Diverted
We triple-checked the numbers.
Slightly more than four months ago, a Geslyon cargo ship logged a distress signal that lasted for less than forty seconds. That was unusual enough by itself. Of the thousands of signals logged in the months our data accounted for, only three entries lasted fewer than five minutes. Still, those forty seconds were enough to track the vessel’s position and trajectory.
Twenty hours later along the projected trajectory, a rush order of human-compatible food supplies had been credited to the operations account of the Fafin, captained by one Wolshu Kemon.
The same account placed a much larger food order thirty-six hours later to be received at Mummar Beacon 4.
That was the truly bad piece of news.
The Jack was burning hard for Beacon 4, and all ten of us were scrambling. We knew we were behind. We’d known for months. The longer it’d taken to stabilize the ship's finances, the more we’d all understood just how far behind we were. Starvation was the abductees’ limiting factor. When we hadn’t found any ships immediately, we’d basically understood other people would come across the abductees before we did.
Or they already had.
But even knowing that for months, it was a slap in the face to discover that the abductee ships in Mummar had exited the system just hours after we’d entered it.
“Beacon 4’s logs confirm,” Fenno said. “Two ships exited the system matching the profiles of the A-ships Nora shared with us. But get this, Kemon’s ship, the Fafin? It didn’t follow immediately. It waited four days before heading through after them.”
“That’s conspicuous,” Nai snorted.
“How hard might it be to figure out where it went in those four days?” I asked.
“Wrong question,” Weith told me. “What we need to do is figure out where Kemon was before he got involved with Humans.”
God, I felt useless. I had nothing to contribute at this stage. But I was out of my element with interstellar travel, too much of a passenger.
One deep breath after another to steady myself…I was surrounded by the most competent friends and allies an interstellar military could offer me.
I’d placed my trust in them long ago, and none had disappointed me yet.
“Beacon 4’s logs have that too,” Fenno said. “The Fafin entered Mummar just a little more than a day before the distress call was logged.”
“He knew what he was looking for…” Serral breathed. “Somehow he knew where Humans would be before you and Nora went and spread the word.”
“Implying some contact with our abductors,” I nodded. “Or ENVY. I’ll write a message for the Archo enclave. Maybe they can tell us what to expect.”
I didn’t even have to go anywhere to do it. Psionically cobbling a message together was trivial, and Shinshay’s ship-interface prototype might have been experimental, but it could handle word processing easily.
It wasn’t even five minutes later that my psionic message had been translated to a digital format, fed into the Jack’s transmitter, and sent toward the Beacon connecting Mummar to Shirao.
Assuming instant turnaround, the soonest we could expect a response from Archo was nine hours. It was going to be a long wait.
“How sure are we that this is what it looks like?” Nai asked.
“Seems pretty clear—” I started, but Nai was right. Faulty assumptions were more harmful in moments like these, not less. “No, you’re right. There’s still too much we don’t know.”
“If not Humans, what else might this be?” Fenno asked.
“Knowing Kemon? Something piracy related,” Weith said. “It’s an obsession of his.”
“I’m inclined to believe Kemon’s intentions aren’t benevolent,” Serral said, “if not outright hostile. We’ve been waylaid, but we haven’t been subtle about our search. The fact that he hasn’t contacted us bodes rather poorly.”
“I’ll keep messaging the Beacon station,” Fenno said.
“Be aggressive,” Serral agreed. “Find out exactly how much the Fafin was coordinating with the two A-ships.”
“You’re on edge,” Nai noticed. “Something you know we don’t?”
“Maybe my memory is better than yours,” our Captain said grimly.
Nai could only frown.
…Rats. I remembered what he was talking about.
“The ship profiles,” I recalled. “We received them just a few days after escaping Shirao. We sent them to every Beacon in the system. ”
Nai’s eyes widened. “They didn’t notice we were looking for ships that passed through days earlier?”
“I wish it was that,” Serral said. “No, I think we’ve been had. The only remotely reasonable explanation I can think of is that some personnel manning the Beacon comms added the profiles to the present watchlists but didn’t retroactively check their logs. But even that would be against policy.”
“So it couldn’t have been accidental?” I confirmed. “On Earth we say ‘don’t attribute to malice which is adequately explained by incompetence’.”
“It’s certainly possible someone just made that mistake by coincidence,” Serral said, “but I don’t find that at all likely. We’ve spread the word too far and wide for Kemon not to have heard of us.”
