***********************
Back at the Nova Liberty Base, Zen was about to head back into his room when Kara walked by.
“You handled that mess back there pretty well, actually.”
Zen looked up in surprise: “You really think so?”
“I wouldn’t expect any less of a fellow Alpha.” Kara replied. “We do more than fight, you know.”
“Oh, right. I guess I forgot about that part.” Zen frowned in concentration. “Say, isn’t Alaric in charge of some kind of negotiation? He mentioned it some time ago but never elaborated on it. How’s that going?”
“We leave for Maine next week.” Kara said.
Zen’s look of concentration turned to a look of confusion: “Wait, what? Are you saying that…?”
Kara cut him off. “The mayor of that town has decided the increasing Templar presence is interfering too much with the rather laissez-faire status-quo that the town had come to enjoy. After a loudmouthed trader all but confirmed the rumor of our existence to him, he decides to turn to us for help. Alaric has been sending letters back and forth and negotiating by remote for now: so far it seems as though Maine’s mayor is going into this with best intentions. It helped that the trader in question was selling some of the Confederacy’s more unique goods, stuff that’s completely revolutionary back in the empire.”
Zen nodded as he thought back to things like the ambrosium crystals that fixed all manner of injuries, especially useful after the Alphas’ more intense practice fights, and even that strange “Keidran-safe” bread that he’d found himself munching on from time to time.
Kara continued speaking. “If everything goes well, the trader might even be pardoned.” She turned to look Zen straight in the eye. “We’re going to get a more formal briefing once the Director actually gives us our orders, but I will tell you this: we’ll be dealing with all the VIPs and the who’s-who of the whole of Maine. You, along with your brother, are the weakest links here, being the least-educated among the Alphas.” Kara paused, her expression turning to an icy glare. “But even so, if you screw things up your head is going to be first on the chopping block. So prepare yourself.”
Zen could only look on dumbfounded as Kara shut her door with a slight excess of force, cutting off the conversation.
****************
Down in the mess hall, Zen picked glumly at his food: by now the temperature of his meal had dropped about as low as his hopes. He looked up as about 250 pounds of half-feral tiger made the bench across from him creak in protest.
“Wha…? Oh, hey Markus.” Zen went back to picking at his food. He wasn’t in the mood to talk. He looked up again as Markus slid a notepad across the table.
Zen looked testily at Markus. Something about the way Markus’s sympathetic expression clashed with his glowing, feral eyes made Zen both very annoyed and very afraid. “I don’t want to talk about it.” The notepad slid across the table again.Markus wrote:[Good thing you know how to read. What’s bothering you?]
Zen stared blankly at the page in front of him, before snatching Markus’s pencil out of his hand. “Fine.” Zen snapped, and started scribbling down his thoughts.Markus wrote:[How about writing about it?]
Markus only glanced at Zen’s writing for a second before growling in exasperation. The pencil looked like a twig in Markus’s massive hands as he started on his reply.Zen wrote:[It’s the whole diplomatic mission that’s coming up. The more I think about it the more I realize just how out of my depth I’m going to be. We’ll be dealing with the high-class elite of the town, people who have the time and money for a higher education. To make a long story short, I’m scared that if I open my mouth to talk I’m going to look like an idiot. Maybe it’s foolish, but all I can see myself doing is trying my hardest to sink into the floor.]
Markus wrote:[Believe me, going from a Keidran of few words to a Keidran of no words was not a welcome change. Just because the only sounds coming out of my mouth are growls and such, almost everyone assumes I’m just dumb muscle. Come to think of it, even you act like you think that way sometimes, but I’ll let it slide for now. Keeping your mouth shut is the worst thing you could do, if looking smart is what you’re worried about.]
Zen wrote:[So, what do I do? I’ve got to say something, but what?]
Markus wrote:[Of course, it doesn’t do any good to over estimate these people either. Sure, they might have the time and money for an education, but you’ll be surprised at how little of them actually use it. Aside from the Mayor himself, most of the people there are either rich gossipers, or people who are simply good at appearing “smart”.]
Zen wrote:[Oh? And how do they do that?]
Markus wrote:[Giving speeches and such. It’s just stepping on stage and blowing smoke, really. One-up them on that, and you should be fine.]
Zen wrote:[Right… And how do you know all this?]
Markus wrote:[Unfortunately, there are quite a few of those types in the confederacy as well. You should have seen the last Director of Agriculture. I have no words for that fool, even on paper.]
Zen wrote:[A speech, huh? I’d still have no idea what to speak about, though.]
And with that, Markus walked off, leaving Zen to his own thoughts. “Something I know…” He muttered.Markus wrote:[I’d say talk about something you know. There’s always something worthwhile to say. And I’m going to leave now, it’s late and I’m running out of paper.]