.”
A small, nervous laugh escaped her lips. “Right,” she murmured, her heart lighter than it had been all evening.
“And don’t worry,” he added, his voice soft with promise. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here.”
Triara closed her eyes, her heart fluttering as she felt his warmth, both in his words and his touch. She reached out with her abilities, sensing the quiet affection that filled the space between them. For the first time in a long while, she let herself believe that she could have something, a future, with someone who accepted her so completely. A future that didn’t just include her but could also one day include a family.
It was then that the possibility of a life with Michael—of being part of his world, and maybe even helping to raise his daughter—felt more real than it ever had before. But as the thought lingered, the weight of her past crept in, uninvited. The things she did, the shame of her past—there were moments when she wondered if she truly deserved a future like this. Could she, with all the mistakes she’d made, truly build something meaningful with someone like him? The doubt came and went, but it always lingered, hidden beneath the surface of her smiles and the warmth she tried to offer. She quickly pushed it aside, unwilling to let those shadows spoil the moment, but a quiet part of her knew the past would never be far behind.
—
Later that evening, they walked down the hall of Blue Sector together until they reached Triara’s door. Taking her hands in his, he expressed, “Good night, Triara. I truly enjoyed our time together. I’d love to go out with you again sometime.”
Triara’s lips curved into a smile, a pleasant warmth spreading through her. “I feel the same way,” she replied. “But I was thinking… maybe our evening doesn’t have to end just yet.”
He hummed inquisitively, intrigued by her suggestion.
Pulling out her CAC from her pocket, she waved it in front of the card reader, and her door opened. “Come in,” she invited, motioning for him to enter her suite. As he hesitantly took a seat on her couch, she approached her liquor cabinet.
“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked. “I have quite an assortment of whiskeys to choose from.” She began to look through her bottles calling out the various names from her collection including that of Johnnie Walker Black, Buffalo Trace, EH Taylor, Makers Mark, Angel’s Envy, Jim Beam, Basil Hayden, Slane, Glenfiddich, Balvenie, Eagle Rare, Weller Green, Red, and Blue, Jack Daniel’s, and Macallan.
He had to admit that he was rather impressed as she rattled off the names of the various whiskeys that she had in her collection all while knowing that most Zaltaens weren’t into drinking, at least not like humans did.
“I also have a few vodkas like Grey Goose. I even have this,” she held up a bottle and on the label were the words ‘Vernier Thruster1Vernier Thruster, the Space 2315 take on Military Special alcohol.‘.
“Oh God!” he coughed. “Keep that garbage away from me!”
They both shared a laugh at the idea that she had such a bottom-shelf item in her collection among all her top-shelf items.
“I keep it for laughs.”
“Obviously,” he chuckled. “Though I do find it strange that you have so many whiskeys in your collection. Considering that Zaltaens normally don’t drink, that is. It’s clear that you’ve spent some serious time in the station’s Class Six Store.”
“Blame Richard for that one,” she chuckled, “he’s the one that got me into all of this kind of stuff. Anyways,” she stashed the bottle of Vernier Thruster whiskey near the back of her collection never to the light of day and to collect dust, “what do you want?”
“Um,” he rubbed his chin, “do you have Makers Mark 46?”
She sifted through her collection, her search finally yielding results with an “ah-ha” of satisfaction. With a grin, she retrieved the bottle, exclaiming, “Found it!” Tugging at the tab protruding from the bottle’s cap, she peeled away the signature red wax of Maker’s Mark, cracking open the bottle for the very first time.
Placing the bottle on her counter, she retrieved two whiskey glasses and poured a generous amount of the amber-colored liquid into each. With glasses in hand, she crossed the room to where he was seated on her couch, offering one to him with a warm smile.
She observed with interest as he swirled the whiskey in his glass, allowing it to aerate before bringing it to his nose for a gentle sniff. She watched as he savored the aroma, taking a small sip and letting out a contented sigh.
“Ah,” he exclaimed, setting the glass down on his knee with a satisfied expression. “That’s the stuff.”
She chuckled softly, delighted by his enjoyment of the whiskey. It was moments like that that made her think that inviting him in for the evening was a good idea. She raised her own glass in a silent toast before taking a sip, savoring the warmth that spread through her chest.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” she said with a smile as she settled down beside him on the couch. She noticed the way his eyes followed her movements as she crossed her legs, and a playful glint danced in her own—similar to the way Richard often looked at her.
Leaning back comfortably, she took another sip of her bourbon, savoring the rich flavor. “So, what do you want to do?” she asked, the question hanging in the air between them.
He considered her question for a moment, his gaze meeting hers. “Honestly, just being here with you is enough,” he admitted, his voice soft with sincerity. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had this kind of private time with someone. But if you have any ideas… I’m open to suggestions.”
She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her at his words. She didn’t need anything more than this moment, with him by her side.
“Well,” she began, setting her glass down on the coffee table, “we could watch a movie together.” She glanced at him with a playful twinkle in her eyes. “Or we could just enjoy each other’s company and see where the night takes us.”
As he reached for her hand resting on her thigh, his touch sent a pleasant thrill through her. She nestled closer, feeling the warmth of his body against hers as she adjusted her position to be nearer to him. He seemed to enjoy the closeness.
“Or better yet,” a mischievous thought crossed his mind, “how about we start on your homework?”
“Homework?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ll see,” he smirked, clearly enjoying the moment. “Computer?” he called out at which it responded with a tone indicating that it was awaiting his command. “Bring up Season 1, Episode 1 of Babylon 5, Midnight on the Firing Line.”
—
As the credits rolled and the screen faded to black, Triara sat back against the couch, her eyes wide with surprise. “Well, that was… intense,” she said, her voice filled with awe. “I had no idea so much could happen in just one episode.”
Michael chuckled softly beside her. “Yeah, Babylon 5 doesn’t waste any time. That first episode really throws you into the action, doesn’t it?”
Triara nodded slowly, her mind processing everything she had just seen. “The political tensions between the Narn and the Centauri… it’s hard to imagine how that could all play out. It’s not just a simple war, is it?”
“No,” Michael agreed, leaning back with a slight smile. “It’s more about power and control. The Centauri, once the dominant force in the galaxy, are struggling to hold on to what little power they have left, while the Narn are fighting for survival. And Babylon 5 itself is kind of a microcosm of the larger political landscape. It’s a place where all these different species and their conflicts converge.”
She glanced over at him, clearly intrigued. “I was surprised by the Narn. They seem so… desperate, but in a way that makes you understand why they’re doing what they’re doing.”
“That’s the beauty of the show,” Michael said, his voice thoughtful. “Nothing is black and white. Every side has its own story, its own justification for what they do. You can sympathize with the Narn, but then you see the Centauri and their desperation, and you start to understand them too. That’s one of the central themes of Babylon 5—seeing things from multiple perspectives.”
Triara’s brow furrowed as she processed the complexity of it all. “It’s not just about fighting, then. It’s about survival. And about understanding your enemy… or at least trying to.”
“Exactly,” Michael said with a nod. “It’s not about good guys and bad guys. Everyone has their reasons for their actions. It’s more about the choices people make, and what happens when those choices collide. The show is full of moral gray areas.”
She let out a soft sigh, clearly captivated. “It’s such a different way of thinking compared to what I’m used to. I mean, where I come from, things are more… clear-cut. You follow the rules, and that’s it.”
Michael raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m sure that makes life a lot simpler. But sometimes, it’s the messy situations that make things interesting.”
“I can see that now,” she admitted, glancing at the screen, still reflecting on the episode. “And then there’s Commander Sinclair… he seems like a good man, but there’s so much about him that we don’t know yet.”
“Sinclair’s a fascinating character,” Michael said, a hint of intrigue in his voice. “He’s new to the command, so there’s a lot we’re still learning about him. He’s got a past that weighs on him—something you’ll find out more about as the series goes on. But like everyone on Babylon 5, he’s not perfect.”
Triara tilted her head, studying him with curiosity. “Is it a spoiler if you tell me what that past is?”
Michael chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not giving away spoilers—especially not for this show. But I can tell you, you’ll get hints along the way. And when it all comes to light, it’s a game-changer.”
She leaned back, trying to wrap her head around the layers of intrigue. “So much of this episode was about setting things up. The Narn-Centauri conflict, the political maneuvering… and Delenn. She’s one of the Minbari, right?”
“Yep, she’s one of the leaders of the Minbari. And she’s a key player in the show. But again, there’s a lot more to her than just being a political figure. Her role will evolve, and she has a connection to some of the biggest mysteries in the series.”
Triara’s eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Mysteries? You mean there’s more to her than just her position as an ambassador?”
“Oh yeah,” Michael said, his tone shifting to one of intrigue. “Delenn’s story is one of the most compelling in the entire series. Trust me, you’ll be hooked once you start to piece everything together. But again, I don’t want to spoil anything for you. Just keep watching.”
She couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “You really love this show, don’t you?”
“Guilty as charged,” Michael said with a grin. “It’s one of my all-time favorites. The way it builds its stories, the way it explores all these different characters—it’s like nothing else. But the real magic is in the long-term payoff. The stuff you don’t see coming.”