Laranta had made sure every seat on the Admiralty Board knew our mission. There wasn’t a Coalition outpost in the cosmos that wouldn’t have at least a cursory briefing on the scattered humans.
“Kemon’s not actually in the Coalition though,” I pointed out. “Would he actually hear about us?”
“Funny you’re playing [devil’s advocate],” Tasser chuckled mirthlessly, “but yes. Outposts regularly share non-classified data, especially with visiting ships.”
“If Kemon’s hunting Vorak-affiliated pirates, there’s no chance he doesn’t know about us,” Nai confirmed.
“So he’s been intentionally withholding information from us,” I confirmed.
“Definitely,” Serral said.
My fist clenched.
“What’s on the other side of Beacon 4?” I asked, keeping my voice in check.
“Askior, C6,” Weith said. “Kemon’s home system.”
“It’s a warfront system,” Nai added. “That the A-ships were taken out of Mummar is the biggest indictment in my mind.”
The war hadn’t reached this system. Coalition presence was so minimal here because only two of the adjoining systems weren’t Coalition members, and even those two had declared neutrality in the war. If a Vorak fleet wanted to occupy Mummar, they’d have to get through another whole star system first.
There weren’t many places safer to be than here.
Why would anyone move abductees closer to the war?
“…I hate to say it, but we should consider diverting for Sidar or Sodar,” Weith said. “Best case scenario, we’re months behind wherever Kemon sent the abductees. It will be easier to get information if we contact Coalition forces there.”
“Sidar and Sodar don’t exactly keep large garrisons,” Serral pointed out. “…But they would have secure comms. We could contact Admiral Laranta—and more importantly, Admiral Hahko.”
“Think he knows about this?” Nai asked.
“…If he does, we’re going to be in a very tricky situation,” Serral grimaced.
“Turning up in his warzone would probably be the wrong move,” Nai said.
“Caleb…I know you don’t want to hear this, but we really might need to hold off on rushing after them,” Serral said.
His face was tight; he knew exactly how upsetting this was to me.
“…I get it,” I said. “I don’t like it, but we need to do this right.”
Ordinarily, we might have joked with our Captain that all ten crew members were within earshot on the flight deck, or loitering around the ladder on the level immediately below. But everyone was too on edge.
“Toward where am I calculating us?” Weith asked. “Sidar or Sodar?”
“Sodar has the better orbit for what communications we want,” Serral said. “Take us—”
“Wait, Captain, I think we should definitely divert for Sidar,” Dyn said. He’d been quiet in the corner, poring over some hand-scribbled math.
“What are you thinking?”
“Sidar has more ports, and I have a possible explanation for why the Fafin didn’t leave for another four days: I think Kemon missed some Humans.”
“Evidence?”
“Food,” Dyn said. “The first order wouldn’t last one A-ship a month, much less two ships. But the second order placed by the Fafin’s account? I think it’s too large for just two ships of twenty-four humans each.”
“How can you be sure?” Fenno asked. “We don’t know how frequently they would be planning on renewing those stocks.”
“Because ENVY said so,” I remembered. “They said the abductions ships were in pods of four.”
“And we know the A-ships were sent into the Askior system,” Dyn said. “And it’s not hard to come by Farnata supplies there. The second order could feed forty-eight Humans for roughly two months. That’s practically double the typical provisioning window. But more ships’ worth of humans would shrink that timeframe. Caleb’s ship was separated from the other three, but the Red Sails found four A-ships in Shirao. It’s a guess, but based on the food Kemon ordered, he expected there to be ninety-six Humans in Mummar, not just these two ships’ worth.”
“Where would the other two be then?” Nai asked.
“…Kemon’s initial interest,” Weith realized. “Who, aside from militaries using more obscure flight paths, might stumble onto some abductee ships floating in the void?”
“Smugglers and pirates keeping a low profile,” Serral followed. “It’s certainly possible…”
The only lull in our conversation came when Weith interrupted our acceleration to aim the ship for the planet we all thought we’d finally gotten away from.
Psionics were too helpful at times like this. The discussion was rambling and exhaustive, but we could keep track of the details more easily with the shared documentation. The most critical points were all recorded and revised on a sharable psionic article.
Coordinating ourselves psionically was familiar ground for most of the crew. We’d all got to know each other over discussions around our investigation on Lakandt. Even if we felt crappy, this was just business as usual.
