Firebrand

The Secretary clearly didn't know that there was still another ambassador yet to arrive, the representative from Jarilo, but he might not be privy to that information.

"They're coming," Moralez said as he received an alert from flight control. He lifted his tablet, Stevens scooting closer to get a look at the screen as the station's cameras zoomed in on the alien vessel.

Its white hull was long and spindly, seemingly made up of modular, cylindrical segments that were joined together. At the bow was something that resembled a bridge, with rows of windows that looked out into space, and to the stern was a bulky engine module. Situated at the vessel's center of mass was a rotating torus that was joined to one of the segments via spokes, not unlike that of the Pinwheel space station itself. It was creating centrifugal force to simulate gravity, which suggested that the species had not developed AG fields yet. The crew must live in that spinning module while they weren't at their posts. It was armed with railgun batteries, however. They seemed to be of UNN design, retrofitted, perhaps. The whole thing was about three hundred meters long, twice as long as the docked frigate, but nowhere near as large as a jump carrier.

As they watched, an object detached from one of the segments and began to move towards the station. It appeared that they didn't have hangars on their carriers either, the craft had been docked externally, clinging to its mothership like a flea to a dog.

"Alright people, you know what to do," Moralez said as he stowed his tablet. "Let's give the Valbarans a reception that will impress."

They stood to attention, Stevens and Moralez watching as the Valbaran lander slowly came into view. It matched speed with the station's rotation, maneuvering carefully towards the force field. It was roughly twenty meters from its rounded nose to its twin tail fins, the stubby, swept wings that protruded from its streamlined hull suggesting that it was capable of atmospheric flight. It almost looked like one of the primitive spaceplanes from Earth's distant past, a little larger and more unwieldy than a UNN dropship, more akin to a cargo lander. It was layered with heat tiles that were painted with ocean camouflage in shades of grey and blue, blackened by reentry on the nose and belly. Moralez could see figures moving behind the blister-like cockpit, but he couldn't make out much detail.

Along the flanks of the vessel were a series of light panels, almost as though the aliens had bolted LCD monitors to the exterior of their hull. They flashed in colorful, mesmerizing patterns, like a neon sign or an animated advertisement. Waves of purples and blues ran from the nose to the tail, shifting hue towards greens and yellows, almost like mood lighting. Whether they were trying to communicate something, or just putting on a show, Moralez couldn't be sure.

As it passed through the barrier of energy, orange jets of flame belched from the thrusters on its underside, the vessel lowering itself towards the deck as it fought against gravity. It wasn't very graceful, and it wasn't suited to VTOL, that much was obvious. It deployed a set of wheeled landing gear that absorbed the impact as it touched down, rolling for a few feet before it came to a stop, the roar of the engines fading as it powered down.

There was a loud hiss as a landing ramp at the rear of the vessel began to slowly descend on a pair of heavy, hydraulic cylinders. It was facing towards the force field, and so Moralez couldn't see inside the compartment. When it reached the deck, a procession of strange creatures descended, rounding the idle vessel and heading towards them.

They were wearing form-fitting flight suits, too light to be armored in any significant way, the material rubbery and flexible. Their garments shared the same patterning as their vessel, camouflaged with splotches of grey and ocean-blue, but that wasn't the only similarity. Just like the color panels on their vessel's hull, they had flexible panels on their forearms. It must be some form of communication unique to their species. He could make out what looked like insulated cabling for the internal electronics running along their limbs, almost like veins visible beneath skin. Their helmets had an opaque visor, not unlike those used by the Marines, the aliens seeming to have somewhat of a snout. From behind their heads dangled two thick cables, like a pair of braids, long enough to reach the small of their back. These too came equipped with the strange, light-emitting panels. They looked as though they should be connected to some kind of oxygen tank, but they were hanging loose.

The aliens were around four or five feet tall, their body plan basically humanoid, with two digitigrade legs that were long and powerfully built in proportion to their relatively small and short torsos. Their small hands had only two fingers and a thumb, and their boots seemed to have two toes. Their long, thick tails were held off the deck as though they were being used for balance, the aliens walking with a bobbing gait that reminded Moralez of a chicken.