Triara took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the credits as they continued to roll. “I can see why you wanted me to watch this. There’s so much to think about, so many things left unanswered. I feel like I need to know more.”
“Well, that’s the beauty of it,” Michael said, his voice warm. “Every episode peels back another layer. The story’s always evolving, and the characters are always changing. But if you’re into deep, complex stories, Babylon 5 is right up your alley.”
She smiled, clearly eager for more. “I think I’m hooked. I’ll definitely need to watch more.”
“You won’t regret it,” Michael said with a satisfied grin. “But fair warning—once you get caught up, you’ll want to binge the whole thing.”
“I’ll be prepared,” she said, already looking forward to the next episode. “Thanks for introducing me to it, Michael. I can tell it’s going to be quite the ride.” He looked at her mischievously. “Do you want to watch the next episode?”
“Sure!” she exclaimed. “But not before we get some more whiskey!”
“Now that sounds like a plan!” He watched her get up from the couch and bring the whole bottle over. “The whole bottle?” he asked.
“Why not?” she asked as she poured more whiskey into his glass. “I have a feeling that we’re going to be here for a while.”
“You got it!” He looked up at the ceiling. “Computer? Play Season 1, Episode 2 of Babylon 5, Soul Hunter.”
—
As the credits rolled on Soul Hunter, Triara remained motionless for a moment, her mind racing with everything she had just witnessed. The dark, eerie tone of the episode hung in the air, the tension palpable. “Well, that was… unsettling,” she finally said, her voice low as she glanced over at Michael, who was leaning back with a thoughtful expression.
Michael chuckled softly, a knowing smile on his face. “Yeah, Soul Hunter is one of those episodes that gets under your skin. It’s definitely a shift from the first one, a bit darker and more… mysterious.”
Triara turned to him, her eyes wide with curiosity. “The Soul Hunter—what exactly is he? He seemed so obsessed with the idea of taking the souls of those he believed were important. But there’s more to him, isn’t there?”
“Well, let’s just say that Soul Hunters have a very particular way of seeing the universe,” Michael said, leaning forward, clearly eager to explain. “They believe in the concept of ‘soul capture,’ where they think they can preserve the soul of an individual, usually someone who’s about to die, in order to protect it—or sometimes just for their own collection. It’s a weird mix of arrogance and reverence.”
Triara frowned, trying to piece everything together. “But he wasn’t really… saving anyone, was he? He just wanted to take their souls for his own gain.”
“That’s the catch with the Soul Hunters,” Michael said. “They think they’re doing something noble, but their actions are driven by their own obsession with power and preservation. They see themselves as the keepers of the souls, but they’re not really concerned about the people they’re taking them from.”
She leaned back into the couch, her brow furrowing. “It almost felt like there was a spiritual element to it all—like the Soul Hunter believed he was doing the right thing, even when his methods were so… wrong.”
Michael nodded. “Exactly. That’s part of the genius of Babylon 5—it doesn’t just present villains as one-dimensional evil characters. They all have their own code, their own beliefs that drive them. The Soul Hunter is obsessed with immortality and the idea of preserving the essence of life, even if it means causing harm to others.”
Triara sighed, taking a moment to absorb the weight of it all. “And the way he manipulated Captain Sinclair… it felt like he knew exactly how to exploit his emotions, his guilt. It’s like he could see into Sinclair’s soul, somehow.”
“Yeah,” Michael said with a grin, clearly impressed by her insight. “The Soul Hunter was playing mind games with Sinclair, using his past to manipulate him. He knew how much Sinclair carried the weight of what happened with the Minbari war, and he tried to use that to convince him to let him capture the soul of the dying Minbari warrior. But Sinclair, being Sinclair, didn’t give in. He was strong enough to see through the manipulation.”
Triara tilted her head, intrigued. “It’s amazing how much Babylon 5 explores the characters’ inner conflicts. You don’t just see them dealing with external threats, but with their own personal demons.”
“That’s exactly it,” Michael said. “The show isn’t just about space politics or alien conflicts—it’s about the internal struggles of the characters, and how they deal with their pasts, their fears, and their choices. Soul Hunter is a perfect example of that. It’s not just about a creepy alien who wants to steal souls; it’s about the emotional weight that Sinclair carries from the war and how the Soul Hunter tries to manipulate that.”
Triara’s gaze drifted back to the screen, where the final credits were still rolling. “So, Sinclair… he’s not just some military officer. He has a history, a burden that we’re only beginning to understand. That’s what makes him such a complex character, isn’t it?”
“Exactly,” Michael said, his voice filled with admiration for the show’s depth. “Sinclair isn’t just a captain—he’s someone with a haunted past, and that informs a lot of his decisions. He’s still processing everything that happened with the Minbari, and episodes like this show how much that still weighs on him.”
Triara’s mind wandered as she thought about the episode’s ending, when the Soul Hunter was left to die in the holding cell. “It was a strange ending, wasn’t it? The way they just left him there, to die alone.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “That’s part of the show’s complexity. Babylon 5 isn’t about giving easy answers. It doesn’t wrap things up neatly. Sometimes the characters are forced to make hard choices—choices that don’t always feel ‘right,’ but that are necessary for the greater good.”
She looked at him, her eyes softening. “I can see why you love this show. It doesn’t just focus on the action; it digs into the heart of the characters, their motivations. Even someone like the Soul Hunter isn’t just evil for the sake of it. There’s always more to the story.”
Michael’s smile widened. “You’re catching on. Babylon 5 is all about those layers. The characters are constantly evolving, and you start to see how each episode fits into a bigger picture. But trust me, this is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s so much more coming. Computer? Play Season 1, Episode 3 of Babylon 5, Born to the Purple.”
—
As the credits rolled for Born to the Purple, Triara turned to Michael, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Well, that was… something. A lot of politics, a lot of drama.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “And I can see why you think what you think about telepaths. Miss Winter’s abilities are very similar to my own.”
“Oh?” Michael asked, his curiosity piqued. “How so?”
Triara leaned back slightly, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against the armrest. “Miss Winter’s abilities are a lot like mine. When I let my mental walls down, I can hear surface thoughts. Just brief impressions, nothing too intrusive. As for telepathic probes,” she glanced at Michael’s hand resting on her nylon-covered thigh, a soft smile tugging at her lips, “I can only do that kind of thing when I have direct contact with someone, like… touching your hand.”
Michael’s eyes widened a little as he took in her words. He slowly moved his fingers, interlacing them with hers. “I see,” he said quietly. “What does it feel like?”
Triara hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering to his hand in hers. She seemed to weigh the question carefully. “I think we’re not ready for that yet. It can be… rather intimate for the… both of us.”
He chuckled softly, squeezing her hand gently. “Alright, some other time then.”
“Perhaps,” she said, her voice teasing but with a hint of seriousness behind it.
Michael gave her a knowing smile before glancing toward the screen. “Alright, now onto the next episode. Computer, please queue up Season 1, Episode 4 of Babylon 5, Infection.”
—
The next morning, she slowly opened her eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. She shifted slightly and noticed the intimate closeness between them, a blush rising to her cheeks as she became aware of his body pressed against hers.
“Michael?” she called softly at which he stirred awake, blinking sleepily as he registered their position.
“I… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he stammered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at how they had fallen asleep and at how his body was reacting to the intimate closeness they were experiencing.
She smiled gently, turning to kiss his cheek. “Don’t worry,” she reassured him, “I’m not blaming you.”
She felt his tension ease slightly at her words at which she looked down at his arms that were wrapped around her while she snuggled closer to him which did nothing for how his body was reacting to her. She was more than content to stay wrapped up in his arms a little while longer.
“Say?” she asked. “What do you want to do this morning?” It was then that she heard her stomach growl as he looked down at her stomach. “I guess my Zaltaen metabolism is in full swing this morning,” she joked, feeling a pang of hunger.
He laughed in response, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re telling me!” he exclaimed, still amazed at how she had managed to polish off a porterhouse steak, a salad, a baked potato with all the bad stuff on top, and to top it all off, a piece of cheesecake. “I was for sure thinking that you’d be taking home a doggy bag.”
“That’s the Zaltaen metabolism for you!” she exclaimed. “Zalta, my species’ home world is a high-gravity world so everything about my physiology requires more nutrients than humans do, even human males.”
She continued, explaining, “Everything from my cardiovascular, pulmonary, skeletal, and muscular systems are much stronger than that of humans. And my metabolism is also boosted to maintain my bodily systems. That’s why my normal body temperature is 37.72100 degrees Fahrenheit degrees Celsius versus 37398.6 degrees Fahrenheit. degrees Celsius for humans.”
He listened with fascination; his eyebrows raised in surprise. “What’s the gravity of your home world?” he asked, almost afraid to know the answer.
“1.5 gravities compared to the 1 of Terra,” she replied.
“Yikes!” he whispered, clearly taken aback. “I know some people who were genetically modified to handle life on higher gravity worlds, but the extent that we’ve been able to achieve is 1.35 gravities, and even that’s stretching things for human biology. I take it that everything is heavier there on Zalta.” She nodded. “Damn,” he whispered, clearly impressed by the challenges her species faced.
“With that being said,” he continued, shifting the conversation, “how about we go grab some breakfast? I know a great little diner in Green Sector called Steve’s Diner.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Then I take it that you know the place.”