Information like this should have been more upsetting. It was infuriating all right, but I’d resigned myself to the unexpected long before coming to Mummar. I could fill an encyclopedia with accounts of everything that gone wrong before now, but we’d survived so far. We’d figure this out too. The only question was if that would be sooner or later.
Burning as hard as we were, our return flight to Sidar wouldn’t take as long, and I heard back from the Archo enclave a few hours before we entered orbit. I had bad blood with Nora, and someone among her campers understood that it was best for me not to talk directly to her. Someone named Dustin was the Jack’s contact instead.
In addition to a dozen other files and small updates, one particular part of his message confirmed our fears.
"…so it’s nice to hear from you. Nora’s headbutting people in another star system again. ENVY went silent for a few days again. Not sure how that’s panning out, but we’ll keep you in the loop.
Looking over what you sent, you guys are definitely missing some A-ships. We’ve found two more groups of abductees and their ships came in groups of four. If your guy only moved two ships? He missed a couple.
You should also be thinking about quartering if you aren’t already. Keeping ten people fed to run a ship takes a lot of resources but feeding dozens upon dozens of abductees takes more. I don’t know exactly what your arrangements are, but if you need to send anyone you find our way, don’t hesitate to. We’ve been working to take in more people."
There’s…
A month ago I would have balked at that idea.
That was sheer pride though. The latest revelations made it easy to type out a reply to Dustin. Dropping the message into the Jack’s transmitter queue was the last thing I did before flopping down in my bunk.
Serral was insisting everyone be rested for our return to Sidar.
“[One more]…” I muttered to myself.
None of us were excited to return to that miserable planet.
·····
Interstellar messaging gave me a lot more sympathy for how complicated it was to run things back in the day. We didn’t have it as bad as the Continental Congress trading letters with King George and Parliament, but we wouldn’t hear a reply to a single message for dozens of hours.
That Dustin had gotten back to me that quickly was unusual. His confirmation that we were on the money was reassuring. Admiral Laranta responded too, sending us an updated dossier on the Fafin’s history.
But no amount of background information answered the question burning in all of our minds.
Was Kemon an enemy?
There was no quicker way to find out than to ask. Surprisingly, we actually received a reply.
Greetings crew of the Jackie Robinson,
I’ve received your messages concerning the Human abductees. My crew and I have rescued forty-eight of their number from Mummar pirates. They are secure in my care, and they are all safe and healthy. Your efforts are certainly best spent elsewhere. We learned from the pirates in question that some of their number were planning a series of attacks on Sidar and Sodar ports. There are no doubt other victims. Perhaps start there. Good hunting.
Cordially,
Captain of the Fafin, Wolshu Kemon
“…Is there a joke I’m missing?” I asked.
“Nope,” Serral said.
“Admiral Hakho relayed our entire message, right?”
“Yep.”
“…Did we lose something in transmission? Are there any files attached to the transmission?” I asked bewildered. “This is eight sentences, practically nothing!”
Given how slow interstellar communications were, longer, more detailed messages were standard practice. Exhaustiveness was a virtue when it took hours to hear a reply.
A transmission this short was just asinine.
“No response at all would have been more reassuring,” Serral agreed. “Even more interestingly, this response wasn’t sent back through Coalition channels. They sent it back on unrestricted channels. The Admiral won’t have seen this. Then again, we’re just borrowing his comm infrastructure. Our affairs were probably delegated to a secretary.”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
“Shinshay said the normal metadata indicators were scrubbed,” I said. “Is there any way to undo that? Figure out where exactly Kemon was when he sent this?”
“Not that I know of,” Serral said. “The information would have to be included in their output signal, and it’s just not that hard to control exactly what information your own ship transmits.”
Of course not.
Then all we could do was try to pick apart every detail of what they had transmitted…
“Reverse psychology exists for Casti, right?” I asked.
“Yes. You mean about ‘our efforts spent elsewhere’?”
I nodded.
“It’s certainly curious. Weith, how much do you know about Kemon’s history before the war?” Serral asked.
“Like his legal career?” our pilot asked from the deck above us.
“Yes,” Serral said. “What was his reputation?”
“His crew said he was all about the letter of law, but they also gave us the impression there wasn’t a dirty trick he wouldn’t entertain so long as it wasn’t strictly illegal,” Weith said.
“His own crew said that?”
