There were three distinguished gentlepersons sitting in the small waiting lounge that adjoined the outer office of the Foreign Secretary of Aurora’s office proper. The waiting room was not large, but it was decorated in the same, overbearing imperial style of the rest of the official rooms of Emerald Garden Palace.

Emerald Garden Palace had originally been envisioned as a paradeisus-style recreational area when the Auroran monarchy was young and the city of Cordelia even younger, but the construction spree that had seen the building of so many grand venues, noble mansions, parks, artificial ponds, and palaces had been so hectic that only the name of the original plan had remained when the first brick of Emerald Garden had been laid. In a confusing game of musical chairs, Goldbrook Palace had been designed for the royal family, but expanded to fit the Houses of Commons and Lords, Grand Kent had been originally built for the Lords, but became the residence for the Crown Prince/Princess Royal family, St. Andrew’s Palace had been intended for the Commons, but was retained for the royal regnant family as a personal home. Rosecourt Palace had been commissioned as a professional as well as personal residence for the royal family, the last of the major palaces in the vicinity of the capital to be constructed. As a final result, Emerald Garden had been expanded from a primary greenery and crystal garden for picnickers and the well-off, into the official office and residence building for His Majesty’s Government. It was a Palladian-inspired, but curiously Avant-Gothic complex of buildings. It forewent the usual Doric or Antiochian columns favoured by the Neo-Regency or Neo-Georgian styles, instead having half-inlaid arches around entrances, and exposed white brick made up the exterior walls instead of the much more common rustic red, and there were what might be referred to as flanging wall extensions that mimicked the sharp angles of Gothic architecture, but much less eye-catching. The roofs had crenellations and small spires sticking up from rotundas interspersed between the chimney stacks, and because of its function as the office for the government of Aurora, there were multiple small altar-like inlays in the walls every other story which featured a marble statue of major Auroran historical figures in life size. It looked like someone had merged a medieval cathedral with a set of 19th Century large brick mansions, and with some Classical inspiration and designs thrown into the mix.

Like most political buildings of importance, Emerald Garden lay in the Quarters, just a few streets over from Foreign Office House, Grand Kent, the Royal Bureau of Statistics, and “Horse Guards”, the ancient nickname still in use for the Royal Army General Headquarters (no Horse Guards were quartered there, the closest would be Monmouth Barracks in East Limesley). The Emerald Gardens buttressed a series of green spaces and the small but stately Ridgeley Park, named after the first prime minister of Aurora, later Viscount Ridgeley. That was the only part left of the original plans that the early city planning architects had laid out that had been implemented. Ridgeley Park was a small biome of its own, with Amaranthine acacias, Leukosyrian ambermaples, short but dense Azurean spiderbrambles, and beds of Earth tulips next to Valhallan stepmother-blooms and Hydran steel-hyacinths, all growing in greenhouses and around gazebos in marble and finely forged crystal glass sheets.

But Emerald Garden Palace was a government institution, in fact the government institution both on and in Aurora. The building complex was rectangular, with the far (eastern) short end open towards the park areas, all of the interconnected wings six stories tall. The south wing was all dedicated to the Prime Minister; his personal residence during his or her term as First Minister of Aurora was located there, which included an assortment of dining rooms, lounges, waiting rooms, conference rooms, a billiard room, and libraries in addition to the personal chambers of the First Minister and their family. The northern and western wings were for the offices and secretariats of the other cabinet ministers, though many of them chose to lead their ministries from the main ministry buildings. The western wing was for staff quarters. Once past the front entrance and having been admitted into the vestibule, the interior decorations were impressively large; inlaid alabaster white half-columns in the walls with stucco reliefs, and scarlet wallpaper, with gilt wooden and marble furniture interspersed throughout. Hanging on the red walls were large oil paintings in gilded frames of famous politicians, the regnant royal family, and other major historical figures from Auroran history. If one sought out Sir Edward Ranganekary during work hours, he would most likely be found in his third story office in the west wing of Foreign Office House, while Linton Sciacca, the Marquess Howeland, preferred his office in Goldbrook Palace, or sometimes Admiralty House. But whenever interstellar ambassadors announced their intent to speak with the Auroran foreign secretary under four eyes, the solemnity of the situation behoved that it take place in the Foreign Affairs secretariat offices in Emerald Garden Palace.