“Know the place!” she exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. “I love the place! They make some of the best pancakes on the station!” She exclaimed enthusiastically. “Pancakes are my comfort food; I eat them when I feel lonely.”
“Aww,” she felt him kiss her neck, “hopefully you won’t be feeling so lonely anymore.”
She once again smiled at the idea that she had a shot at the kind of life that Richard and Rachel had that she so desperately wanted. She just hoped to the Great Maker that things would work out between the two of them and that it would ultimately lead to that kind of life.
“But anyways, it’s settled,” he said while rising to his feet. “Steve’s Diner it is. But first,” he headed for the head, “I need to go take a pitstop first.”
“Of course,” she nodded understandingly as he mentioned his need for a pitstop. “Take your time, I’ll wait for you here.
She watched him leave, a sense of warmth enveloping her. With a smile, she settled back onto the couch, patiently awaiting his return. Meanwhile, she glanced down at herself and began to carefully smooth out the nylon material of her tights, which had become slightly uneven from her previous position. As she heard the toilet flush and the sound of running water from the faucet, she rose to her feet, feeling a sense of anticipation for the day ahead. When he emerged from the bathroom and approached her, placing a hand on her back, she felt a rush of excitement. “Come on,” he said warmly, “let’s go grab something to eat.”
As they stepped out of her suite and into the bustling hallway, she couldn’t help but notice the crowd of officers milling about, the atmosphere alive with the energy of shift-change. She felt the familiar scrutiny of her fellow officers as they passed by, their gazes lingering on them.
But as she reached out with her mind to him, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. His presence beside her was reassuring, and she felt a warmth spread through her as he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her close. It was then that she heard his voice inside her mind, a gentle whisper that eased her worries.
“Stop worrying so much,” he whispered softly, his words carrying a reassuring tone. “All that matters is you.” As she absorbed his words, a wave of warmth washed over her, reassured by his unwavering support amidst the whispers of other officers.
—
John Renault thought back to the meeting that he had with his Secretary of the Navy, Admiral Moore. The meeting could’ve gone a lot better if they hadn’t let themselves get heated and started screaming at each other.
Both were hard-headed individuals with tempers to match. Both stood by their convictions and although they disagreed, they still respected each other.
“President Renault, with all due respect.” He laughed because he knew that whenever someone said that it was the opposite. “I cannot condone the use of our warships as mere cargo vessels. It goes against every principle of naval strategy and compromises the readiness of our fleet.”
And the thing about it is, she was right. He did have to ask though. He must have gotten lost in his thoughts for he nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of his name from his personal secretary, Michelle.
“The Zaltaen ambassador is here to see you.”
“Well?” The president said in an obviously impatient tone of voice. It was unlike Michelle to hold things up, she was adamant about maintaining a tight schedule and on more than a few occasions she had ended meetings with him that had gone over the allotted time, yet this time it seemed like Michelle was trying to delay his meeting with the Zaltaen ambassador.
“Sir,” Michelle came forward, “there’s been some… changes.”
“Changes… how?” John inquired, perplexed by Michelle’s otherwise cryptic response regarding the situation.
“It appears that Zalta decided to recall the ambassador and appoint a replacement,” Michelle replied, her gaze shifting towards the door. “And let me assure you, she’s not your typical garden variety Zaltaen.” At that moment, the door to his office swung open, revealing a Zaltaen woman whose attire deviated significantly from the norm.
John glanced over to where the Zaltaen woman stood, her attire strikingly different from the traditional garb of her people, which typically featured long, flowing robes. Instead, she wore a form-fitting white dress that fell elegantly to mid-thigh, reminiscent of modern, sleek styles. The ensemble was completed by sheer black tights and white high-heeled shoes, adding a contemporary, sophisticated touch. The combination highlighted her graceful silhouette, making her stand out in a way that was both distinctive and modern for a Zaltaen.
Michelle coughed lightly before addressing John, “John?” She gestured towards the Zaltaen woman in the room. “May I introduce you to Eririn, the new Zaltaen ambassador to Altair.”
Eririn interjected, her tone tinged with irritation, “I do believe it’s customary for individuals to introduce themselves when first meeting. I had hoped to do so myself.”
“Right,” John acknowledged, observing as Michelle discreetly exited the room.
“Anyways,” Eririn strode up to John’s desk, her demeanor now more relaxed. “With that bit of annoyance out of the way, my name is Eririn.” She extended her hand graciously. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
John reciprocated the handshake in a customary manner. “Pleased to meet you as well. I’m President John Renault, head of the Union of Free Stars.” He observed Eririn bow before him in the traditional Zaltaen fashion while maintaining their handshake.
“I do have to ask,” John continued as Eririn settled into a chair across his desk, crossing her legs with human-like ease, “why the replacement of ambassadors?”
Eririn’s smirk hinted at a story. “The previous ambassador found her posting to be rather… uncomfortable, shall we say. She requested a transfer back to Zalta.”
“I see,” John mused, rubbing his chin. He had on more than a couple of occasions sensed that the previous ambassador was displeased with her posting and had often let it be known in how she had spoken to him.
“So, my government decided to send me,” Eririn gestured to herself. “As you can see from how I’m dressed,” she looked down at herself, “I have prior experience with humans.”
“And by prior experience,” John began, “I take it that you were you one of the Zaltaens who spent years undercover among humans.”
“Exactly!” Eririn confirmed with enthusiasm. “As soon as the position opened up for the ambassadorship to Altair and the Union of Free Stars, I practically leapt at the chance to come here.” She chuckled with a sense of liberation evident in her laughter. “After nearly a decade among humans, going back to Zalta felt like torture, I tell you!” She composed herself, meeting John’s gaze. “So here I am!” She raised her arms in the air. “Your new ambassador. And trust me,” she pointed at John, “you’re going to have a much better experience with me than with that… how do humans say it? That stick in the mud?”
What Eririn didn’t tell John was that among her people, many regarded the ambassadorial position to Altair as little more than a joke and a bad one at that. Even the Corporate Republic of Sirius held a more favorable standing in the Royal Court than the Union of Free Stars. This was a bitter irony, considering the Zaltaens’ disdain for the rampant capitalism that had engulfed much of Sirius.
That fact, however, didn’t deter Eririn from pursuing the ambassadorial role; anything was preferable to being trapped back on Zalta. She felt stifled and constrained among her own kind ever since being recalled back to her home world.
“I can definitely say that I’d welcome a better experience than I did with your predecessor. I really felt like I was getting nowhere with her. No matter what solution I proposed, it was always a no.”
“Yes,” she nodded, her expression troubled. “I can understand why you’d think that way.” Eririn nervously glanced around the room, as if wary of eavesdroppers. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this but,” John waited, anticipation building in his chest, “the Zaltaen government isn’t exactly looking at your government in a favorable light. They believe that ultimately, your government will fail, and the Human Federation will have to come in and ultimately take you and your colonies back.”
“Well, it’s true,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the datapads spread out on his desk, “we’re having some economic issues but nothing that’ll cause us to fail.”
“Who are you trying to fool? Me? Or yourself?” Eririn’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. She watched as John closed his eyes, a heavy sigh escaping him, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’ve been briefed on what’s happening on the way here and if you don’t think that the Zaltaen Royal Court doesn’t have access to the same reports you have, well… you’d be wrong. I’ve read them and to put it mildly, it doesn’t look good.”
“You’re not wrong,” John sighed heavily, his frustration evident. “We need supplies to keep our economy afloat, but many companies in Human Federation space are apprehensive about establishing trade deals with us out of fear that we may not be able to pay our debts. As I told my chief economic advisor, if we can’t import products to keep our economy alive, we’ll default on our loans. However, if we can’t agree on trade deals because companies are fearful of us defaulting on our loans, it’ll result in us defaulting on our loans because we can’t import products.”
He stood up from his desk, his movements restless as he began to pace back and forth.
“We’re like a patient on the operating table that needs a blood transfusion, but nobody’s willing to donate any blood.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Eririn interjected, her voice steady with determination. “I’m here to help.”
“No offense,” John scoffed, his skepticism palpable, “but what good will you be able to do?” He fixed his gaze on her, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “The last ambassador told us no at every turn. What makes you think that you can do something that the last ambassador couldn’t, or wouldn’t?”
“Because I have friends in high places,” Eririn replied, her tone firm yet reassuring. “And I’m willing to, as humans say, stick my neck out for you and your star nation.” Her conviction was unwavering, a flicker of determination shining through her eyes.
“And just what is in it for you?” John asked, his hands planted firmly on his hips, his posture confrontational. “Why are you willing to risk everything on us? I mean, you yourself even said it,” he gestured with frustration, “your own government sees the writing on the wall. Why would they lift a finger for us knowing that this nation is on the verge of economic collapse?”
“Because I,” Eririn began, her voice steady, “have some, as humans say, skin in the game.” John sank back into his chair behind the desk, his expression shifting from defiance to curiosity. “I was an officer in your space navy while undercover, so I know the lengths that your nation has gone through to get to this point. The trials, the tribulations; all of it, I experienced it all. How the Human Federation treated its outer colonies is beyond disgraceful, and what they’re doing to you now is just as disgraceful. I’d go so far as to say that it’s even worse than what they did to you before. They’re not using guns, but the tools of economics to bleed you dry.”