“They would have used more flattering phrasing, but yes.”
“So when Kemon says ‘our efforts are likely better spent elsewhere’ what are the odds he’s trying to incite us?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t even try to guess,” Weith said. “Trying to read him is counterproductive, I think. He’s that kind of zi.”
Tasser had taken it upon himself to add to the crew’s psionic dictionaries more languages beyond English and Starspeak, and ‘zi’ was one word that he’d found a neat English analogue for:
Snake.
“Then I need to know what our flight plan is,” Weith said. “Are we landing on Sidar or are we just orbiting long enough to gain more information before we make for the Beacon?”
Serral looked to me.
He was in command of the Jack, but technically, I was the one who decided what the crew’s goals were. The Coalition had functionally just lent me personnel and transport to aid me.
“…The abductees need to be our priority,” I said reluctantly. “[Snake] or not, Kemon will have to wait.”
“Wait, why?” Weith frowned. “Kemon’s dragged abductees toward a warzone in the meantime.”
“Because the one thing he said we can take at face value, I think, is that he rescued some number of abductees from pirates,” I said.
“I agree,” Serral said. “Whatever game Kemon is playing, there really are still abductees in this system. That remains our priority whatever duplicity Kemon has in store for us. Get us in orbit over Sidar first. We need to talk to authorities on the ground, find someone we can actually talk to about these pirates.”
·····
I like to think of myself as a very unsuperstitious person.
But this stupid planet kept doing its best to prove me wrong. Every time we landed our ship here, something worse and worse happened.
Last time it had been three of us almost getting assaulted. That had taken a few days of friction with the dockworkers to come to head though. The confrontation hadn’t come out of nowhere.
But this visit saw us in hot water before we even touched down.
The first red flag should have been how easily our clearance to land came through. We weren’t bringing cargo, we hadn’t filed for a hangar berth, the visit was totally unplanned. But we went from orbiting to landing in just two hours.
The Jack touched down and Serral and I were already headed for the airlocks. Before we could though…
Serral and I froze, hand inches from the hatch’s lever.
“[What the hell?]” I asked. More than twenty people were clustered in a concave firing formation around the Jack’s landing point.
“
“
Serral beckoned for me to follow him back up the Jack’s ladders to the operation deck, with Weith still in the cockpit just above us.
“Radio,” he ordered Wieth.
Our pilot handed Serral the handpiece and comically put his hands over his ears. I’d never seen Serral angry firsthand…but I did vaguely recall a few of Nai’s memories that told me I should do the same.
But this called for a more diplomatic touch.
“Jackie Robinson to Vuneer Port Authority, we’ve identified more than a dozen armed assailants outside our craft on landing, confirm their presence is lawful or we will defend ourselves,” Serral spoke calmly into the radio.
“Confirmed, Jackie Robinson,” a voce on the other end crackled. “Your craft and its crew are ordered to surrender immediately, and you—”
Serral cut them off, double-toggling the radio broadcast button. “On what grounds? Repeat Port Authority, on what grounds is our surrender demanded?”
“Treason,” the Port Authority said. “Your ship and its crew stand accused of knowingly harboring Vorak Asssembly collaborators, amongst other charges.”
Serral blinked in surprise. He wasn’t alone. Weith and I were psionically relaying the exchange to the whole crew, and I psionically sensed everyone’s minds stutter a bit at that revelation.
“No surrender would be valid without a full reading of the charges,” Serral replied. “Do so.”
“This is not a negotiation,” the Casti official warned. “Surrender immediately or your ship will be fired upon.”
“None of my crew will be surrendering in any capacity before the warrant for the action is read,” Serral spoke. “Produce the officials authorizing and executing the warrant on this channel. Until such authorities are present, we will continue to defend ourselves if necessary.”
I didn’t have an angle to see out one of the Jack’s few windows, but the sound of gunfire and dozens of plinks against the ship rang out for a few seconds.
I could only assume the jumpy firing squad hadn’t been too keen at the grey crystal that had suddenly encased the whole ship.
“You are to surrender immediately! I repeat, surrender, surrender!” the voice shouted over the radio.
“Quiet!” Serral barked into the radio. “This ship flies under full diplomatic authority, certified by the Coalition Senate. Any attempt to arrest this crew would first have to overturn the diplomatic immunity our principal carries. So, I ask again, who is executing this warrant, and who authorized it?”
