Firebrand

He checked her other arm, then moved down to her torso. Her jacket was open, and so he reached inside and ran his rubber fingertips over the inner lining. There was another concealed knife, this one even larger, the blade sporting a cruel gut hook. He also found a revolver on a shoulder holster that was slung beneath her arm, withdrawing the crude weapon from its pouch. Rask revolvers were large and crudely machined, but they made even the most powerful conventional handguns look like toys. He placed it in the tray along with her other weapons.

He skirted her ample chest, the ambassador seeming to take pleasure in his discomfort, and then ran his hands down her torso. Beneath her leather jacket, she wore a tight-fitting tank top, her chiseled abdominal muscles visible even beneath the grey fabric. He ran his fingers over them as he moved down to her waist, finding them as hard as stone, her taut muscles flexing as he brushed them.

Her shirt stopped a few inches above her belt, her pants sitting low on her wide hips, exposing the caramel skin of her toned midriff. Moralez turned his eyes to her utility belt, from which dozens of pouches and holsters were hanging. He withdrew another massive revolver, placing it in the tray with a heavy thud, taking care to be gentle with the thing lest it go off prematurely. The Rask did not strike him as a people who valued safety. There were more varied knives, a pair of brass knuckles that doubled as push-blades, and what looked like a folding machete. He was suspicious of her belt buckle, finding that it was detachable upon closer inspection, that too hiding a concealed blade.

"Are you patting me down, or attempting to disrobe me?" she asked with a smirk.

He opened the clasp on one of the larger pouches and pulled out a tightly-wound length of rope, giving her a questioning look as he placed it with her haul.

"One never knows when a rope might come in handy," she said, her tone sly. "Climbing, mooring...restraining."

Moralez moved down to her thighs, her leather pants so tight that they creaked when she shifted her weight, the dimples of her muscle visible through the black material. He ran his hands down to her ankles, where the garment ended, then moved back up. He wasn't about to let her take advantage of his human sensibilities to smuggle something past the guards, and so he didn't hesitate to feel up her inner thighs, brushing her crotch as briefly as he dared.

Korbaz wet her lips conspicuously as he ran his hands around to her rump, her cheeks just as round and as firm as they had looked. He had to press closer to her, barely able to reach, the scent of leather and exertion filling his nose. He felt something odd, glancing up at her as she peered down at him over the mounds of her breasts with her feline pupils.

"Is that a gun in your pants, Vice Admiral, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Why don't you reach inside and find out?" she replied, Moralez loosing an exasperated sigh. She had probably been planning this from the moment that he had turned down her advances the day prior, the Equatorials were nothing if not persistent.

He slipped his polymer fingers beneath her waistband, the leather so tight that he had little choice but to come into contact with her skin. It was as smooth as glass, the muscle beneath flexing at his touch, his digits sinking deep into her yielding flesh. As tough as she was, she was surprisingly soft. If she was wearing underwear, then he couldn't feel any.

His fingertips brushed cold steel, and he closed his hand around the object, struggling to withdraw another pistol. It looked like a breech-loading handgun, with a single round in the chamber, a weapon of last resort perhaps. He dropped it in the tray, then held out a hand to one of the Marines, the man passing him the scanner. After doing a few passes with the device, it was clear that she didn't have any concealed electronics, and he waved her forward. She waltzed past him, her tail brushing his thigh on the way past, Moralez shooting her a look that said in your dreams.

"Alright, looks like we're finally ready to go," he proclaimed as the gaggle of aliens looked on. "Your belongings will be returned to you once you leave the hub. Now, please follow me as we proceed along the spoke."

Moralez gestured to the two Marines, and they took up position to either side of the pressure door, scanning their access cards in two identical readers. There was a mechanical grinding sound as the two halves of the door began to part, exposing a hallway beyond that was carpeted in UNN blue, the walls and ceiling made from white hull material. One of the Valbarans emitted a flash of yellow feathers, her eyes wide as she peered through the opening.

"What is that?" she trilled, cocking her head in confusion.

