Getting them involved had been one of Sylvia’s jobs.
“We don’t want to fight these people,” Sylvia said quietly. “Can you make certain, Chief Arendse, that your people give no offense? The Drifters are used to dealing with different cultures…but not always on their own ships.”
“My people will stick close to you and Em Leitz and keep their mouths shut and guns holstered,” Arendse promised. “I hope that’ll be enough.”
Sylvia nodded her approval.
“It should be. And on this ship…Felix, here, I am the only one who says anything. That clear?”
Her chief of staff nodded.
“As crystal, Em Ambassador,” he confirmed. “We can’t risk screwing up this mission.”
Sylvia nodded firmly to him and Arendse as the shuttle adjusted its course, the acceleration shivering across the passenger compartment as they slowed to the docking bay.
“Let’s get this show on the road.”
The shuttlebay they landed in could have been on any ship in the former Kenmiri Empire. It would be a while before anyone was building anything that was dramatically different from the ship types favored by their former overlords—and even when they started doing that, components like shuttlebays wouldn’t change much.
An honor guard was waiting for Sylvia, and she buried an atavistic shiver at the paired lines of black-robed-and-masked soldiers. All of the Drifter soldiers were shrouded in bulky black cloth that concealed their race and build.
For this duty, they all wore identical plain masks under their hoods. Small gold marks at the chin of the masks served as rank markers for those with the knowledge to look, but nothing else distinguished twenty soldiers that could easily have come from twenty species.
They were probably all Ashall, the group of humanoid races that included Terran humanity, but the robes could cover a few of the bipedal non-Ashall aliens, too. That was the point, after all.
The Protector-Commander waiting at the other end of the honor guard was at least more obviously Ashall. Their robes were still bulky enough to conceal gender and race, but they were smoother and more shaped to the wearer’s form.
Their mask was white and gold, the individualized patterns marking it a Face Mask instead of the honor guards’ Duty Masks. A double length of gold chain held a full-sized plain steel dagger on the middle of the Protector-Commander’s chest, the mark of their rank.
“Ambassador Sylvia Todorovich of the United Planets Alliance,” the Protector-Commander greeted her in fluent Kem. The main language of the Kenmiri, Kem had become the de facto trade language of the former Empire and the surrounding worlds. “Be welcome amongst Blue Stripe Green Stripe Orange Stripe. I am Protector-Commander Third-White-Fifth-Gold, commander of Blue Stripe Green Stripe Orange Stripe’s defenders.
“You are known to me by reputation, Ambassador, but duty demands that I ask what brings you to my Convoy.”
Sylvia approached to a carefully measured two meters and bowed to the Protector-Commander, her people pausing sensibly behind her.
“I appreciate your trust and welcome, Protector-Commander Third-White-Fifth-Gold,” she told them. “We approach Blue Stripe Green Stripe Orange Stripe on a dual mission, ser. My companion here, Felix Leitz, has been authorized to trade precious metals for technology and supplies needed by the United Planets Alliance’s friends in the La-Tar Cluster. If you will permit, he will speak with the Quartermasters of the Convoy on trade and commerce.”
Third-White-Fifth-Gold bowed their mask in acknowledgement.
“But you, Ambassador, are not here for trade,” they said. “What do you seek?”
“I must speak with the Council of Ancients of Blue Stripe Green Stripe Orange Stripe,” Sylvia said formally. “I am here on behalf of the La-Tar Cluster and the United Planets Alliance on an errand of peace. We would ask that the Ancients of Blue Stripe Green Stripe Orange Stripe aid us in ending the war between the La-Tar Cluster and the Kozun Hierarchy.”
It was impossible to read expressions through the mask. That was the point—all of the Ashall shared certain microexpressions that could be learned. They were hard to learn and hard to read, but even harder to conceal. Wearing masks barred strangers from reading the Drifters’ moods and intentions.
But Sylvia suspected that Third-White-Fifth-Gold was amused from the slight sardonic tilt of their head.
“I have heard about this conflict, yes,” the Protector-Commander conceded. “I am inclined to grant access to the Quartermasters, Ambassador, but access to the Council of Ancients is more difficult to earn.”
“I understand this,” Sylvia replied. “But I believe we share a common interest here, Protector-Commander. Your Convoy are traders, travelers between star systems bearing goods and news. A war, even if both sides wish to avoid harming you, is a risk to your people. Neither the La-Tar Cluster nor the Kozun Hierarchy are your enemies. Both could be valuable trading partners to Blue Stripe Green Stripe Orange Stripe, but their conflict renders the area around their systems dangerous to you.”
“The Kozun have more than one conflict ongoing,” Third-White-Fifth-Gold told her. “They have clashes on many sides, but it is the UPA that draws their ire the most. You speak of a conflict between the La-Tar Cluster and the Kozun Hierarchy, but the Kozun speak of a war between the Hierarchy and the UPA.”
Sylvia smiled. It was a thin, sharp expression. Most of her expressions were. She was one of the few who had learned to control her microexpressions, and her face was as much a tool and a weapon as her voice.
“The United Planets Alliance has signed a treaty of mutual defense with the La-Tar Cluster. Through that, units of the Peacekeeper Initiative have engaged Kozun units in defense of the Cluster. The only war ongoing, however, is between the Kozun and the people they invaded. Our involvement is entirely in the defense of the Cluster.”
The La-Tar Cluster was five worlds, four factory planets and an agriworld, that the Kozun Hierarchy—once unfriendly fellow Vesheron, now dangerous ex-allies—had invaded. Sylvia had been aboard Raven to negotiate with those worlds and had helped Colonel Henry Wong, Raven’s captain, convince the Cluster to stand together and help Wong drive the Kozun from their worlds.
“I can see how you view matters,” Third-White-Fifth-Gold said. “But it is not in the interests of this Convoy to get involved in a war between our former allies.”
“Even to help bring it to an end?” Sylvia asked. “We do not wish the Cluster to conflict with the Kozun. We would see a peaceful trade between our former allies and our current friends.”
“After all that has passed between you and the Kozun?”
The Drifter clearly knew more about the fight at La-Tar than Sylvia had expected. The UPSF had lost an Initiative destroyer there to antigravity disruptor warheads in Kozun hands. There was a small but vocal component of the UPSF that wanted revenge, but the political will wasn’t there for a real conflict.
“We are not at war with the Kozun,” she repeated. “We protected an ally, nothing more. That ally is prepared to protect themselves, even to take the war to the Hierarchy if they must, but peace is better for everyone.”
“Especially the United Planets Alliance?” Third-White-Fifth-Gold asked.