Two of the three distinguished gentlepersons in the inner office waiting lounge were seated in comfortable upholstered chairs with tall backs made of Amaranthine rainbow-teak and woven New Devon silk, the backdrop equally as palatial. The walls were covered by cream-green wallpaper with golden lily and fleur-de-lis motifs, chequerboard silvery/ebony roof patterns and the ubiquitous Auroran favourite, blood-oak floor panelling, doors, and assorted furniture. A Foreign Office secretary in a white shirt and dark grey vest was the only orderly on duty, manning one of the four desks of the inner office lounge leading into the Foreign Secretary’s personal office. He was trying his best to wordlessly persuade the waiting dignitaries that he was indeed very busy taking notes on a grav-mounted computer, but in reality he was just waiting for the soundless go-ahead signal which would be sent to his ‘com that indicated Sir Edward was ready to receive the first of the dignified three.

The one seated on a venerable old chair made by manufacturers in Hong Kong on Old Earth before that grand city had been swallowed by the sea, was Her Dionysian Majesty Queen Stratonike Tryphaine’s representative to the most august Kingdom of Aurora, the honourable Lord Pierikomas Sir Andronikos Erymachos-Williams. Sir Andronikos was partly Auroran by way of his esquire grandfather marrying into a noble Dionysian family (quite a rare occurrence), and despite their myriad differences, the Dionysian nobility emulated the Auroran one in trying to benefit their country and monarch as much as possible, –although ‘benefit’, loosely Koine Greek ‘euergeteō’, was very much up to personal interpretation–. This was why the Erymachos family had for five generations been closely linked to the Dionysian foreign and diplomatic service. There was no convincing argument to be made that Sir Andronikos hadn’t been awarded the very prestigious posting of Dionysian ambassador and plenipotentiary to Aurora due to his familial circumstances, and the assumed insight he gained by this. His post-graduate education at King’s College of Sciences in Cordelia had certainly helped as well. Nevertheless, he was now seated in the Foreign Secretary’s waiting lounge, wearing a black three-piece suit in the Auroran/Neo-European fashion, albeit with a sash of white linen with a thick royal purple band going from his left shoulder down across to adjoin at right-side hip. This was the archaic mark of a noble, and the Dionysians were adroit in terms of expressing their nobility for all to see. Sir Andronikos was reasonably tall, with black curly hair, warm rose-brown eyes, and a philosopher’s beard which was all the rage among the intellectual elite of Dionysia.

The chairs occupied by the others were hand-carved and upholstered by local Camlann craftsmen, but no less fine in their workmanship than the ancient ones from Earth. The other male diplomat wore a pale khaki linen full male-cut suit and trousers, and a fierce yellow cravat. His skin was sunburned sandstone in colour, and his black hair had mostly disappeared apart from a modest crown around his ears. He was markedly older than his Dionysian colleague by a few decades or more, but in the 29th Century that hardly mattered. The honourable Georgios Lykosphendates had been the Corinthian ambassador to Aurora for a mere three months, but he had served in the Republic of Corinth Navy for forty years, and had learned to hobnob with the Aurorans (and especially among the Auroran officers) during his time, not to mention people from a number of other Union worlds. He had not wanted to be seconded to the Corinthian diplomatic service once he had been forced out of office as a senior naval officer (because younger officers needed the opportunity, oh how Georgios envied the Royal Navy, ever-hungry for men and women). But now here he was, and Georgios was determined to do his best for his nation in face with these arrogant, mostly pale, bastards, who just so happened to be the best allies the Corinthians had.