After a few feet, the passageway curved upwards at a ninety-degree angle, creating what looked like a ramp. From there, it continued on vertically, rising high into the air and out of view from their perspective.

"This is where things get a little weird," Moralez said, waving them forward. "As some of you may know, the habitat is spun to create inertia, which simulates gravity. In the same way that when you spin a bucket full of water, the water stays in the bucket, your feet stay rooted to the deck. The hub is at the center of the torus, however. That puts it directly above our heads relative to where we're standing. It's spinning too slowly to generate any significant inertia of its own, so we use an AG field to generate artificial gravity there instead, but that creates a problem."

They reached the beginning of the gentle ramp, Moralez glancing up to see the corridor extending high into the air above him, like looking up through the center of a hollow cooling tower. Even though this had become routine to him, the sight was still enough to give him a twinge of vertigo.

"To get from the torus to the hub, we must transition from inertial gravity to the AG field, and we have to walk up this ramp so that we'll be level with it."

Moralez took the lead, his inner ear going haywire as he began to walk up the wall from the perspective of the onlookers. After a moment, he found himself standing in the carpeted passageway, his stomach settling as he turned to look back at the delegates.

"Your brain is going to tell you that everything you're doing is wrong, but just keep your eyes on the floor and keep walking. Close them if you have to, it helps."

All of the ambassadors save for the Valbarans had done this before, but some of them still had their issues. There was a lot of staring intently at the carpet, and a few stumbles, but everyone managed to get to the other side of the ramp.

The four Valbarans looked on apprehensively, glancing at one another as if seeking reassurance. After a moment, the one that Moralez recognized as Ensi Cuetz took two of the others by the hand, the fourth apparently confident enough to walk on her own as they approached the curve in the deck. There was plenty of fluttering, the shades of blue and purple conveying their displeasure. They inched along until finally, they found themselves on the far side.

"Such odd geometry," one of them muttered, peering back over her shoulder as two of the Marines that were accompanying them made their way up the bend.

"If we're all ready to continue," Moralez said, getting their attention. "Please follow me."

The long hallway stretched out a good distance ahead of them, the pressure door that led into the hub barely in sight. There were windows spaced out at intervals along the walls, a view of the station's hull and the starfield beyond visible through the reinforced glass, the frost crystals that clung to the outside of the panes creating beautiful patterns. The stars were bright and cold against the blackness of space, slowly rotating as the station spun, the system's sun casting the outer hull in harsh light and deep shadow. With no atmospheric haze and no points of reference, it was hard to gauge the real scale of the station, the donut-shaped habitat curving up and out of view like a horizon. This was one of the few places on the station where one could see the structure of the facility, as there were no windows on the habitat, it shattered the illusion that the designers had been trying to sell.

There were several holdups as the delegates stopped to take in the view. The Valbarans were especially fascinated, as it was all new to them. Eventually, they arrived at the far end of the walkway, the pressure door opening automatically to grant them access to the hub.

This area of the station was very different from the open spaces and the lavish decorations of the torus. It had more in common with an office building, or a traditional spacecraft, more cramped and with fewer amenities. It was a maze of branching corridors that all looked alike, the numbers that were stenciled onto the doors the only real way to navigate. The ceiling was just high enough that the Krell ambassador's head brushed it, and the corridors just wide enough that two Borealans could have passed each other unhindered. The walls were whitewashed, and the carpet was the same Navy blue as the one in the spoke, a few ferns in planters adding a little greenery to the otherwise spartan and functional surroundings.

As they made their way down the winding corridors, the only other people that they encountered were engineers in their yellow overalls, or clerks scurrying between the different departments with tablet computers or boxes of data storage drives clutched in their arms. One such engineer was staring intently at the screen of his tablet as he rounded a corner, marching straight past the procession of delegates as though he hadn't even seen them. He turned towards one of the many numbered doors, and in doing so, walked straight into Korbaz.

