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Baris heard the ambassador before the male pushed his way through the guards. “I do not care. I will speak with the king this instant.”
“Let the ambassador through,” Baris said with a wave.
The Khargal male flexed his wings, forcing the guards back.
“I understood that you were escorted to your quarters for your safety, Ambassador.”
“I demand to know what is happening.”
“I thought that would be obvious,” Baris replied. Not for the first time, he was struck by the unpolished nature of the ambassador. Some of that could be cultural. Khargals could be as blunt as the stone their skin resembled, but this male was creating a scene in the midst of a crisis. “The portal collapsed.”
“Highly irregular.”
“I assure you, it was not planned.”
“If this is how you treat your guests. I can assure you that the Khargals will not be interested in pursuing further relations,” the ambassador said.
The male was all bluster, nothing but wind and empty noises.
Baris was out of patience, and his shoulder ached. He was too busy to placate this male’s ego. “How I treat my guests? I’m glad you mentioned the issue of hospitality because I have concerns about the quality of the Khargal representative. Clearly, this was an accident.” Baris waved a hand to chaos in the hangar. “I take no pride in having a highly technical and very expensive project fail in front of guests. I would expect some degree of sympathy or concern for the injured, at the very least.”
“Typical Arcosians, always wanting sympathy for problems of your own making. Frankly, this cobbled-together monstrosity of outdated tech was inept from the start. It’s amazing it worked at all.”
Baris narrowed his eyes. A guard moved forward, stopping when Baris raised a hand.
“You’re not very good at your job, Ambassador,” Baris said, no longer striving to be civil. “The fact that the Khargal council sold us outdated technology to cobble together a portal when you have ships collecting dust that are capable of reaching Earth demonstrates how little they think of the Arcosian kingdom. Not to mention sending a representative lacking the necessary skill of diplomacy and tact.”
The male’s face flushed a dark violet. “I simply asked to be informed of the situation, not to be insulted.”
“You were escorted to your quarters?—”
“To keep the scale of this…this disaster from me!”
“For your safety. There is structural damage in the hangar, and the air filtration—” Baris shook his head. There was no point in explaining all the ways the failed project could become worse. An electrical fire was still a very real danger, and some piece of metal may have pierced the hull. Flying debris did its very best to pierce him.
“The council will hear of this in my report.”
“Yes,” Baris said in a flat tone. “Make a report. That’s what ambassadors do. Please do not feel you must remain on K-7. You may leave at your earliest convenience.” Baris turned to his aide and took the male’s tablet, a clear sign of dismissal.
The ambassador huffed and made various offended noises. Baris flicked through the tablet’s screen, pointedly ignoring the male as he checked the status of various projects. Des had a constant feed of notifications chiming without pause. Baris anticipated that his actions would set back Arcos-Khargal negotiations, but the Khargals needed a new market to sell outdated tech, and Arcos had a surplus of resources. Trade negotiations would recover.
After the ambassador left, Baris returned the tablet to Des.
“Councilor Raelle will not be pleased.”
“She rarely is,” Baris replied, understanding that Des would report the incident to the councilor almost immediately. Councilor Raelle also happened to be Des’ grandmother. Baris did not mind that his aide was effectively her spy. Usually, it was helpful to have a councilor be so well-informed, but when they clashed, her disapproval was known immediately. He anticipated a scolding within an hour about how he deliberately undermined the talks.
He would not back down. The Khargals did not act in good faith or send their best representative to open a friendly dialogue. That spoke volumes.
His head hurt, and the ache in his shoulder could not be ignored. The cloth of his shirt clung to his lower back, suggesting that he had sustained a laceration, but the fabric of his dark coat hid the bleeding. Lenore would not be pleased that he refused further attention from a medic.
“Is there anything else that cannot wait? I have a medic’s orders to rest,” Baris said.
Assured that the situation was under control, Baris returned to his cabin on the royal ship.
Alone, exhaustion overcame him. The day teetered on the edge of disaster. He nearly lost Lenore. If she had entered the portal as it collapsed, never to escape and forever caught in liminal space, that transitional space between nowhere and everywhere…
The thought chilled him. Injuries were still being reported, and structural damage to the station was being assessed. He felt the responsibility to safeguard many lives, but Lenore dominated his thoughts.