Lastly was the honourable ambassador of the Independent Systems Alliance to the Kingdom of Aurora, and by extension the Royal Union, which constituted in total twenty-nine sovereign states (most major Union polities were assigned their “own” Alliance Chargée d’affaires ad permanens for reasons of expediency and courtesy, so not everything had to flow through the one assigned to Aurora), and almost twice that number again of settled stellar bodies. Dressed in a suit of deep green, the national colour of the ISA, was Magdalena da Cunha. Her statement colour suit was very intentional on this particular day, and she’d made sure that her long black hair was tied back into the relatively nonchalant ponytail which was Auroran female fashion at the moment, at least among Commoners. Da Cunha was a post-graduate of the still-existing Yale University of Earth, having delivered a PhD dissertation in interstellar relations with honours. Out of the three in the room, she was perhaps the most comparable to the Auroran foreign secretary, a civilian who had come from relatively ordinary means to achieve career-greatness through personal efforts during her studies, and not through secondment or barely-contained nepotism. Magdalena da Cunha had earned her spurs as a diplomat in her first major role as a junior consulate officer on Alsharaf in the Star Caliphate of New Asqalan, being the first diplomatic officer that disgruntled Alliant civilians would meet whenever encountering that polity’s most particular bureaucracy. Since then she’d moved up the ranks, to becoming the junior plenipotentiary of the Alliance on Berenice in the Comas Berenice Star Federation, then the Head of Mission in Lemberg on Tschornohora. And now, after a swift thirty-year career abroad, she was the First Ambassador of the Independent Systems Alliance to the Sovereign Kingdom of Aurora.

The clerk got up from his chair energetically, betraying how much he had been waiting for the unheard call.

“The Foreign Secretary will see you now, Your Excellency,” the clerk said with a smile, at which all three rose without a moment’s hesitation, before looking at each other in askance. The clerk immediately recognised his mistake, and held up both hands in a placating gesture.

“I am terribly sorry, I meant to ask the Excellency from the Alliance to enter first. You will of course be allowed audiences soon enough, Your Excellences.”

Magdalena straightened her green blazer and, not able to help herself, flashed a slight smirk in the direction of the Dionysian ambassador, whose attention was mostly focused on not crumbling his long coattails as he sat back down. She entered the double argentwood doors at the clerk’s polite insistence, who at unbidden instructions closed them behind her. The office was relatively large, with a sizable work-desk (complete with grav-mounted screens) at the far end which had perfect views to windows on two sides, “south” and “west”, with bookcases and oil-paintings of Auroran notables and landscapes dominating the walls and empty spaces. Persian-style carpets mostly covered the dark blood-oak floor panels, but there was a comfortable-looking sofa and coffee table grouping at the far end of the work desk in polished leather. Magdalena did not expect to be the only person in the room, an aide or a secretary was normal procedure, but the fact that there were three other people did manage to surprise her.

“Your Excellency,” Sir Edward Ranganekary said warmly from behind his desk, hands holding firmly onto the backrest of his work chair, “I suppose I should I welcome you to this, the most inner sanctum of the Foreign Office of the Kingdom of Aurora, despite not being in the Foreign Office per se. As I understand it you’ve been asking for an audience with some gusto and urgency. Please, find a seat, do not be particular with where.”

Sir Edward accompanied his words with a smile, but any diplomat worth their salt knew that it was for perfunctory reasons only. Magdalena da Cunha simply smiled politely in return, and performed a half-bow. She took a seat in one of the two free upholstered chairs in-front of the aforementioned work-desk.

“Sir Edward, I have come on behalf of my government and nation to dispel the possible tension that might have arisen between our noble star-nations, considering what is happening on our collective neutral borders right at this moment.”

Magdalena was aware that there were three other persons in the room, one female and two males, but she tried to focus her energies on Sir Edward, regarding the others with suspicious squints from out the corner of her eyes.

“I was under the impression that this meeting was to take place under four eyes, sir?”

Sir Edward smiled slightly and made a very wide motion with his right arm to sort of indicate and include the others.

“My apologies, Your Excellency,” he said politely, “but considering this concerns the security of the Corridor and the safe passage of civilian traffic throughout, I felt it was only prudent of me to invite along the Secretary of Defence, the Marquess Howeland…”

At the mention of the title Magdalena kicked herself mentally for not noticing before, and she rose from the chair and bowed.

“My Lord, I meant no disrespect.” Her apology was genuine enough, but she loathed the inclusion of an Auroran peer into the discussion; it just made the whole roundtable so much more fastidious to deal with. And Lord Howeland came with a reputation as more than a bit of a hawk in the Auroran Cabinet, not one likely to sing the Alliance’s praises.

The aristocrat simply waved a hand dismissively, while smiling, and da Cunha sat back down again. He was quite handsome, Magdalena could admit, with sandstone-colour skin, slightly curly but short black hair, and deep green eyes. If she hadn’t known any better, she might have suspected the Auroran electorate had voted in an aristocratic playboy to become their Secretary of Defence, but she knew the Auroran political process did not work like that, it was mere happenstance. No Peer was ever directly elected, they were chosen on merit or tenure, paradoxically enough. The other two people were more of a concern to her.

