Page 25 of Signed, Sealed, Seduced (You’ve Got Alien Mail #1)

Diplomatic Immunity

Suki

The agricultural dome is a marvel of Zaterran engineering—a massive crystalline structure that curves gracefully from the asteroid’s surface, its transparent walls offering a breathtaking view of the star field beyond.

Inside, terraced gardens cascade down multiple levels, each one carefully climate-controlled and maintained by a network of automated systems that put my old ship’s life support to shame.

“Impressive,” I murmur to Vex’ra as we wait near the entrance for the Morcrestian delegation. “I expected more... military infrastructure.”

“The fortress was not always a military installation,” she replies, her tone carefully neutral. “Before the wars, Zater Reach was known for its agricultural exports. The D’Vorr family built their reputation on feeding the outer colonies.”

I file that information away, another glimpse into Henrok’s past that explains the man beneath the warlord facade. “What changed?”

“The Stellar Togetherness Initiative decided our independence was... inconvenient,” Vex’ra says with barely contained contempt. “They branded us as pirates and separatists. The family had to choose between surrender and survival.”

“They chose to fight.”

“They chose to protect their people,” she corrects. “There is a difference.”

Before I can respond, Rusty glides up beside us, his newly enhanced personality subroutines already adapting to the diplomatic setting.

“Greetings, Coordinator Vex’ra. This unit has prepared seventeen varieties of refreshments suitable for Morcrestian physiology, including three that are guaranteed not to cause digestive distress. ”

“Only three?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“This unit believes in offering choices,” Rusty replies primly. “Though this unit strongly recommends avoiding the fermented kava pods. The last Morcrestian ambassador who sampled them required three days of recovery.”

Vex’ra’s expression doesn’t change, but I catch the subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth that might pass for amusement. “Your... modifications to the serving droid have been noted, Suki. The domestic staff is both impressed and slightly terrified.”

“He’s an improvement,” I defend, patting Rusty’s metallic chassis. “At least now he has opinions about the refreshments he’s serving.”

“This unit has always had opinions,” Rusty informs me with dignified reproach. “This unit simply lacked the appropriate subroutines to express them diplomatically.”

“And now?” I prompt, curious about what other surprises my tinkering might have unleashed.

“Now this unit can express them in seventeen languages, including three forms of interpretive dance,” Rusty states proudly. “Though this unit reserves the dance protocols for special occasions.”

I’m still trying to process the mental image of Rusty performing interpretive dance when the main entrance signals an incoming transport.

Through the dome’s transparent walls, I can see a sleek Morcrestian vessel approaching—all elegant curves and burnished metal, a stark contrast to the brutal efficiency of Zaterran ships.

“Showtime,” I mutter, straightening my shoulders and trying to channel some version of diplomatic poise.

Vex’ra gives me a look that’s almost sympathetic. “Remember, they are here as much to assess our political stability as to discuss agricultural trade. Your presence sends a message—that Zater Reach is not the isolated, xenophobic territory they expect.”

“No pressure,” I say dryly, watching the Morcrestian transport dock with practiced precision. “Just smile, nod, and try not to mention that half your defensive grid is held together with creative engineering and sheer bloody-mindedness.”

“That information is classified,” Vex’ra says sharply.

“Relax, I’m kidding,” I assure her, though I make a mental note to ask Henrok about the defensive grid later. “I’ll be the picture of diplomatic charm.”

The airlock cycles open, and the Morcrestian delegation emerges.

I’ve seen Morcrestians before—the outer colonies are full of them—but never in full diplomatic regalia.

They’re imposing even by alien standards, standing nearly seven feet tall with broad shoulders and the kind of presence that suggests they could probably bench press a small shuttle if properly motivated.

Their skin has a greenish-bronze tint that shifts subtly in the dome’s lighting, and their faces are angular in a way that’s both alien and oddly handsome.

The delegation leader wears formal robes that practically scream “important person,” while his two companions are dressed in what I recognize as ceremonial armor—functional but decorative, the kind of thing you wear when you want to look impressive without actually expecting a fight.

“Coordinator Vex’ra,” the leader says, his voice carrying the careful modulation of someone who’s spent years in diplomatic service. “I am Trade Chancellor Mor’dek of the Morcrest Confederacy. We are honored to visit your... unique facility.”