There were four of the aliens in all, and they slowed as they neared the foot of the carpet, glancing at the imposing Marines and Borealans that towered over them. The personnel were doing a great job, standing as still as statues with their rifles resting over one shoulder. The visitors were fascinated by the hangar, it must seem even larger to them, and they paused to admire the other vessels that were occupying the space.

Stevens started to walk down the red carpet, and Moralez followed, the lead alien beginning to remove its helmet as they neared. It disconnected at the neck with a hiss of escaping gas, their suits must be rated for vacuum, revealing the face beneath. The Valbaran's skin was a mosaic of fine, smooth scales, a muted green in color. The skull was rounded, with a pronounced snout, a pair of fleshy tendrils protruding from the back of the head. It flexed them as though it was glad to be free of the helmet, they seemed to be prehensile.

There was a flash of color, Moralez having to resist the urge to take a step back in alarm, the two tentacle-like appendages erupting into a feathered headdress. They stood out straight to either side of its head and split open, revealing a mass of colorful plumes within that puffed up like the tail of a peacock, creating a vibrant display. He felt as if he had suddenly been transported into the midst of a Brazilian Carnivale. The feathers were layered, those on top shifting to reveal those beneath, exposing different hues and creating patterns similar to those that he had seen on the colored panels of their spacecraft.

That explained the purpose of those panels, they must be a substitute for the feather displays when the creatures were forced to don their suits, or when they were otherwise unable to signal each other naturally.

The lead Valbaran peered back at them with eyes that were a striking shade of violet, fixing its reptilian pupils on them intensely. Stevens cleared his throat, the aliens turning their attention to him.

"Welcome, Ambassadors, to Fort Hamilton. Thank you for coming all this way, we hope that you will find the accommodations that we have prepared for you to be suitable. My name is Secretary Stevens, and I'll be seeing to your needs during your stay. If you should require anything that has not been provided, or if you have any questions, please let me know. This is Security Chief Moralez, he will be responsible for your safety while you're on the station."

"My name is Netza'cui'atl," the alien replied, its feathers flashing a shade of regal red. "I hold the title of Ensi, along with my flock. We have come to treat with your Coalition in the name of the Val'ba'ra'nay."

Ensi must be some kind of official title, Stevens probably knew what it meant. They spoke very good English, but their voices were tinny and musical, a flanging effect making it sound as though two distinct people were speaking at once. It reminded Moralez of a parrot or some kind of songbird that was mimicking human speech.

"Please follow me, Ensi," Stevens said. "I'll show you to your suite."

The bird-like aliens bobbed along behind him as he led them across the hangar, the other thee removing their helmets and shaking out their feathers, Moralez sticking close. There was no word of their final, mystery ambassador arriving yet, and he didn't have much to do until then. He was curious about these new aliens, and he wanted to see how they reacted to the Pinwheel.

When they stepped out onto the torus, the Valbarans paused, their heads swiveling on their flexible necks as they took in the sights. They admired the curved, painted ceiling, and the veritable orchard of trees and shrubs that broke up the matte white of the hull. They seemed somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer number and variety of pedestrians, their violet eyes tracking passing Krell, and peering intently at the colorful garb of the civilians. Their ornate feathers flashed yellow, alarming some of the passers-by.

Moralez soon realized that they might have a problem. The Valbarans were tiny, they were liable to get trampled if they went unnoticed in the crowd. He called over two of the Marines, instructing them to escort the visitors and to make sure that they had enough breathing room.

"This facility is...amazing," the Ensi gasped. What had been her name? Something complicated and hard to pronounce. Netza would do, or he'd just refer to the alien as Ensi. "You have simulated a natural environment, one that I assume resembles that of Earth. The Val'ba'ra'nay Airforce has similar orbital stations, albeit far inferior in scale and complexity. Tell me, why must the habitat spin if the Earth'nay have gravity generators?"

"Our AG fields don't have the coverage for a structure this large," Moralez explained, the creature turning its eyes to him. "We spin the torus to simulate gravity through inertia instead."

