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“This effort strives to nurture positive relationships through open dialogue, cultural exchange programs, bilateral partnerships, and multilateral accords in order to build bridges between civilizations separated by the gulfs of time and space. Only by embracing our differences and similarities can we achieve lasting galactic peace and prosperity for all sentient life in this universe and beyond. But, dear Ambassador, this is a step too far,” he said in one impressive breath and a click of his heels.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I replied, amused by his agility with language.
“Your fellow inhabitants of the life-sustaining terrestrial orb you call home are right through here,” he said, giving me a gentle nudge towards the sports hall.
When I arrived, the tension in the room was palpable. It seemed my fellow Orkarian artisans were on the verge of lashing out in frustration.
“Good day, friends,” I greeted them, putting on my most diplomatic smile. “I’m Zorak. I believe we have a small issue that needs ironing out.”
“A small issue?” bellowed the largest of the group. His lips quivered with barely restrained rage. “I am Gorak and our traditional axes are being barred from the school site due to so-called ‘safety concerns’! What kind of nonsense is this?”
“Ah, I see,” I said, maintaining my composure. “Well, a recent decision has been made to avoid selling weapons at events where children might be present, like school bake sales. It’s just a precautionary measure.”
“Precautionary?!” snapped Gorak. “These aren’t just weapons. They symbolize our culture!”
“Of course. I understand,” I assured him, my mind racing for a solution. “But we have to balance cultural appreciation with public safety. We don’t want anyone getting hurt, right?”
The artisans grumbled among themselves, but they seemed to acknowledge the point. I seized the opportunity to redirect their anger towards something more productive.
“Look, we all share a love for craftsmanship and tradition. Why not channel your skills into creating other items that still represent your culture while adhering to T’rra’s safety guidelines? Think of it as a challenge. A chance to showcase your versatility as artisans.”
Gorak and the others exchanged uncertain glances, but a flicker of curiosity sparked in their eyes.
“What kind of items do you suggest?” one of them asked.
“Perhaps decorative pieces or jewelry,” I offered. “You could still use your metalworking expertise to create stunning works of art that people can admire and appreciate.”
Slowly, the group began to nod in agreement. Their anger dissipated as they entertained the idea of exploring new avenues in their craft. It wasn’t an ideal solution but it was a start, a way to bridge the gap between Orkarian tradition and T’rra’s regulations.
“Fine,” Gorak conceded grudgingly. “We will give it a try.”
“Thank you,” I said, relieved. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something amazing. And who knows? Maybe this will open up even more opportunities for you.”
After emerging into the sunlight, I could declare the incident over, to the delight of the gathered humans. The little man in the tight gray suit stepped forward and declared.
“Esteemed emissary from the hallowed halls of the galactic federation, please accept the immense outpouring of gratitude from us lowly representatives of our small but promising planet for your invaluable role in alleviating the recent crisis that regrettably transpired between our respective peoples, who have hitherto struggled to find common ground and coexist in concordance under the vast heavens we share.
“Through your sage diplomacy and peerless skills in conflict resolution, you have single-handedly bridged the ideological chasm separating our alien civilizations, replacing former mistrust with optimism, bitterness with goodwill, and animosity with a renewed spirit of solidarity and brotherhood.
“Thanks to your efforts, today we stand together on the precipice of a new era of interplanetary cooperation and understanding that shall redound to the prosperity of all our kindreds. Your laudable accomplishment in bringing order from chaos shall ring forth through the generations as a shining exemplar of moral courage and leadership. Please be assured that your name shall be inscribed among the highest honors in the annals of our histories.”
He managed to get through all of that again without breathing, then turned and grinned at me.
The crowd clapped and nodded in approval.
“Cool,” I said, thinking about what to have for breakfast.
I couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of accomplishment. It wasn’t easy, but I had found common ground and averted a potential crisis. But amidst the satisfaction, there was also a pang of longing, a desire to share this moment with someone special, like Vanessa.
My thoughts were still with the Orkarian artisans I had just left behind. Their passion for their craft was infectious, and I knew there had to be a way for them to continue practicing their traditions without causing alarm.
I spotted an old warehouse tucked away in a quieter part of town as if on cue. Its rustic exterior seemed a perfect fit for the Orkarians’ traditional weapons, and it looked like it hadn’t been used for years. Excitement bubbled up within me. This could be the solution I sought.
“Grand Ambassador?” I said into my communicator. “I think I found a place where our artisans can sell their weapons.”
“Oh, brilliant, and I heard you did great work at the school,” she replied. “You are an Orkarian of many talents.”
“I try my best,” I replied.
