On the 7th day we rested.

We’d never left the grand hall. We had simply retired in our respective seats one by one the previous night.

The festivities had taken quite the toll on our mental acuity, and it was decided that one more day of R&R was advisable. Chyrkrady and Kel had handwaived Caleb’s and my concerns about the numerous protocol violations we were committing by surpassing our allotted limit of intoxicants. By their measure, this all counted as cultural immersion time. Besides, they said, there was always an emergency dose of Sobrietol on hand in case we needed our wits about us in a hurry.

I think they also reveled in the fact that, as Senior officers, there wasn’t anyone, shy of the Admiral herself, to reprimand them. Not that she ever would anyway. She had served in the same unit as Chyrkrady during that last battle of Humanity’s war against The Hegemony, they had both been Privates. And during their infamous offensive, Chyrkrady and Kel, in addition to repelling the three full battalion of Hegemony shocktroopers, had saved the lives of their fellows—Admiral included—as well as each other’s more times than they could count.

Though brand new to the station and still very green, I was at least wise enough to refrain from prying into such matters, having the previous day already heard more than most ever would. I took it on faith that, whatever had happened exactly, it had involved a great deal of bloodshed, and had created a bond between those involved that was unlikely to be broken by a few mere protocol violations.

Though I wish the honorable ambassadors would have been just a little less fond of taking so many liberties with their administrative privileges. Their constant adjusting of the gravity in the grand hall did little to help me keep the contents of my stomachs down.

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The following month was spent on immersion work. For the first two weeks Caleb accompanied me to their district. Showing me the nuances of Human interaction, their way of life. Fortunately, protocol allowed me to use a utility exoskeleton to aid my life in their higher gravity. Although even with such assistance, it was rather exhausting there. Servos may help your limbs move, but gravity’s incessant tug at your insides takes a toll.

But I managed, and soon enough it was my turn to play host and accompany Caleb to our district.

And with each of the 14 sectors on The Hands opened back up at this point, the typical inter-species mingling had resumed. As my species had had ties to The Collective for much longer than Humanity, ours was a far more cosmopolitan sector than the Human’s, so Caleb saw the interactions not just between my kind, but between all the other species on the ship, except the Bloorkäm and Chluuryns of course. Being some of the more fragile of The Collective’s races, they mostly remained in their own sectors out of necessity, except for during the Outpouring, when every sector lowers their gravity for 2 days and the Bloorkäm invite everyone to join in their traditional bi-Cyclical festival of dance, music, and games.

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By sheer coincidence, this Cycle’s Outpouring had landed mid-week of my hosting Caleb, providing us a much needed break from our diplomatic duties.

Chyrkrady and Kel had joined us in the town center as well. Apparently, every Outpouring they bet on who would best the other in the traditional game of Bhay’ktaa. They played every Cycle and the loser is supposed to buy drinks for the winner for the remainder of the festival. Although as a running joke, Kel always forces Chyrkrady into stalemating him, meaning they split the ensuing hefty tab.

I myself had never played, though I had heard it similar in some regards to a Human game known as ‘chess’. The game had been a Bloorkäm tradition since before their recorded history, and though it was still not a solved-game, they hadn’t found any novel positions in the game in over 10,000 Cycles, at least not until they had met the Humans.

I don’t fully grasp it myself, few of my race do, but apparently, the game lends itself to a form of intuitive play very much suited to Human cognition. As its total number of permutations is far beyond the reckoning of any species, it is not feasible to brute-force calculate the optimal moves. But those with sufficient play-time can, I’m told, begin to ‘feel’ the correct moves, rather than trying to consciously think through the quadrillions of possibilities. They intuit it. And while obviously all species have intuition, apparently Humans are endowed with it to a particularly exceptional degree, so much so that they are the only race that routinely bests the Bloorkäm in the ancient game.

This is something that the Bloorkäm find enthralling, as only a few members of my own race and of the Skythtaayr had ever managed to beat them before, and ‘beating’ them was usually only managing a stalemate against inexperienced players. But once Humans started playing, not only did the Bloorkäm taste true defeat for the first time in thousands of Cycles, but whole new avenues of play were discovered. And apparently the inverse is true for the Human’s ‘chess’. They are routinely bested by the Bloorkäm and much new strategy has evolved as a result of their play.

A rather large segment of Bloorkäm Outpourees have taken to watching matches against the most skilled Human players, and, as the most skilled Human player on this station, Kel is something of a celebrity among the Bloorkäm. It helps that his enthusiastic praise for their Wine increased station-wide purchase by over 40%. Humans do love altering their conscious experience I’ve learned.

Kel had just, once again, forced Chyrkrady into stalemating him, to the enthusiastic cheering of the crowd, when the Admiral and her Skythtaayr escort—the particularly sharp angled Major Saxxon—arrived.

Bobbing gently through the crowd in the low-G, they settled just behind Chyrkrady as he played his finishing move, shaking his head with a smile.

“Eish, again! I’ve gone easy on you this time Thirkle,” he teased. “but next time shall be your undoing!”

“I look forward to it my friend—why Admiral Preyl, what a pleasant surprise, you came to cheer on your fellow no doubt? Unfortunately the game is done. Perhaps next year, with your encouragement, the honorable Ambassador will pull off a win.” the Human raised the tufts of fur above its eyes and flashed it teeth in what I had learned to be a prelude to sarcasm. “Or perhaps you just came to join us for the afterparty at the distillery?”

“Oh Thirkle if only,” the Admiral laughed, a rare departure from her normally stern demeanor. “but alas, duty calls and I must interrupt your fun and request an audience.”

I mused on the fact that the Admiral needn’t request anything. As the apex of the chain of command in The Collective Navy—let alone on The Benevolent Hands of Friendship Clasped Firm, she merely had to order, and it would be done. I had to remind myself that her framing her orders as a request was on account of her history with Kel and Chyrkrady, it was unlikely to be the manner in which I could expect her to address me.

Major Saxxon lowered himself to Chyrkrady’s ear and whispered something I could not hear, then he turned to Caleb and I and sternly told us to accompany them.