“And my deputy secretary for Corridor Affairs, Sir Samuel de Croye-Muir, whom I’m sure you’ve met at some point.”

One was a semi-corpulent man with thin slicked-black hair and a thin black moustache, dressed very formally, with a silver pin that Magdalena was unable to recognise.

“And this is one of my recen- ah, junior analysts, the Lady Nimue Hastings.”

The other was a thin but tall woman with jet-black hair, dressed in a black functional female suit and work skirt, barely revealing tall black heeled boots underneath. She clutched a datapad to her chest, seemingly not daring to look up, but there were something about her eyes when they showed…

“Are you paying attention, Ma’am?” The voice of Sir Edward broke through Magdalena’s reverie, and she sat straight up in her chair.

“Of course I am, Sir Edward,” she said while adjusting her blazer once again. The Foreign Secretary looked at her in askance. She cleared her throat and leaned forward in the chair. Magdalena placed her elbows on her knees and looked in turn at Sir Edward, the Lord Howeland, and the Foreign Office bureaucrat-leader. She breathed in and launched into the address she had prepared on the way over from the Embassy in the Lysander, based on a pre-prepared missive sent to all Alliance embassies in the Union.

“The current crisis that is underway in the Corridor is of utmost importance for all of our governments and electoral bodies. It has the potential to set on edge the collective militaries of all our nations, which is something that is to be avoided at all costs, that goes without saying. I acknowledge the fact that the Corridor has been neutral space for the past four-hundred and something years…”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

There was a mumble from the female in the back that Magdalena didn’t fully catch.

“The situation in the Vistula System is dire, and must be resolved by cooperation with all involved and interested parties, including cooperation between the local government and interstellar polities with vested interest in the region. Regardless, if the inhabitants of Nova Polonia have decided at this critical juncture in history to join hands with the Independent Systems Alliance’s democratic community, then I am obliged by oath and duty to inform you, the rest of the interstellar community, that our government is ready to accept them into our midst and start the processes under interstellar law and regulations to include them as such..”

She looked up at Sir Edward and the Lord Howeland.

“I am not trying to present a hostile front to the noble Union by saying this,” she said, arms and hands now animated, “it is simply the wishes of a planetary supreme legal and elected body, wishing to become part of a supranational organisation. It has become clear that elements within the Polonian military and judicial forces have for a time acted out of misplaced sense of duty, which the larger population and the indeed the majority of their elective body have vehemently disagreed with. Upon reception of countermanding of such practices given by the Alliance President’s Office, the Nowosejm took this to heart, and it seems that very large parts of the populace does as well. To the point where inclusion into the Alliance seems to be the most favoured choice by the electorate, if going by observation from the outside looking in. As such, a token military force from the Alliance Armed Forces has been dispatched to the Vistula System to oversee the plebiscite that will either confirm or deny such wishes through proper democratic process.”

“Ah, there it is,” Lord Howeland said, his accent having that almost stereotypical aristocratic drawl, but the words nothing to scoff at.

“Open admission of what we’ve been hearing through the RIS and Naval Intelligence, the Alliants do in fact have a task force on its way to force compliance in Nova Polonia?”

Da Cunha furrowed her brow and pointed a remonstrative finger at the aristocrat.

“That is a serious accusation, My Lord, and one that I, as the premier représentant diplomatique of the Independent Systems Alliance to the Kingdom of Aurora, strongly object and decry.”

“But you do insist on overseeing a referendum in a neutral star nation?” Sir Edward hiked one of his dark brown eyebrows and looked at her inquisitively and da Cunha suddenly felt wrong-footed.

“All indicators point to this being the natural decision in the country, considering the situation on the gro-”

“A situation you helped inflame,” Lord Howeland interjected, “by shipping increasingly inordinate amounts of goods through the Corridor and your own citizens protesting against the –highly legal, I might add– customs stops and searches by the Nova Polonian judicial authorities. Of course they would conduct cargo searches and custom control operations, that’s their job, and if your shipping constitutes the vast majority of goods ferried through their systems, the majority of customs searches will in turn fall on your freighters. And then when your shipping captains complained of lost time and increased insurances premiums, you skipped the seven logical instances such matters have to pass through first, and took it to the highest possible authority, the Presidential Cabinet and the upper echelons of Alliance Navy command.”

