January 12, 2141, Kerrma-non, Jerr, Tau Ceti system

The Wałęsa descended in silence through the early morning clouds, carried on the wings of local gravity gradients generated by its field generator. When it finally touched down at Kerrma-non Airport, Captain O’Sullivan could see a vast sea of Jerrassians waiting beyond the cordons, their eyes filled with wonder as they eagerly tried to glimpse the visitors from the stars.

It was a beautiful day, with only a few scattered clouds marring the otherwise clear sky. The morning breeze brought with it exotic and strange smells—fragrances she would probably remember for the rest of her life. It was a perfect day for an event of this historical magnitude.

She made one final check of her red dress uniform—formal, tight, and adorned with medals—ensuring it was perfect for the occasion before stepping out into the orange sunlight. To her right, Special Agent Oliveira kept pace with her as they walked the runway toward the waiting Jerrassian delegation. Around them, Lieutenant Mikhail Johnson and his team of Sunguard soldiers kept a vigilant watch on the surroundings. Discerning threats from harmless behaviors, and deliberate acts from mistakes, was hard enough in a familiar situation. Doing so for the first time on an alien world was a monumental task. Captain O’Sullivan didn’t envy the Lieutenant, but he seemed to know what he was doing, and she felt safe in his capable hands.

Jerrassian musicians lined the carpet that marked the path for the leaders of the People’s Council. The Sunguard team waited at the beginning of it, as close to the Wałęsa as possible, allowing the Jerrassians to approach them. The music being played was soft and, to Terran ears, melancholic. O’Sullivan assumed the Jerrassians likely didn’t perceive it that way.

When the two delegations finally met, the Sunguard security team—composed of members from all three races—fanned out, forming a protective cordon around the two groups. Lieutenant Johnson was certain the Jerrassians had their own security forces overseeing the event, but he wasn’t willing to trust them. The safety of the Terran Federation delegation was his responsibility, and he took that duty very seriously, indeed.

Chairman Patek was the first to speak. He was a large man, the tallest Jerrassian O’Sullivan had seen so far. “On behalf of the democratic government of United Jerr, we welcome our friends from the Terran Federation in peace. I am Patek Lham, Chairman of the People’s Council of United Jerr,” he said.

“We thank you,” Captain O’Sullivan replied. “On behalf of the Terran Federation, we express our gratitude for the invitation.”

With the introductions complete, it was clear that the Jerrassians were not an overly formal people. O’Sullivan didn’t mind this aspect of their culture; she also suspected it must be one of the qualities Special Agent Oliveira found most appealing about them.

“We were intrigued by the message you sent,” Chairman Patek said, his tone inquisitive. “Would you mind telling us a little more about who you are? I mean the Sunguard and the Terran Federation.”

“Of course,” O’Sullivan replied. “But first, let me introduce Special Agent Alistair Oliveira.” She gestured toward the casually dressed man in his signature gray jumpsuit with red stripes, signifying his status as a Sunguard Special Agent. “He is our advisor. Although a member of the Sunguard, he speaks directly for our government, the Solar Council.”

Chairman Patek and his delegation gave a slight bow, greeting Oliveira in the traditional Jerrassian manner.

Captain O’Sullivan continued her presentation. “The Terran Federation was formed seventy years ago—that’s Jerrassian years, to be clear—after making contact with the Kelar and the Etarians. It is a direct executive democracy where every citizen casts a single vote to determine the makeup of the Solar Council. In the spirit of openness, I must acknowledge that our beginnings were not without complications. In fact, early missteps led to war. However, let me assure you that the Terran Federation places great value on learning from its mistakes. Despite the difficulties during the war, the Kelar are now valued members of the Terran Federation, as were the Etarians before them.” She gestured to the Kelar and Etarian members of the security team guarding them. “It is our intention to do everything in our power to ensure history does not repeat itself here.”

Despite her reassuring words, she was certain the Jerrassians would receive them with some apprehension. That was understandable. But the alternative—keeping the Kelar War a secret—would have been far worse when—inevitably—the Jerrassians learned about it.

She was not wrong about their reactions. Although she couldn’t read their body language very well, O’Sullivan could certainly detect a change in their posture and tone of voice. It was safe to assume it was not a positive one.

“The Sunguard,” she continued, “is the combined military and police force of the Terran Federation. It is tasked with protecting the citizens of the Terran Federation from internal and external threats.”

“Do you then see United Jerr as a threat?” Chairman Patek asked, indicating the Sunguard soldiers with his hand. O’Sullivan could tell he was troubled.

“Potentially, yes,” Captain O’Sullivan admitted, striving to keep her presentation honest. “Given our experience during our last first contact, we could not rule out that possibility. I’m glad we were wrong.”

That visibly eased the apprehension among the Jerrassian delegation.

“We believe in peace through a show of strength,” O’Sullivan explained. “Meaning the best force is the one that never has to be used. The best war is the one that is never fought. We save lives by preventing conflicts before they even start—by demonstrating the futility of confrontation. That is the role of the Sunguard. It is not a threat—it is a guarantor of peace.”

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Chairman Patek listened to her words but didn’t comment further. Captain O’Sullivan was certain they would be analyzed in detail by the Jerrassians as soon as the meeting concluded. She was also sure of the righteousness of the Sunguard’s mission, regardless of what the Jerrassians might feel about it. It was not the Terran Federation’s job to adapt to alien cultural sensitivities. She respected them, but that didn’t mean she had to change to accommodate them. The Sunguard existed as it did because that was what the democratically elected Solar Council wanted it to be. Until the day the people of the Terran Federation voted to change that, it would continue in its role.