The slight pause before “unique” suggests he’s being diplomatic about what he really thinks of Zater Reach. I can’t blame him—from the outside, we probably look like a bunch of militaristic pirates who’ve carved out a fortress in the middle of nowhere.

“The honor is ours, Trade Chancellor,” Vex’ra replies with equal formality. “Please, allow me to present our newest diplomatic attaché, Suki Vega of the Orion Outpost Postal Service.”

Mor’dek’s eyes widen slightly as he takes in my very human appearance. “Ah, the courier whose... unexpected arrival has caused such political interest. I confess, I was curious to meet the woman who has managed to complicate so many carefully laid plans.”

“That’s me,” I say with a grin that I hope looks more confident than I feel. “Professional chaos agent and amateur diplomat. Though I prefer to think of it as bringing a fresh perspective to an otherwise orderly universe.”

One of Mor’dek’s companions—a younger Morcrestian with intricate scarification along his jaw—actually chuckles. “I appreciate honesty in a diplomat. It’s refreshingly rare.”

“This is my aide, Kol’tar,” Mor’dek introduces. “And our security chief, Thane’va.” He gestures to the female Morcrestian, who nods curtly in acknowledgment. “We understand you have prepared a comprehensive tour of your agricultural facilities?”

“Indeed,” Vex’ra confirms. “And refreshments, courtesy of our recently upgraded hospitality protocols.” She gestures to Rusty, who immediately glides forward with his serving tray.

“Greetings, honored guests,” Rusty announces in what I can only describe as his most diplomatically charming voice.

“This unit has prepared a selection of beverages tailored to Morcrestian dietary requirements, including traditional root wine and several non-alcoholic alternatives that will not interfere with your afternoon energy levels.”

Mor’dek stares at the droid for a moment, clearly trying to process the unexpected sophistication of the interaction. “Your... hospitality unit is quite advanced.”

“Recent upgrades,” I say casually. “We believe in keeping our diplomatic protocols current.”

“This unit also offers conversation on a variety of topics,” Rusty adds helpfully, “including galactic trade routes, agricultural sustainability, and the mating habits of various species. Though this unit recommends avoiding the Venturian slug-beast poetry unless specifically requested.”

I shoot Rusty a warning look, but Kol’tar is already grinning. “I may have to request some of that poetry later. For... research purposes.”

“This unit would be delighted to accommodate such scholarly inquiry,” Rusty replies solemnly.

Mor’dek selects a cup from the tray, sniffing it appreciatively. “Excellent aroma. Shall we begin the tour?”

As we move deeper into the dome, I find myself genuinely impressed by what the Zaterrans have accomplished.

The agricultural systems are incredibly sophisticated, with each level optimized for different crops and growing conditions.

Automated harvesters move through the rows with mechanical precision, while environmental controls maintain perfect growing conditions throughout the massive structure.

“This is remarkable,” I comment, watching a section of the dome’s ceiling adjust its transparency to regulate light levels. “How do you maintain such precise environmental control across such a large space?”

“The dome utilizes a network of crystalline resonators,” Vex’ra explains, leading us to an observation platform overlooking the main growing areas.

“They respond to both programmed cycles and real-time environmental feedback. The system can compensate for external conditions—solar flares, asteroid impacts, even deliberate interference.”

The last part is said with pointed emphasis, and I catch Mor’dek’s slight nod of understanding. The agricultural dome isn’t just a food production facility—it’s a statement about Zater Reach’s ability to maintain independence and self-sufficiency despite external pressures.

“The variety is impressive,” Thane’va observes, her security chief’s eye clearly cataloging the strategic implications. “This level of food production could sustain a significant population even under siege conditions.”

“The D’Vorr family has always believed in preparing for various contingencies,” Vex’ra replies smoothly. “Though we prefer to think of it as responsible resource management rather than siege preparation.”

Kol’tar approaches one of the environmental control panels, studying the interface with professional interest. “The automation level is remarkable. How much manual oversight is required?”

“The system is largely self-maintaining,” Vex’ra explains. “Though we do have specialist staff for optimization and troubleshooting. In fact, our diplomatic attaché has been instrumental in improving our logistics efficiency.”