John’s skepticism melted away, replaced by a profound sense of understanding and connection. “You’re one of us!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with both surprise and relief.
“In a way, yes I am,” Eririn affirmed, her gaze unwavering as she met his eyes. “I fought side-by-side with your navy to free your nation from the oppression of the Human Federation. I don’t want to see any of,” she glanced around the room, her expression somber, “this die because people in the Human Federation government would rather see your nation fail than lift one finger to help you.”
“Are you saying that President Christina Crow of the Human Federation is behind all of this?” John’s voice trembled with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Is that what you’re saying?” His temper flared, and Eririn could see the fire in his eyes.
“I shook hands with her at the peace treaty summit!” He yelled, his voice echoing off the walls of the room. “I,” he pointed at his chest, his finger trembling with rage, “trusted her!”
“I’m not saying that at all, John,” Eririn replied calmly, holding his gaze steady. “And I would never believe for one second that President Christina Crow would stoop to such lows. She’s an honorable woman, and I don’t believe for one second that she would think to do that to you or her fellow humans. She believes in this peace as much as you do.”
John’s jaw clenched as he struggled to reconcile his feelings. The thought of betrayal from someone he had trusted left a bitter taste in his mouth, but Eririn’s words offered a glimmer of reassurance in the midst of uncertainty.
“Then what is going on?” John asked, his voice heavy with frustration as he sank back into his chair behind the desk. “Who’s pulling the strings here? Who’s putting in the roadblocks?”
“I don’t know,” Eririn sighed, her shoulders slumping with weariness. “But I can say one thing. Everything that I can do, that I can muster, will be at your disposal. I promise you that.” Her eyes met John’s, filled with determination and resolve.
“I believe you,” John sighed heavily, his body slumping against his desk in defeat. “It’s just… frustrating. You know?” He looked back up at Eririn, searching her eyes for understanding. “I just want my people, my nation, to be able to succeed.”
Eririn rose from her seat and approached him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. John met her gaze, and in that moment, he sensed a genuine sincerity that eased the weight on his shoulders.
“John,” Eririn began, her voice gentle yet resolute, “I will do everything within my power to help you and your nation.” She sat back down, a sense of purpose emanating from her demeanor. “First off,” she reached into one of her pockets and retrieved a datapad, offering it to John.
He accepted it, his brow furrowing with confusion. “What’s this?” he asked, turning the device over in his hands to be able to read it.
“Help,” Eririn replied simply, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.
“Help?” John echoed; his curiosity piqued.
“Did you really think that I’d come into your hallowed office empty-handed?” she retorted, nodding toward the datapad. “Read it. Tell me what you think.”
John took a second look at the datapad, his eyes scanning the contents intently. As he continued to read, a sense of astonishment washed over him, evident in the widening of his eyes.
“Am I reading this correctly?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Are you saying that you already have five cargo vessels ready to launch at a moment’s notice?” He looked up at Eririn, searching her face for confirmation.
Eririn nodded, her expression calm and assured. If it were any other person, John would have been questioning their motives, but with Eririn, he felt an innate trust in her. She had given him no reason to doubt her sincerity, and her unwavering dedication to help was palpable.
“Wow,” John sighed, a hint of relief coloring his tone. “This is a great start.” The weight of their economic woes felt a little lighter knowing that they had a tangible solution within reach, thanks to Eririn’s proactive efforts.
“And that’s not all,” Eririn began, her voice carrying a hint of excitement. “My House is willing to front the bills for another five cargo vessels.”
“Your House?” John’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But why?” he asked, genuine curiosity etched on his face. “Why would your House be willing to do this? Won’t this hurt your House’s political standing on your world?” he inquired, studying Eririn’s reaction closely.
Eririn shrugged with indifference. “It’s not like my House has any serious amount of political power on my world. We’re not a powerful House at all. However,” she added, a note of caution creeping into her tone, “I do have to admit that there will be some… future payments involved.”
“And here comes the other shoe,” John remarked, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He leaned forward, intrigued to hear the terms of Eririn’s proposal.
“As you can probably imagine, my House is taking a great risk here; we’re putting forth a serious amount of political and economic capital,” Eririn explained, her tone measured. John nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. “With that being said, we do expect to be compensated for our efforts.”
“What does your House expect for payment?” John asked, almost afraid to know the answer.
“Scroll down on the datapad,” Eririn replied simply, indicating for John to delve deeper into the contents of the device.
He did as he was told and scrolled down to the bottom of the document on the datapad. There, he found the stipulations of the agreement. Land. And it wasn’t just any small request for land; they were asking for a very large amount of land — the whole southern tip of the continent they were sitting on.
“You do realize that this is a large ask, right?” John asked, his voice tinged with incredulity. “You’re asking for hundreds of acres of land here.” Eririn nodded solemnly. “But why? What’s in it for you and your House? Why the request for this much land?”
“Because my House wants to get off Zalta,” she said matter-of-factly. “We too have our own issues on Zalta, and we feel that this agreement can benefit the both of us. We help you and your nation while we get a chunk of land to build and expand our House. We could be partners.”
“You know,” John began, “I will have to bring this up to Congress to vote on. I can’t unilaterally agree to such terms.”
“I know that.” Eririn replied calmly, standing up from her chair. “I didn’t expect that you could.” She made her way to the door, pausing for a moment to look back at John. “My House feels like it’s a fair bargain. We both win.” With that, Eririn walked out of the room, leaving John to contemplate the weighty decision that lay before him.
“So,” John looked up at the sound of a voice in his office, “what did the new Zaltaen ambassador have to say?”
“This,” John handed the datapad to Melissa, his expression serious, “she proposed this plan to me.” Melissa accepted the device and began to read. “Be careful to read to the very end of it, it’s a real doozy.”
He observed as his economic advisor settled into her seat, her brows furrowing in concentration as she perused the contents of the contract. As Melissa reached the section outlining the Zaltaen House’s request for land, her eyes widened in surprise.
“Uh-huh,” John nodded slowly, his mind drifting back to his initial reaction. “That’s about the same response I had.” Melissa glanced at him, sensing the weight of the situation. Together, they faced the daunting challenge ahead, determined to navigate the complexities of diplomacy and negotiation.
“Whew,” Melissa exhaled sharply, her lips pursed in thought. “That’s quite the contract. I would’ve considered signing it right away if it weren’t for that,” she gestured at the datapad, “part of the document.”
“Tell me about it,” Melissa echoed, her expression reflecting the gravity of the task ahead. With a shared understanding, they began to strategize, determined to navigate the complex negotiations ahead and secure the best possible outcome for their nation.
“What did you tell her?” Melissa inquired; her tone tinged with anticipation. “Please tell me that you’d have to consult your advisors.”
John paused, considering his response carefully. “Better,” he finally replied. “I told her that Congress would have to approve it.”
“Good call,” Melissa nodded in agreement. “Stall this as long as you can.” She sighed heavily with frustration evident in her tone. “The frustrating part is, we need this. Damn her,” she cursed Eririn, her voice tinged with resentment, “for inserting this condition. They have us cornered and they know it.”
“It’s the art of doing business,” John remarked with a wry smile. “Always ask for something in return for a favor. It’s the oldest rule in the book.” He shook his head.
“Perhaps they’ve learned more than we give them credit for. They’re not stupid, you know.” John nodded in agreement. “They may not necessarily approve of how we do business and govern our people, but that doesn’t mean that they’re not willing to take advantage of it.”
John sighed, the weight of their situation pressing down on him. “Well, it looks like we have our work cut out for us. Let’s get started on drafting a proposal to present to Congress.” He glanced at Melissa. “We need to play our cards right if we’re going to come out of this with a favorable outcome.”
—
Back on Genesis, Triara was once again getting ready for another date with Michael. She had been looking forward to it all week, though the day had gotten away from her. As the time drew nearer, she suddenly remembered the plans he had made—bowling. He had been adamant about dressing casually, and though she had no idea what bowling was, she trusted him enough to know it would be fun. She had almost forgotten about the date entirely when her datapad chimed, pulling her out of the haze of Babylon 5 Season 3, Episode 2, Convictions.
Michael’s message appeared on the screen, a simple reminder: “Looking forward to tonight. Bowling time! Dress comfortably.”
Triara blinked at the message, then shook her head with a soft laugh. Bowling. She didn’t even know what that was, but she had a feeling it wasn’t anything like the formal dinners she was used to.
“Well, I guess I’ll find out soon enough,” she murmured to herself as she stood up and made her way toward her bedroom. She opened her closet, her eyes scanning the shelves for an outfit. She considered the look she had worn on their last date, a casual yet put-together ensemble that Michael had complimented. He had seemed to appreciate her choice of attire, what with what she picked up from his surface thoughts.
She sighed as she stood in front of her modest wardrobe, contemplating her limited options once again. The familiar dilemma of what to wear for a special occasion weighed heavily on her mind. She knew she needed to expand her wardrobe but finding the time for shopping seemed like an impossible task amidst her busy schedules.
