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enough inside Alliance space to be well protected by more strategically controlled stars, but close enough to Terran controlled space to make a very attractive meeting area.  It was a spectacle intended to wow the Terrans, he suspected, with almost literally uncountable planetary
masses
of materials being exchanged and transported through every cycle.
    The system was of little to no strategic value beyond the trade strength, however, since it was far enough inside Alliance space to make the junction system of little use to military ships. Only slower and less powerful merchants needed the local jump points, so there was little in the way of security value or Alliance secrets here for the Terrans to dig into.
    As far as such things went, at least.
    Parath wondered sometimes how the Alliance envoy was handling his station in the Terran sphere. It was information he was not privy to, but he suspected that must be a very
interesting
position, in every sense of the word.
    May you fly interesting skies, and surfaces never touch.
    The Parithalian Master of Station for Piran couldn’t help but think that ancient blessing and curse was uniquely fitting for his life now and, in all likelihood, into the future.
    *****
    “Are things in place?”
    The speaker was seated in a darkened room in the heavy gravity section of the station, cast in shadows not out of intent to conceal but because his species had developed in the light cast by a brown dwarf star and had little love of brightness.
    “Yes, we’ve prepared the necessary people and shifted equipment around.”
    “None of it can be traced back to us?”
    “No. The Ross themselves moved some of the weapons into the area, and you know how impossible it is to track their shipments.”
    The slender figure nodded, just visible in the low light. It was true, the Ross were infamous for being able to shift cargo, illicit or otherwise, through any and all attempts at blockade. No one had been able to determine how, and no customs inspector had yet managed to catch them at it either. It was an enviable record, particularly among those species who made significant portions of their wealth in the more grey parts of the interstellar trade.
    “Excellent. So, we wait now, for the… what are they called again?”
    “Terrans, Sir, or Humans.”
    “Well, whatever, we wait for their return.” The slender figure snorted humorlessly.
    “What is it, Sir?”
    “Just an amusing thought occurred to me,” was the response, “After all this investment, it would be rather annoying if something happened and they broke off negotiations on their own before we could encourage it.”
    “I suppose so.”
    The slender figure waved off the obvious confusion, “Do not let my humor trouble you, Skavid. Go back, prepare your people. Reports indicate we have some time, but not as much as we might like. There is far too much invested and not wagered on this operation for us to fail.”
    “As you order, Sir.”
    The subservient figure bowed and left the room, letting in the light for a moment just in time to expose the pale alabaster color of the slender figure’s flesh as he winced and glanced away from the door briefly.
    What is it with these youth species and their love of light? It is so untrustworthy a way of observing the universe.
    The door closed, leaving the figure along in the dark again, pondering the future set before him.
    The Ross had triggered a right mess, bumbling around the frontier as they had. He didn’t know who, how, or
why
anyone would give them the rights to open new territories with Alliance backing, but it had been done.
    Likely someone was paid well and truly for that bit of paperwork.
    It was done, now, however and while it had certainly proved costly for the Alliance there was profit to be had. The main fleet suppliers already had new contracts worth fortunes that many planets would choke on, where they forced to spend such wealth. An entire new fleet of ships had to be