Silence lingered on the radio frequency for several seconds, before the Casti on the end returned.
“What madness are you possessed by? We’ve got twenty guns pointed at you. You can’t take off. There’s no way this doesn’t end with you and your whole crew in a cell!”
“Are you Coalition military personnel, or are you strictly the Port Authority?” Serral asked into the radio.
“I’m Chief Port Authority Officer Wale—”
Serral cut them off again.
“Local enforcement, understood. I am Ase Tenharu Serralinitus, and this ship and its crew are protected by diplomatic immunity—for First Contact proceedings, mind you. If a single person decides to visit violence on a single member of this crew or our vessel, you won’t have to contend with me…it’s my first officer who’ll answer you.”
Nai clambered up the ladder in time to take the handpiece from Serral. She wore the faintest of scowls on her face as she did, and I was sure I was the only one to catch it.
“This is the Warlock speaking,” Nai said, and I felt a surge in the Adept field around the ship. Nai had added to our crystalline shielding with some Vorpal Fire for effect.
If Serral’s earlier warning hadn’t spooked them, Nai’s threat sealed the deal.
We didn’t hear a word over the radio for almost ten minutes.
Serral did not stand idle in those minutes, instead fiddling with one of the secondary radios. He sent another message, but not aimed at the Port Authority this time.
“So…what the [hell] is going on?” I asked.
“There’s a lot of layers to that question,” Serral said.
“Someone is fucking with us,” Nai sai, her Speropi-turned-English prickling my brain. “On Earth...there was law enforcement, right?”
“Right,” I said slowly.
“Well, most of them were local, right? But usually there’s some authority to hand off a matter to when it gets more complicated for local law enforcement to handle, right?”
“Right…” I said. Crimes that crossed state lines got the FBI involved instead of local police.
“This is the interstellar equivalent of local law enforcement trying to skip that second part,” Nai said.
“You don’t seem particularly worried,” I noted.
“Why would I be?” she shrugged. “You’ve seen what I can do. We’re not in danger here, it’s just…”
“A [pain in the ass] to sort through?” I suggested.
“That’s it exactly,” she nodded.
“And this is common?”
“Oh no,” Serral snorted. “No, I think it was a mistake to brush off our previous incidents. Everything before was low profile enough to be dismissed…but trying to assault a ship under a diplomatic banner? No, this would only be possible if someone is directing events against us.”
“Who would do that?” I asked. “Actually, scratch that. Who even could?”
“I imagine that might become clearer when we hear exactly what kind of treason we’re accused of,” Serral said.
Finally, a new voice came over the radio.
“Ase Serralinitus, receiving?”
“Speak,” Serral said.
“This is magistrate Justice Danur,” they said. “I authorized the warrant. The Jackie Robinson’s crew stands accused of falsifying Coalition credentials, impersonating lawful enforcement, espionage, assault, and—”
Serral once again pulled his button trick to cut off the other party before handing the handpiece to me this time.
He nodded at me knowingly.
“Justice Danur,” I said, “my name is Caleb Hane, and I carry a very not-falsified ambassador’s credential. This ship and its crew flies under my diplomatic immunity. Captain Serralinitus speaks with my authority.”
I handed him back the handpiece since that was all I really could say. We’d gone over an event like this in principle, but actually having to lean on that immunity in practice was disquieting.
“Ase Serralinitus, Port Authorities have shown me credible reports suspecting this supposed First Contact to be a Vorak infiltrator. I approved the warrant on the basis that the reports were never marked discredited. This supposed First Contact and yourself are to be detained until Vice-Admiral Tadso can arrive and take you into military custody.”
“So it’s Justice Danur that approved the warrant,” Serral nodded. “Who submitted it? Who among the Port Authority is actually carrying it out?”
“…Agent Chekocho.”
“Badge number? Identification code? Anything will do,” Serral said. “I just want the names Vice-Admiral Tadso needs to hear about.”
“Form documents can be presented in custody. Now surrender!” the first voice was back.
“Your warrant is based on incompetent investigation,” Serral said. “I have rather good reason to think your documents aren’t as credible as you think they are.”
“Surrender or we will use lethal force.”
Captain Serral offered me the radio.
“You’ll try,” I corrected the Casti. “Do whatever you want while you get whomever from the navy on the line. You won’t cut through that crystal for hours, and we’re happy to continue dialogue in the meantime.”