His face sank into one of her breasts through the thin fabric of her tank top, the man's head almost seeming to bounce back, his tablet computer falling to the floor. There was a scuffle, the Rask hissing and spitting, the hapless engineer becoming tangled in her abundance of belts as she tried to push him away. Touching an Equatorial without solicitation was a grave offense in their culture, it was taken as a challenge to their dominance, one that must be met with immediate reprisal.

The engineer managed to free himself, and the other ambassadors retreated to a safe distance as Korbaz took a step towards him, backing him up against the far wall. She pressed closer, emitting a low, menacing growl.

She faltered as Moralez strode up behind her and gripped her wrist, preparing to twist her arm and subdue her. Her yellow eyes darted between him and her prey, and then she slowly backed away, her intimidating growling subsiding.

"What did I tell you about behaving on my station, Vice Admiral?" Moralez warned. "If you can't restrain yourself, then I'll have you removed from the hub."

"A simple mistake," she grumbled, reigning in her wild proclivities. "The human surprised me is all. You should be more mindful, little one," she added as the pale-faced engineer stooped to retrieve his tablet. "Such carelessness is a sure way to earn yourself an ugly scar...or a night of passion that you might not survive."

He scurried off down the hallway, not quite breaking into a run, Korbaz watching him like a hungry wolf. Moralez released her arm, the two Marines who were escorting them moving their hands away from their rifles, the ambassador giving him a wry smile.

"You do know how to handle me, Security Chief."

"Keep moving," he grumbled.

When they reached their destination, they stepped through one of the numbered doors, and into a spacious conference room. It was illuminated by light panels that were embedded in the ceiling, carpeted again in UNN blue, decorative plants occupying the corners of the room to add a little flair. This space was a little more upscale, with faux-wood paneling that broke up the matte white of the walls. In the center of the room was a large, mahogany table, which was surrounded by chairs that came in odd shapes and sizes. There were accommodations for each species, the seating specially tailored to their unique needs, as well as an empty place where the Broker would probably stand. Robotic legs didn't get tired, after all. He knew from personal experience.

The Admiral was already waiting for them, scrolling through something on a tablet computer with a gloved hand. His white uniform was as crisp as ever, the gold of the UNN logo above the brim of his cap and the ornate medals that adorned his chest glinting under the room's soft lighting. He rose from his seat to greet them, setting his tablet down on the table, Moralez stepping to one side and ordering his Marines to stand guard outside the door. He stood by the wall with his polymer hands clasped behind his back, watching as the Admiral introduced himself.

"My name is Admiral Vos, I'll be attending the council meeting on behalf of the UN, the legislative body that governs Earth and her colonies. If you'd all like to take a seat around the table, we can begin the proceedings. I'm sure that you all know why we're here, but I'll state it again for the record. The UNN Rorke and her support fleet recently made contact with the planet Valbara during a long-range patrol, and their government has made a formal request to join the Coalition. The honorable Ensi have traveled here to make their case," he said with a gesture to the Valbarans. "The purpose of this meeting will be to determine whether that application will be accepted. Each council member gets one vote, with a majority required to pass the motion."

The ambassadors took up their respective places around the table, the varied designs of the seating resulting in everyone being more or less level. They were loaded with large springs, much like those that were used in the bar stools at the recreation center, sinking the occupant down based on their weight. The three Borealans had reinforced chairs with a cutout for their tails, while the Krell had something that resembled more of a padded bench with no back support, the Valbarans sitting on four raised stools that looked like booster seats. The Broker stood on its mechanical legs, as Moralez had suspected, its array of cameras and sensors moving disconcertingly as they shifted focus. It was hard to tell where the thing was looking, and the answer might be everywhere.

"Now that everyone is seated," the Admiral said, "the Ensi may begin their presentation."

Moralez noted that the little aliens hadn't brought any tablet computers or documents with them, and their onboard computers had been deactivated before entering the hub. Surely they didn't have all of the necessary information about their civilization committed to memory?

Netza started to speak, the ambassadors turning their eyes, and their telescopic lenses, on her.

