Introductions

She's roughly my age, several inches taller, proportionately heavier, and rather pretty. Dark red hair, green eyes. Her name is Bethany Lionheart. She's the Liaison Officer the Alliance has sent to be the conduit between what remains of our colonial government and her handlers in High Command and the Diplomatic Corps. She's radiating a cheerful confidence born from having the might of the United Alliance of Planets at her back.

She's come to my new office on the orbital to explain to me how things are going to be, and that I shouldn't worry at all about the transition. The Alliance is just here until things calm down enough for them to give us our colony back. She lies, and she's good at it, but may not even realize that her statement is a lie. If you believe something is true, even when it is not, are you a liar when tell someone what you believe?

She's a diplomat. A former soldier. Made it to full Lieutenant as a navigator on a patrol frigate before taking a liaison position between the Defense Department and the Corps Diplomatique. Now, part of the corps, she thinks we're alone and that she has the upper hand in this conversation.

She is wrong. On both counts.

I am almost never alone. The Frame behind my desk looks like a century old antique. Most people think it's the best we could scrounge up to run or enhancements to the local Navtrak arrays, but looks can be deceiving. Inside that obsolete looking shell is the heart of a current generation university SuperFrame. It has considerably more processing power than the patrol frigate that brought her here, and a friend of mine sometimes calls it home. His name is Blue. He's watching me, as I watch her.

I'm sure she's been briefed on what to expect here, but that briefing inevitably left out some important information. It had to. There are facts the Diplomats just don't have. Facts I feel no obligation to reveal to this woman just yet. She's doing me the courtesy of not treating me like some Rim world yamazaru. She no doubt knows I was in the service and that it is no coincidence that my family name is the same as that on the station. Those facts are basic. Matters of public record. She also no doubt knows that Blue Sun's installation on Hale's Moon's surface is the personal headquarters of one of Blue Sun's top executives, and that there are a broad range of rumors about the personal and professional relationships between us. I suspect she is smart enough to discount the rumors.

I'm cordial with her. There's no reason not to be. The Alliance is loathe to interfere with the corporate assets on Hale's Moon, there's too many repercussions if they do. The risks outweigh the gains and there are some risks they're unwilling to take. The colonists are a different matter, much easier to bully, but there is a balance. They know that. It's why the sent a Diplomat.

I listen to her explanation, answer her few questions, and ask a few carefully crafted questions of my own. A practiced diplomat, she reveals little and I don't probe deeply. Social Engineering is not my forte, so I will leave my deeper questions for other times and other channels.

Satisfied she's handled the pleasantries and introductions appropriately, she departs, taking a small shuttle to the waiting Abraham Sinkov and leaving me in peace. I am sure that within the hour, she'll have filed a report with her superiors explaining that she's made the formal introductions but isn't convinced she'll get our full cooperation.

I'll intercept it later.

Right now, I have other things to attend to.