The chicken feet had turned out to actually be pretty good, once Corey got past the whole “literal chicken feet” aspect. Once Corey remembered he’d had beer made out of hair not long ago, he’d gotten over any disgust pretty quick. He was still glad when Yìhán brought out normal ice cream for dessert. It was mango flavored, which was not exactly ideal, but still pretty good.

“This is fantastic,” Farsus said. “Why does it taste sticky?”

“It’s not really mango if it isn’t sticky,” Yìhán said. “The juice is almost more like a syrup, it’s incredible.”

“Hmm. I shall have to try one. The native fruits and vegetables of any planet are always remarkably diverse.”

“Should’ve said you were interested earlier, we could’ve tried to grab some fruit while we were- while I was talking to the human embassy thing. People.”

Farsus glared at Corey with a stare usually reserved for bounty targets. Even the most sidelong acknowledgment of their “visit” to Earth could land them in hot water. Corey tried to recover and move on as best he could.

“So, just out of curiosity, did they bring more ice cream flavors into space? I assume if they got mango, they have chocolate and vanilla, at least.”

“I didn’t really track the ice cream flavors,” Yìhán said. She looked between Corey and Farsus and noticed the evident tension. “So, Corey, I understand you have some bad history with a church in the United States, yes?”

Corey pursed his lips, but nodded.

“More of a cult than a church, but yeah,” Corey said.

“Yes, well, when the Galactic Council arrived and stories about you started to spread on Earth, people took an interest in that church,” Yìhán said. She spoke slowly and deliberately, every word carefully measured. “You might be happy to learn they’ve been all but completely wiped out. Some kind of violent infighting, so they say.”

“Do they say that?” Farsus asked.

Yìhán gave a stiff nod. Corey tried not to look too relieved. Apparently that entire incident was getting covered up deliberately. Corey decided not to push it, just to be safe.

“So, other than stories about me getting told, what’s happening with the whole First Contact situation down on Earth?”

“It’s been a major shock to all our old systems, but humanity’s adapting well. The Galactic Council has given us everything we need to integrate into universal society at our own pace.”

“I see,” Farsus said. “That was very good, you’ve clearly been studying your script.”

He ate another spoonful of his ice cream as the stiff smile faded from Yìhán’s face.

“I didn’t think I was that obvious.”

“Do not be too hard on yourself, Yìhán, your performance was exceptional,” Farsus said. “But the Uplifting process never goes as smoothly as ambassadors are forced to say.”

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

“I see.”

“So, on that note, how are things really going?”

“They’re...going,” Yìhán mumbled. “The technology and resources they’ve provided to us have been a godsend. Eliminating virtually every disease overnight is a miracle, and we are all grateful. No matter how much that universal vaccine hurts.”

Corey grit his teeth. He knew about that part firsthand.

“If they had simply provided technology and let us move at our own pace, things might be going much smoother, but the representatives of the Galactic Council are very insistent on humanity establishing a planetary government,” Yìhán said. “The UN is acting in that capacity as best it can, but…”

“Don’t worry, I know how that kind of thing goes,” Corey said. “Let me guess, Russia, China, and the US are in a pissing contest over who gets to be ‘in charge’, right?”

Yìhán pursed her lips into an expression that made sense in any culture, human or alien.

“Oh god,” Corey said. “Is it worse? How is it worse?”

“Russia and China cooperated fairly easily on the matter,” Yìhán said. Even as a Chinese citizen she was reluctant to believe her government had no ulterior motives, but they were cooperating, at least. For now. “The US president voiced reluctance to have Earth join the Galactic Council at all…”

Yìhán looked from side to side and leaned over the table.

“He was assassinated three weeks after,” Yìhán said, her voice a barely audible whisper.

“What the fuck,” Corey gasped. “Like, by someone from Earth, or-”

He shut his mouth and looked at the door. They were supposed to be having a private conversation, but one could never be entirely certain.

“There have been plenty of violent reactions, and apparently the assassination was one,” Yìhán said. “Many Americans in particular have been very reluctant to accept that the Galactic Council has no nefarious intentions. No offense intended.”

“None taken,” Corey said. “Let me guess, they think the universal vaccine has some kind of mind control serum in it?”

“Among other theories,” Yìhán sighed. “I will say, though the Americans are somewhat unique in their reasons for violence, they are not alone in acting out. I think there have been riots in almost every country by now, whether out of resistance to integrate, or the opposite, some desire to claim alien technology or medicine before anyone else.”

“Sounds about like what I’d expect, honestly,” Corey said. Humans occasionally rioted over soccer games, it was no surprise they’d riot over the sudden intrusion of aliens to daily life.

“Farsus, you seem knowledgeable on this matter,” Yìhán said. “Is the transition into universal life always so...violent?”

“Not always, but such exceptions are rare,” Farsus said. “Though I have not seen the specifics, from what you have described, Humanity’s reaction is entirely normal. No great change occurs without violence in some form, even if that change is for the better. Some things will be lost, but much will also be gained.”

“Hm. How unfortunate that we must live through the storm and not the calm afterwards.”

“Afterwards? There is no afterwards, Yìhán, only a new storm. Lesser or greater, but still tempest.”

Corey sat on the sidelines of the oddly poetic exchange and tried not to stare. It was difficult to parse, but Corey had the feeling that Yìhán and Farsus were both having an enlightened conversation and flirting a little.

The uncomfortable third-wheeling was brought to a mercifully quick end by a quick chime from the datapad in Corey’s pocket. He had his notifications silenced except when they came from his fellow crewmen, so he knew it had to be important. Corey grabbed the small plastic rectangle and checked the screen to see that Tooley was calling. He excused himself to answer.

“Hey Tools,” Corey said.

“Hey champ. Your dinner with the human ambassador lady going well?”

“It’s fine so far,” Corey said. He looked over his shoulder and then stepped away, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard. “I think Farsus and the ambassador might be flirting, though. I’m not, like, opposed, but it’s kind of weird to watch.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Tooley said. “It does make what I’m about to say a lot more awkward, though. You two got to come back to the ship, right now.”

“Why?”

“Well, don’t freak out…”

A sentence that almost surely preceded a reason to freak out.

“But,” Corey said, because he knew there would be one.

“But we’re a little bit wanted for murder.”