After a moment of thought, she pulled out a soft, fitted sweater in a muted shade of blue that complemented her lavender skin beautifully. She thought back to when she had bought it and remembered how it hugged her figure in just the right way, offering a balance of modesty and elegance. She held it up to herself, tilting her head as she imagined Michael’s reaction. With a faint chuckle, she murmured, “I think this one might do the trick.”
Next, she rummaged through her closet and settled on a pair of denim shorts—similar to the ones she’d worn before, though she hesitated, holding them against her legs. “Too predictable?” she mused aloud before shaking her head. “He liked them last time, didn’t he?”
To mix things up, she opted for a pair of purple tights instead of the black ones she’d worn on their previous date. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she carefully slid them on, smoothing the fabric as she went. Once they were in place, she stood up and propped one leg on the bed, meticulously adjusting them just as Rachel had taught her years ago. The effort paid off, giving her long slender legs a sleek, polished look. Satisfied, she sat back down to slip on a pair of crisp white ankle socks, followed by her favorite athletic shoes. The subtle contrast between the tights and the socks added a playful yet harmonious touch to her outfit, bringing a small smile to her face.
As she finished dressing, she stepped back from the mirror, turning slightly to view herself from different angles. “Not bad, Triara,” she said with a hint of pride. The muted blue of the sweater brought out the lavender tones in her skin, while the tights added a pop of color that felt fun yet intentional. She tugged at the hem of her sweater, smoothing it down, and ran her fingers through her hair, giving it a quick shake for volume.
Her gaze lingered on her reflection. “Bowling,” she said softly, the word still foreign on her tongue. “Whatever it is, at least I’ll look good doing it.” She laughed lightly, imagining herself tripping over whatever mysterious equipment “bowling” required. Would Michael laugh too? Probably.
She was just about to leave when her gaze caught the mirror one last time. Striking a playful pose, she tilted her head with a cheeky grin. “Here’s to not embarrassing myself too much,” she quipped, her tone light but tinged with nervous energy. With a final, reassuring nod to her reflection, she turned toward her dresser and picked up a small tube of lipstick Rachel had insisted she try.
Twisting it open, she carefully applied a touch of the soft, purple shade to her lips, the color blending seamlessly to enhance her natural tone. Pressing her lips together, she evaluated the effect in the mirror. “Huh, Rachel was right—it is a nice touch.” Satisfied, she set the lipstick down, but her eyes landed on the bottle of perfume she’d picked up during her last shopping trip.
With a small smile, she spritzed her new favorite perfume onto her wrists and neck, the delicate mist carrying a refreshing blend of floral and citrus notes. “Perfect,” she murmured, pausing to check her reflection in the mirror one last time. A small smile curved her lips as she admired the final results.
It wasn’t just about looking good; it was about feeling confident. And tonight, she felt ready—not just for the date but for the idea of stepping further into Michael’s world.
Just as she turned away from the mirror, she heard the familiar sound of the door chime at which her heart skipped a beat. There was no backing out now, he was waiting for her. With a muttered curse in her native language, she hastily grabbed her datapad and pressed the intercom button, quickly announcing, “I’ll be out in just a moment!”
“Here goes nothing,” she whispered under her breath as she stepped out of her bedroom, her hand hovering over the door panel. With a momentary pause to take a deep breath, she pressed the door button to open her door revealing Michael standing on the other side with a warm smile on his face.
“Hi there,” she greeted warmly, her eyes lighting up with delight as she stepped forward, quickly closing the gap between them. With a soft smile, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tender embrace, mirroring the affectionate gestures she had often observed human women share with their male partners. “How are you doing this evening?” she inquired, her voice infused with genuine care and warmth, eager to engage in small talk with him.
Surprised by her swift embrace, he froze for a moment, caught off guard by her eagerness. She pulled back just enough to look into his piercing blue eyes, a playful glint in her own. “Aren’t you going to hug me back?” she teased. “I thought it was customary among humans to return a hug when one receives one.”
Caught off guard by her observation, he stammered a reply as he reciprocated the hug, pulling her closer. The warmth of her presence had stirred something deep within him, something he had thought he had put in the past—a bittersweet ache that reminded him of a time long gone. It had been so long since he had held a woman in his arms like that, the memory of his late wife whispering through his thoughts, bittersweet and familiar. Yet, in that moment, as Triara rested against him, he found himself reluctant to let go.
Unbeknownst to him, she sensed his inner turmoil despite the mental barriers she had carefully erected in her mind. The raw flood of emotions emanating from him was impossible to ignore. They spilled over the walls of her mind, unspoken yet powerful, speaking of loss, longing, and the fragile hope for something new in his life. This was no mere hug, it was much more than that.
She closed her eyes, letting the moment linger. She had been embraced by Richard countless times in the past—but this felt profoundly different. There was a tenderness here and she didn’t want to let go either.
But like all good things, the hug eventually came to an end as he reluctantly let go, his hands lingering at her sides for just a beat longer than necessary. Sensing the fleeting nature of the moment, she reached out instinctively, her hand brushing against his chest. The soft touch wasn’t hurried or hesitant—it was deliberate, a quiet plea to hold onto the warmth they’d just shared for a moment longer.
“Thank you,” he sighed, his voice breaking the stillness between them. “I needed that.”
She nodded, her gaze steady and understanding. “I needed it too,” she replied softly, her sincerity carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over her outfit before a playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Didn’t you wear something pretty close to this the last time we went out?”
She glanced down at herself, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her expression. “Well, yes,” she admitted, lifting her eyes to meet his. “You seemed to like it last time, so I thought… maybe I’d wear it again.” She tugged nervously at the hem of her sweater. “Would you like me to change into something different?”
“Oh, absolutely not!” he exclaimed, stepping forward and resting his hands gently on her shoulders. “You look wonderful,” he said with genuine admiration. “It’s perfect for tonight.” As he spoke, a subtle floral-citrus scent reached him. His brow furrowed slightly before curiosity lit up his expression. “Are you wearing perfume?”
“Uh-huh,” she hummed with a small, bashful smile. “Do you like it?”
“I do,” he said, a warm smile spreading across his face.
“I thought I’d try something different this time,” she explained, the anticipation in her voice evident. “I was hoping you’d notice.” She smoothed her hands over her thighs, standing a little taller. “And to answer your question—yes, I’m ready. But I’m still confused about this ‘bowling’ you’ve mentioned. What is it?”
“You’ll see,” he replied with a grin, his hand naturally finding the small of her back as they left her quarters.
The walk to the transit train was pleasant, their pace unhurried as they chatted. Thankfully, at that hour, the train was quiet, and they easily found seats beside each other. As she settled in, she noticed the curious glances from the other passengers and a familiar unease crept in—she’d seen those stares during their dinner outing the previous weekend.
Michael sensed her discomfort immediately, and without saying a word, he reached for her hand, offering a gentle pat. She relaxed slightly, crossing her legs and leaning in closer to him. Taking his left hand, she interlaced her fingers with his, unbothered by the curious looks around them.
—
As they entered the bowling alley, her gaze swept across the diverse crowd of patrons. People of all ages and backgrounds filled the space, creating an atmosphere buzzing with energy and excitement. Among them, she noted officers, enlisted personnel, and civilian families alike, all enjoying a leisurely evening out together.
The sound of laughter and the clatter of bowling balls echoed through the air, adding to the lively ambiance of the scene. And she couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation building within her as she took in the sights and sounds of the bustling bowling alley.
“So, this is bowling?” she inquired, her curiosity piqued as she observed the gameplay around them.
“Uh-huh,” he confirmed with a nod. Placing his hand once again on the small of her back, he guided her through the bustling crowd. Meanwhile, she couldn’t help but notice the lingering gazes from some of the other patrons, but this time, she found herself less affected by their scrutiny.
As they approached a counter adorned with rows of shoes, he explained, “First, we need to get some shoes.”
Confusion flickered across her features as she glanced down at her own athletic shoes. “But I’m already wearing shoes,” she remarked, furrowing her brow in puzzlement. “What’s wrong with them?” she asked, wondering what was wrong with them.
“Regular shoes would mark up the special floor of the bowling lanes,” he explained patiently, sensing her confusion. “Bowling shoes have a special sole that protects the floor.”
As they waited, an attendant approached them, ready to assist. “I’ll take a men’s size 12 and a half,” he requested, and within moments, the attendant returned with the appropriate shoes.
He gestured toward the shoes, turning one over to show her the bottom. “See?” he pointed out, demonstrating the smooth, non-marking sole designed to protect the lanes. “These won’t leave any marks or damage the floor.”
She nodded in understanding at his explanation, realizing the necessity of the specialized shoes for bowling lanes. She then turned to the attendant and addressed them directly, “I’ll take a ladies size 10, please.”
Within moments, the attendant returned with her shoes and placed them atop the counter alongside his.
“Alright, you two, that’ll be ten credits each,” the attendant informed them.
She began to reach for her CAC to pay for her shoes when he intervened. Pulling out his own card, he tapped it against the card reader, initiating the payment process. A beep indicated that his payment had been accepted, sparing her the need to pay for her own shoes.
“Alright,” he said as he stepped away from the counter, leading her further into the bowling alley. “Now we get to find an empty lane to play at.”
