LF Friends, Will Travel

A Most Important Visitor

Date: 37 PST (Post Stasis Time)

Kelt'ch stared at the passenger list, his thorax starting to vibrate with worry as he looked down at the list of names in front of him. This couldn't be right, this couldn't be happening. Why here, why now? 'Station Joreial' was a Kirken station: small, rarely used, a bit of a dump that serviced a few of the lesser used mining stations. Mostly smaller merchants transporting materials and supplies... as well as a non-insignificant amount of criminal activity that existed here in the outer reaches of the insectoid species' aura of influence.

All of those ships going to and fro provided an official reason for travel and an official passenger list. Within the list of ships providing travel plans over the next week, a single vessel stood out to Kelt'ch: a Terran vessel. Their official reason for visiting was transporting supplies to the various mining stations around the area, but the real worry came from the passenger list. 2 Terran crew members listed... one of which had a name that filled the Kirken reading it with terror.

Admiral.

"What's wrong Kelt'ch? You look like you've seen a spirit."

Kelt'ch looked up from the data pad he was holding, his wings fluttering with apprehension and antennae twitching from side to side as Parsk'l, the female Kirken he co-owned the station with, asked him the question.

"What's wrong? What's wrong!? Look at this, look who is visiting the station!"

The Kirken thrust the data pad into the face of the other while his three remaining hands were wrung with anxiety. Parsk'l glanced at it a moment, her head tilting to the side in confusion.

"Oh, we're getting a Terran visitor. We recently joined their Alliance, didn't we? That'll be fun, what's wrong with that?"

Kelt'ch gave an antennae swish of incredulity at that statement as all 4 feet of the insect looked back at her. How could she not see the problem?

"Ignoring the fact that Terrans are 6 feet of angry, terrifying primate from a world so heavy they could punch a hole through my chitin with their bare hands? It's an admiral. Literally a top military man from a deathworlder species."

"Huh, neat. Wonder why they're coming here? Anyways, what's the issue?"

The response from Parsk'l caused Kelt'ch to take flight a few inches off the ground in anxiety and annoyance, wings beating to keep the insect in the air as their four arms gestured wildly.

"What's the issue?! What's the issue?! You remember what a crap hole we own, right?! We don't sweep too often because I'm convinced the dust is load bearing and keeping the entire station from breaking apart. When was the last time we got the grav generator serviced?"

"Well... I think that was a couple of decades ago when the service came free with the..."

"When did we last change the filters on the air filtration system?"

"It's the first of the month right now, so... 10... 20.... When was the station built?"

"How much of the business passing through the station is illegal smugglers?"

"How can we really define illegal... OK I get your point. Maybe they won't mind and will think it's normal."

Kelt'ch stopped flitting about, finally landing as he just stared at his business partner, anxiety giving way to an incredulous feeling, as if Parsk'l had said the most stupid of things.

"This is a top military mind of the Terrans. The last time someone pissed them off, they blew up one of the Hatil's worlds!"

"Well the Hatil did declare war on them, and they kinda suck technologically. It won't be that bad, right?"