"You speak very good English, Ensi," Stevens added.

"Thank you," she replied, a ripple of pink spreading through her yellow headdress. "We have had many dealings with the UNN over the last few months, our city played host to the Coalition fleet that made contact with our planet. There were many opportunities to learn and to interact with your people."

"We are fascinated by this installation," another of them added, "may we explore a while?"

"Of course!" Stevens replied, "I would be happy to give you the tour."

"I think I'll tag along too," Moralez said. "At least until I get called away."

They began to walk downspin in the direction of the tourist quarter, the aliens pausing to inspect flowering plants, and to ogle the sculpted facades that lined the walkway. They communicated with one another in quick bursts of high-pitched, chirping speech, so fast that it almost sounded like a recorded conversation that had been sped up. They seemed as fascinated by the flora on the station as they were by the engineering, Moralez had to keep in mind that these plants were also alien to them.

"We see that the Earth'nay are also lovers of nature," one of them said, Moralez nodding in response. Nay must be a suffix, like Earthling. "We are reassured by this. The Val'ba'ra'nay live in perpetual balance with the ecology that surrounds and sustains us, we seek to take only what we need, making as little impact as possible. Our cities are built to blend seamlessly with our environment, and we see much the same philosophy employed here. Our peoples even appear to favor the same colors for our architecture," she added with a flutter of green.

"Though the lack of purple foliage is odd," another added. "It seems that the plant species of Earth photosynthesize in only a narrow spectrum. Note the yellow tint of the artificial sunlight."

He wasn't about to tell the aliens that humans varied in their respect for nature, and in their treatment of it. Some colony worlds were veritable gardens of Eden, while others were industrial hellholes. Earth itself was still recovering from an environmental catastrophe that had been caused, in part, by human activities.

The pedestrians seemed as interested in the Valbarans as the Valbarans were in them. People stopped to stare at the diminutive reptiles, the Borealans swiveling their furry ears to track them, and the Krell turning their snouts in their direction. As accustomed as the station's population was to seeing aliens, these were entirely new. Moralez had to admit that it was nice to encounter a species that didn't tower over him. The Marines were doing a good job of creating a safe perimeter around the Ensi and her flock, waving away those who came too close, and encouraging the throngs of curious onlookers to disperse.

"There are so many different species," the Ensi muttered, "all working in concert. This is the Galactic community that we had hoped for, the one that we seek to become a part of."

"It's not perfect," Moralez warned, Stevens shooting him a look that said shut up. "We have our disagreements, our conflicts, but we've always been able to find common ground."

"Look at that one!" another of the aliens exclaimed, pointing at a passing Polar and emitting a flurry of yellow feathers. It was a little difficult to tell the Valbarans apart, the only difference between them seemed to be subtle changes in their skin tone.

The Polar paused, glancing down at the little aliens. She was a Goliath from their perspective, near twice their height. She took a step closer, one of the Marines moving to intercept, but Moralez waved him back. The Borealan crouched before the Valbarans as they crowded around to get a closer look, cocking her head curiously, the locks of her silvery hair falling over her shoulders.

She wasn't wearing a Navy uniform, Polars rarely served in combat roles, and she wasn't an engineer or a doctor either. She was wearing civilian clothes in the Borealan style that were suitably billowy and revealing, both because the temperature on the station was generally higher than her kind liked, and because they were all too aware of their natural charms. The flowing, gossamer fabric revealed just enough to titillate while being dense enough in the right areas to preserve her modesty. Moralez suddenly found himself pining for the warmth of Kaisha's embrace.

"What do we have here?" she asked, her tone warm and friendly.

"My name is Cuetz'hte'otl, Ensi of the Val'ba'ra'nay," the alien replied with another flurry of blood red from her ornate headdress. "My flock is here in an ambassadorial capacity, representing our people's interests."

Odd. Moralez had assumed that the one who called herself Netza held the title of Ensi, and that the rest were her entourage, like a Borealan Alpha and their pack. Instead, it seemed as though all four of the aliens shared the same rank and title. How did that work?

"What beautiful feathers you have," the Polar mused, "what are they for?"