Chairman Patek had one last question. “What, then, is your purpose here? Why did you come to Jerr?”

“We came to learn,” Captain O’Sullivan responded. “To learn who you are. To learn about your world, your history, and your culture. We came to exchange ideas and knowledge. If we can offer insights that might help you, we are happy to work with you.”

She had one final statement to make. “And if—at some point in the future—you wish to join the Terran Federation, and the people of the Terran Federation agree to your membership, we would be willing to extend an invitation for the Jerrassians to become our fourth member race.”

“That is something we will certainly consider,” Chairman Patek declared. “Now, since you have been kind enough to tell us about your worlds, let me tell you a little about ours.”

He paused, as if preparing himself for a great task—or perhaps carefully considering what he was about to say.

“United Jerr is a proud nation with a long history of democracy, just like your Terran Federation,” he began. “The motherland provides for its children. There is no need for individuals to own property—the state meets their needs. In United Jerr, the peasants in the fields and the workers in the factories stand shoulder to shoulder with the most prominent members of the government. We are all equal here.”

Captain O’Sullivan politely acknowledged his description of their country they were now guests of but refrained from commenting further. She had seen the orbital surveillance footage of the labor camps, the Crimson Legion soldiers digging mass graves, and the starving children in the southern provinces. She did not approve. But at this stage of the mission, approval wasn’t the goal. The purpose was to learn about Jerrassian culture and history—even if that history included unspeakable atrocities.

She tried to phrase her response as neutrally as possible. “We appreciate your willingness to stand up for many of the ideals we also hold dear,” she said, without specifying which Jerrassian ideals the Terran Federation shared and which they didn’t. That, she thought, would have to be a topic for another time.

“We do have one concern,” she added, both dreading and anticipating the conversation ahead. It would reveal much. “As we approached your world, remote sensing detected that you are actively enriching plutonium. Could you explain the purpose of your plutonium enrichment program?”

It took a few seconds before the Chairman responded. Though she couldn’t pinpoint why, there was something different about his voice when he spoke again.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Chairman Patek replied. “There is no plutonium enrichment occurring within the borders of United Jerr. It is possible you have detected illicit activities by one of our neighbors. If so, we are grateful for the information. But United Jerr has never pursued atomic weapons, and it never will.”

O’Sullivan knew well enough that the detected sites were not run by other nations. One of them, in fact, was located just kilometers from where they were standing now, on the outskirts of Kerrma-non. She hadn’t expected the Chairman to admit to a nuclear weapons program, given what she knew about United Jerr, but the way he answered her question was telling nonetheless. Without her even prompting him, he had immediately jumped from her inquiry about plutonium enrichment in general to discussing nuclear weapons specifically.

Then, suddenly, she felt as if she had been punched in the ribs by an unseen force. She was thrown backward to the ground, and in the process, she heard a sharp boom. At first, she didn’t feel anything. But as the initial shock began to wear off, she felt a sharp pain spreading through her chest. When she turned her head to look, she noticed a large red pool forming on the ground where she lay, seeping from a hole through her right lung. Seconds later, her world went black.

Special Agent Oliveira reacted instantly, raising his gaser rifle to cover the crowd in the direction from which the shot had been fired. At the same time, he positioned himself in front of the unconscious captain, blocking the shooter’s view and, if necessary, preparing to serve as a human shield for Captain O’Sullivan while the Sunguard soldiers evacuated her back to the Wałęsa. With eyes sharp for danger, he scanned the now-panicking crowd for anything that might stand out.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant Johnson rushed forward, pushing into the crowd with determined strides. By chance, he had been looking in the general direction of the shooter when the shot rang out. Now, he was pursuing the man through the sea of Jerrassians fleeing the sudden scene of violence.

If Johnson had trouble navigating through the crowd, the same was true for the shooter. Panicked people were running in every direction, shouting in fear and tripping over each other as they scrambled to get away. In their haste, many left their belongings behind—bags, empty strollers, and coats littered the ground, making it even harder to run.

Just beyond the large concrete blocks marking the end of the tarmac, Johnson caught up with the suspect. The shooter was a fairly small Jerrassian male in his early thirties, dressed in simple, worn clothes. He no longer carried the weapon; at some point during the chase, he must have thrown it away. However, Lieutenant Johnson had an excellent memory, and he was certain this was the man he had seen holding the gun in the moments following the assassination attempt. With the strength and coordination of a soldier experienced in hand-to-hand combat, Johnson apprehended the Jerrassian.

The hairy Jerrassian struggled to break free from his grip, using muscle groups that didn’t even exist on a Terran. But Johnson didn’t budge. As he held the man in a vice-like grip, he noticed in the corner of his eye a group of uniformed Jerrassians pushing through the crowd. Though unfamiliar with Jerrassian organizations, Johnson immediately recognized their role based on their behavior and the way the crowd reacted to them: they must belong to the secret police.

“Thank you, sir,” the leader of the group said to Lieutenant Johnson. “Olvar Rem, Captain, Committee for Jerrassian Security,” he stated with military precision. “We’ll take it from here.”

The Jerrassian agents quickly secured the subdued man, snapping handcuffs onto his wrists and striking him in the process in a way that made Johnson uncomfortable. It was one thing to use force during an arrest and another thing entirely to do so afterward. However, it was not his place to comment on how the Jerrassians handled their criminals, so he held his tongue and allowed the CJS agents to remove the shooter from the scene.