2951-07-26 – Tales from the Inbox: Envoys at Grigoriev

Grigoriev Station is one of several installations built or expanded by the Navy in the environs around Sagittarius Gate. While the station is small compared to the notorious Sprawl, it has the advantage of orbiting a heavy terrestrial world whose surface is mainly ocean, where water and other organic substances critical to maintaining human life around a lifeless blue-giant star can be harvested with relative ease. The supply runs to and from this station are handled mainly by small-tonnage independent haulers, many of whose skippers and crews were already in Sagittarius when the conflict started and were picked up by Bosch’s Lost Squadrons.

Evidently, Grigoriev is also a convenient dumping ground for Navy ships returning from far-flung patrols with unplanned passengers, even when those ships intend to return to Naval facilities in Sagittarius Gate. I suspect Admiral Abarca has issued orders preventing civilians, especially Sagittarius-native nonhuman civilians, from spending any time aboard Navy facilities in the Sagittarius Gate defensive area, though I can find no public order to this effect.

This sort of order seems needlessly broad, but I can see the intent behind it; the Navy is worried that The Incarnation might recruit spies to secret themselves among the stream of nonhuman petitioners and refugees which always flows toward The Sprawl. Perhaps there is information in his hands more concrete than a mere worry.

[N.T.B. – It could also be as simple as discouraging these xenos from hitching a ride on Navy patrol and scout ships. The Navy is not a passenger line, after all, and hopefully making that route inconvenient will encourage them to find other rides.]

Nestor Palazzo barged into the office of Station Grigoriev’s Alien Sapience Welfare Officer, sparing only a glance at the dark-haired woman sitting on the near side of the desk. “Desjardins, you are a real bastard, do you know that? A real damned bastard.”

The woman half-turned, one hand reaching inside her coat, but she froze when Lieutenant Desjardins raised a hand and an eyebrow. “Captain Palazzo, if you’ll kindly wait outside-”

“Get them off my ship.” Nestor pointed one thick finger at the Aswo. “Now. You had no right.”

“Got a Nuisance problem, friend?” The woman smiled knowingly.

Nestor looked down at her properly for the first time. Though she was slim almost to the point of emaciation, her sharp-edged face had nothing of frailty in it, and very little of beauty. She was a

“Captain Cremonesi, please.” Desjardins stood, placing his palms flat on his desk. “Now, what is it precisely that you think I had no right to do, Nestor?”

“You know what you did. You know I don’t move passengers, especially not xenos. I don’t care if they’re going where I’m going. I don’t care how many credits Survey is paying.” Nestor pointed behind himself, picturing the cluster of xenos huddled together in his ship’s tiny lounge. “You want those things moved to the Sprawl? Hire someone who wants the trouble.”

“I am afraid I don’t know what you are talking about.” No expression of concern or confusion disturbed Desjardins’s face. “If you are having a fare dispute with customers who fall under my protection-”

“Off my ship.” Nestor stepped forward, towering over the still-seated Cremonesi and over Desjardins. “I will inform my clients that you are personally responsible for the shipping delay.”

“I don’t see how I am responsible for any delay.” Desjardins rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Are you having a disagreement with one of our resident xenos or not?”

“You let them on my ship. I know you did.” Nestor gritted his teeth. Nobody, especially not a sniveling coward of a rear-echelon desk-officer, toyed with him like that. “When I pull the security records-”

The woman stood and slid between Nestor and the Aswo, leaning on the edge of the desk. “If he really did lead a bunch of Nuisance onto your ship while you weren’t looking, I’ll hold him down myself while you shoot off bits of him.” She stuck out a hand. “Palazzo, was it? I’m Cremonesi, skipper of Tycho Spike. Why don’t you start from the beginning.”

Nestor glanced between Desjardins and the woman. The fact that the Survey officer did not react to the idea of having two irate spacers disassemble him with their side-arms was highly suspicious, but he liked where Cremonesi’s mind was at. “Fine.” He warily took Cremonesi’s hand and shook it. “I’ll hold you to that, even though it’s not Nuisance he’s saddled me with. Damnation, I’d almost prefer if it was.”

Cremonesi’s eyebrows shot up. “There’s something out here worse than Nuisance?” She glanced over her shoulder at Desjardins. “What sort of xeno are we talking about here?”

“I can only guess that Captain Palazzo is referring to a group of Gilehdat who I introduced him to at last night’s function.” Desjardins shook his head. “I have no control over their movements, of course.”

“Gilehdat.” Cremonesi frowned in thought. “You’re talking about Glitters. God, I didn’t know there were any of them here.”

Desjardins winced. “Their own chosen word for their own kind is much preferred, Captain.”

Cremonesi rolled her eyes to show what little she thought of this request. “The Glitters are probably the most polite things anyone’s met out here, aren’t they? Why would they slum it riding on a cargo mover?”

“Polite, hells.” Nestor shook his head. “Everyone knows they’re mind-readers, and worse.” He shivered at the memory of those piercing red eyes peering past his face, peeling back the layers of his very soul. “Desjardins got them aboard my ship even though I told them last night right in front of him that I don’t do passengers.”

Desjardins shook his head. “The Gilehdat are registered diplomatic envoys, and that places them outside my responsibility. I was merely being a polite host and showing them which skippers they needed to talk to for passage to The Sprawl.”

“Then why are they on my ship?” Nestor stepped around Cremonesi to reach for the Aswo, who backed up a step and remained out of reach.

“You want them off?” Cremonesi once again interposed herself. “Forget the Aswo. I’ll get rid of them for you.”

“Really, Captain Cremonesi, I see no need for you to-”

“Stow it, Desjardins. If you’re not going to help him, I might as well.” Cremonesi threaded one thin arm around Nestor’s bicep. “Let’s go see your ship, and your Glitters. I’ve been meaning to test that mind-reader rumor out for myself.”