"Our feather displays signal to members of our flock, and convey our emotional state," another replied.

"And this is your flock?" the Polar asked, glancing at the other Valbarans.

"Regrettably, we had to leave two members behind to manage the city from which we hail," Netza replied with a flurry of blue that might indicate sadness. "We are separated across light-years of space, but this is the burden that we must bear as Ensi."

"I too have left my pack behind to be here," the Polar replied sympathetically, "but know that you will be reunited in time. Think about how happy that will make you feel when the moment arrives, and press onward."

"Wise counsel," Cuetz said with a flush of red plumes. "Might I ask what you are, furred one?"

"Why, I'm a Polar Borealan," she replied with a wide smile. "My people hail from the frozen ice cap of our planet."

"A Borealis'nay, but with regional adaptations," Netza mused. "Not dissimilar from our own Northern cousins with their covering of insulating proto-feathers."

"Your fur is so thick," Cuetz added, "may I touch it?"

"Of course," the Polar replied with a chuckle, reaching out a hand. It was an odd request to make of a stranger, but the Valbarans might have different ideas of personal space.

Cuetz removed her glove, detaching it from a seal at the wrist, then placed her hand in the Polar's open palm. The green of her scales was soon lost in the forest of white fur, her three-fingered, clawed hand vanishing into the Polar's dense coat. Moralez knew from experience how fluffy and silky it must feel, their fur was akin to the most expensive Mink that money could buy.

Cuetz seemed fascinated, running her fingers through the fine hairs, stroking the Polar like one might pet a cat. Her hand was so tiny in comparison, the Polar's fingers as thick around as her wrist. She explored the fleshy, pink pads that protruded from the fur, and the black claws on the tips of her fingers. The Polar showed no signs of irritation, but then again, they were tactile creatures.

"How curious you are," the Polar purred, her blue eyes meeting Cuetz's gaze. "If you should need a guide during your stay on the station, someone to help you...navigate the finer points of alien cultures, I would be happy to make myself available."

"Perhaps, if our duties allow us the time," Cuetz replied with a flurry of pink that almost resembled a blush.

"Alright, let's keep moving," Moralez said as he waved the aliens forward. The Polar gave him a knowing smile and then vanished into the crowd once more, Cuetz glancing over her shoulder at the alien as she watched her leave.

"Might I ask, Security Chief," Netza began as she bobbed along beside him. "What is the nature of your limbs?"

He had wondered when that question would arise, they certainly were inquisitive creatures.

"I was wounded in battle," he replied, "and my limbs were replaced with prosthetics. They're made from lightweight polymers, driven by electrical motors. They're wired directly into my nervous system so that they can interpret the signals from my brain with a high degree of accuracy, and so that they can send sensory information back."

"Amazing," she mused, "Earth'nay medical technology is more advanced than we had realized. To what degree would you say that your sense of touch is reproduced? Can you feel pain?"

"Almost one hundred percent," he said, flexing his fingers with an electrical whir. "The system isn't programmed to reproduce pain, no, but I suppose that it could be. My foot is a little different, it's not designed to be a perfect replica of the original, and so the sensation is more diffuse. I usually describe it as feeling like one big toe."

"So it is as though you were never injured?" she asked.

"No, I wouldn't say that. The prosthetics provide a good substitute, and they allow me to live a full life, but they aren't quite the same. There are subtle things that you miss, small details that you overlook until they're gone. The feeling of tendons moving beneath the skin, the warmth of living flesh, the pulse of a heartbeat. I have no fingernails, so I had to change the way that I scratch my nose, and I can't snap my fingers anymore. I can't plug my ears, I can't clap, I have to be more conscious of how I grip objects. Just little everyday things like that. Still, it's a damn sight better than a wooden hook."

"We must bring this technology back with us so that we might heal our own wounded in the same manner."

'Do you have many amputees on Valbara?" Moralez asked.

"Amputee?" she wondered for a moment. "Ah, like amputate, I see. No, but we may in the future. The Galaxy is a violent place, and if our Commandos are to serve alongside your Marines and Linebreakers, then we must expect casualties."