"My name is Netza'cui'atl," she began, her headdress flushing a regal red as she introduced herself. "I am one of six Ensi who preside over the city of Yilgarn, along with my flock," she added as she gestured to the aliens who were seated to either side of her. "We were chosen to represent our people because we have interacted with the Coalition extensively, both during the battle for Val'ba'ra, and during the ensuing months that the fleet has spent in orbit. As of right now, the Rorke and her support fleet are still helping to protect the planet and its people from possible attacks while the damage is repaired and our defenses are shored."

She hopped up onto the table and made her way to the center, the Admiral recoiling in alarm. Perhaps this was customary during meetings on their home planet, and nobody complained. It was actually rather convenient, they didn't have to turn their heads to look at her.

"The history of my planet is one of a peaceful people plagued by external conflict," she continued, turning on the spot to address each delegate in turn. "Our homeworld is a paradise that overflows with an abundance of natural beauty, from rolling plains to towering mountain ranges, from deep oceans to fertile jungles. Over the eons, we have learned to integrate our society and our technology with our environment. We take only what we need, and we make our lives as sustainable as possible, riding the current of nature rather than fighting against it. With no competition for resources or living space, the concept of war grew foreign to us. The Val'ba'ra'nay are now a unified people, and there has been no internal conflict for many decades."

The peaceful, green hue of her headdress took on a more violent red, as though her feathers were reflecting the mood of her story.

"But when we left our planet to venture out among the stars, war was once again foisted upon us. We discovered a planet that mirrored our own in a nearby system, and we named it Ker'gue'la. The colonization effort began immediately, and before long, there were thriving cities all over its surface. We sought to bring that philosophy of peaceful coexistence with us into the cosmos, but alas, it was not to be. From the depths of uncharted space came a new form of life, a new enemy. They could not be reasoned with, they could not be placated, and we had no way to halt their advance."

Now her blood-red plumes took on shades of sorrowful purple.

"The entire colony and almost all of its inhabitants were exterminated. Those who escaped spoke of devastation on a scale that was incomprehensible, of a ruthlessness and an indifference to suffering that made them question whether the attackers were even thinking creatures. In the wake of this tragedy, we began to prepare. If the enemy had come to Ker'gue'la, then what was stopping them from following us back to our home? We waited for thirty rotations, building our armies, developing our weapons and technology. An entire generation was raised in uncertainty, never knowing when the attack would come."

The ambassadors were transfixed, the Ensi was certainly putting on a theatrical show for them. Her mastery of the English language was impeccable, and he noted that her accent seemed to vary from American to English at times, almost as though she was mimicking the speech of multiple people.

"Then, the day that we had all feared arrived. At the edge of our solar system, one of our remote sensors was tripped, and all evidence pointed towards the arrival of a second hive fleet. We tracked them through the Oort cloud at the limits of our star's gravity well, engaging in a deadly game of cat and mouse among the asteroids."

Her ornate feathers took on a more hopeful, yellow hue as she continued.

"But the hive fleet was not alone. During a patrol, one of our fighter squadrons came across a battle in progress. Spacecraft of unknown configuration and origin were engaging the enemy. Wary of provoking another hostile species, we kept our interference to a minimum. But these were not more marauding aliens, it was a Coalition fleet," she said with a proud flurry of red. "We made peaceful contact, and you offered us your protection, expecting nothing in return. When the hive fleet invaded Val'ba'ra, overwhelming our carriers and our orbital platforms, it was the Coalition that rallied the defense. You shed your blood for us, fought and died alongside us, struggled for the sake of Val'ba'ra as though it was your own sacred soil."

The Ensi was becoming emotional now, the colorful feather patterns growing irregular, her tinny voice starting to crack. She turned to face the Admiral, her plumes taking on another shade of blazing red in what Moralez could only assume was some kind of salute.

"We come not only seeking an alliance, but to repay a debt of honor. We offer our ships to bolster your fleets, our Commandos to serve alongside your troops, and whatever else you may require of us. The Val'ba'ra'nay are at your service."