Space Diplomat

Mina braced her spine and offered the Whigerian a tentative smile while trying to relax her eyes. The artificial grav always negatively impacted her vision, but she wasn’t fast enough.

Blurgiv “Call me Bob” Jeortin bared his teeth in a mirrored response. Yellowed ivory fangs glistened, far larger than they had any right to be, towering over her head and yet far, far too close.

The Earthside nickname for Whigerian was “werewolf” for a reason. And on late, lonely evenings when she was being honest with herself, Mina had to admit the nickname fit the bipedal lupines.

She used decades of diplomatic training to steel herself again and held up her tube of bubbly. “Back on Earth, we celebrate an agreement with a toast.” She handed him his own tube and demonstrated how to open the suction tab on top. “First we clink our tubes together, then we take a luxurious drink together. It recognizes our achievements together.”

“This is symbolic? Celebration?” Bob frowned at his tube. It looked miniscule in his paw, half lost amongst stray tufts of fur that angled inward. A claw tinged off the glass, carefully protected through the stocking of Earth’s first diplomatic spaceship. “I should invite the pack leaders aboard ship to celebrate with us. It would not be right without them.”

“Of course.” Mina gestured at the doorway. All the rooms aboard The Kissinger had received special soundproofing, so the envoys could discuss whatever they liked in as much privacy as desired. This was apparently a human trait, and most of the pack had chosen to stay in the largest room.

The Whigerians found the human desire for privacy amusing.

Still, the deal was all but signed before Bob and his envoys had entered the airlock this morning, and Earth had an ally. In space! She suppressed a squeal. A year aboard ship, dealing with the first aliens to visit the planet, and still it seemed unreal.

And yet, it was largely prosaic. She’d left her team in the lushly appointed conference room to discuss details with the Whigerians. Trade, mostly; the packs had formed intergalactic rivalries in the fighting sports before the humans had been able to blink. Rugby quancos, hockey skates, and heavy boxing bags were doing brisk business.

And cattle. Mustn’t forget that their new allies were predators, with the accompanying appetites.

“You are the…head alpha of the alphas, yes?” She knew this very well, and he knew she knew, but waited for his nod anyway as their footsteps gave magnetic clanks down the hallway. “Back on Earth, my grandparents’ country used to have a term for this. Shahenshah. It means king of kings.”

Bob laughed and threw his hands wide. “You have seen the pack. I may be the leader, but we make decisions for the best of the pack, or we do not survive long as leader.” His tongue lolled out for a moment.

She smiled, careful to avoid looking anywhere but straight ahead. “Yes, my grandparents saw that happen for themselves, when a ruler abused power. I heard their stories and believe we share the sentiment.”

Mina opened the door, and the moment of shared warmth was shattered. It was as if she’d walked ten feet down a hallway in artificial sunlight, only to be greeted with a storm.

A howling blizzard, in fact.

She clapped her hands over her ears. Howls and barking filled the air. Bob popped the tab on the glass tube. Champagne sprayed the room in a jet of projectile bubbles, but quieted the piercing shrieks. He dove into a mass of swirling fur and snarls.

A panicked hand clutched her jacket sleeve. “The intern!”

“What happened, Justin?” Mina snapped the words out. “The soundproofing was too good. We had no idea anything was wrong!”

He gulped and sucked in air with a whoosh. “The intern.”

“What?!”

“She told the spotted one he was a good boy and scratched his ears.”

Mina let out a groan and slumped against the wall. “Yep, that’ll do it.”

***

This week, Becky Jones challenged me with: She walked from sunshine into a howling blizzard in ten steps.

My prompt went to AC Young: The rental came with unexpected collateral.