“My Lord, that is hardly what-”

“It is precisely what happened,” Sir Edward cut in, his hands having resumed the unintended back-massage of his work-desk chair.

“You overreacted, a collective ‘you’ mind you, I absolve you, Your Excellency, for any personal blame; but ‘you’ overreacted and forced a very sensitive issue onto a very small population in a very demographically incongruous system, but highly strategic one. No wonder the populace is up in arms and ripping themselves apart, you’ve threatened to take away their control of their own system body. The fact that you can say with any sort of certainty that the electorate are voicing a desire to be included in the Alliance is frankly absurd; there’s no knowing what is going on over there at the moment, not for us, not for you. And you might call whatever the Alliance is sending or have already sent a police force, an observational group, or whatever, but even one of yours or our heavy cruisers outweigh the entire total Nova Polonian Navy. This whole ordeal had to have been deliberate, one of the most extraordinary threats delivered to an independent stellar nation in peacetime.”

Da Cunha found herself lost for words, struggling to come up with a comeback. The sheer arrogance of these Aurorans! How dare they lecture her! How dare they present themselves indignant and as if their personal honour had been smirched!

“We do not see it as such, sir,” she managed after a few belaboured moments, trying to get control over her roiling emotions. A poor choice of words, but it was all she could manage.

“What will it take to see your sensibilities and mercantile honour satisfied?” Lord Howeland asked in a tone that da Cunha found excessively arrogant and snide.

“Complete compliance, My Lord, nothing less.” She tried to stare Howeland down but found his gaze was a bit too intense and switched tactically to look at Sir Edward Ranganekary.

“The Independent Systems Alliance are not in the wrong here, Sir Edward, we are reacting to outside events, same as you. You of all people should be aware of how the Kingdom would have reacted if it had been your Indiamen being accosted and accused of smuggling. Interstellar commerce is the lifeblood of any nation, and the potential closing of the neutral tariff ports is the same as stymieing of the economic agency of a star nation. I dare you to say that your government would not have been moved to act if you had been in the Alliance’s position.”

The Foreign Secretary and Secretary of Defence looked at each other for a moment, before Sir Edward smiled at her politely.

“Thank you for your time and your input today, Madam da Cunha, please do not stray too far away in the foreseeable future. I believe we will have much cause to speak again following addressing the other two gentlemen, and what is no doubt to come in the days ahead.”

Magdalena suppressed the urge to fling choice expletives at the overly polite and correct Auroran to the point where he was acting very impolite. Instead she rose, adjusted her blazer for the umpteenth time, and politely bowed to the Foreign and Defence secretaries, not sparing the two mere bureaucrats a second glance, before stomping out of the room. The clerk in the office outside barely had warning to open the door before she would have proverbially kicked it down.

The angry exit of the Alliance ambassador was not lost on the Dionysian and Corinthian ones waiting to be admitted, and she stopped before her previous seat with what could be most closely described as an annoyed huff. She looked at Sir Andronikos, and then at the poor clerk and chose to focus her attention at him.

“Diplomacy, sirs, is a matter of discretion and honour,” da Cunha said, clearly very annoyed and checked her ‘com for any messages, “and those two, your boss and his colleague, clearly has not an ounce of the two between them.”

The clerk gave her a smile as polite as he was able to, before his ‘com buzzed and he rose to indicate with a gesture to the Dionysian ambassador.

“If you’d allow me, Your Excellency,” the clerk said, while opening the door to the Foreign Secretary’s office again. Sir Andronikos could not help himself after rising from his seat and striding most of the way to the inner office door, as he looked back at the Alliance ambassador. He impulsively straightened his blazer, and looked straight back at da Cunha.

“Perhaps, Madam, if you’d have any tact yourself, Sir Edward would have shown you some of his own.”

With that snide remark, he entered the inner office before Magdalena could form a reply. Lykosphendathes simply covered his mouth as he faked a cough, hiding a smile instead. Da Cunha made a grimace and exited the outer office doors, and the violent way she pulled them on her way out would have slammed them hard, had it not been for the cushioning in the door frames. Her receding stamping feet could be heard for a few moments, reverberating down the wood-panelled hall.