Scanning the area, his eyes settled on an empty lane, labeled as lane 22. “There,” he pointed off in the distance, gesturing towards their chosen destination.
As they reached the lane, he settled down and began the process of swapping his shoes for the special bowling footwear. She followed suit, slipping off her own shoes to make way for the bowling shoes.
Observing her actions, he glanced down at her feet and noticed her socks, appreciating their practicality. “Good call wearing those,” he remarked. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to wear these bowling shoes without them, considering how many people have used them.” Her face showed a flicker of concern, prompting him to add with a reassuring smile, “Relax, they sanitize them and expose them to ultraviolet light after every use. Still, the idea of going sockless in them is a little unsettling, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” she thought, “but yeah, I always pair them with my tights when wearing athletic shoes. Without them, the shoes just don’t fit right.”
“I can imagine,” he replied with a nod, often curious about her preference for wearing tights as often as she did, a choice that stood out since most human women didn’t wear them. Not that it bothered him—in truth, her style felt distinct and intriguing. Still, he decided against asking; after all it was early in their relationship, and he didn’t want to run the risk of making her feel uncomfortable.
Meanwhile, Triara had quickly picked up on his thoughts. Although he hadn’t lingered on them for long, his momentary hesitation had been enough for her to catch it. She couldn’t help but smile inwardly, noting how similar his perspective was to Richard’s views on the matter.
“Now,” he announced, rising from his seat, “we need to grab a bowling ball if we’re going to play the game.” Triara followed suit, leaving her regular shoes behind as she made her way toward the racks of bowling balls. On one side, there were lighter balls, typically favored by human women, and on the other side, heavier ones, usually preferred by men.
With her enhanced Zaltaen strength, Triara naturally gravitated toward the heavier balls. As she reached for one, Michael’s voice interrupted her focus. “Triara,” he began, a note of caution in his tone as he grabbed a ball to test its weight, “those balls are pretty heavy. They might be—” His words trailed off as he watched her effortlessly lift one of the heaviest balls. “My mistake,” he admitted, a hint of awe in his voice, “I forgot just how much strength you actually have.”
“Yeah,” she confirmed, lifting the ball up and down with the ease of someone curling a dumbbell, “I easily have twice as much strength as even a human male seeing as how Zaltaens come from a higher gravity world.” Her words held a touch of pride, emphasizing the extent of her physical abilities compared to those of humans.
“Remind me never to get into a fight with you,” he joked, pointing at her with a chuckle. “I have a feeling that you’d wipe the floor with me.” His tone was light-hearted, acknowledging her formidable strength when compared to even him in a playful manner.
“I’ve learned the limits of what I can do with humans,” she admitted, her gaze briefly drifting upwards before returning to him with a chuckle. “Though I do have to admit,” she continued, “I sometimes forget my own strength when I get too excited. For instance…” Before she could finish, he interjected, “Let me guess, when you’re hugging someone.”
She slowly nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” she recalled a moment when she had hugged Richard, “when I went to hug Richard, I overdid it a bit. He let me know when he told me that he couldn’t breathe.” She nervously rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ve been trying to keep my enthusiasm under control.”
“Hey,” he said, coming up beside her and patting her on the back, “I like your enthusiasm. It’s why I asked you if you wanted to date me. I’ve never met anyone like you.” His words carried sincerity, reflecting his genuine appreciation for her.
“So,” he began, guiding her back to lane 22, “I’m going to show you how to play the game.”
As they reached their lane, he stepped up to the line and turned to face her. “Now,” he said, “you stand back here, line yourself up with the pins all the way down there.” He gestured toward the ten pins at the end of the lane. “Then, you pull the ball back like this.” He showed, his arm extending behind him before he took a step forward. “And step forward like so, releasing the ball just before you reach the line.”
She watched closely, her gaze focused on his movements, the simplicity of the game made it seem like something anyone could do, and she was ready to give it a try herself.
She watched as he walked gracefully forward and smoothly threw the ball down the lane. The ball struck the pins, but only six fell. “Oh no,” she said with concern, realizing the goal was to knock all the pins down.
“That’s why you have a spare,” he explained as his ball returned. “And now, I’m going to try again.” With poise, he stepped up to the lane once more and skillfully launched the ball down the lane, successfully knocking down the four remaining pins after which he celebrated his achievement with excitement.
“And now it’s your turn.”
Nervously, she approached the lane with her ball in hand, all while attempting to emulate his motions as best as she could. As she came to the front of the lane she released the ball, but only managed to knock down four pins, leaving six still standing.
“Hey,” he said, stepping beside her, “don’t feel bad. This is your first try, and bowling is part skill, part luck.” He smiled encouragingly as her ball returned to the rack. “Let’s try again, but this time, let’s plan it out.”
He came up behind her and gently placed his hands upon her hips, guiding her stance and peering over her shoulder to help align her aim. “There, that’s better,” he said as he stepped back and watched as she brought her ball up and gracefully launched it down the lane.
She watched intently as the ball traveled down the lane, holding her breath in anticipation. Finally, the ball struck the remaining six pins, knocking them down. She screamed in excitement and rushed to him, enveloping him in a bearhug, unaware of her own strength until he struggled to breathe.
“Triara,” he gasped, “I can’t… breathe.”
Realizing her mistake, she quickly backed away, horror evident in her expression. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, her gaze fixed on the floor below.
“Hey,” he reassured her as he took her into his arms, “it’s alright. I’m fine.” Despite his discomfort, his voice remained soothing. “Just don’t let your excitement get the better of you, okay?” He patted her shoulder reassuringly. “I’m fine,” he repeated, noting her worry.
Sheepishly, she approached him again and hugged him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice tinged with regret.
“Hey,” he gently rubbed her back, “no harm done. Now wipe that frown off your face, we’re on a date after all.” She drew in a haggard breath and nodded against his shoulder before letting go of him and stepping back. “Now let’s continue to have fun, okay?”
“Yeah,” she replied softly.
Despite her fears of having nearly hurt him, he didn’t seem overly concerned about the incident. In fact, his reaction was the opposite of what she had expected. Part of her, the more insecure part, had anticipated him calling off the date right then and there. However, as he retrieved his ball, he looked back at her with a reassuring smile as she settled back into her seat behind him.
“I’m fine,” he assured her once again, turning back to face the lane. With practiced skill, he launched his ball down the lane, and unlike his first try, he successfully knocked down all ten pins in one shot. “YES!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air and jumping up, providing tangible evidence that he was indeed unharmed, putting her fears to rest.
From that point on, the two of them played one round after another until the game concluded.
“What’s going on?” she asked, observing the computer display the final score for the game in what appeared to be rather archaic-looking graphics compared to the more advanced graphics she knew the computer systems aboard the space station could produce. “Is the game over?”
“Yeah,” he replied, taking a seat beside her, “but that’s just one game.” He glanced back up at the computer screen. “And it looks like you beat me.”
“I beat you?” she asked, surprised at her victory in a game she had never played before. Confirming it with a glance at the screen, she had indeed surpassed him by six points, making her the winner of the game. “Wow,” she whispered, “that was fun.”
“I’m happy to see you having so much fun,” he said, reaching for her knee and giving it a reassuring pat, hoping she once again wouldn’t find it too presumptuous. The genuine smile on her face indicated her appreciation for his affectionate gesture.
She placed her hand over his that was resting on her knee, turning to look at him. There he was, smiling genuinely at her. “Can I?” she asked softly.
He simply nodded, and she closed the distance between them. Their lips met in their first kiss, brief but unmistakable, a moment of quiet connection.
“Wow,” she backed away from him, and there he was, his eyes still closed. When he didn’t open them, she wondered if she had done something wrong. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
“Oh, nothing,” he opened his eyes, a smile playing on his lips, “nothing’s wrong. In fact,” he closed in for another kiss, “everything is so very much right.” Their lips met again, this time with more intensity, a surge of passion that he hadn’t felt in years, not since his late wife had died. For her, it was as though a long-held dream was finally unfolding, something she hadn’t dared to imagine.
As the kiss ended, they lingered with the tips of their noses touching. “Come on,” he whispered, “let’s go get something to eat and play another game together. We have all night.” He stood up, extending his hand to her. She graciously accepted it, allowing him to pull her to her feet before embracing him. “I’m having a great time with you,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion, “thank you. Thank you very much. You have no idea how much this evening means to me.”
“I know,” he replied, his voice soft and genuine. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time.” He took a moment to let the sentiment sink in before continuing. “Come,” he urged, his eyes shimmering with excitement. “Let’s grab some drinks and food, and spend the evening enjoying ourselves,” he proposed, his gaze holding hers with a touch of warmth. “Together.”
Together. As she heard that word, a surge of excitement filled her at the thought of having something like what Rachel and Richard shared. Ever since she had been cast out of her House, a deep emptiness had lingered in her life. Family was the foundation of Zaltaen society, and without it, she had felt lost.
Sure, she had Richard, who had claimed her as his sister from another mother, but being brother and sister was one thing. And then there was Rachel, who was her best friend.
