Chapter 3

Scott was gone rather longer – over a week – than we might have expected. When he returned, it was with a different craft. In place of the shiny new Alpha fifteen, he was piloting a much less pristine Beta Twelve. When he reported in on his return to N-space in system, he let us know he was carrying a diplomatic representative. “I’m sorry, Governor, Brigadier, I did make it clear diplomatic approaches would be unwelcome, and showed the recordings, but they insisted.”

The Beta range can carry two passengers in some discomfort, as well as some cargo. A single passenger would be a little less confined, but even so, it was hardly a prestigious transport. Scott touched down without a bump in a larger area which we’d had cleared for Commander Whitfield’s Gamma Ten. James and I had prepared to greet our visitor with formal honours, though I disliked the requirement to dress up; I have never been very comfortable in dress uniform. Actually, I always believed it had been deliberately designed to be uncomfortable. However, Romy had organised replicating something in a silk-like fabric which fit well, looked the part, and was warm or cool as required. I thought it made me look like a gigolo, but I wasn’t about to complain about the comfort.

Ambassador-at-large Sumimoto stepped out of the craft, and James stepped forward to greet him and saluted. “Welcome to Andromeda, Ambassador.”

“Thank you.” The Ambassador was a stout man, of just under average height. He was somewhat dishevelled, understandably, but nevertheless projected an impressive presence. I stepped forward, and he held out his hand. “Governor.”

“Ambassador. I expect you’d like to freshen up? Andromeda’s avatar will guide you to your quarters.”

“Thank you...”

I thought he was about to say something else, but he didn’t, and he followed the default avatar to a ground car. James and I watched the vehicle diminish into the distance before looking at each other.

Scott cleared his throat behind us and we turned to see him – in the uniform of a Lieutenant Commander. He tugged his tunic straight – again – and saluted.

“Welcome home, Lieutenant Commander,” James smiled.

“Congratulations, Scott.”

“Thank you, sirs. I’m not at all sure I know why they did this, and I’m not sure I’m happy about parting with my neat Sprinter, especially as I’m afraid I may end up as diplo transport. Mind you, I’m not at all sure the Ambassador is very happy about this mode of transport, so I may escape.”

“Let’s hope so. But I hope you aren’t reassigned.”

“Um, I don’t think that’ll happen. They seem to think you need something larger than a Sprinter and smaller than the big Gamma. They did let me bring Esther with me.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That’s a courtesy they didn’t allow me.”

“Sir ... Hex ... it’s not my place, but...”

“Oh, go on – you’re among friends, Scott.”

“I’m not supposed to say anything, but I heard through the grapevine that you’ll have a cruiser division in your sky if the Ambassador isn’t happy. I’m supposed to take him back to Earth in a week.”

“Thanks, Scott. I’ll remember your loyalty. If it’s any consolation, Andromeda isn’t worried about anything our technology can offer.”

“A kinetic strike from orbit?”

“They’d do that? Well, she knows our capability – she got the whole of the contents of Betty’s memory when I first landed here. She’s not worried.”

“Good morning, Ambassador. Please, take a seat. Would you like coffee? We have a selection of other beverages, hot and cold. Tea, Camellia Sinensis, that is, and other infusions including Rooibos. We keep a selection of different coffees, if you have a preference?” Romy indicated the table.

Ambassador Takeshi Sumimoto looked at the conference table, which was large, perfectly round, and of some exotic wood showing swirls of contrasting colours. The seating was comfortable, and identical. “Java, if you have it.”

“Certainly – it’s our most popular variety. Would you prefer espresso, filter, percolator or cafetière?”

“Oh, filter, certainly. And black. You import your coffee?”

“Indeed. We have some plants growing on equatorial mountain slopes, but of course we have no way of telling if it can thrive.”

“Impressive.”

By the time I ushered Andromeda’s ‘representative’ avatar into the conference room, the Ambassador was seated at the table talking to Romy with a cup of black coffee in front of him and an insulated carafe nearby.

“Good morning, Ambassador,” I greeted him. “This is Andromeda, the Planetary Representative. She will enable you to talk directly to the ruling sentience.” He stood as I pulled the chair opposite to him away from the table and replaced it with a taller one before seating her. He also sat, though he lifted off the seat briefly as James entered with Major Burton. There was a coffee filter on a mug where clearly I was to sit, and Romy smoothly supplied Liz Burton and James with their usual preference.

“So, Ambassador;” Andromeda led off once everyone was settled. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“You’re very gracious, Ma’am. However, I suspect you won’t be happy with my mission. I am instructed to try to make contact with the residents of ... Aleph, you’re calling it?”

“Aleph, yes. The original name is unpronounceable to humans. You are correct. I would strenuously resist any effort to force contact with them. Privacy is a much higher priority in their race’s background than yours. I, of course, accommodate your standards within our interactions.”

“Is there any way...”

“No, Ambassador. The transporter station here is now set to block any attempt to transport to any of the existing destinations. I am setting up a station on the other continent for demonstration purposes, and your technicians should be able to duplicate the technology on Earth and other human-occupied planets. It is possible that one or more of the residents of planets I am provisionally designating Beth, Gimel, Daleth, He, Waw and Zayin, may be willing to communicate, however, I would anticipate that any interaction would be superficial and offer no advantage to the United Planets Federation.”

The Ambassador sighed. “I see.”

“Ambassador, I already have what I wanted in the contact with your race; a vital, growing population. I have a friendship with the Governor which I could not have anticipated, and I have learned something about love. Apart from that, I have much to offer your race beyond a new biome. You know about the matter transmission technology, which will soon be available to your scientists. I have the details of a hyper-space drive which may be of interest, if only in extending knowledge. As your scientists absorb what I can teach there are other technologies which will become within reach, though they are beyond Earth theoretical science at present. Please, let be this desire to impose yourself on another culture. One of your philosophers said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

“George Santayana.”

“Indeed. Think on the lessons of your races’ history of contacts with other cultures; cultures within your own world.”

The Ambassador sighed again. “Sadly, my race is not good at remembering history. Or, at least, always think they can avoid the pitfalls.”

“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result.”

Despite himself, the Ambassador chuckled. “Albert Einstein. You certainly seem to have no problem remembering the lessons of our history.”

“Perfect recall, Ambassador. Both a blessing and a curse at times.”

“Andromeda, I would like to stay and explore your world, but I think I would be better employed trying to forestall my race repeating a mistake we have made too often in the past. I expect that young man ... Scott Ross ... will be willing to transport me back to Earth? The sooner, the better.”