“Is this the shapeshifter again?”
“[Oh, God,]” I said, handing the radio back. I couldn’t keep a straight face.
“You heard him,” Serral said. “Feel free to execute your warrant whenever you’re able. We’ll stay in our ship until the Vice-Admiral arrives, though. Until such time, I’d like to hear more about this supposed ‘credible report’. Surely you aren’t starting a diplomatic incident over one document. There must be more.”
The Casti judge came back on the radio this time.
“Verification on related documents is pending,” they said. “But what’s been gathered already is more than enough reason to detain this ‘Human’.”
“So, if I understand this correctly,” Serral said, “you have a verified report written by one of the Ase involved in the Coalition First Contact on Yawhere, and that report alleges Caleb Hane is not, in fact, Human, but a specialized Vorak bio-Adept who’s augmented their own body, altered their skeleton and musculature, and might intend to infiltrate the Coalition navy.”
“That’s right.”
“And therefore, anyone assisting this supposed Human would either be a collaborator or…”
“Or he might be taken for a fool. If the Warlock really is on board, you should have her detain the infiltrator until the Vice-Admiral arrives,” the Port Authority agent spoke.
“I’m still struggling to move past your evidence,” Serral said. “You wouldn’t happen to have any corroborating documents, or further verified evidence besides the one military report, would you?”
“The report, combined with the records that show no action was ever taken on the matter.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know who authored that report, or who certified it as actionable intelligence, I’m sure,” Serral said, gleefully adding for us
There was a heavy silence over the radio frequency—while the persons in charge of this fiasco checked the documentation in question.
“The author of the report is redacted, but the file is still certified as genuine and came from the ranking Coalition officer of Sassik Province on Yawhere. If you disagree with the allegation, take it up with military intelligence.”
“Reports like that are usually co-submitted, any chance the second name isn’t redacted?” Serral asked innocently. “…It’s not like you’re making any progress otherwise. Might as well keep talking with us.”
“…The name is Nai—”
The voice on the radio quickly cut off again.
I wasn’t the only one on the verge of bursting at the seams. This was such a mess.
“…You still there, agent?” Serral asked. “…Justice Danur?”
No response.
“So you’ve probably checked the report’s co-author, and surely at least one of you recognized the Warlock’s name on the thing,” Serralinitus said. “So, I’ll just spare you the embarrassment of letting this unfold: I authored that very report and certified it as unactionable. I can only assume the rest of your documents ‘pending certification’ won’t withstand scrutiny either. Someone has passed you extremely context-sensitive intelligence in quite the malicious manner, so here’s my proposal: stow the weapons and check our diplomatic credentials with the colony representative’s office, planetary senate, the Vice-Admiral—I don’t really care who you have to check with—but save yourselves the embarrassment of continuing this.”
An hour later, Nai deemed it safe enough to drop the Jack’s protective shell.
Five hours after that, a Coalition Vice-Admiral arrived with an executive of Sidar’s semi-planetary government.
Two minutes after that, half-a-dozen Casti lost their jobs.
And finally we relocated the Jack to another, less excitable spaceport a hundred miles east.
“Thank you Vice-Admiral,” Serral said. “If it’s any reassurance, I don’t think this will harm any diplomatic efforts with the Humans or Earth.”
“Understood. We’ll make sure Admiral Laranta knows about this,” Tadso said.
“Actually…” Serral said. “We keep regular correspondence with Shirao already. But if you’re going to bring this situation to an Admiral’s attention, can you make sure Admiral Hakho in C6 is read in on this?”
“Certainly doable, Ase,” the Vice-Admiral said. “Good day.”
“…So this was all interesting—and hilarious fun, if I’m honest—but how much time did we lose on this [fiasco]?”
“[Fiasco…]” Serral murmured, “I like that word, I think. But to answer your question, I don’t think we lost any time at all.”
“We didn’t just waste the better part of a day?” I asked.
“On the contrary,” Serral smiled. “I think we actually gained time. ‘Local authorities very nearly inciting an interstellar diplomatic disaster’ is the best thing that could have happened to us. They’ll be desperate to make up for this. Finding these pirates? All we have to do now is ask.”
I blinked. The absurdity of the whole situation had distracted me from the possibility that we might actually benefit from a false accusation like this.
Well then. Far be it from me not to take full advantage of someone else’s mistake.
“Just who do we ask?” I smiled.