However, what she was looking forward to having with him was different, something deeper and more intimate; a connection that went beyond familial ties and friendships, something romantic and fulfilling ever since she saw what happiness it brought to her best friend’s life. It was a prospect that filled her with hope and excitement for the future.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to them, Richard and Rachel observed from a distance as the two of them interacted with each other. For Rachel, witnessing Triara’s genuine happiness was a heartwarming sight. She understood that Triara longed for the kind of connection she shared with Richard, and now she could see that Triara had a chance at experiencing that kind of joy. For Richard, it was a moment of shared happiness. He couldn’t be happier for the both of them, seeing his friends finding happiness together.
“Hey,” Richard looked to Rachel, a smile playing on his lips, “I think they make a cute couple.”
“Me too,” she replied, taking hold of his hand, her expression softening with emotion. “I can’t help but feel happy for her, my love. Triara’s been through so much, lost… so much. To see the joy on her face, it’s almost…” She paused as she felt him squeeze her hand, and she met his gaze, seeing the love for her reflected in his eyes.
“Say no more, my love,” he said as he leaned in to kiss his wife. “I know exactly what you mean.” He smiled, a warmth spreading across his features. “I’ve missed this, I’ve missed this with you so very much.”
“I know,” she began to tear up, her voice soft with emotion. “Me too.” She leaned in closer to him, cherishing the intimate closeness that they hadn’t been able to experience for months due to life’s circumstances.
—
The night air was filled with laughter as the two of them exited the bowling alley, relishing the joy of their time together. Suddenly, Triara spotted Rachel standing nearby.
“Rachel!” Triara exclaimed, rushing over to her and enveloping her in a hug. “When did you get here?” she asked, stepping back to admire her longtime friend. “Why didn’t you and Richard join us? We would have loved to have you as part of our game,” she added, stealing a glance at Michael who was standing nearby.
Rachel smiled knowingly. “Oh no,” she waved a dismissive hand, “and spoil the fun you two were having? Not a chance! The two of you needed some alone time together,” she explained, turning to her husband, Richard. “Isn’t that right, my love?”
Richard nodded, his own smile reflecting his happiness for Triara. “You and Michael looked like you were having a blast. We didn’t want to intrude.”
“But…” Triara began, only to be stopped by Rachel.
“You needed some time with Michael,” Rachel interjected, and Triara couldn’t help but agree. She did need this time with Michael.
“Come on, Michael,” Richard said, pulling him aside. “Let Rachel and Triara have some girl time together.” As they stepped aside, Richard turned to his friend. “So, what do you think of Triara?”
Michael sighed wistfully. “She’s wonderful,” he replied with a smile. “She has such a warm and inviting personality. I can’t help but want her in my life.” His gaze drifted to where Triara was conversing with Rachel. “You know, Richard,” he continued, “when my wife, Mary, died,” he drew in a haggard breath, “I never thought I’d be capable of loving again. I thought that part of me died with Mary. But with Triara, it’s like something has been rekindled,” he put his hand to his chest, “inside me.”
“Do you love her?” Richard inquired, curious about Michael’s feelings for Triara for the part of him that saw Triara as a sister didn’t want to see her get hurt.
“I’m not sure, we’ve only been on two dates,” Michael admitted, taking a deep breath. “Though I’d be lying if I didn’t think I was falling for her.” He shook his head wistfully, a mix of uncertainty and longing evident in his expression. “I haven’t had this for so long, I almost forgot how it felt.”
Richard clapped him on the back, a wide grin on his face. “I couldn’t be happier for you, buddy. You deserve some happiness in your life, and so does she,” he gestured toward Triara. “Just promise me you’ll treat her right. She deserves it.”
Michael’s expression softened as Richard spoke. “Richard, I could never hurt her,” he vowed earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity and determination.
“Just make sure to treat her right. She deserves it,” Richard reiterated, his tone firm but supportive. “She’s been through so much—lost so much. She puts on a brave face but underneath that mask she wears, she’s…” Michael interrupted him, his concern evident. “I know,” he gave Richard a reassuring look, “I can see it in her eyes when she thinks I’m not looking. She’s so insecure about herself.”
“You would be too if you lost as much as she did. She lost everything, everyone she ever knew and loved,” Richard explained, going into the magnitude of Triara’s losses. Michael listened, absorbing the gravity of her past experiences. “She was cast out of her House,” Richard continued, seeing Michael’s confusion. “It’s like being disowned by your family but for a Zaltaen, it’s so much worse than that. For a Zaltaen, especially one who once came from a noble House of Zalta like she did, a Zaltaen without a House is no Zaltaen at all. And for a Zaltaen, family is the basis of their society; there’s nothing more important to a Zaltaen than family.”
And when Michael thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.
“Worst of all, nobody she once knew, her brothers and sisters, none of them will take her call. Not even her own mother.”
Michael’s heart sank as Richard revealed the depth of Triara’s isolation and rejection. The weight of the revelation hit him with a crushing force, dispelling any remaining illusions he held about the challenges they might face together.
“Damn!” Michael whispered a quiet acknowledgment. “No wonder why she’s so insecure. She’s afraid of losing me,” he mused, a mixture of empathy and concern washing over him. Richard nodded in understanding. “Damn,” Michael sighed, “we’re like two peas in a pod. We’ve both lost so much.”
“And in a way,” Richard smiled knowingly, “I think that the two of you are good for each other. You both know how it feels to lose the people you love.” Michael glanced back at Triara, seeing her in a new light, filled with a renewed sense of compassion and commitment to her. “Be there for her just like I know that she’d be there for you,” Richard advised. Michael simply nodded, his resolve firm.
“I understand, Richard,” Michael replied, offering his longtime friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “So, I should just let her know I’m here for her without prying?”
“Exactly,” Richard affirmed, pausing for emphasis. “Let her come to you when she’s ready to talk about what happened to her. It took years before she opened up to me about what happened. Trust me, she’ll appreciate your support without the pressure of having to discuss it.” Michael nodded, absorbing Richard’s advice. “Got it. I’ll be there for her when she’s ready.”
Meanwhile, Rachel asked in a hushed tone, “Did you tell him what you are?” She glanced around, hoping Michael wasn’t looking their way, so he couldn’t read her lips. “You know…” Triara interrupted her, aware of Rachel’s implication. “You mean that I’m a telepath?” Rachel nodded. “That was the first thing I told him on our first date. I knew he had a right to know that about me if we were to go any further in our relationship.”
“Well?” Rachel waited with bated breath. “What did he think?” Triara reminisced about the moment she disclosed her telepathic abilities to him, feeling anxious about his reaction. “You know,” she smiled wistfully, “he was okay with it. In fact, he was fascinated by the whole subject. He even compared me to being a telepath out of an old television show. I believe it was called Babylon 5.” Rachel nodded, familiar with the show from her time with Richard.
“Well, that’s encouraging,” Rachel thought, a smile playing on her lips. “Do you like him?” She asked, curious about Triara’s feelings towards Michael.
“Yeah,” Triara’s heart fluttered at the mere thought of him. “I do, I like him a lot.” It was evident from her expression that Triara was developing strong feelings for Michael.
Triara glanced over at Michael, who was conversing with Richard nearby. “I just hope,” she turned back to Rachel, “that he feels the same way that I feel about him.”
“Oh,” Rachel’s smile widened, “I think you’ll have no problem with that.”
“How?” Triara inquired, her confusion evident. “How do you know that?” She couldn’t fathom how Rachel could be so sure. “Last time I checked, humans don’t have extra sensory abilities.”
Rachel chuckled, finding Triara’s confusion amusing. “Girl, I don’t need extra sensory abilities to know that he likes you, that he cares about you.”
“How so?” Triara pressed, still perplexed. “How can you tell?”
“The look,” Rachel gestured with her thumb towards Michael. “I can see it in how he looks at you whenever he casts a glance your way.” Just as Triara was about to turn to look at him, Rachel stopped her. “Don’t look.”
At that moment, Michael approached from behind, wrapping his arms around Triara in a warm embrace. Rachel simply winked at Triara, confirming her earlier assessment.
Triara smiled as she felt Michael’s comforting presence. Perhaps Rachel was right about him after all.
“But anyways,” Richard joined them, standing beside his wife, “Rachel and I are going to turn in for the night. We both had an early morning flight.”
“Are you going to be here long?” Triara inquired.
“Only a week,” Richard replied.
“Only a week?” Triara’s disappointment was palpable in her voice. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”
“Aww,” Rachel responded affectionately, “but we’ve got a week. We just have to make the best of it. I have work commitments, and of course, I need to get back to my child.”
“Speaking of your child, where is she?” Triara inquired. “I’d have loved to meet her.”
“Oh, she’s with Richard’s parents,” Rachel explained, “they were more than happy to watch over her.” “Anyways,” Rachel continued, stifling a yawn, “Richard and I are heading back to his place to get some sleep. We’re both exhausted.” She watched as Richard too stifled a yawn. “But anyways, good night you two.”
With that, the two of them walked away, leaving Michael and Triara alone in the hallway just outside the bowling alley. She half-expected them to leave, but he surprised her by once again pulling her into his arms for a hug.
“Triara,” he whispered, his voice soft against her ear, “I won’t ever hurt you. You know that, right?” Confusion swirled within her as she nodded against his shoulder. Why was he saying this now? “Of course, I know that.” she replied, her tone uncertain. “What did Richard and you talk about?”