Sir Andronikos was greeted the same way as the Alliance ambassador, the same people introduced in the same order, except he took notice of Lady Nimue.

“I say, does she really need to be here?” Sir Andronikos asked, one black eyebrow hiked up in askance.

“Yes, she does,” Sir Samuel answered quite resolutely, at which Sir Andronikos simply held up a hand in dismissive defeat and sat down in the same chair Madam da Cunha had sat in.

“Let’s get down to business immediately,” Sir Edward said, pacing behind his desk this time instead of rooting his hands on the work-chair.

“You’re here because the Alliance have organised a task force to oversee a potential plebiscite of the Nova Polonian population whether to join –nominally voluntarily on the surface of things– the Alliance or stay independent.”

It was not a question and Sir Andronikos did not embarrass himself by feigning surprise, instead crossing his legs and with a free left hand tug lightly on the tips of his beard.

“Yes, quite,” he said in a completely Auroran aristocratic accent, “and because the Dionysian interest in the Corridor is being directly threatened by an increased Alliance presence. I’m sure I do not have to spell it out to Lord Howeland, nor Sir Edward or Sir Samuel, nor this Miss Nimue…”

He received a dirty look by Lord Howeland by this mention and Sir Andronikos immediately took mental notice.

“It is simple as, My Lord, sirs and madam, that the Corridor is a fragile political ecosystem. It is balanced by major powers on both sides –three sides even, if one count the Berenicans– trying their best to exert power and influence unto the nominally independent systems within that most vaunted of stable Light Way lanes. If one of us oversteps, the inherent threat of the others coming in with sizable military means is the understated reaction that the stability of the Corridor depends upon. I feel like I am preaching to the proverbial choir to Sir Samuel here, in fact the whole assembly as it happens.”

Sir Samuel de Croye-Muir had no choice but to nod, as did Sir Edward and Lord Howeland.

“His Excellency is on point,” Sir Samuel supplied, “the Corridor is held in place by non-verbal, inferred agreements made by hush-hush agreements by diplomats of all the major Corridor nations. There really is no formal treaty or treaties plural as such that guarantees the independence of the Corridor systems in particular, apart from common interstellar laws and rights of sovereignty, established centuries ago. It was envisioned as a neutral space for transport of shipping after the Verge Federation’s collapse, but the systems in question have expanded their control of their own gravity wells a lot these past two centuries. In the past, it was common practice for other polities’ navies to condu-”

“Yes, thank you, Sir Samuel,” Sir Andronikos interjected politely but firmly, “but I think all involved here under eight eyes understand the gist of the situation, as we’re all men and women of interstellar politics and realities in this room, are we not, m’yes. Alas, as it stands, the Corridor is facing the unfortunately very real danger of being subsumed by a major stellar polity, one of the major stellar polities, with emphasis on the article. If the Alliance gains control of the Vistula System, it is but the first salvo in what must ultimately be inferred as a race to secure the rest of the Corridor. No matter who would end up with effective control of what gravity well, and no matter the shape of said control would look like, it would all mean the same thing. The effective end of the last neutral corridor of interstellar shipping and travel between the two greatest supranational civilisations history has ever seen, to the detriment of all. What is to stop the Alliance from introducing tariff hikes, outrageous customs regulations, and even promote outright shipping bans, if all ports from Corinth and New Malta to Gateway and Alpha Proxima are in their hands?”

Sir Andronikos seemed to be sitting quite still, but all the others in the room could see his cheeks become slightly coloured.

“Likewise, vice versa, if the Union would assume dominance over the Corridor or large tracts of it, the Alliance would absolutely detest it and thus transfer fees for Union commercial shipping would no doubt expand handsomely through Alliance ports in order to compensate for what they would no doubt perceive as great power meddling by us in a neutral sector of settled space. So, having said all that, sirs and madam, this leaves the question of who should control Nova Polonia?”

“Should that not be the Polonians themselves?” The young pale-skinned, black-haired woman posited, and Sir Andronikos smiled warmly at her, despite feeling annoyed by the intrusion of the naïve answer.

“In an ideal world, that would be the course to follow, but Milady, but given the events currently happening on that most unfortunate of worlds, it seems like that is tragically slowly dissipating as a viable solution to the current crisis.”