“Nothing,” he answered quickly, hoping she wouldn’t sense any deception in his tone. “We just talked, that’s all.” He released her from the embrace, and they started walking down the hallway together. “He asked me some things,” Michael admitted, glancing at her. “You know, things like what I thought about you. What I felt about you. That sort of stuff.”
She nodded, sensing his hesitation, but she knew he wasn’t being entirely truthful with her. “What did you two really talk about?” she pressed, her voice firm with a hint of urgency. “What did Richard tell you?” Michael stopped in his tracks, visibly conflicted. “He told me not to talk with you about this…” Before he could finish, she cut in, frustration evident in her tone. “Great Maker!” she exclaimed. “Once again, Richard’s sticking his nose where it’s not needed or wanted.”
“I’m sure he means well,” Michael offered, attempting to ease the tension.
“Yeah, well,” she shook her head in frustration, “sometimes he takes things a little bit too far.” Another frustrated shake of her head followed. “He’s overprotective. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”
He sighed, realizing there was no backing out of it. “He told me about your past, how you were…” he watched as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the conversation. He was about to continue when she spoke up. “Yes, I was cast out of my House. And yes, one might say that I’m a little insecure about myself considering what happened to me.” She reached up and put her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “I want this to work out between the two of us. This is something that I’ve been wanting in my life for a long time, ever since I saw the kind of joy that my friends Richard and Rachel experience.”
“And I understand that, I understand it more than you’ll ever know,” he replied softly, his gaze meeting hers with sincerity. “As you already know, I’ve lost a lot too. The loss of my wife is still something that haunts me to this day. I’ve come a long way, and most of that progress is thanks to you. You’ve been there for me; you’ve kept me grounded.” A nervous bite of her lip betrayed her emotions as he spoke. “As I told you before, you’ve been there for me in ways that I,” he looked away briefly, his voice thick with emotion, “can’t even begin to thank you for.
“You’ve been the best thing for me since I lost my wife. I know we’ve been friends, right?” She nodded, acknowledging their bond. “We’ve been friends for nearly six months.” Again, she nodded, affirming the duration of their friendship. “But I want more with you, that’s why I wanted to… take the next step with you,” he managed a small smile, “that’s why I asked you out on a date.”
It was obvious that she had been taken aback by what he had told her.
“Wherever this journey leads us,” he spoke earnestly, “I hope it leads to something good for the both of us.”
“Me too,” she nodded affirmatively. “I want this with you too. That’s why I was so nervous when I thought I had hurt you back on the lanes of the bowling alley.” Her gaze shifted downward, her sincerity evident. “I want this with you so… so very badly.”
“And I know that,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I want it too.” She looked up, meeting his gaze, reassured by the sincerity in his eyes. “So, come on… we have the rest of the evening. Let’s go get a drink together.”
—
Later that night, as they stood outside Michael’s door in Blue Sector, he turned to Triara. “Triara?” he began, his voice soft with sincerity. “I had a wonderful time with you tonight.” She nodded, a warm smile spreading across her face. “Yes, I did too. What with how you taught me how to bowl was the highlight of the evening. I’ve never had so much fun before.”
“Me too,” he agreed, his hand reaching gently for her cheek. He paused just before their lips met, his eyes holding hers. “Good night, my dear.”
Triara drew in a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his touch against her cheek. “Good night, honey,” she whispered in return. Their lips met once more in a tender kiss, fleeting yet filled with longing.
As the kiss ended, they lingered for a moment, savoring the closeness. Reluctantly, they both knew they had to part ways for the night, each with early responsibilities awaiting them in the morning. Triara gave his hand a gentle squeeze before stepping back, walking a few meters down the hallway to her own suite.
As Triara stepped into her suite, she leaned against the closed door and let out a heavy sigh. “Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered to herself, berating her own actions. “You almost blew it tonight.” She shook her head, replaying the events of the evening in her mind and analyzing her every word and gesture.
“Why did he react like that?” she wondered aloud, her insecurities gnawing at her. “Could he really be falling for me? Could he really be falling in love with me?” The questions lingered, echoing in her mind as she grappled with her doubts and fears.
—
On Altair, President John Renault had just received a communique from the Speaker of the House regarding a proposal by Zaltaen Ambassador Eririn. They had debated it extensively, with some discussions growing quite heated at times.
The core issue was the government’s plans for a piece of land desired by Eririn’s House. They intended to build an expanded spaceport to manage the rising traffic to and from orbit, directly clashing with the Zaltaens’ desires.
“This can’t be signed,” Admiral Nancy Moore stressed, firmly opposing the agreement with the Zaltaens. “Our people need this land, especially for building a spaceport near the equator. Surrendering it would be detrimental to our plans.”
“I know,” John expressed his frustration, thumping his desk, “don’t you think I know that!?” he exclaimed. “I sat in on the committee that chose that plot of land,” he thumped his desk again, “I know just how strategically important it is. It was chosen not just because of its proximity to the equator but also because of the massive network of roadways and highways that would allow for heavy transport.”
Standing up from his desk, John paced about the room. “I get it,” he turned back to the admiral who remained seated in front of his desk, “I can’t sign it. It would represent an even bigger blow to our economic policies than if we were to not sign it at all.”
“Sir?” Michelle, John’s personal secretary, poked her head into the room. “Eririn is here.” She glanced over her shoulder and then back at the president. “What should I do?” John motioned for Michelle. “Send her in.”
Nancy Moore observed Eririn’s entrance with suspicion. While she had developed trust in her Zaltaen personal secretary over time, extending that trust to all Zaltaens, especially considering the proposal Eririn had brought forward, seemed unwise.
“Have you reached a decision regarding my proposal?” Eririn inquired as she took a seat in front of John’s desk, while Admiral Moore simmered with anger beside her. From Admiral Moore’s perspective, Eririn’s presence in the presidential office was a bold move, given her proposal’s perceived betrayal. However, John, always adept at diplomacy, recognized the importance of handling the situation with care.
“Yes, we have,” John stood up, his tone resolute, “and we have to firmly decline, no matter what good it would do for our people.”
“And why is that?” Eririn inquired.
“You know why,” Admiral Moore responded sharply, her gaze piercing. “You know that the land you want is perfect for a spaceport that we need to facilitate more ground-to-orbit transport. How dare you…” John intervened, raising his hand to prevent her from escalating the situation into a diplomatic incident.
“What if I were to sweeten the deal by saying that my House would foot half the bill in building the spaceport, and all your government would have to do is pay up half the cost?” Eririn proposed changing the dynamics of the agreement entirely.
John exchanged a glance with Admiral Moore. The offer sounded considerably more appealing now than it had been initially.
“Why,” John’s voice edged with anger, “did you suddenly bring this into play?”
“I believe that a fictitious alien species known as the Ferengi of Star Trek lore has something to say regarding this situation,” Eririn replied, surprising John and Nancy with her knowledge of Star Trek. “Rule of Acquisition Number Three: Never spend more for an acquisition than you have to.” John was poised to respond, but Eririn preempted him. “I’ve been empowered by the matriarch of my House to include this addition to the proposal but as the Rule of Acquisition states,” she paused, gesturing casually, “you get the gist.”
“Indeed,” John started, “but you must have realized that proposing to cover half the cost upfront would have streamlined the negotiation process. I wouldn’t have needed to navigate through Congress for approval. Did you anticipate that?” Eririn simply shrugged. “That said, I require the spaceport cost-sharing proposal in writing before I even consider signing the land deal with your House.”
“Of course,” Eririn smiled. “It’s refreshing to deal with such honorable individuals.” She retrieved a datapad from her purse and handed it to John. “Here it is, all legally binding. My House will cover half the costs of building the spaceport, and it will be a joint operation.”
“Joint operation?” Admiral Moore interjected. “You never mentioned…”
Admiral Moore fell silent as she saw John raise his hand, prompting Eririn to speak. “Did you really expect my House to foot half the bill without having some level of control? Do you take me for a fool?”
“No, Eririn,” John interjected, “it’s just that we’re a bit surprised by this.”
“Surprised how?” Eririn queried. “I’m no stranger to negotiating deals. I’ve brokered agreements between the numerous Houses of my world for decades. You’re no different.” Taking the datapad from John’s desk, she looked up at him with a determined expression. “Do you agree to our proposal? You provide us with the land, and we’ll cover half the expenses for building the new spaceport and we’ll share control over the operation.”
John glanced at Admiral Moore, seeking guidance. However, the admiral, being more accustomed to military matters, appeared uncertain. She shrugged, indicating her lack of expertise in such negotiations.
“Very well,” John replied, reaching for the datapad, “we’ll accept the terms.”
“Excellent,” Eririn said as she handed the datapad to John, who quickly signed the document with his thumbprint. “The matriarch of my House will be very pleased with the outcome of these negotiations.” With that, Eririn left John’s office.
“What do you think?” John inquired.
“Shrewd,” Admiral Moore remarked. “She’s certainly a shrewd negotiator.”
“That’s an understatement,” John agreed, his expression reflecting a mixture of respect and caution.
Last updated on Monday, December 2nd, 2024 at 5:08 PM by trparky.