“You still have not really told us why you’ve asked for this audience, Sir Andronikos,” Sir Edward said, smiling lopsidedly while casually half-sitting on the sill of the southern-facing office window, “so far you have only affirmed that the events we have so far discussed are not news to you, nor to your superiors it is to be inferred, but your purpose has not been stated, sir.”

Sir Andronikos Erymachos-Williams half-smiled and leaned comfortably back in his chair.

“I happened upon the Honourable Lykosphendathes in your waiting room, not to mention the Excellency da Cunha. You know an Alliance task force is headed towards Nova Polonia, either already dispatched or closing in on a date of departure.” He looked at Lord Howeland.

“We, as in my country, know the RIS have boots on the ground on Nova Polonia, quite a number of them actually, and I believe they are uniformly telling you the Alliance force will want to proceed like an observational third party, ostensibly there to enable some sort of democratic process in order to ascertain if the balance of the Polonian populace desire inclusion into the ISA or not. Lord Howeland and Sir Samuel here can tell me right now that the answer to that is a firm ‘no’, but we all knew that already.”

Sir Andronikos looked in turn at Sir Edward, Lord Howeland, Sir Samuel, and Lady Nimue.

“I am here to offer a solution that will neatly dispense with more than a few problems that might cause significant headaches for Aurora. The Honourable Lykosphendathes has been instructed by the Corinthian Gerousia to use every trick in the diplomatic playbook to convince you, collective ‘you’, as in the Auroran political and military leadership, to allow the Republic of Corinth to form a naval force to counter the approaching Alliance one.”

Lord Howeland opened his mouth, but Sir Andronikos held up a hand in an arresting gesture.

“Please let me finish, My Lord. Yes, he will suggest this, quite insistent he will be as well. Some of his arguments will be solid, most will not. It really boils down to this. Can the interstellar community accept a Corridor under majority Corinthian control? Both the short and the long answer is ‘no’. Corinth already enjoys an extremely advantageous geopolitical and astrogational position, especially in terms of shipping and interstellar commerce. They are also belligerent, and I will not pretend to hide the obvious elephant in the room; Dionysia and Her Majesty have a very real rivalry with our erstwhile allies to the galactic south. We would rather they not climb even further up the proverbial ladder to great power-status. Selfish, perhaps, but I am honestly delivering the intent and desires of my Queen and government.”

“I certainly hope you have a point to make at the end of all this prevarication, Sir Andronikos?” Sir Edward’s tone was ice-cold and his arms were folded across his chest.

“I do not appreciate subterfuge, nor do I particularly enjoy rivalry between close allies of my King and Kingdom. Maybe I was naïve to think we were all on the same side, sir?”

Sir Andronikos feigned brushing some imaginary lint off the lapel of his blazer.

“You are too smart for that, Sir Edward, you have experienced too much of the inner workings of interstellar politics to be so virginal.”

He leaned forward in his chair a bit, uncrossing his legs.

“What I suggest is to meet hard with hard. The Corinthians will suggest leading a force to meet the Alliants? Agree. But agree on your own terms. Demand either total command of the force sent into Nova Polonia, or at least that significant elements, including force multipliers come from the Royal Navy. Trust the Polonians.”

Sir Andronikos looked down at his chest for a moment, before sticking a hand inside his blazer.

“I’m terribly sorry, but that’s all the time allotted to me right now,” he said while rising and bowed politely in turn to the four Aurorans, “I must return to the Embassy and make a report to the Prince’s Own. Please understand that I would have told you more had I been permitted and had the situation been sufficiently accelerated. Please, Sir Edward, listen to what Lykosphendathes has to say, but keep my advice in the back of your mind.”

He made for the door, but stopped just as he was reaching for the handle.

“I promise I will have answers forthcoming, on that you have my word, Sir Edward.”

With that, he bowed again to Sir Edward, opened the door and exited.

Sir Edward and Lord Howeland looked at each other, both with nonplussed expressions on their faces.

“I think we should inform Cabinet of this,” Lord Howeland managed after a few moments.

“I think you’re right,” Sir Edward replied and looked at Sir Samuel and Lady Nimue as if asking for confirmation, but they looked as bewildered as he probably did.

“But in any case, to be perfectly safe,” he said while turning to look out at the Cordelia skyline through the office window, “let’s hear what His Excellency from Corinth has to say first.”